We’re trying something kind of new today. In an effort to bring you bloggy things on a more frequent basis, I will be putting together random comments with no connection to each other beyond my writing them. Some of these will be new. Some will be things I found in my files that I never turned into full-scale bloggy things.
We’ll start with Adora and the Distance by Marc Bernardin, artist Ariela Kristantina, colorist Bryan Valenze, letterer Bernado Bruce and editor Will Dennis [Dark Horse; $14.99]. It’s a great graphic novel about a courageous young princess on a mission, but I won’t be reviewing it for fear of revealing anything about its beautiful and moving ending. Just take my word about this and either buy it or request it from your local library.
In his afterword, Bernardin has this to say about his editor: “Will Dennis did the thing great editors do: help coax the best version of the story out of a stubborn writer.”
That should be standard policy for editors, but, in comics, that’s not always the case. I had that kind of respectful relationship on Black Lightning: Cold Dead Hands. Jim Chadwick and Harvey Richards never tried to get me to tell their story. They worked tirelessly to help me tell my story in the best manner possible. I would work with either of them again in a heartbeat.
Kudos to Will Dennis for getting it right.
ISBN 987-1-50672-450-8
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I’m generally happy with Marvel re: its treatment of me, but I must admit I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get special thanks at the end of Spider-Man: No Way Home and maybe a check for same.
The method by which MJ was rescued from certain death near the end of the movie was taken pretty directly from my 1980 “What If Gwen Stacy Had Lived?” from What If! #24 [December 1980]. Only a couple of articles on the movie have recognized that, though, obviously, I recognized it as soon as I saw it.
No one should take this as my being more than mildly disappointed at Marvel. The company generally treats me with respect and pays me on time. I’ve been invited to premieres and even received “thank you” checks when I least expected them. Things could certainly be better. That’s true of almost anything. But, especially compared to the other big comics publisher, Marvel is doing right by me. I am proud to be part of the Marvel legacy.
So, just asking here, when will Kevin Feige green-light the long-awaited It! The Living Colossal movie?
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That's my secret, Captain: I'm always angry.
Marvel’s The Avengers (2012) had amazing actors speaking terrific dialogue. However, the line that resonated most strongly with me is the above quote from Bruce Banner aka Mark Ruffalo. I know how the character feels. Because, over the past few years, I’ve felt that way. I’m almost always angry. It’s not good for me. It’s not good for the people around me. It’s not good for my writing. Well, okay, it can be good for my writing. But that’s not the point.
Even before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, a deadly situation made more so by the utter lack of competence and concern from the Trump administration, I would regularly feel rage wash over me as if that emotion were a tsunami of polluted water. It started with the sheer horror of Trump’s presidential victory in 2016 and the realization that close to half of my fellow Americans were racists or, at the very least, okay with racism. They were also okay with other forms of bigotry.
They were okay with a President who clearly admired and even wanted to emulate some of the most murderous dictators of our time. They were okay with him showing deference to those dictators. They were okay with a President who used his office to enrich himself and his family and friends. They were okay with a President who called for violence against his enemies. They were okay with a President who was likely a rapist. They were the acolytes of a con man with fake hair, fake tan, fake everything. They sacrificed reason and decency to worship at his feet.
But I can’t blame all my rage on Trump and his vile followers. I’ve got to give props to the comics industry and how poorly it treats creators. I’ve got to give props to the online trolls, especially
the bigots and crooks and misogynists of ComicsGate. I’ve also got to give props to way too many other factors that held forth in the nightmare worlds of 2016 and beyond.
[I wrote this blog fragment in February 2021. From what I recall, I planned to write about my attempts to control my anger. I didn’t finish it because I suddenly got big and green, crashed through my office window and went looking for puny Republicans to smash. So, I was overcome by anger but still a hero.]
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[This was posted to a message board in July, 2011, but I never used it in a bloggy thing. I still think it’s amusing so I’m reprinting it here.]
I was shopping at Walmart this morning. There I was, buying some little cans of olives for salads, minding my own business...when I was struck from behind!
I fell forward hitting my head on the shelves, but not too hard. My shopping cart was in front of me and, grabbing it, it broke my fall...though it, too, hit the shelves.
I turned around to see my "assailant" was a really old guy in a motorized shopping cart that he'd lost control of it. He was with a group of other seniors, but he was freaking out. I thought he might have a heart attack.
A Walmart manager who had seen this comes running up...to me.
Ignoring the old guy who's clearly in distress.
The manager keeps asking me if I'm okay and telling me I need to come to the office to fill out a report. I tell him (twice) that I'm fine and that he needs to make sure the old guy is okay.
He continues to ignore the old guy and insist I come with him. A little old lady - shorter than me by a foot, with white cloud-like hair and more than a few wrinkles - is trying to calm the old guy down.
I finally tell the manager..."I'm not signing anything or talking any more to you until I've spoken to my attorney." The manager turns white and I move on, figuring that NOW he has to pay some attention to the customer who actually is in distress.
I finished with my shopping and checked out...with the manager hovering around me, though not close enough for me to grab him and stick him face first into a register.
I put my groceries into my car and return the cart to the parking lot cart holder. When I turn around, there's the little old lady.
"Can I help you, m'am?"
"You're not really going to sue the store, are you?"
"Of course not. I just wanted them to pay attention to your friend."
She smiles widely.
"I knew it. I told my friends you were just fucking with that guy!"
Yeah, the little old lady dropped the F-bomb in the parking lot. I nearly fell over at the sheer nuttiness of the situation.
I asked about the old guy and she said he was fine. That they had calmed him down.
So...it was wacky, but it was all good.
Except for the manager, of course, but I don't have any sympathy for a guy whose priorities were completely messed up.
I'm Tony Isabella and I am a magnet for the wacky!
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I’ll be back soon with more stuff.
© 2022 Tony Isabella
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