Estas son fotos de la figura que esta por salir de Daredevil dentro de la colección de Diamond “Marvel Select”. Se la ve muy buena y además se incluye la variante sin máscara.

No one has even seen a trailer for Iron Man 2, yet rumors are swirling around of actor Faran Tahir (leader of the Ten Rings terrorist organization that held Tony Stark hostage in the first film) returning to play the villain in the third film; Mandarin. Tahir told Moviefone the following:

“At some point, they want to introduce Mandarin into the storyline and my character, like Mandarin, was the leader of the Ten Rings. We’re leaving it open because, partly, it makes good business sense for us to leave a little bit of uncertainty for people to speculate on.”

“He [Favreau] has known for a long time where he wants to take it and I don’t want to speak for him, but my feeling is that the second movie didn’t want to just follow a singular storyline. They wanted to expand the characters to show that it’s not a linear saga like Lord of the Rings. There’s a linkage somewhere in there, but the big idea is to do at least one more Iron Man movie and then go into The Avengers.”

This revelation is nothing major, not until we set our eyes on the I.M. 2!

Y esque como la gente se aburre, pues le da por hacer cosas tan flipantes como lo que os traigo, un coleguita que se ha fabricado un casco de IRON MAN, motorizado, afin de conseguir elk efecto de “ahora cerrado, ahora abierto” de la armadura de la película…

Le falta hacerlo en metal, y si se pone a venderlos, te digo yo que se forra.

Foi anunciado nesta quinta-feira (19/11) a mais nova atualização de firmware do PSP, – versão 6.20 – que nos trás um serviço muito interessante para se usar: Distribuição digital de HQs através da PSN.

Inicialmente foi anunciado somente para o dia 10 de dezembro no japão na Gamescom deste ano, mas a divisão européia da Sony avisou pelo Twitter que no ocidente seria lançando um “pouco depois” da data do Japão.

Para bom entendedor, meia palavra basta; não preciso nem dizer que a principal companheira da Sony nessa distribuição é a Marvel. Irão ser adicionadas novas histórias todo mês, como Homem-Aranha e X-Men. Mas também terão outras editoras, com histórias como Transformers, Archie e Star Trek.

Na terra dos olhos rasgados japoneses serão distribuidos também mangás como Bleach e Crayon Shin-chan com preços de 420 ienes (US$ 4,71) por “encadernação” e de 50 ienes a 150 ienes por episódio (US$ 0,56 a US$ 1,68).

Fonte: UOL Jogos (via Action Nerds)

Guys … this one is easy. I am going to gush forth a lot of digital love today. (Stay away from me, Chris Hansen.)

You have to love that there was a comic called, “Journey Into Mystery” … and that it made it to 107 issues by this point.

You have to love Stan and Jack created a villain named “The Grey Gargoyle” … and that they repeated his origin in each of his first four appearances almost verbatim.

And, that said villain could be seen as worth of going toe to toe with a god.

But, you’ve really got to appreciate that they show him getting into costume …

Dr. Doom Ettiquette Note: One must take time to get one's villainous boots on properly, lest one be horribly embarassed.

And, that, when attacking Dr. Donald Blake, his weapon of choice is … a paper airplane he turns into stone. I FREAKIN’ LOVE THAT!!!!!! Only in Marvel, kids. They’re here all week. Try the veal.\

Modern comics are nice, but I have always … always … had an affinity for the classics. And, J.I.M. has been a particular favorite. I even tried to mount a relaunch of the title in 1985, but Marvel somehow did not take a shine to the hand-drawn, un-inked covers I mailed … with no stories inside. Go figure. Evidence Below.

Please, don’t ask me what “Clink the Iron Knight” was going to be all about. Or, what “J.O.E.” stands for in “Godakin J.O.E.” Or, even what “Godakin” means. I’m not sure I ever really had a plan.

Thor Retro 7 by marvelclassics
See other 4 color T-Shirts

Don’t ask me what it looks like he is doing. Just don’t do it. I know that he throws his hammer and then gets pulled behind it allowing him to fly… But there could have been a better choice in perspectives, just my 2 cents though. I like the colors in this graphic hoodie and Marvel didn’t scrimp and make him tiny. Because of that I have added to the list of Coolest Hoodies!

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Es curioso. Koldcast.tv se ha currado una gráfica comparativa de la evolución de las películas de superheroes, desde 1978 (Superman) hasta 2009 (Watchmen y Lobezno).

En dicha gráfica compara los presupuestos de cada película con lo recaudado por las mismas. Además, tenemos el Top 5 de pufos recaudatorios: The Punicher (1989), Punisher War Zone, The Punisher (2004), Elektra y Howard el Pato, con el Top 3 de las franquicias más rentables: Batman, Spiderman y X-Men.

Pinchad en la imagen para verla a mayor resolución. Cuanto menos interesante.

FUENTE

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Rogue buries her finger in Wolvie's chest.

I told you we’re back. Another Superhero Throwdown regular, Rachael W., weighs in this week’s challenge with this sweet submission.

Rachael:

An experiment with four Copic Markers and more of an outlined style, then edited in Photoshop. I often have to restrain myself from saying this phrase on a daily basis to the important people in my life.

Make sure you check her own design site, RachaelWDesign. You won’t be disappointed.

Not to be confused with Sabu (who doesn’t get anywhere near as much credit as he deserves for changing the landscape of wrasslin’).

This week’s proof of too much free time: Zabu.

I should have made a post-battle Zabu who–because of wounds received in combat–has to wear one of those cone-around-the-neck things from the vet. Actually…now that I’ve typed that I really want to go mod that.

Ingredients: Zabu’s base body is a D&D miniature Guenhwyvar slapped with liberal coats of orange and yellow acrylic paint. His big teefs were swiped from…from, uh…I have no idea. I’m guessing I went hunting through my giant bin of Mage Knight/D&D figures looking for some random beastie with big choppers. If you can eyeball what figure they’re from you’re insane.

BREAKING NEWS! We have a new bronze medal winner for least-work custom figure. Congrats to Zabu for edging out Conan and joining our silver (Grodd) and gold (Ursa Major) medal winners up on the dias. Hmmm, I sense a theme at work here. (Hint: none of them wear pants.)

The Savage Land might be the craziest f*cking zip code in comics. I offer as proof the above pic: blond Tarzan’s sabretooth tiger jumping off a cliff to tackle the mutated man-turned-into-hypnotic-pterosaur named after the badguy from Lord of the Rings. And it’s not even the weekend.

Random Zabu from around the interwebs:

First up, a Ka-Zar cover gallery full of sabretooth tiger goodness. Then we have a Calvin & Zabu cartoon, an essay of Zabu’s internal monologue and a jaw-dropping piece of Frank Cho art. Man, looking at that guy’s art makes me forget about all the bad stuff goin’ around these days…if he’s a good a person as he is an artist we should crown him King of Earth. Anyway, here’s another custom Zabu Heroclix.

scanned some of my old 2006 drawings inspired by frank miller’s sin city (these 2 have my initials from before i got married)

shellie from sin city by frank miller

lucille from sin city by frank miller

and here’s something i did last night in anticipation of the tokidoki x marvel release in february.

i really want to learn how to draw chibibotness fairly consistently. i’ve tried doing stuff inspired by lil formers and my mr. bear’s drawings, but so far have not been doing as well as i’d like. i’m so tired…i’ve been staying up into the weeeee hours because i’ve been trying to really get time to myself…overall i’m happy to be a parent, but dammit, sometimes i just need some time alone…also, i’ve been trying to get back into drawing as an outlet for all the crap that’s swimming around in my brain…ewww i just realized that makes my brain sound like a sewer…i wonder if i have pizza eating teenage mutant ninja turtles living in my brain?

Well, this is pretty much the end. A big four parter this week, including another Byclops trilogy of strips.

No real translation notes for these!

I feel it would’ve been a strong note to end on, though. A variety of generally well-intentioned Marvel analogues make Byclops’ life a living hell.

*

The next and final installment will complete all the remaining strips for Heroes of the H-Mansion. It’ll be another unconnected grab-bag of cameos, and stops in the middle of nowhere. But maybe I’ll work up a page collecting all the character entries and strips, and also zip it all up into a downloadable. So it’ll end on at least a slightly special note.

Comments and corrections welcome below.

DepositFiles

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MY REVERIE EVAPORATES at the chirrup of the Zephyr phone. I snatch it quickly from my belt, but otherwise remain defeated in my rickety office chair.
            “What is it?”
            “Is that Zephyr? It’s Hallory O’Hagan from MMI.”
            “Oh, Hallory, Christ, hello. Sorry. I was expecting someone else,” I lie.
            “That’s cool. Where are you now?” she asks in her ever-effervescent voice.
            “I’m, uh, actually outside some bad guys’ lair right as we speak.” I grin, pained, the expression unpleasant. “Talk about a Tarantino moment.”
            Hallory titters. “I guess it seems like a silly time to want to discuss figurines with you.”
            “Hey, I get fanboys wanting to talk about my figurine all the time.”
            “Well it’s definitely time we revamped your line. It’s been, what, ten years?”
            “Sure.” I shrug. “Those plastic fuckers last forever.”
            “Okay,” Hallory replies with enough trepidation that even I can discern it. “Did you manage to talk about the line of dolls with the other Sentinels?”
            “New Sentinels,” I correct her. I’m pretty sure I blew the rights to the old team name in a poker game, though it is equally possible it was Mastodon who walked out with the winner, taking with him the keys to Omeganaut’s Omegamobile (which he later crashed and sank in the bottom of the Bay) and the rights to Aquanaut’s first-born child. Boy was that a night.
            “Look,” I tell the hot redhead on the other end of the phone, “it’s still a little premature to discuss this. We haven’t actually finalised the team.”
            “Really? I thought we were booking media for the launch next Friday?”
            “Well, yeah. . . .”
            “I might have some interesting feedback for you, then,” Miss O’Hagan continues unperturbed. “Focus groups have thrown up a few names you might want to consider.”
            “For my . . . team?”
            “Well for the action figures, but yeah I guess they need to be on the team too so we can licence them, right?” she responds.
            “Okay,” I shrug, uncomfortable yet intrigued. “Who?”
            “Shade, for starters.”
            “Shade’s, like, British. From London.”
            “We’re getting some very good numbers for her at the moment, and beside you’ll need ethnic diversity, right?”
            “So they tell me.”
            “What about Paragon and Jocelyn?”
            “Jesus,” I hiss. “I don’t think so.”
            “Why not?” Hallory asks. “Have you even heard the figures they’re talking for wedding pictures?”
            “Let’s keep going down the list.”
            “Cusp? I don’t even know who that is.”
            “I’m working on it. Next?”
            “Okay. Red Monolith.”
            “He’s, uh . . . he’s dead.”
            “Okay well that’s not happening then. Do you think we could acquire a licence from his estate? Sort of a, ‘friend of the New Sentinels’ angle?”
            “Jesus, lady, I don’t know,” I stagger a sigh. “I’m beginning to think you could get a licence to kill if one really existed.”
            “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says and I can practically hear her purring down the phone. She is so mine.
            “Do you actually have any suggestions I can use?” I ask.
            “Okay. Well how about Nocturne? If you can’t go with Shade, Nocturne’s another good coloured option.”
            “I don’t think we call them ‘coloured’ any more,” I remark.
            “I’ve got another idea, not sure what you’ll think about it.”
            I scratch at my mask and realise I am still not wearing one. “Go on.”
            “The groups were indicating boys from eight all the way through to thirty-five were pretty keen on a modular, kind of transforming robot sort of guy,” Hallory says and barely drops pace as she continues on with the spiel. “I’ve had production mock up a few costumes and the copy guys have suggested a few names: Contraption Man? Mr Roboto? Rocketman?”
            “But I don’t know any . . . transforming robots . . . I don’t think.”
            “I guess that’s the point,” Hallory says. “You could think of it like meeting your obligations to equally represent minorities on the team. Have you asked yourself, do you have the machine world covered?”
            “Honey, I don’t think the machines have a lobby group we need to worry about, unless they’re armed. . . .” I think briefly at this juncture about Think Tank. “Next thing you’ll be making suggestions for a fucking superhero with Down’s Syndrome or something. It’s not happening, okay?”
            “Zephyr, the numbers are really good.”
            “I’m sure they are,” I say.
            She waits a beat. “Even for a disabled person, we’re getting feedback that there’s a lot of angles as far as accessories go, there’s even a synergy between the robot guy.”
            “There is no robot guy!”
            “Only because you’re being so negative about it.”
            “Christ, Hallory,” I say, sounding spent. “You know I love you and everything, but you have to listen to what you’re saying here. The two members of my team you’re most interested in don’t exist, and maybe they’re having an affair together? The robot guy and the girl with mechanical legs?”
            “It’s not a bad idea.”
            “I’m hanging up now. I’ll fax you the final roster when I get the licences signed off.”
            A gravid silence hangs between us. I don’t know if I’m sympathetic just because I want to get into her pants, but I feel guilty about chewing Hallory out and there’s nothing but embarrassed, possibly sullen vibes emanating back down the phone line.
            “I’d green light the Red Monolith toy, though,” I say reluctantly. “He would’ve liked that.”
            “Cool,” Miss O’Hagan comes back. “I’ll courier you over some new concept art. Where should I, uh, do that?”
            “No concept art,” I snap. “He wore red and black, with yellow panels under his arms. And a motorbike helmet, damn it.”
            I snap the phone shut and jam it back into its purse hard. I am fuming with anger and yet mostly I’m just annoyed at myself. I consider annihilating the TV and instead exercise just a modicum of control, giving it enough spark to power it on. The widescreen resolves into a picture of British actors picketing the skyscraper where the Union Jacks have their base. Seeker’s vanishing fortress is certainly a better deal than a headquarters where even a bunch of freakin’ thespianoids can manage to find you. As the small crowds wave their placards, Protector himself appears – the third British super to bear that name – and tries to settle the crowd with an inaudible speech that soon turns to violence. It’s not a good look as he jets through the crowd bowling women and policemen over, bottles smashing the glass façade of the building lobby. I reflect on an image of his teammate Lionheart, last time he was in Atlantic City, with a beard of puke dribbling from his chin into some stripper’s lap.
            I glare at the screen throughout a twelve-minute commercial break, promos for American Hero, Celebrity Heroes, Heroes: Where Are They Now, You Can Be A Hero, Heroes Unlimited, Arena Heroes, Down And Out In Atlantic City and London and a cooking show with some raven-haired British bint who eyes the camera insouciantly and looks like she’s licking up cum as she devours a mess of chocolate cake and cream on a child’s-sized spoon.
            A newsbreak live from the NBN chopper shows some ridiculously buff dude with black hair and a gold cape fucking around the top of the Silver Tower, seemingly inspecting the array of antennae and digital receivers. NBN splices in some of the free-to-air feed Chancel himself provides, giving a fish-eye lensed view of the stranger up close, a furrow to his otherwise fine, completely unfamiliar features.
            It’s enough for me. I’m angry and already dressed. I press my mask into place and stomp through to the wallspace and the open window and basically throw myself out and plunge into the glimmering dusk.

IT’S ONLY A couple of seconds across the city at the speed I’m travelling. Golden Boy hears me coming and turns as I use the concrete ledge as a brake and snarl, “Who the fuck are you?” as the news copter whirrs around for a new angle.|
            The other guy has about half-a-foot on me, which isn’t anything unusual as I’ve explained before, I’m just ordinary height. He has shoulders like a bull, black hair in a sort of Imperial Roman cast, a gold circlet around his brows matched by the cape and little sandals. His arms and legs are bare, the rest of him in a clinging reddish blouse, thick belt and trunks.|
            “A spiritu fornicationis, Domine, libera nos,” he chuckles. “This-a question, it is rhetorica, no?”
            “What?”
            The foreigner smiles and next thing I know there is immense pain in my chest as eye-beams lance through me. I lose all strength and drop from the air – not a good thing when we’re about forty floors from the ground – and it is only rebounding off the hard concrete ledge that jolts me back into awareness long enough to grab for a hand-hold. Meanwhile the dude in the cape gives a final once-over to the audio-visual apparatus on the outside of the tower, glances at me and then rockets heavenward.
            I’m a ruin. I only just manage to roll onto the ledge and lay there for long seconds with the smell of my own cooked bacon filling the air, even with the competing cross-winds. The news helicopter turns around and a megaphoned voice booms my name a few times before I manage to sit up and, gasping, actually trying not to break into tears of embarrassed, pained frustration, I probe the wound to my chest in disbelief.
            “Who the hell was that?”
            The leather is scorched and peeling and basically destroyed. Likewise for the top-most layers of my skin and pectoral muscle. It hurts like a bastard and if it wasn’t for my own persistent physiognomy I’d be winging my way to the ER right now. All I know is I need to get somewhere private and strip down. Victim of my own adventures as I have been so many times these past years, I am a veteran at this routine and manage to get to my feet without much more than wincing. I remember once seeing a Canadian hero called Manowar do the same thing after a few of Cogito’s goons triple-teamed us with some of these industrial lasers he’d whipped into weapons. Poor bastard didn’t realise he’d been nearly cut in half by the beams and stood only to watch his intestines and liver pour onto the ground. I think somehow he lived, though he’s been institutionalised ever since. I guess you don’t adjust easy to seeing your insides in the dirt.
            I give the chopper a little wave and a wan smile and shrug, oh well, for the cameras. I have to shake myself off a moment to ascertain that my powers haven’t deserted me completely and then I do the crouch thing and pretty much abscond from the whole disaster, avoiding the news loops for the next two days that show me getting my arse handed to me from pretty much every angle Amadeus Chancel could provide.
            Everyone’s happy enough to lend their own little comments to my performance, but they don’t even think to ask who the hell was my opponent. The only time anyone even thinks to address the matter – and to add insult to injury, it’s Nightwind – the panellists just shrug their shoulders and move on to the next schmuck.
            From my sickbed, with the wound healing nicely, I scrub Chancellor’s name from the ‘potentials’ list and work the phone, whittling down the final candidates via conference call as the big night comes ever closer.

หลังจากข่าวความเคลื่อนไหวของหนังซูเปอร์ฮีโร่ Thor นั้น ก็พูดถึงการรับนักแสดงเพิ่มอย่างมากมายมหาศาล ซึ่งตอนนี้ ก็น่าจะพอยกพวกไปตีกับอีกกองถ่ายหนึ่ง!! ล้อเล่นน่ะครับ ไม่ดีครับ และตอนนี้ ผมก็นำความเห็นของนักแสดงสาวหน้าหวาน  นาตาลี พอร์ตแมน ต่อหนังที่เธอกำลังจะแสดง เรื่อง Thor ซึ่งกำกับโดย เคนเนธ บรานาห์ มาให้อ่านกันครับ

ในการประชาสัมพันธ์เรื่อง Brothers กำกับโดย จิม เชอริแดน ที่จะฉายในบ้านเรา 7 มกราคม 2010 นาตาลี พอร์ตแมน ได้กล่าวถึง การถูกเชิญไปรับบท นางพยาบาลสาว เจน ฟอสเตอร์ ใน Thor ของค่าย Marvel ก็เป็นคำถามว่า ทำไมถึงเลือกเล่นหนังเรื่อง Thor เธอก็บอกไว้ประมาณว่าไว้ว่า

“ฉันคิดว่ามันเป็นอะไรที่แปลกใหม่ และน่าตื่นตาตื่นใจเลยทีเดียว ฉันว่า Thor มันเป็นอะไรที่น่าอัศจรรย์นะ แน่นอนแหละ ฉันก็จะทำให้ดีที่สุด กับหนังเรื่องนี้”

แน่นอนครับ เรื่องนี้มันเป็นเรื่องเกี่ยวกับ เทพเจ้าเลยทีเดียว และก็หลายเทพด้วยกัน ใครคิดว่ามันไม่น่าอัศจรรย์ ก็บ้าแล้วล่ะครับ เราคงได้เห็นอะไรที่น่าตื่นตาตื่นใจ อลังการงารสร้างสุดๆ แน่นอน

Thor มีกำหนดฉาย (สหรัฐ) 20 พฤษภาคม 2011 ครับ

COMICS!

We went to the comic book store today. It was exciting, obviously. I bought the new Buffy and the past 4 Angel issues. And MI bought some X-Men, old skool and manga versions!

And now we are watching some Big Bang Theory, like the great nerds we are.

by Jason Aaron (writer), Yanick Paquette (pencils), Michel Lacombe (inks), Nathan Fairbairn (colors), and Cory Petit (letters)

The Story: Dr. Rot attempts to release the animal inside Logan.

What’s Good: Last month’s issue was fantastic and this month is basically just more of a good thing.  Aaron’s “Insane in the Brain” arc continues to be a fantastic horror comic; it’s twisted, creepy, and shockingly gory for a mainstream Marvel comic.

Dr. Rot continues to be an incredibly strong character.  This month, his gleeful insanity is all the more enjoyable, as he has a run-in with some ordinary Mafia thugs.  What ensues is a delightful collision of worlds, where contact with the more mundane criminal only makes Rot appear all the more outrageous.  Also, if that female mask Rot wore last month wasn’t bad enough, this time Rot actually has it adopt its own personality, as he talks to himself in a mirror.  I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted to laugh or take a shower after reading that.

I suppose that that’s really indicative of how this issue’s build upon last month’s groundwork: it just seems that little bit more outrageous.  Where last month saw a bloody sack of brains, this one sees Rot running around with cleavers, a man with his hands removed, and an all-out chainsaw massacre.  Where last month had more of a “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” feel, this month continues that, but adds a strong dash of grindhouse, splatter-horror into the mix.  Indeed, when we enter Rot’s mad scientist lab and he goes plucking brains, it certainly feels like something out of a thirty year old horror flick.  It’s sensationalist, bloody, and delightfully campy.

On art, Yanick Paquette continues to put out incredibly pleasing work.  His character models remain fantastic.  I also enjoyed how most of the frames featuring Rot have his eyes shaded in.  The character’s only having shadowy black pits for eyes is definitely disquieting.  Paquette also extends his range a bit this month, drawing Wolverine’s nightmares in a completely different style, one that’s more blurred, painted, and hellish.  It’s a perfect juxtaposition to the rest of the comic and is suitably horrifying.  Colorist Nathan Fairbairn also continues to have a great effect on Paquette’s work, giving Wolverine’s “treatment” scenes in particular a very well-lit, even fluorescent, clinical feel.

All told, the book hits all the same right notes it hit last month.  While it shows more this month, using the suspense of the page-turn to the maximum, it still also plays up what we can’t see.  Certain areas remain cordoned off, and as demonstrated by the bandaged nurse this month, that’s often the worst part.

What’s Not So Good: Admittedly, much of the ground covered plot-wise is the same stuff we went over last month.  For instance, Wolverine repeats that he doesn’t know where he is or what his name is.  He stated those same lines through monologue a bit last month, but when he does so a few more times this month, it does become noticeable.   At one point, Wolverine’s continued restating of this existential dilemma made me wonder whether some of the internal monologue was even necessary, if it’s only there to echo what we’ve heard several times already.

The big ending this month does help, but there is a slight sense of water treading through some parts of this issue.  That said, I don’t suspect it will greatly bother anyone with a decent attention span.

Conclusion: Still incredibly experimental and creative, with a cool grindhouse flavor added in, this one’s a keeper.

Grade: A-

-Alex Evans

by Brian Michael Bendis (writer), Alex Maleev (art), and Cory Petit (letters)

The Story: Madame Hydra attempts to recruit Jessica once again.

What’s Good: Madame Hydra/Viper is certainly great fun to read and works as an excellent foil to Jessica.  If Bendis hopes to use her as the arch-nemesis of the series, it certainly wouldn’t be a bad idea.  The chemistry is definitely there.  Viper’s voice is well-done by Bendis, a good mix of slimy, conniving villainy and rampant sociopathy.  It’s also clear that in the midst of her intelligence, a few screws are loose.  Several times I felt as though Viper’s dialogue wasn’t quite in-synch with her conversational context and surroundings.  It’s very subtle, but it definitely adds a nice tone to the character.

Overall, what this issue does is muddy the waters.  Jessica Drew hunting skrulls for SWORD is apparently, while fun, just too damned simple for a Spider-Woman comic.  Rather, the possibility of her working as a double agent returns and at the end of the issue in particular, her ethical limits will be tested.  Long-term, this issue looks to make things more interesting.

I also enjoyed the internal monologue quite a deal this month.  The repetitive self-pity and excessive quips of self-loathing that I’ve complained about in past are completely gone.  Instead, Jessica’s snarkiness has been raised, making her far more likable.

On art, Alex Maleev is still putting out an amazing looking comic.  His rendition of Madame Hydra looks almost as good as Jessica Drew, and that’s saying a lot.  It’s refreshing that for once, Jessica doesn’t stand head and shoulders above all the other characters.  Maleev’s drawings of the comic’s urban surroundings are also absolutely fantastic.  His scenery shots nicely break up what would otherwise have been a comic entirely of talking heads.

What’s Not So Good: Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that barring one quick helicopter chase, this entire comic is essentially one long conversation.  That doesn’t make for the most thrilling reading, nor does it feel like particularly brisk storytelling.

Also, while I did say that I liked Jessica’s skrull-hunting occupation being made a little more complex, I am wondering if everything’s happening just a little too soon.  She’s only hunted down one skrull, and already she’s being approached by HYDRA?  She just became an Agent of SWORD, and it already feels as though Bendis was running out of ideas on the simpler skrull-hunting front, so decided to move onto the next thing.

It’s a shame too that older Spider-Woman continuity is already being brought in to play a major part.  I guess I thought this book was going to be a fresher start for the character than it is and I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

Finally, this isn’t Maleev’s strongest work either.  While the book is by no means bad looking, Maleev definitely goes overboard when it comes to re-using the same images over and over.  This is fine when it’s used for dramatic purpose or pause, but it’s clear that the only motivation here was cutting corners and saving time.  Changing the size or placement of a face does not mean that it’s a different image, and it’s thoroughly unacceptable on an ethical level.  I bought a comic to see illustrating, not copy/pasting.

Conclusion: I’ve really enjoyed Spider-Woman thus far, but this is issue is feels a little phoned in.

Grade: C+

-Alex Evans

“Dig, Dug, Damn!” is a series of posts where I talk about things I like, love, and enjoy more than anything else in the world.  It’s pretty much a top list for my life.  Note: Everything listed is really, really great.

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Playboy magazine

I like to read the articles.  Seriously.  No, not in that crazy moon language on the cover of the one pictured, but in English.  It’s painfully well written and is, in my humble opinion, the best written periodical in the world.  It’s varied coverage and from-the-left-but-kind-to-the-right reporting is addictive and unarguably intelligent.  I understand the stigma people have with it being a fantasy magazine and such, but I don’t see what one thing has to do with one another.  It’s bunk I can’t read a copy openly in public, which is why I came up with the idea of Playboy Lite, the articles-only version.  Putting this out would allow people to not have to wait until they get home to grab their copy from under the mattress where it stays hidden from the wife, and increase the public opinion of what the publication is really all about and earn it sophistication points.  Brilliant, right?  I know.  Really, though, I love Playboy and reading about breasts the world at large. (playboy.com)

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Howard T. Duck

A personal hero of mine.  First of all, the film Howard the Duck was incredible and if you disagree you are dead wrong.  It is the best production ever touched by George Lucas (better even than Star Bores), and is the Citizen Kane of Jeffery Jones vehicles (better even than the damn fine Beetlejuice).  The incredibly sexy Lea Thompson was killer in it, and the laughs were a plenty.  I love it so much I have it on my Samsung Eternity.  Live action aside, his comics are some of the best action-comedy ever written.  I mean, it’s such a jovial, if dark, and silly property and Marvel can’t find more use for Ducky and Bev?  A new on-going should be started, with portions being given to different artists and writers, a way for them to recharge their batteries and have fun with something bizzare that isn’t as constrained by continuity complications like every other title out there.  Do you hear me, Joe Quesada?  Take notes.  Furthermore, Howard and Beverly are a real inspiration when it comes to breaking down the walls of hatred and bigotry in the world and where were they in all the chaos of Obama’s election and his subsequent appearances in titles across the comic shop wall?  They could have really taught us all a kick-ass lesson with the new President in tow, but they weren’t allowed a voice and that is so sad to me.  Like, I want to cry, because I’m a huge baby, but also because getting a new fix for my Howard addiction is as rare as me not being awesome.  Please provide me with more stories.  I’ll be your best friend, Joe.  I’ll do whatever you request of me.

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Demetria Devonne Lovato

This may take some explaining.  Okay, here goes- I plain think she’s awesome.  Of course there is the fact that she is both adorable and gorgeous, sometimes simultaneously, but I genuinely enjoy Sonny With A Chance, happily admit her two albums have some real jams on them, and even got a creepy kick when Robert Knepper was getting inappropriate with her on Prison Break.  She seems intelligent and earnest, and a person as devoted to their best friend as she is can’t be all bad.  Heck, I even like Selena’s Wizards of Waverly Place, and what started as a curiosity as to what all the hoopla was about Disney properties has turned to fandom for the young ladies, esp. Demi.  And while it may seem weird to like a girl that is currently 17, I was once 17 and things I once liked I still like on a certain level.  That is true for everyone on Earth and if you claim otherwise you are a liar with pants aflame.  (demilovato.com)