“You have really crappy taste in snacks,” Robert announced around a mouth full of cracker crumbs. Her cabinets weren’t exactly stocked with teenage boys in mind. She’d selected food more on the likelihood that it would keep for several months than that she’d be visited by a growing bottomless pit.

“To be honest, I don’t eat much,” she paused uncertain. “Look, Robert… I’m not the safest person to be around. You’d be better off with your foster parents.”

“Says you!” he spat incredulously. “Those people are a-holes. Their son locked me out of the house last night and then the police want to wonder why I keep running away and didn‘t go to school? Besides, you freaking got shot like half an hour ago and you’re like, pfft, nothing. I figure if I‘m safe anywhere, it‘s with you.”

“As flattering as that is, if that shooter had missed me and hit you instead…”

“Yeah, but you totally healed me when that… Thing tried to eat me,” he announced, a note of hero worship entering his voice. “I bet you could have done it again if you had to.”

“That’s not the point,” she replied uncomfortably. Glory really didn‘t want to get into the fact that the thing that allowed her to heal was some kind of parasite that used her as a sheath and which could just as easily suck the life out of people as restore it. “There are people who wouldn’t think twice about hurting you if they couldn’t get to me.”

“Look, it’s okay. I’m not afraid,” he replied before adding stubbornly, “And if you try to make me leave, I’ll just sleep in the alley behind your place. I figure if I’m going to be homeless, that’s probably the safest place in Sybar City. But hey, your choice.”

“You are a brat,” Glory growled in exasperation. Robert merely crammed another apple buttered cracker in his mouth and watched her with an air of expectation.

“Alright, fine,“ she declared finally, and he grinned, “but there are rules and consequences. No more skipping school, and I expect you to do your homework and actually study for tests. I’ll help you if you need it, but school is important if you want to get a good job some day.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. He‘d probably had this talk before. “And Officer Hart told me about some of your extracurricular activities. Don’t embarrass me by making me pick you up from the police station. I’ll give you an allowance, so there’s no need for stealing.”

“I don’t steal! That was…”

“You don’t need to explain,” she broke in with a wave of her hand and a slight smile. Glory laid a hand on his shoulder. “Look Robert, I don’t care what you did before, or whether you even did it or not. But if you’re going to live here, I want you to act with a little bit of dignity and forethought.” He made a face. “If you can’t imagine me doing something, then chances are I wouldn’t approve of you doing it. So just don’t do it whether you‘ve done it in the past or not.”

“Okay,” he mumbled looking down before quickly glancing back up and asking anxiously, “Do you… think the cops’ll come back now that they know I’m here?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have my lawyer look into transferring custody from your foster to parents over to me.“ She thought for a moment before adding, “But keep your eyes and ears open at all times when you‘re outside. I want to know if you even think someone’s watching you or following you, even if you don’t have any proof. I’m going to have to work on some protective charms for you too, but I don’t want you to take them for granted.”

“Cooooooool!” he all but drooled at the thought of more magic enacted on his behalf.

“Just so you know, there are spells all over this house to keep my enemies out, but you saw how well that worked with the shooter,” Glory admonished. “No spell is going to keep you safe or prevent something bad from happening to you if you’re careless or arrogant. Got it?”

When he nodded, she added, “Just keep in mind… if something ever happens to me, or you can’t find me, you go straight to officer Hart. He‘ll get you somewhere safe.” Robert nodded again, swallowing what was either a lump in his throat or a wad of crackers. She was definitely going to need to get to a store for a better quality of snack food, and regular food for that matter.

As much as Glory wanted to call for a rental car and leave immediately for Miskatonic, she first had to call someone to repair her window and her lawyer about Robert. She took the boy upstairs and showed him her room, then told him he could pick any of the empty rooms he wanted for his bedroom. His eyes got very wide before he raced off to explore the rest of the building and choose what was probably the first room he’d ever had all to himself.

Realizing suddenly that though Hart and Walsh had taken two of the bullets, the third was still lodged in the outer wall, Glory cautiously opened the window and stuck her head out. She’d probably be anxious around doors and windows for a while given the shock of being shot when she had felt herself safely at home, but it appeared that, for now, her shooter had been scared off by the arrival of the police. It took her a few minutes to locate the bullet hole and several more to pry the slug out with a pair of tweezers without falling out the window and breaking her silly neck.

She gingerly carried the slug up to the library and set it down in a small sample dish from one of the drawers. Her biggest concern was contamination, but so long as no one touched the bullet directly, it should retain its connection to the unknown shooter. Considering for a second what information she hoped to get from the little piece of scrap metal, she began rooting through her drawers for supplies. It wasn’t that she mistrusted Robert, but she didn’t want to go disappearing on him so soon after warning him about the possibility that she might disappear at some point. Way to make the boy paranoid! she chided herself. Otherwise, she would have gone into her secret room for better equipment. As it was, she wasn’t quite ready to let him into her inner sanctum. At the very least, he’d probably start referring to it as her “Batcave,” and she wasn’t quite comfortable with superhero references considering how culpable she felt about everything Lori had done and might still do with her work.

to Chapter 7, page 5

Bolo Batman – Para um apaixonado pelo Batman 3 bolos de chocolate com o Logo do Batman, Batmobile e a Batcave.

Experimente algo diferente. Bolos que vão de encontro ao que quer transmitir. Consulte o meu catálogo online ou envie-me uma foto do que pretende “comer”. Eu devolvo-lhe o mail com a possibilidade e prazo de execução e o respectivo valor.

Ana Paula Ramos

Cake Designer – Bolos 3D – Bolos Artisticos – Bolos Decorados 3D – Bolos Aniversário – Bolos de Casamento

Cool Homes For Sale

http://finance.yahoo.com/real-estate/article/107967/strange-homes-for-sale?mod=realestate-buy

My mom wont let us go in the bat cave down at the river

By Hugh Jend.

So, the daggers are drawn…just who, though, will have the courage to plunge the blade twixt shoulders & buttocks?
Blinky has admitted, during a cutting interview with some school kiddies, that he has aspirations to be the Leader of the Opposition for the next 20 years. Hattie is a front runner, as is Bradshaw.
But wait…why should he be overthrown, when he has the opportunity to disguise cowardice as courage?

Toynbee (pictured below with a fellow inhabitant of the bat cave) has finally woken up to the fact that Brown is TOAST &, by definition, LABOUR whilst he is seen to be in power.

So…will he stay or will he go & how?

We at Tory Ardvark would be overjoyed if he was dragged, kicking & screaming out of No10 & bundled into the back of an ambulance….to be then sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
However we would settle for him to be carried SHOULDER HIGH, out of the Labour Party conference…& THEN bundled into the back of an ambulance etc etc etc.

So, as we have got our week-end heads on….how would YOU like to see Brown relinquish power?

Un album de Bauhaus. Année 1982. Un esprit sombre, une cataracte d’émotions. Peter Murphy tel un chamane appelle les esprits et entraîne l’auditeur dans un monde plein de noirceur et de théâtralité.

Un lien
Le son

ALBUQUERQUE, NM – NBA player Danny Granger is moving forward with his elaborate house plans, which include a batcave!

Danny Granger Jr. is a professional basketball player for the NBA’s Indiana Pacers. During the off-season, he prefers to live in Albuquerque with his wife.

He is still in the midst of having plans drafted for his dream home, but he’s confessed to including Batman’s batcave!

In the past, Granger admitted to already having a “man-room” where he plays his video games, but his hope was to have a cave with a hidden entrance, like the one Batman drives his Batmobile into. Now that his sports career has taken off, his dream is becoming a reality!

In a recent interview, Granger explained that his plans are very specific and intricate, so it will take a year and a half until the house is completed.

Granger said, “What I took out, I wanted an underground tunnel entrance. I had to take that out. I found out there’s so many state codes and laws against that so we had to take that one out.”

“But we still have the underground thing going on and I mean I’ve got cars and things that turn my cars and I even got sort of like a moat thing going on so it will be interesting to see.”

There is no word yet on whether Bat Boy will follow suit. Since his windfall after discovering peak guano, Bat Boy should have enough cash to update his own cave with real style.

Weekly World News will continue to follow the story.

Danny Granger is a middling NBA player toiling away on the Indiana Pacers. However, he’s more than just a basketball player; he’s also a huge fan of the superhero genre and in particular Batman. Being a young millionaire has some perks; at his home in New Mexico Granger is building a real-life Batcave.

He’s recently hit a small snag with the state’s building codes, but it isn’t enough to stop the project, tentatively expected to be liveable in a year or 2. The Batcave will include a garage and a surrounding moat 

“He likes to dabble in different things,” says his agent, Mark Bartelstein.

This is awesome, the only issue I have is that only Batman can build a Batcave, so either Granger IS Batman, in which case he TOTALLY just blew his secret identity, or he’s a poseur. Which is it Danny?

[WSJ via Sports by Brooks]

     Somehow, I missed reviewing the last issue of this series.  Anyway, in a flash forward, we see Dick Grayson as the new Batman, getting beaten up by some mysterious person in the Batcave who knows that he isn’t really Batman.  In the present day, Dick is going around stopping criminals in a far more public way than before, allowing camera footage to be taken of him and leaving evidence for the police.  Penguin’s none too happy about his business getting screwed up, but Commissioner Gordon really wants to meet him.  Dick complains about the costume, and Alfred Pennyworth laughs about having to pacify “a neurotic Batman.”  Then, he trains with Damian and tells him not to have expectations about them as Batman and Robin, but rather to allow them to develop into their roles more naturally.   Meanwhile, Two-Face plans to use Batman to go after Penguin by leaking every bit of information he can find about Penguin’s operations.  And more importantly, he knows that Dick isn’t the original Batman.

     Next issue, Dick goes in and busts up a gambling/prostitution/drugs ring in Gotham, quipping away as he beats up the hired muscle.  The club was one of the Penguin’s, and Batman found out about it from Two-Face’s previously mentioned leaking plan.  Two-Face is also looking for a teleporter for some mysterious job that he won’t tell his second-in-command about.  But something is making him happy.  Elsewhere, in the new Batcave… place, Dick and Alfred Pennyworth talk about how much Alfred misses Bruce Wayne, and Alfred brings up that he found Bruce’s old drawings from when he was younger.  Dick and Alfred then have a sweet little intimate moment.  Dick also understands that he’s being set up with all the people talking about the Penguin’s operations, but he doesn’t know who’s behind it yet.  Black Mask has a conference with Penguin, and he provides Penguin with some new muscle, an ex-soldier named Lyle Blanco.  Later, while on patrol, Dick uses the Batmobile’s handy new tech to put out a fire.  When he tries to get close enough to the building to rescue the people inside, all these chunks of rock go flying in the air towards him and the building.  He’s then confronted by Clayface and Lyle Blanco, the former of whom is responsible for the rock.

     This series is a good attempt to ingratiate Dick Grayson as Batman, as a solo hero, to the readers, but it’s definitely inferior to Grant Morrison’s Batman and Robin.  Unlike Batman and Robin, this series hasn’t completely successfully figured out the balance between light and dark/joviality and noir that Dick brings to the cowl.  I like the plot thread continuing from Batman: Battle for the Cowl about the Two-Face/Penguin gang war and Black Mask’s involvement, and Black Mask working with Penguin is definitely an interesting twist.  However, that problem with Dick that I mentioned is what keeps this series from really being top tier.  Judd Winick seems to shine more when he’s writing almost every other character but Dick and Damian, like Alfred and Two-Face.  On the other hand, I do enjoy his references to Dick as a performer.  So I think this is something he’s working out as he writes the arc.  However, this won’t matter for too long, since Tony Daniel will be taking the series over afterwards.  Mark Bagley’s work here is sadly underpar compared to his work on Ultimate Spider-Man.  Nothing seems quite as crisp and clean.  I also just think that Ian Rannin’s inks are a bad fit for Bagley.  At any rate, this is just a brief taste of the future of Batman, so even if it really doesn’t work out, Winick will be gone in two issues.

Plot: 8.2      Art: 7.9      Dialogue: 8.0      Overall: 8.1

Every man’s fantasy includes, at least on some level, the perfect manspace in which to view the movies he loves. (This fantasy may go on to include Swedish Bikini Teams or truckloads of tangy pork ribs or the re-sprouting of long-lost hair, but in all ways it must begin with a movie media room.)

I’ve kept a portfolio hidden from my wife of “some day projects” to achieve this perfect manspace. It began with nearby Abt Electronics in Glenview, Ill., which used to maintain a series of Truly Boss Media Room displays, featuring the kind of excess of equipment and overindulgence of design that is engineered to stimulate the pleasure center of every male until he’s a drooling mess with an open wallet. Abt is the first place I ever saw a gaudy, wonderful, tricked-out media room that put the theater in home theater: several rows of stadium seats, velvet curtains, armrests and cup holders … Oh, I saw what was possible and was made glad.

Abt doesn’t maintain as many cool media rooms as it used to, but that’s OK: I’ve refined my expectation of what such a thing should look like, having narrowed my preferences to two options decidedly not on the menu at Abt.

First, may I introduce The Batcave:

There’s some question whether this beauteous creation is simply a little showroom showmanship from vendor Elite Home Theater Seating, whether it actually exists in a home, or is merely a nice computer-generated dream. Little matter to me; now that I have seen it, I know that money can make it happen.

Just today, though, I’ve found the first viable contender for the Batcave, and it has me all atwitter because not only is it a real, concrete, in-service theater, it was homemade by a crafty maker-ninja in Switzerland, who has copious photos of the construction and final product at his own site.

Behold, the Nautilus!

It’s got the panache of Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, with all the Victorian steampunk of Alan Moore & Kevin O’Neill’s “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.” A fine place to take a brandy and another viewing of “Iron Man,” wouldn’t you say?

UPDATE: I found another Nautilus-themed home movie theater. How cool is this planet?

Do you think of yourself as a disciple to the Dark Knight? Do you wish for yourself to be his personal sidekick? Well unfortunately that is not possible as far as we know, but an exclusive PlayStation Home Batcave will enable you to treat yourself like the real Batman. Including a replica Batmobile, the PlayStation Home space gives the real feeling of a Batman hide-out. The space will be unlocked when you buy the game.

Batman: Arkham Asylum will be available to consumers on August 26 for the Xbox 360, PlayStation 3, and PC.

Interested in Batman: Arkham Asylum? Check out a video below:

Batman: Arkham Asylum Developer Diary

]]> http://theyellowkid.wordpress.com/2009/07/24/la-batcave-mais-dans-la-vraie-vie/ Fri, 24 Jul 2009 10:34:18 +0000 The Yellow Kid http://theyellowkid.wordpress.com/2009/07/24/la-batcave-mais-dans-la-vraie-vie/

Une vidéo qui date un peu certes, mais qui fait toujours son effet (oui, j’essaie de me contenir). Uncle Ed, fan absolu et rondouillard de Bruce Wayne et de son alter ego Batman, collectionne tous les toyz et costumes produits sur le Chevalier Noir depuis plus de 20 ans. Autant vous dire que son basement (sorte de sous sol aménagé typiquement cainri) ressemble à la Batcave à force, avec son lot extraordinaire de costumes customs ou originaux.

Et comme je suis un jaloux notoire, je me console en me disant qu’il ne peut pas mettre les tenues à cause de son physique digne du vendeur de comics des Simpsons. N’empêche que si j’avais son adresse, je l’aurai cambriolé depuis bien longtemps.

Pour voir la deuxième partie de la vidéo, avec notamment une collection de masques qui m’a fait hurler comme un dingue, cliquez pour

Well, since I am stuck here at my dad’s house and I can’t go anywhere or do anything, I decided I could post another comic.  I promise I won’t post anymore until tomorrow.

♪♫Sera

The Batcave

I remember cruising through Design Milk and coming across this house in Japan that left me speechless. The only thing that came to mind was “The Batcave!” (I call my house/dorm/apartment the Batcave.) So its only right that I post it for all to see, considering the fact that I can’t afford a trip to Japan, let alone a house there similar to the likes of this one.

Maybe one day…

BATMAN #687

Batman Reborn – A Battle within

An Epilogue to Battle for the Cowl

DC Comics

Wie in der Ankündigung schon treffend umrissen wurde, ist diese Ausgabe ein spezieller Abschied von Batman. Wer jetzt glaubt dass mit „What happened to the caped Crusader“ schon alles gesagt wurde, täuscht sich nämlich gewaltig.

Gaimans und Kuberts Abschied hatte einen „künstlerischen“ Zugang und zeigte sämtliche Stile und Variationen die das Batman-Franchise in den letzten Jahrzehnten durchwanderte.

Judd Winick hingegen drückt hier gehörig auf die Tränendrüse und liefert den Lesern einen Abschied fürs Herz. Zwar hatte auch Caped Crusader mit der Abschiedsszene (Good Night, Batcave) einen rührselige Moment zu bieten, doch gehörte dieser Bruce Wayne alleine. In diesem Heft sieht man wie die Hinterbliebenen mit dem Verlust ihres Freundes, Mentors und “Sohn” umgehen.

Besonders Alfred, der trotz der Trauer probiert optimistisch in die Zukunft zu blicken, gewann mein vollstes Mitleid. Obwohl ihm der Tod seines „Masters“ mit Sicherheit am Schwersten trifft, ist er stark genug um Dick noch als emotionale Stütze zu dienen und mit gewohnt weisen Ratschlägen zur Seite zu stehen. Interessant ist auch wie er auch sofort einen Unterschied zwischen ihm und Bruce klarstellt. Sieht so aus als würde Alfred seinen Einfluss stärken…

Sehr groß ist die Szene in der Superman und Wonder Woman das zuletzt von Bruce getragene Kostüm in die Bathöhle bringen. Beinahe schon herzzereissend wie Alfred hier reagiert.

Da muss man auch einfach die fabelhafte Arbeit von Ed Benes erwähnt werden der mit dieser Ausgabe ein Glanzstück abliefert und die Gefühle der Trauernden gut umzusetzen weiß.

Neben dem traurigen Handlungsstrang ist das eigentliche Hauptthema dieser Ausgabe Nightwings Zweifel ob er wirklich in Batmans Fußstapfen treten sollte und könnte.

Hier finde ich den Rückblick zu Beginn toll, in dem Dick noch zu seiner Robin Zeit gezeigt wird. Erinnert stark an den Einstieg ins vorletzte Robin Heft in dem eine ähnliche Szene mit Tim Drake zu sehen gewesen ist.

Während Dick noch ein pflegeleichter Robin gewesen ist der auf Bruce aufgeblickt hat, zeigt sich Damian erneut als vorlauter Bengel der nur allzu gerne selbst das Batman Kostüm tragen würde.

Nachdem Dick am Ende doch einsieht dass nur er der neue Batman sein kann und darf, sucht er sich einen Platz für eine eigene, neue Bathöhle (dazu bei Batman & Robin mehr) und darf wenig später auch gleich in seinen ersten Einsatz gegen Scarecrow ziehen.

Dieses Heft ist ein (weiterer) gelungener Abschied von Batman der durch gute emotionale Szenen überzeugt. Auch wenn die Zweifel von Dick, und dessen Entscheidung sich doch noch für das Cape zu entscheiden hier fabelhaft zur Geltung kommt, hoffe ich dass DC jetzt endlich mal einen Schlussstrich unter Nightwings Gefühlsduselei zieht. Diese Thematik wurde jetzt wirklich schon zur Genüge ausgereizt…

Großartiges Heft, würder Abschied. Kaufen!

5/5

L’excellent travail du photographe JR a surement donné des idées aux créateurs de la boutique en ligne Style Your Garage. Le concept est simple: vous développez n’importe quelle image sur une bâche spécifique, qui peut ensuite être collée sur votre porte de garage, votre fenêtre ou encore votre porte d’entrée. Il faut compter environ 260 euros pour votre bâche custom, et j’en vois déjà qui réfléchissent à quelles conneries ils pourraient imprimer. Moi perso, je vois un bien une trompe l’oeil qui donne l’impression de rentrer dans la Batcave ou sur la Route 7 de Goldorak.

Evening in Gotham City.

No crime spree that we know of yet, but you can never call it quiet in this section of town. Darkish, yes, because here in the Batcave we’re half-underground: enough to let the daylight in, but once yon sun calls it quits, there’s no doubt about it: darkness rises.

Smoke rises, too, and all but one of us does, so the two windows – screenless, natch – are open a crack, whether the weather, so bring thou a sweater (or grab one of the skull-adorned hoodies tossed all over the place) and so, too, the studio tends to have a few more visitors: of the genus Insecta.

Tonight we tried to get Takeshi to summon his Japanese Ninja Warrior Side and decimate a 3-inch Something that strongly resembled a Flying Dragon, but he was deeply involved in summoning his Japanese Zen Peaceful Monk Side, instead.

Also, Takeshi has a new laptop, and the password to my wireless network, so there’s a strong possibility that he was summoning his Japanese Pokémon Cheat Hack side, too. I didn’t look, so I can’t say for sure. As the Zen parable, “The Farmer’s Luck” goes: “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Aris and Psycho Cherry are currently sharing a MacBook, and were therefore IM-ing and DJ-ing at the same time, which was terrific for me, since when they AREN’T here, I’m usually too focused on what I’m doing to remember even to launch my iTunes, despite the icon in the dock of my own MacBookPro staring me right smack in the face.

Really.

No, really.

That peppy little CD with the blue music notes on it, just leers at me, going: “Uh, hello? Musician? Tunes?” Then shakes its digital little head at me, as if I am hopeless.

But when Aris and Psycho Cherry are here, the ambiance changes radically from a simple one-human digital sweatshop to a working party of discussion and delight. My daughters – who refer reverently to my posse as “The Cool People” – love it. Everyone gets magically fed, watered, intellectually stimulated, and entertained.

Those who grace my studio cherish my daughters, too, as mutually as my daughters cherish them: this past week, when my youngest’s much-beloved, much-too-young cat died suddenly, my daughter overheard them laughing in the Batcave as she and I were upstairs, preparing for the backyard funeral.

“Tell them they don’t have to come,” my 10-year-old said, fighting the most recent round of tears. “They sound so happy. I don’t want to make them come to a sad funeral.”

At that point, my own throat started to close.

Of my two daughters, the oldest, would throw herself in front of a train for you if ever you needed it, but from her manner, her bearing and her Dorothy Parker wit, you’d never know it.

My youngest? Her devastating but selfish charm would allow her to skip lightly over your bleeding body and make you want to thank her for it.

Ergo, lump in my throat.

Down with message went I to Batcave.

Up I returned: No way. All for one, one for all.

The ragged gypsy band of us lined up at the back fence grave, my youngest as “chief mourner,” asking only for a moment of silence in Toufou’s honor.

We all took turns trying to console the little one, especially Aris and myself, who have each suffered private losses recently; losses the little one could not yet understand, yet still our freshly-wounded hearts bled for her, our own scars only just beginning to form.

We resonated like tuning forks for her, grief upon grief, vibrations that we knew would lessen with time. Could the little one be made to understand? That time, and thankfulness, were all that ever help, in the end?

Time.

And gratitude.

“Gratitude?” My youngest was totally confused.

“Look around you,” I whispered into her silken, golden brown hair, as she wept into my lap. “Look at all the people who love you. Be thankful, even though right now you can’t be happy.”

“But I want Toufou,” she protested.

“You’ll have Toufou as long as you love and remember her,” I said.

“I can’t see her. I can’t talk to her. I can’t touch her. It’s not enough,” she said.

“Not now,” I said. “But eventually, it will be.”

It will have to be, I thought, my own heart quickening a bit.

“Eventually doesn’t come soon enough.”

“It never does, darling,” I said, “but that’s what Gotham City is here for.”

We fell asleep together for the next few nights on the futon in the Batcave, hanging on to each other, each, alternately mourning, alternately celebrating, the love of each other, basking in the glory of our friendships, the sunshine, the comfort of darkness, and the hope of time.

The Farmer’s Luck

A Zen Parable

Once there was a farmer whose horse ran away.

All the village came to him: “What terrible luck!” they said.

The farmer calmly said: “Maybe. Maybe not.”

The next day, the horse returned — with another horse.

All the village came to him: “What wonderful luck!” they said.

The farmer calmly said: “Maybe. Maybe not.”

The farmer’s son tried to ride the second horse — and broke his leg.

All the village came to him: “What terrible luck!” they said.

The farmer calmly said: “Maybe. Maybe not.”

The country was at war, and the next day, the army came to collect young men to fight: all but the farmer’s son — whose leg was broken.

All the village came to him: “What wonderful luck!” they said.

The farmer calmly said: “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I found it! Dick's continuing daddy issues!

He said Dad

I’m liking this. I can put all the random junk i find on the internet about our boys on here, (well and Babs!) You might even read some cute fanfic i put on here. It looks smart, well done. I hadn’t read the full Tim letter so that’s nice and so different to what he feels now. This proves that being parentless is in the job description to be a good bat.

This is from Gotham Knights 26.

Compartilhar novas descobertas musicais é bastante válido. Recentemente a banda que mais me impressionou no quesito sonoridade foi a francesa “Drama of the Spheres”. Conheci a banda por acaso baixando a coletânea “Trip to Eden”, que reúne singles de bandas como Corpus Delicti e Clair Obscur.

Fonte: myspace/dramaofthespheres

A música Squalid Jokers de cara chamou atenção, pela sua complexidade de passagens e atmosfera densa, além de ser uma dessas músicas perfeitas para abrir um set, simplesmente porque entra “arregaçando”. Baixe a música aqui e entenda o que eu estou falando.

A banda em si infelizmente já acabou, existiu de 2000 até 2004, formada por caras de meia-idade e denominada pelos mesmos como uma banda de post-punk batcave. As influências principais deles foram o Virgin Prunes, Jad Wio (foda!), Sex Gang Children, Christian Death e até David Bowie.

Eles são feios mas a música é muito boa, confira no Myspace da banda.