September 12th, 2010

cass, can you not

Back online

Apologies for my radio silence (which was, of course, noted and commented all through internetland). I had a very "interesting" and expensive week, hardware-wise, the end result being a new motherboard, graphics card, monitor, and a finally working home computer, which I'm now clinging to.
cass, can you not

Fic: Finis Stellae (PG13, Marvel Universe, and then no more)

Title: Finis Stellae
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Marvel Universe, and then no more.

It was seconds before the end of the All. Only Galactus and a Richards were there to see reality's final gasp.

"The trillions you killed to satiate your hunger," said Richards. "You promised that in the end it would be justified. This is the end. How will you justify yourself?"

"I will remember," said Galactus. Then everything died.

Galactus abandoned the corpse of reality and entered another, an already fully grown one. The promise was again made, and would again have to be kept.

A new reality called for a new game. He chose Brainiac and began his work. There was much to record before everything came once again to its end.

cass, can you not

Nikita, S01E1

Back in the day, hyper-technological, hyper-tactical, shadowy intelligence organizations were cool. Hence The Femme Nikita, which took everything even half-cool about the CIA paradigm, and amped it up to twelve. And, ye gods, wasn't it cool.

Today we live in a time of hyper-technological, hyper-tactical, shadowy organizations driven by abstract tactical profiles and insane internal politics. We call it "the work environment." And you know what? It's not cool. Not because it's oppressively effective, but because it's oppressive yet ineffective, baroque but pointless. It's stupid, it's ugly, it's stupidifying, it's uglifying. It sucks, and just for that, it deserves to be taken down hard.

Hence Nikita.

I'm still reserving judgement about the whole of it (the new Michael, Ops, and Madeline seem less interesting than the originals, and the Birkoff is bleh so far), but I like this Nikita much better, and Alex is pinging all my Robin alarms.
cass, can you not

Comics! (Couple of Comments Edition)

After reading Batman #703, I think it's a shame that Morrison is writing this in continuity. I'd love to read a comic written by him about a city that doesn't have to be called Gotham, about people that don't have to be named "Bruce Wayne" and "Joker," and about someone that doesn't have to be called "Doctor Hurt" (and doesn't have to be — fuck, don't make me say it, you stupid bastard Morrson). Because that city and those three people can be quite interesting, and more so if freed from the constraints of the Bat-verse (while, at the same time, not wrecking havoc with every single underlying assumption in said Bat-verse).

My reaction to Red Robin #16 is much simpler: TIIIIMMMY! Tim's tenure as Red Robin makes me feel much better about Dick and Damian being Batman and Robin. Dick is a fantastic street-level Batman (in time, perhaps even better than Bruce), while Tim is a fantastic behind-the-scenes Batman (in time, perhaps even better than Bruce). Dick is Gotham's Dark Knight. Tim is the Detective (and the mastermind). None of them is the Bat, but that's because that's Bruce's private insanity. And I miss true-Barbara, who was the Batman in the Bat-cave. Between the three of them, there was little they couldn't do (only the truly mythical was beyond their scope, I think, because they are still relatively sane).

And if you have given up on the Doc Savage, which I almost had, do pick up Doc Savage #6, which for the first time feels like a Doc Savage comic. In other words, a comic about a huge, crazy, genius SOB. Imagine Morrison's JLA-Batman in civvies, not giving a crap about a secret identity and without an obsession with bats.