BATMEN.

Now that the serious stuff is out of the way, I just wanted to let everyone know what they’re in for should they wander over to Forbidden Planet tomorrow and  pick up Batman and Robin #7:

Isn’t that exciting? Two Batmen making necrophagic hump.

Journalism… Jourama

Something that I’ve had to become a little accustomed to since my Prague Zombie series ran in the Washington Square News last semester and was not, shall we say, particularly well-received, is that not everyone is going to be thrilled with my work 24/7. Especially not when I am assailing an entire nation from the comfort of my desk chair, cellulite rolls bubbling over the arms like sweet Cola froth, Cheetos lodged in my throat as I guffaw at LOLcats, and so forth. (Because, you see, blogs.)

Anyway, that much I can handle. But I will forever find myself writhing, I think, when people take the time to comment on my work (or lob well-founded critiques my way) and I am somehow bound by some sort of invisible journalist code not to respond and to let my work speak for itself. It seems pretty ironic that part of what makes eJournalism (iJournalism) such a revolutionary thing is the immense potential for instant discourse, and yet professional writers… aren’t really supposed to participate in that element. Frankly, I will probably believe, forever, that any such claim is a little backwards. At least if we’re dealing with an opinion piece, anyway, as I have been.

NYULocal, typically thought of, for a myriad of what I’d consider pretty silly reasons, as WSN’s big “rival” on campus, recently published a well thought-out response to my column about the gay NYU male and the straight NYU female. My personal belief is that the column was so unabashedly tongue-in-cheek that I risked rupturing my flesh, but nonetheless, accountability must be taken for something that I chose to publish in a campus newspaper that is distributed to thousands upon thousands of students and staff.

And I don’t think it’s inappropriate to take a minute on my personal blog to address the burgeoning “situation.” Realizing that I am, perhaps hypocritically, playing into the online mudslinging that I would like to see less of (why NYULocal has to publish an article that really has no purpose other than to assail another campus publication and myself is sort of beyond me), I want to say first that I actually do appreciate the commentary that writer Annie Werner and the peanut gallery (represented in the comments of her piece) contributed on my column. I would have to say, first, that I do check NYULocal regularly and respect it not just as our “competition,” but as a very good online publication. Writers like Werner, Jessica Roy, Ned Resnikoff, Josh Becker, and Lily Q (to name a few off the top of my head) render a service to all students of our university, just as WSN’s writers do, and to perpetuate any sense of ill-will is not appropriate, in my opinion. Things get especially messy when it comes to my pieces being subjected to such scrutiny on their site, because I happen to know a number of NYULocal’s staff personally (not to mention people in the comments section). As it happens, Annie Werner herself came to several of my opinion meetings at WSN last year, to give you some sense of how small this world, EVEN IN CYBER SPACE (!!!) actually is, but we can all, I’d imagine, appreciate that such relations can be separate from well-reasoned commentary and writing in general.

Sometimes writing can’t really stand for itself, or at least can’t do so very well. It’s probably a mark of a subpar piece, and I might be inclined to say that my piece on the catty female at NYU was such a piece. Ned Resnikoff pretty much brought the whole thing home in his (perhaps slightly too impassioned) comment, reading:

Here’s the takeaway point: If you’re going to write a good op-ed, you don’t need to take the subject you’re writing about terribly seriously. You don’t even need to make your point in a serious manner. But if you’re not taking the act of making that point seriously, then you should probably find a new hobby.

And I think that’s probably something that every writer, especially op-ed writers, should take to heart.

So, while I might wish that I had not been so forcefully targeted by Annie Werner and NYULocal, I can only apologize to those who took the column the wrong way, or even those who took it the right way and still thought it was stupid. I think it’s important to consider how online journalism works, and I think it’s fair that I add my two cents here. For my part, I will endeavor to do better ( I think I did, in yesterday’s column, which is a bit more of a return to form, I’d like to think). I’ll continue to read both NYULocal and WSN, appreciate both of their excellent staffs, and hope that we all have the tacit understanding that the writing doesn’t always make the man. Or something. In any case, thanks to Annie Werner for setting this all off with her piece.

(Kind of. Vicious but fair!)

Honky Tonk… Batwoman.

Could DC’s Detective Comics possibly be better right now?

Almost certainly not.

Since I was in Prague between August and December, I’m still catching up on them good ol’ fashioned Amurrikan comics from the tail end of 2009, and having just gone through the three-part “Go” storyline in Detective Comics (a Batwoman origin story) I can only say this: Greg Rucka and artist JH Williams III are tearing shit up.

Their first arc in the monthly series (“Elegy,” soon available in hardback) was a truly first rate action-adventure story that assuaged many an on-the-fence soul that might’ve scratched their head a bit when DC announced that their flagship title would be converted to a vehicle for their dynamic lesbian following the “Battle for the Cowl” event, which overhauled the Batman line. This recent storyline? A lot better. Odds-defyingly better. Improving, somehow, on peanut butter and chocolate better. Seriously, we’re talking, “my girlfriend is going to get this shoved down her throat when she next enters my apartment” levels of good here.

Writer Greg Rucka (comic-book-famous for superb runs on books like “Gotham Central,” “Wonder Woman,” and “52″) is constructing his masterwork here, and though anyone who has ever opened a comic illustrated by JH Williams III cannot help but notice his insane brilliance, this, too, seems his most stunning work to date, surpassing even “Promethea” and “Seven Soldiers of Victory #0.” This is the sort of comic book that you show off to people who doubt the medium: the marriage between words and art here is staggering in its potency.

And for those less inclined to mess themselves over the, shall we say, technical side of things, this is, simply, a great, great story. Great characters, great pacing, innovative, the whole shebang. Pick up “Detective Comics” issues 858-860, or wait for the inevitable hardcover. Because besides, you know, everything else, there’s… Bat-gays!

Yum.

Jesus, DC

Are you kidding me with this shit?

Hurrrrr

Coming in 2010: My Little Doom Patrol. Includes glitter and nail polish.

So not only are we going to see DCU books brandishing a (shudder) “Brightest Day” banner for several months, but we’ll be treated to a year-long mini-series that’s actually, you know, called Brightest Day. Says The Source.

Yuck. Dare I say it? I dare.

Brightest Gay.

… Though, not to sound like too much of a sensationalist jump-the-gun prickbag, I do like that DC appears to be making strides towards some sort of universe cohesion (in that it’s basically ripping off Marvel’s recent trend of “banner events,” like “Dark Reign,” which took place across many books but didn’t have its own mini-series), and I do like that they’re apparently trying to re-brand their books such that they’re not glutted with doom and gloom. (Or so it would seem, but they also announced that “Brightest Day: Titans” will see the eponymous teenage team headed up by ultra-violent villain Deathstroke. A questionable decision.) Warmer, more creative comics are good, certainly, although to be fair we don’t really know what direction “Brightest Day” will be taking at this point.

But holy Jesus that name, those colors!

20 Pleasant Albums from 2009

BEHOLD, MORTALS:

A PLOG OF BLUNDERS’
20 PLEASANT ALBUMS FROM 2009

Read on, swine.

David Cerny Hates You

I had the opportunity to meet with Czech Jeff Koons Damien Hirst artist David Cerny this past Monday. I’ve enjoyed learning about his work immensely during my stay in Prague, but his too-cool-for-school, fuck-everything persona was a bit, shall we say, irksome, if not entirely unexpected. Still, he keeps things light, and for a country that has continuously struck me as painstakingly in order and (dare I say) repressed, his work is an invaluable source of vibrancy and levity. This column was, as always, published first in the Washington Square News.

Oftentimes, NYU in Prague kids prove to be, air quotes, “the jackasses.” We desecrate our lush dorm kitchens, ransack one another’s sustenance, stand on the wrong side of the escalator (or plummet down them drunkenly) and squawk English at the indigenous elderly — “Two. Klobasa. TWO!”

But sometimes, NYU in Prague brings the jackasses to us, and that, slight victory as it may be, is always reassuring. Case in point, last evening’s guest appearance by Czech artist and pop-culture point of fascination David Cerny, who would probably take no issue with the pejorative. (He might, in fact, settle into it as comfortably as he has his off-the-cuff flippancy.)

Cerny is the man behind such sculptures as “Dead Raped Woman” and “Entropa,” a controversial work commissioned by the Czech government to celebrate the nations of the European Union. And how did Cerny choose to represent these member states? Some choice examples include Italy as a group of athletes passionately humping their soccer balls, the United Kingdom as a massive chunk in absentia from the work, and Finland as a man lying prostrate in front of an elephant and hippo, which Cerny last night remarked was a depiction of how drunk the Finnish people are, or, after a pause, how drunk he might have been when he made the work.

It’s all pretty hilarious, and it’s all pretty obvious. After I asked if he views his work as political, Cerny acted almost incredulous and said no. When I asked if he thinks people take his work too seriously, he indicated that, yes, they sometimes do.

Those are pretty jackass things to say for a number of reasons. Cerny also put together a pretty famous work on display in the Czech Republic that has the audience climb up a ladder, poke their heads through a gargantuan rear end and watch a video of Vaclav Klaus, the second Czech president and right-wing nut, being spoon-fed white fluid to Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” footage that he proudly showed us last night. (You can see a pretty good shot of the exhibit if you Google Image search “David Cerny Vaclav Klaus rectum.”) He also came up with an image of a barbed red hand giving the middle finger with the words “FUCK THE KSCM” (the Czech Communist Party) printed beneath, elevated to a higher profile when Keith Richards once wore it onstage. And Cerny explained that after proposing a monument commemorating the Czech resistance to fascism in World War II, he was asked to respond to the fact that Communists had also been a part of the resistance. To this, he responded, “A dead Communist is the only good Communist.” He’s also put together a model of Saddam Hussein’s noose-choked carcass floating in formaldehyde.

In sum: His work slaps you in the face with its blatant political overtones, and it strikes me as a little ridiculous to say that people might take these over-the-top ideas a bit too seriously, even if it’s almost stupidly apparent that Cerny is only masturbating to an absurd Technicolor climax every time he concocts a new piece of, ahem, artwork.

But then, David Cerny knows this. He knows a lot of things, like how his future might hold a piloting career in South Africa — oh wait, no, he corrects himself — South America, but maybe Africa if he decides to work for “Doctors Without Borders or something.”

Yeah, dude’s a complete jackass, and he probably loves it! Frankly, I found his myriad urinating statues refreshing. And dare I say, it was almost liberating to find someone as at odds with this demure culture as I may be, forever and ever.

Prague Zombie

I’ve been writing a weekly column for the Washington Square News this semester. It’s been met with, shall we say, mixed reviews. Be that as it may, I have to say that I’m pretty fond of the one that ran yesterday. So, enjoy below the full, red-blooded uncut version of the article (but do, of course, head on over to WSN and see the published version for yourself):

NYU Prague director Jiri Pehe is kind of a political rock star. He’s worked closely with literary dreamboat and premier Czech president Vaclav Havel, lent his knowing hand to Radio Free Europe, and had the gall, the sheer, explosive libertine chutzpah to flee communist Czechoslovakia in 1981 and settle in the United States. His mug is all over Google, and for those particularly tickled by the democratic ins and outs of this former Soviet annex, Mr. Pehe is probably a household name. Scope his nearly 300-word list of accomplishments on NYU Prague’s staff bios page and you’ll see for yourself that he’s, well, a pretty important sort of fellow.

Recently, he scribed an email in response to a grave mystery that with each passing day bubbles ever closer to its boiling point, and it starts with a line that would perhaps bring a tear to those few, proud Czech dissidents who signed Charter 77 years ago to oppose communist “normalization.”

“It has been brought to my attention again,” writes Mr. Pehe, “that food items are being stolen from rooms, kitchens and refrigerators in the Machova dorm.”

Surely, this numbers high among the darkest hours Jiri Pehe would face in this, the country he fought for and loved.

The letter goes on. Machova RAs are asked to be more “vigilant” and increase their night patrols. Red notices have been plastered all over our hallways, saying things to the effect of, “lock yourself in your room or you will – you WILL – have your granola stolen, and then you will die.” And the kicker, the rotting cherry on top, is that the NYU Prague administration has actually found this to be such a tremendous problem (no doubt because of what I’m sure are innumerable complaints) that the Czech police have actually been made aware of this problem. Should the thief be caught, they will be put in front of a tribunal and then, ultimately, to death. (Also, they face immediate expulsion from NYU Prague and will get their rumps bruised further back in New York.)

Yeah, this is pretty cringe-worthy.

The saga of Machova’s missing food items has lumbered on since the final days of September. It’s attained near mythic levels in these halls, and to my knowledge, no suspect has been detained. With mere days left in the semester, I can only conclude that the bandit will remain at large, possibly to return to the United States to continue his or her reign of produce-pilfering terror. Maybe there was something to the concept of secret police, after all.

Who could it be? An assortment of faceless stoned, drunk partygoers returning from a night out with a serious case of the munchies who just happen to open the fridge and think, “hey, dude, MILK,” helping themselves while the victim sleeps peacefully unaware mere doors down, only to awake hours later in a cold sweat, realizing, crap, that they hadn’t initialed their foodstuffs in Sharpie? That’s, you know, possible. I might feel a bit of sympathy for the stunk-ass narfer who gets caught redhanded, icy doggy-bagged goulash dripping from their quivering lips, should this be the case.

Otherwise, guys, I’m mostly just embarrassed. We aren’t worthy, Mr. Pehe. We just aren’t.

A note: according to a Machova RA, the fall 09 batch of NYU students is the most destructive of the past seven years. Yahoo! High five, guys.

Aaaand fuck yes:

DC. February.

Frank Quitely: I yearn to bloat with your writhing manspawn.

Looks like Brucey’s going for a little dip in a Lazarus Pit? But isn’t Batman disembodied and on some sort of cosmic not-death trip after Darkseid blasted him with the Omega Sanction? (Prediction: might this “revived” corpse be nothing but a shambling aberration while the essence of the Dark Knight is still elsewhere, lost in time and space?)

… I love comic books.

Another fuck yes: I’m on the Prague Monitor today. Links here, to an oddly Czech-ified and trimmed version of the original article, but still.

2:14 Beans

Nothing like Heinz canned beans for breakfast lunch at 2:14 in the afternoon. Such protein.

DID YOU KNOW:

Beans are a food you can use with anything. Fancy a big breakfast? Beans on toast? With sausage, egg, bacon and fried mushrooms? Yum.

Lunch time? Need something to eat? Beans with your pie? There’s not a better combination.Even for tea, you can have fish and chips and beans! There is nothing you can eat that you can’t have beans with. Also, spread brown sauce on them, and mix it all together, and its even better. You can’t beat Heinz beans!

Are you concerned about weight? Eat Heinz beans!! Per serving (a half can) it’s only 149 calories, add your two slices of toast and thats a meal in just 350 calories. That half can also contains just 0.4g of fat of which only trace saturates.That half can also contains 26.8g of Carbs, of which 9.9g sugars, giving a mix of both long slow energy, and an immediate hit.

The high protein content in Heinz’s beans will help you grow and maintain cells. The fibre content will make sure the rhyme comes true (come on, you know the one!)The only down side to heinz’s beans, is the salt content. 1.8g per half can is a hell of a lot of salt for one meal. This high salt can cause heart problems such as high blood pressure. However, if you can avoid other salty foods, heinz beans are a great treat for your day!

Thank you, Stig11686, via Ciao.co.uk.

Combined with the amount of Queensryche that’s happening right now (a lot), I feel even nearer to my NYU brethren, who once adorned their shower with open cans of black beans, spoons adrift in the steam-blasted remnants, ever pointed towards heaven.

Edit: Christ, it is 8:06 now and I am on my bed, eating dinner (beans), listening to Queensryche. I really need to find something new to do in this town.

Comic Books: Going Digital, Going Under

Despite the fact that I’m a journalism major and declarations of print-implosion are in vogue, I try not to overextend myself to take part in any sort of debate as to whether or not CNN’s Twitter is a harbinger of the industry’s doom, or that The New York Times’ iPod application is, like, totally the worst thing. I know that journalism is going to exist in one form or another, barring some global takeover by a totalitarian alien force, and my ability to get a news brief on my phone doesn’t necessarily mean that I won’t also want long, thick, juicy (mm) investigative pieces like Michael Moss’ recent expose on the meat industry. These things have ups and downs, and it’s just not productive to speculate. The wheels are turning anyway!

But. Those pro-digital fuckers just got to my comic books. And we have a problem now.