What we learn this issue besides bread on bread violence has been increasing lately.
THIS COVER DOESN'T HAVE MUCH TO DO WITH THIS ISSUE. THERE IS NO FUNERAL FOR WOLVERINE AND DAZZLER AND THEIR PALE LIMP SOULS DON'T GET ESCORTED TO HEAVEN BY AN EQUALLY PALE ANGEL.
Man, I'm fucking spent from compiling that best of entry over the course of the last couple days (in my free time, I don't do this shit all day you know). I added a permanent link on the side of the blog so new entries don't push the best-of post into oblivion. Its the first change I've made to this web page since I put it up. Exciting!
Anyway, my energy level is a little low, and that fake title was just awful so I'm going to mix in some caffeine to this next shot of heroin to try and perk up before I finish this entry.
OK I'M BACK. THANKS DRUGS, I MEAN COFFEE.
This is basically a one and done filler issue with solid guest artists Rick Leonardi and Terry Austin spelling regulars Marc Silvestri and Dan Green (who had that double sized issue 2 months earlier don't forget), and to step off the gas plot wise to give Claremont an opportunity to reload. It's a common but effective comic book trope.
This issue is OK, not great. Dazzler is the narrator in the form of an epistolary (HAH, STILL KNOW MY SAT WORDS). Which is fine but it gets awkward when you realize she is explains events to a guy in a letter who was there for half the adventure. It's fine for us readers but the fictional letter reader would be all like, DUH I KNOW THAT DAZZLER, I WAS THERE. HELLO.
Also Claremont still does not know what "to coin a phrase" means, this time having Wolverine announce he will coin the phrase "Since when did I ever do what was told?" It's not as bad as "coining" the phrase "I got better" but I'm pretty sure that specific order of words had been minted before Wolverine decided to breathe life to them.
OH MAN THIS COFFEE IS REALLY KICKING IN. I FEEL LIKE THE #1 MOST FUCKING AWESOME MANIAC.
That last line was a phrase actually and truly coined by the great Johnny Ryan in the first volume of his Prison Pit series, a bona fide modern masterpiece.
Anyway, Dazzler and Wolverine rescue one of Dazzledong's old friends, O.Z. Bedazzler emphatically keeps O.Z. in the friend zone while I'm sure O.Z. wishes things would progress into the BONE ZONE. A random Russian mutant who is clearly in a hurry (GET IT???) and the cock hole ginger g-man Henry Gyrich are also involved. And O.Z. has a dog Cerebus. Needless to say, our heroes prevail, but O.Z. is still sad because he is reading this letter from Dazzchlong and reading the newspaper that is reporting on the DEATH OF ALL THE X-MEN atop 555 Eagle Plaza in terrible Dallas, the events we just covered last issue. So no bone zone for that guy.
Then O.Z. leads some random people in a dinner in a toast to Dazzlista and the X-Hombres and bones a tall cold one. I swear he does.
So much for that issue. I'd like to now interrupt our regular dick and fart joke delivery mechanism to comment on some the content found in the previous BEST OF BALZAC'S BALLSACK. Specifically all the offensive language used. Something like the phrase 'AT LAST, FUCK YOU, X-FAGS', which I employ in one of the MS Paint cartoons, could be incredibly hurtful if used inappropriately. As would the phrase FUCK YOU FATSO, or the words RETARD, ASSHOLE and BUTTHEAD, and a whole lot of other stuff I've written. That's why, before making a judgement on whether or not this makes me a bad person, you need to consider the context. I don't not, nor would I ever, think about hurling such hateful invective at someone in real life. Nor do I wish I could and am just taking advantage internet anonymity to express how I really feel. It's just me fucking about some bullshit blog.
So why did I use a homophobic slur, but not, say, the n-word? Well, for one, FUCK YOU X-FAGS has an alliterative zing to it that FUCK YOU, X-NIGGERS just doesn't provide. Also, one man wanting to put a hard boner in his mouth and butt is inherently funnier to me than someone being born with a surfeit of melanin. But that doesn't mean we can't have a good time and toss around all manner of derogatory terms here. So whether I'm banding about the terms wops, or kikes or midgets or chinks or cripples, who fucking cares? I'm just a big spastic comic book collecting dork wad virgin who's never even touched a boob before. Life's too short to get bent out of shape over some bullshit words.
Think of it like watching a movie with a rape scene in it. Does that mean rape is OK? Of course not, ding bat. Just like me having Wolverine call Storm a cunt doesn't mean I like to go around dropping the c-word in normal conversation. I'm not going to be a fart sniffing insufferable pretentious douche bag and proclaim that this is what art is all about (eve though I pretty much just implied it anyway), but I will say that I hope everyone has a really awesome day and that I'm sorry if anyone reads this blog doesn't immediately orgasm with joy.
Like a serious, geyser-like orgasm that requires you to change pants.
Anyway, maybe that didn't make any sense and it's just the caffeine talking. And maybe my logic is flawed and I am just a fucking dickhead. It's certainly not outside the realm of possibility.
NEXT ISSUE, FUCKING CYBORGS. YES!
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