"If I knew I could live in eternal bliss as some kind of ethereal being after shedding this disgusting meat-shell, I’d easily go about not doing certain things and being overly proud of myself for things I wasn’t doing. Look at me! I’m going to be rewarded because I’m exerting so much effort not doing stuff! Sure, I guess I could also do compassionate stuff like help the needy and sick and crap. But what do the needy and sick and crap care when they can just not fuck out of wedlock and not blaspheme God and not worship their Mrs. Butterworth bottles and then just die and be happy? Wouldn’t my care and compassion to help extend their lives just be keeping them from paradise? What kind of a dick does that?!"
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on New Guardians #29
"Green Lantern: New Guardians is a good example of how DC had no fucking idea what they were doing when they began The New 52. I enjoyed it early on because of all the different colored characters! It was bright and eye catching! But I had to do a lot of work to make the story understandable and I don’t like having to bring my brain along with me when I read comic books. I want the Narration Boxing to tell me everything I need to know! I miss the old days when a panel would show Lois Lane driving off of a cliff and the omniscient narrator would tell the reader that Lois Lane was driving off of a cliff and, as Lois Lane was seen driving off of the cliff, she would be thinking, “Oh no! I’m driving off of a cliff!” Just so the reader wouldn’t miss the fact that she was driving off of a cliff."
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on New Guardians #29
Another great cover. They remind me of the beautiful covers on I, Vampire back when DC was intelligent and brave enough to not have cancelled I, Vampire.
Before giving Christy Marx the writing assignment on Birds of Prey, I wish DC would have done what they’re doing with Teen Titans. They should have cancelled it and given the audience a couple of months to forget how badly Swierczynski fucked it up before restarting it again with Marx and her fresh ideas at the helm. Her first year on this book was mostly spent picking lint and dog hair off of her Birds of Prey sweater. That’s an analogy that may or may not work because I fucking hate analogies. At least, I hate when people use analogies in a debate. When you can’t make an argument for your position on a subject without pretending the subject is something completely different, maybe you should realize you can’t really defend your position. But I do like analogies for the story of a thing! And I don’t mean allegories because that’s completely separate rant that involves a long discussion on how fucking stupid Jesus’s disciples were.
Here’s an analogy on drinking alcohol!
Drinking alcohol is like hiking. I enjoy hiking with a friend or two, meandering and getting lost in conversation. Often you hike a bit, eventually find your way back to the trail head, and then go home to take a nap. But sometimes you get so involved in conversation or the enjoyment of simply hiking for hiking’s sake, that you realize you’ve gone too far and have become lost. When you get lost in the woods, everybody knows you’re best bet is to stop hiking! Stay put and eventually everything will be okay. But who wants to stay put? You’ve hiked this far, you can probably hike your way out of it! So you keep going and you get more and more lost and eventually you’re in a pitch black forest being mauled by a bear. At least it feels like you’ve been mauled by a bear when you wake up the next morning in the alley behind the bar. I mean, face down in the creek. That’s how I like to hike anyway! I see a lot of people like to hike by screaming, “WOOOOO! Let’s get crazy!”, flailing their arms in the air and sprinting straight off the path and into the dense, dark foliage. Those people eventually wind up in twelve step programs because of their love of hiking.
I probably shouldn’t be disappointed about this next fact but I am: nobody ever threatens to rape me when I rip apart some comic book artist’s art or a writer’s writing! Am I not the most important New 52 Critic on the internet? The most disappointing thing about that new Teen Titans cover is that DC has cancelled the Teen Titans only to bring the book back a couple of months later. Fuck you, DC! Fuck yourself right in the face! Look at yourself in the mirror, DC. See that face? Now try to fuck it.
That might have been inappropriate. But this whole cancelling the Teen Titans only to relaunch the Teen Titans is a big fuck you to the fans, so I think my reverse fuck move was the only method of defense I had left. Teen Titans sucked, DC. It sucked because you chose to have Scott Lobdell write it and then you chose to let him keep writing it and then you continued to choose to continue to let him write it. But guess what? The Teen Titans makes DC a shit ton of money! So it can’t stay cancelled for long. Just reboot the fuck out of it and ship that shit right back to the fans that wanted Lobdell gone for two and half years. This is manipulative abuse shit, DC. And I’m not going to stand for it any…okay okay okay! Drop the sock with the soap in it! I’ll buy the fucking comic book!
Oh man. You can’t go wrong with a good spousal abuse analogy!
It was also a very thin and meager Twin Peaks reference.
Let’s forget I said all those other things! How about I critique Wonder Woman now that I know how to do a proper critique thanks to Brett Booth! He says you have to offer both positive and negative comments! Really, Brett? Here’s a generous critique of your recent work with DC: “You hit it out of the fucking park when you ruined Batman Loves Superman after Jae Lee left the title. Just blew me away with your incompetence. Staggering ability to suck!”
For about two seconds while looking at this cover, I thought Charles Soule was no longer writing Red Lanterns.
Now that Supergirl’s storyline has finally caught up to her story over in Red Lanterns, I can’t tell the comics apart! I do like that Emanuela Lupacchino is drawing Red Lanterns now! I mean Supergirl! I think she’s a fitting replacement for Mahmud Asrar. Here come the cute shots of Supergirl’s bum!
You’d think the only reason I read Supergirl is to see her ass. No. The main reason I read Supergirl is because I’m forcing myself to read every issue of The New 52 because I secretly hate myself and need to find ever increasing ways to shame myself. But the main reason after the main reason is to stare at Supergirl’s ass. It’s as valid a reason as any other! Unless your reason is to be intellectually stimulated by a powerful female character. And then my reason is more valid. Because look at how adorable Supergirl is!
Currently on the planet Grax, the Graxians are getting their asses handed to them.
"Isn’t it just too precious that the terms “ship load” and “boat load” are better when they’re misused as “shitload” and “buttload”? I’m going to choose the incorrect terminology every fucking time!"
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on Supergirl #29
"It’s a good thing Tony Bedard was taken down to the Straightening Up Room deep in the basement. Sure, he might have gone in with a smile and a goofy tie telling people how much fun Supergirl was going to be in the upcoming months when he took over. Talk of Kara and Siobhan buying a roadster and going cross country like the old Denny O’Neil Green Team days. Tony probably thought they were taking him into a private office to discuss a bonus. Or maybe he was going to be given Grant Morrison levels of control over the continuity of his character! He was beaming, exuberant, full of hope and optimism. But the Tony Bedard that emerged from the elevator as he entered the main office of DC Comics was a man beyond recognition. “Wasn’t his tie more colorful?” asked Rob Leigh from behind the water cooler. “Wasn’t his face more colorful?” asked Dan Brown. “Wasn’t he…,” stammered Yildiray, the horror of it all descending quite slowly across his face, “…taller?” Tony Bedard shuffled over to the rest of his creative team, slowly and reluctantly, as if being pushed from behind by some unseen force. He looked up and a haunted smile crept over his lips, slightly parted to reveal teeth not quite as white as some had thought, and said, “Change of plans. New great idea. Kara becomes a Red Lantern. Anger. Violence. Death of friendship. Huge sales.” He strained for a second, a look of pain crossing his face. He looked wildly from side to side and quickly pulled up his shirt to reveal a large worm-like creature attached to his torso just beneath his rib cage. Interrupted by the bright light, it looked up from where it was sucking heartily through a razor sharp proboscis, and hissed at the men standing around the cooler. They screamed! Water cups were dropped! Underwear was soiled. Before any actual words could be voiced, Tony lowered his shirt and slouched back to his office. The others looked around from gaunt face to gaunt face, Yildiray mouthing a single word: “Didio.”
And so Supergirl received her Red Lantern Ring and her first act was to try to kill Siobhan, the Silver Banshee. Dan Didio was once more seen walking about the offices, counting his money, remarking that, no, he hadn’t seen Bedard in some time, actually. But it is said that if you take your car out on a clear night, drive it down the most deserted highway you can find, and begin searching through the AM Radio band, you just might catch the sound of a scared, lonely voice calling out, “No! NO! I believe in friendship!”"
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on Supergirl #29
"I know you’re all really curious to find out if Yildiray Cinar draws as good a bum as Mahmud Asrar, so I’ll get right to the comic instead of boring you with fantastic tales of my daily life. No, no. Your pleas of “Tell us, Tess! Tell us what you ate for breakfast!” must go unanswered! I am not a public figure nor a role model. I have divorced my personal self from this blog because I owe that to my audience. They deserve unbiased, objective opinions on DC’s comics. And since they’re not going to get unbiased opinions anywhere else on the internet, it’s up to me to swallow my pride (washing it down with a cup of sake) and force my immense and willful ego into the background. Today is a new day at Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea! For today, we get fucking serious, motherfuckers!"
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on Supergirl #29. Attention Motherfuckers: I don’t think I ever got serious. Sorry.
You can tell this isn’t the third series in the Lovers Trinity Series of comic books because the order of the characters is wrong. The book will be called Wonder Woman Loves Batman, even if she totally doesn’t and finds it tough to be around him. She also wishes he’d stop asking her to wear the kitty hoodie.
Can you believe there are people out there that don’t like Damian Wayne and don’t want him to return? How can people be so wrongheaded and awful and despicable and unlikable? I may not have any intellectual reasons to prove that Damian Wayne is the best Robin ever, but I do have Damian Wayne expressing that he’s the best Robin ever every time he talks to any of the past Robins. Haven’t those people read those dialogues?! They’re stated plainly and succinctly with lots of threatened violence so I don’t know how anybody could have missed them. I do have one argument for why he’s my favorite Robin ever (besides the argument that I’ve never, ever liked any other Robin before this). This is my argument:
This argument may not be the strongest defense of Robin. Or a very clear one. Or anything more than a picture, actually.
"Aquaman is investigating screaming whales because he’s a total pervert. Can’t a whale get any privacy in this ocean? King of the Sea? More like King of the See More Whale Penis!"
— Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea, Commentary on Batman Loves Aquaman #29