Man down! Man down!

The thing with an infection is, it doesn't seem so bad at first. Like a minor annoyance at most. An infection never seems like an infection until it's too damn late and you're coughing up grape-sized mucous wads. Last week I caught a little cold. Sniffles, stopped-up nose, nothing big. Annoyances. Well, it got a little worse and I had to take Friday off. Saturday, my fiancee was going to the doctor's for a check-up, so I tagged along. I was getting worse and worse. By this point I was feverish and rather delusional. I couldn't make sense of things easily. Sitting on a train I heard a grown man moan and scream and I thought to myself, "I hope that isn't me." (It wasn't.)

Well, the nice Russkie doctor, she set me straight. Infection. Not too bad as far as they go, but really knocking me for a loop. Got me meds, got me on my way to recovery. I was amazed at how it had snuck in through what seemed like an everyday cold or allergy attack. But that's how it always happens. Infections are smart. They don't want to be caught.

That's how we got infected. That's how comics got infected. Little annoyances that didn't seem to be that big a deal. Mediocrities that were better than crap. This blog was started in order to point out that mediocrity wasn't going to cut it anymore. It was a few guys talking about what they liked, and throwing the rest in a pile of shit. But look at us. Reviewing anything and everything as if they all had equal credence. Writing for an audience. When I started, the audience for this blog WAS this blog. Other people started reading it and I think it affected all of us. We edited ourselves or added in some stuff that didn't need to be there. Worried about which pro's google search their names every day. We've gone from writing articles that entertain each other to writing message-board-style "question" posts.

Because there's so much crap out there. Four color malaise just washes over you and it's hard to give a shit when a stack of 20 comics has 3 books worth the word "Great." FUCK good. Good is easy, good is boring. I'm dropping comics left and right, comics that I might even enjoy a bit. But they are NOT ENOUGH. There ARE comics that are enough. There ARE great comics. But Brian's busy taking requests from whatever pathetic audience members we have; disgusted with the site, Alex quit; P-dot, Paul, Tadghgh, Tom and I rarely post (if at all).

So now I'm finally posting. Mind addled by medication and fever, but fueled with anger. Anger at ungreat comics. Anger at fans. Anger at my principal who apparently took my absence as a chance to sneak into my classroom and "clean things up." This is going to be a messy post and I apologize. But fuck that. Comics should be better. If they don't grab your heart, head, crotch, or some combination of the three then throw them away or give them to a kid. If they can't measure up to Amazing Joy Buzzards, the Goon, or Street Angel then screw 'em. If DC's making it and neither Morrison nor Diggle are involved, flush it. Demand more than the latest offering of titties and giggles. Demand Runaways and JLU for the kids AND for yourself. Goddammit!

The point of this is that I'm pissed off and this blog is as sick as I am. We need to remember why we're writing (to talk about comics we think are worth it and to entertain each other) and this newfound readership can either enjoy it or fuck off. Side effects of this antibiotic might include constipation or queasiness.