THOUGHT BYTES FOR 2005 (Pt.6)
This Saturday marks one month since I last reported here, so I better write something or feel the wrath of those few who stop by on the regular basis. My last entry sort of tired me out. After that, there was nothing to report. How do people do this on the daily basis? Am I the only one who gets bored with life and world events?
MAJOR EVENT IN JULY
My wife celebrated her 30th birthday and I made it my mission to make it a celebration. She busts her ass twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I wasn’t going to let this go by without some acknowledgement of how special she is and all the hard work she does raising my off-spring. First, I gave her $200 spending money. Second, I decided to surprise her with a small party. It would have been a big party, but she doesn’t have that many friends. Something I feel bad and happy for at the same time. In Eddie Murphy’s last stand-up movie and probably the most infamous, RAW, he spoke of women and how their friends can influence the worst in a marriage. For that reason, I’m happy my wife doesn’t have female friends. The last thing I need is someone telling her how bad a husband I am. Let her continue the delusion of being the luckiest woman in the world. Of course, the bad side is she’s more than likely to wake-up one morning, realize she has no life of her own and leave me with two kids I can’t take care of by myself. I try to convince her to seek out more female companionship, but it never goes well. Good. Either she has no interest in them, or she discovers they are lesbians. My wife is a female who believes that men and women can be friends without sexual attraction being present. I disagree and point out how most of the male friends she had previously were pissed off when she dated me. She says it was because they see her like a sister and want to protect her. I tell her it was really because they wanted to bang her and didn’t need me in the way in addition to the other seven “brothers” they were competing against. But, my friends are her friends and she says she prefers it, that way it’s less work. If she doesn’t want to talk to anyone or deal with the responsibility of having relationships, she doesn’t have to.
In preparation for the surprise, I took the day off from work, but didn’t tell her. I ordered a huge cake from a fancy bakery. My wife’s favorite food is Italian, so I ordered from Olive Garden. Originally, I wanted three different types: Mexican, Italian, and Korean, but the cost was too high and I still had other things to buy. I straight out asked my wife what her favorite Italian dish is and ordered that from her favorite restaurant. I added a peach cobbler to my order at the bakery, bought balloons, plates, napkins, and ice cream from Coldstone’s. Last, I reserved a table at a small jazz and blues club in Hollywood where Cheryl Bentyn was performing.
My mother got my wife and kids out of the house and brought them to her place where I had everything set up and screamed, “Surprise!” when my wife opened the door. She was really surprised and never saw it coming. We enjoyed a birthday lunch and later went to the club for the first show. Our booth was secluded and candle lit. She wore my favorite dress; it was so low cut that two cars with male drivers stopped to watch her walk by. We snuggled during the show, I bought her drinks and she got toasted. I bought her Cheryl’s cd and we took a long time driving home via the Sunset Strip.
It was a great night.
EXAM TIME
I turned 33 this year and my employee counselor suggested I see a doctor and get a physical and mental exam. Yeah, a mental exam; I go to see her about the problems I’m having at work and she suggests I’m crazy. It took a month to get an appointment and I was happy about it because it’s been over two years since my last check-up and I could have cancer for all I know. My doctor is female, in her fifties, and no taller than 4’. Everything went normally, but I was nervous when she said it was time to check my balls.
The last time I had my balls felt up by a doctor was in my early teens and the physician was an exceptionally attractive white woman. She juggled my nuts in her hand for a few seconds and I got an erection. I was so embarrassed, but excited that a female was feeling me up. This time, I was afraid history would repeat itself, even though my doctor’s beauty exhausted itself a long time ago. Instead of popping wood, my nuts shrank, pushing into my stomach to keep her hand away. I thought I was going to vomit. Then, that which all men fear was about to happen to me. She said, “Okay, lie on your side and spread your cheeks.” BUTT CHECK! But, I consider myself lucky. I watched my wife get her ass checked during both her pregnancies by a 6’+ black man with hands like a sledgehammer. My wife can’t stand it when I put my tongue up there during oral sex and here was a brotha with a finger bigger than my penis giving her an anal exam. My having a doctor with tiny fingers was good, and I had already told her about my hemorrhoid, so I wasn’t too embarrassed by that. It felt good having her poke around.
I like getting checked out by the doctor, it’s relaxing. The result was I’m healthy as a clam. Fat, but no high blood pressure and labs are clean. Now I have to get my head examined, but I’m looking for a shrink who also specializes in eating disorders. I like shrinks. The last therapy I received saved my life and my marriage, so I’m looking forward to seeing “Dr. Shrinker” and getting my shit worked out. It feels great having my thoughts and ideas validated by someone with a degree.
NEW JOB
I arrived early to work today because I have an interview this afternoon. It feels like I won’t be here, at this hospital, too much longer. I have two interviews this week, and I’m still waiting for an update on my last interview in a different department. So, I might still be here, but I won’t be in this department anymore. I’ve been here for seven years and it feels strange and exciting that I may leave. I’m really looking forward to it. In retrospect, it’s not bad here, but I think I just out stayed my welcome. I need a fresh start. New place and faces to meet; new things to see and do and a much simpler job for more money.
REVIEWS
Saw Fantastic Four and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But, I think that was the plan of the marketing at FOX. Reverse psychology: have people thinking the movie is a big pile of shit, so when they see it, it has to be better than what they were expecting. And it was, it worked, and now a sequel is two years away. The main problem with FF was the story structure; nothing was explained properly. You never knew why things were happening, and before long you found yourself in the middle of a fight with no dramatic reasoning. It was like watching kids playing Fantastic Four instead of actually seeing the FF duke it out.
I bought The Crow: Wicked Prayer. My God, what was Jeff Most thinking letting that pile of shit hit the stores? Better to squash the whole thing. Eddie Furlong plays the latest goth avenger and he is without a doubt the worst at it. Each installment in the franchise after the first movie has been bad, but their saving graces were passion and creativity. The people involved gave a damn, they had imagination and were truly trying to be original and build upon the mythos. Salvation was bad, but after a few viewings it grew on me. Once I forgot about the other movies, it took on it’s own personality. The special effects were sub-par, but the ideas were enough to get me through the bad mechanics. Alex Corvis, a death row inmate framed by crooked cops for his girlfriends rape and murder, who gets executed and raised by the crow is a damn good idea that separates it from the previous movies. Having him discover his “crow face” by tearing away the scarred remnants of burnt flesh was cool to watch. Better, was the idea of him turning into a crow and flying across the city. And it was interesting to watch Fred Ward as the villain who weakens Corvis, not by directly harming the crow, but taking away Alex’s belief that he was not responsible for his ladylove’s demise. Wicked Prayer had a lot of cool ideas to play with: Native American mythology, a cool old west feel, and a main character who was a murderer and irredeemable. All gone to waste with bad acting, worse villains, and dialogue that was indirect rips from all three films. The director and writer introduced nothing new to the mythos. And despite my love of David Boreanaz, he sucked in this movie. In a nutshell, he was Angelus under a different name, but his acting was far below anything Whedon would allow. And if you wonder why Tara Reid has been reduced to reporting for the E! Channel, you’ll know after you see this movie.
XXX: State of the Union was fun to watch. Ice Cube was a little stiff. It’s hard for me to see him in an action movie like this. Or, perhaps it’s hard to see his character assume a mantle that was meant for someone else. The whole concept of XXX was taking the James Bond spy stories and amp them up for the younger crowd. But this movie had nothing to do with espionage or an over the top spy vs. spy style. It felt more like the old Masquerade show from the eighties, where the CIA would get different people for different situations. A more recent example would be Tom Cruise’s version of Mission Impossible. For people who liked the first movie with Diesel, they might find its sequel slapping him in the face on several occasions. First, they dismiss Xander’s death as nothing more important than squashing a roach. Then, Ice Cube has several lines that put down Vin’s character throughout. Call me a geek, but if Vin wouldn’t do the movie, better to find another actor to play Xander and stick to the original script than have Ice Cube go from roadie to main character. The change comes off like Doughboy from Boy’s in the Hood joining the military, becoming a S.E.A.L., getting imprisoned, escaping, and now gets to blow up the capital to save the president. And what was up with all the cars? They totally moved the story away from any chance to show Ice Cube as a ladies man and surrounded him with automobiles. Whether it’s reality or fiction, there’s no explanation for me to believe a buffed up and chiseled Ice Cube is more interested in saving the President or attracted to a scrawny white girl, not while Nona Gaye is standing in front of him in a black dress with her boobs pushed up to her chin. Worse, Diesel got busy in his movie with two different women. Ice Cube gets no play at all. Diesel gets to lounge with a chick a Bora Bora. Cube gets a car and immediately set-up for replacement, but not without being marked with the XXX tat. Or, perhaps I should call it a “brand”?
SCRATCHING MY HEAD
Still working on my new story, a couple in fact. But, things have slowed since I was offered a chance to help on a screenplay. Actor brought me in on the gig and last week was spent hammering out an “audition”. This week is about getting my bearings back. I’ve got too much I’m trying to do, that’s for sure. It’s a sure thing that, when you try to do too much, you’ll fail. So, I have to re-access what I want to do first, get that done, and then move on.
I’m mostly excited about my vigilante story. It’s not copyrighted yet, so I won’t write anything about it yet. Besides, it’s still only a plot, but the idea is coming along.
Lazarus is almost done. Yeah, I know, but by “almost” I mean less than five pages. I haven’t heard from the colorist in a couple of weeks, so I have to drop him a line. Lettering is proceeding and I just got word that Image will look at proofs. I have to put together a package and send that out ASAP. If I get on the Image bandwagon, this whole thing takes on a totally different head; totally.
But things do feel like they’ve slowed down a bit. Sometimes there’s a week when I’m getting updated nonstop and then another week there’s nothing new to report. The only person I feel like is churning & burning is my penciler. He’s doing some great stuff with the last chapter of the book. It all comes down to a huge fight above the city between Laz and a demon he’s been chasing throughout the book, and it looks great. Carlos is drawing the epilogue, wrapping things up, but I needed to make some changes to Laz’s last page. On page 109, Laz is in a Catholic Church lighting prayer candles for his deceased family and I felt it was too religious. It made Laz seem like he was a Catholic and this was his chosen place of worship. But, what the scene represents is him still feeling responsible for their deaths, where he pays tribute is inconsequential. If he were in Japan, he’d light candles at a Buddhist temple. It’s just that, in this case, it’s a Catholic church. So, I need to show he has no allegiance to the church by changing one panel on the page to show a more “disrespectful” attitude. Besides, Laz knows Jesus was black, but every church he goes to has a white guy on the cross. He may not comment on it, but he is pissed about it.
After this, we go back and fix some trouble pages, and then we’re done with pencils. It will be nice not to worry about pencils anymore and just focus on two instead of three things. Focusing on one thing, I tend to forget the other two and leave them in the dark. A week or two will go by and I haven’t asked for a report because I was concentrating on pencils. But, having the pencils done, I can push on the colors and lettering. It also gives me more to show people and start seeking out other avenues for the project.
BOARD OF IGNORANCE
My vigilante story has a black main character. Black heroes don’t do good in American comics and I’ve gone back and fourth with other creators about why that is, then Merlyn told me how he posted an inquiry on a message board asking why or what White readers don’t like black heroes. So, I went to different boards and did the same, and the experience has confirmed that message boards are a waste of time for people who have no lives.
My post garnered one of three responses; my inquiry was criticized, belittled, or treated seriously in only one of several respects. I asked what people don’t like about black superhero comics and included some questions they could answer along with giving their personal opinions. The first half-dozen comments were people attempting to be funny and not treating the topic seriously. Then, you had people giving their opinions, but not really answering the questions. Instead, they chose to comment on the book I used as an example, Spawn, to discuss whether or not he was black. One pro did take the time to give his opinion, but fluffed it with mentioning his own book several times: “ I hate when comics are like this, BUT IN MY BOOK…” Another pro semi-attacked me, insinuating I was closed minded for using the term: black superhero comics. He clamed there are no such things, and I could have rebutted by pointing out it was a term I didn’t create, but heard used on several occasions. There’s even website devoted to black superheroes, and a panel at the SD convention two years ago where black creators gathered to discuss black heroes in comics. But, since the person plays in major role with a publisher I’m trying to get into, I kept my rebuttal to myself.
What really discouraged me was the lack of honesty. Or, maybe it’s not that anyone was being dishonest, but they were truly ignorant of the marketplace and their own habits. Most of the responses were generic replies like: “If the story and character is written well, I’d buy it regardless of the character’s race.” And that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever read. Several ethnic heroes are written well, but they all still tanked in the marketplace. Probably the most popular black superhero, Black Panther, has seen failure time and time again for this same reason.
In the comicbook world, Black and White unite against their common dislike for ethnic heroes. Hell, even I don’t like Black Panther, and it’s because he’s too black for me. I’m so used to white heroes of all kinds that any black hero I see is too “out there”, even though they look more like me than I do Superman. I remember speaking with Merlyn once about Black Panther and how I thought it was “too black”. I think I said something about it not being realistic that an African nation could be so technologically advance and he wanted to slap my head clean off my shoulders. But no matter how programmed I may be, at least I was honest about it and continue not to pull punches. I’m not a fan of black heroes because most of them are all about being black and not being a hero. Those that don’t follow that mold do great disadvantage to the character by omitting race completely. What I’m looking for is a balance, characters that are true to themselves without using any racial gimmicks. And that’s hard because you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. I could write a character that doesn’t like rap, but then he’s too white. But, if he does like rap, then he’s just like all the other stereotypes. So, where do you draw the line?
I went to the boards looking for honesty and all I found was bullshit. I wanted to know what people don’t like so I could avoid those things, but instead I found out why people continue to fail, because no one is being honest. No one wants to be the racist who says: “ I hate John Stewart as Green Lantern because I can’t believe the Guardians would choose a black guy to have the most powerful weapon in the universe.” A black writer writes the Panther now and it’s still not a top seller. Worse, people have openly admitted to hating his work, calling it racist. So, if the black hero is a carbon copy, then they are “inferior product”. But, if the writer gives it a unique flavor, he’s a racist.
Comics could be one of the few bastions of racism in this country and I don’t see it ending soon. Sure, I want to find a way to end it, but what chance does anyone have when the majority of readers won’t admit their crime of prejudice?
JPG.
MAJOR EVENT IN JULY
My wife celebrated her 30th birthday and I made it my mission to make it a celebration. She busts her ass twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I wasn’t going to let this go by without some acknowledgement of how special she is and all the hard work she does raising my off-spring. First, I gave her $200 spending money. Second, I decided to surprise her with a small party. It would have been a big party, but she doesn’t have that many friends. Something I feel bad and happy for at the same time. In Eddie Murphy’s last stand-up movie and probably the most infamous, RAW, he spoke of women and how their friends can influence the worst in a marriage. For that reason, I’m happy my wife doesn’t have female friends. The last thing I need is someone telling her how bad a husband I am. Let her continue the delusion of being the luckiest woman in the world. Of course, the bad side is she’s more than likely to wake-up one morning, realize she has no life of her own and leave me with two kids I can’t take care of by myself. I try to convince her to seek out more female companionship, but it never goes well. Good. Either she has no interest in them, or she discovers they are lesbians. My wife is a female who believes that men and women can be friends without sexual attraction being present. I disagree and point out how most of the male friends she had previously were pissed off when she dated me. She says it was because they see her like a sister and want to protect her. I tell her it was really because they wanted to bang her and didn’t need me in the way in addition to the other seven “brothers” they were competing against. But, my friends are her friends and she says she prefers it, that way it’s less work. If she doesn’t want to talk to anyone or deal with the responsibility of having relationships, she doesn’t have to.
In preparation for the surprise, I took the day off from work, but didn’t tell her. I ordered a huge cake from a fancy bakery. My wife’s favorite food is Italian, so I ordered from Olive Garden. Originally, I wanted three different types: Mexican, Italian, and Korean, but the cost was too high and I still had other things to buy. I straight out asked my wife what her favorite Italian dish is and ordered that from her favorite restaurant. I added a peach cobbler to my order at the bakery, bought balloons, plates, napkins, and ice cream from Coldstone’s. Last, I reserved a table at a small jazz and blues club in Hollywood where Cheryl Bentyn was performing.
My mother got my wife and kids out of the house and brought them to her place where I had everything set up and screamed, “Surprise!” when my wife opened the door. She was really surprised and never saw it coming. We enjoyed a birthday lunch and later went to the club for the first show. Our booth was secluded and candle lit. She wore my favorite dress; it was so low cut that two cars with male drivers stopped to watch her walk by. We snuggled during the show, I bought her drinks and she got toasted. I bought her Cheryl’s cd and we took a long time driving home via the Sunset Strip.
It was a great night.
EXAM TIME
I turned 33 this year and my employee counselor suggested I see a doctor and get a physical and mental exam. Yeah, a mental exam; I go to see her about the problems I’m having at work and she suggests I’m crazy. It took a month to get an appointment and I was happy about it because it’s been over two years since my last check-up and I could have cancer for all I know. My doctor is female, in her fifties, and no taller than 4’. Everything went normally, but I was nervous when she said it was time to check my balls.
The last time I had my balls felt up by a doctor was in my early teens and the physician was an exceptionally attractive white woman. She juggled my nuts in her hand for a few seconds and I got an erection. I was so embarrassed, but excited that a female was feeling me up. This time, I was afraid history would repeat itself, even though my doctor’s beauty exhausted itself a long time ago. Instead of popping wood, my nuts shrank, pushing into my stomach to keep her hand away. I thought I was going to vomit. Then, that which all men fear was about to happen to me. She said, “Okay, lie on your side and spread your cheeks.” BUTT CHECK! But, I consider myself lucky. I watched my wife get her ass checked during both her pregnancies by a 6’+ black man with hands like a sledgehammer. My wife can’t stand it when I put my tongue up there during oral sex and here was a brotha with a finger bigger than my penis giving her an anal exam. My having a doctor with tiny fingers was good, and I had already told her about my hemorrhoid, so I wasn’t too embarrassed by that. It felt good having her poke around.
I like getting checked out by the doctor, it’s relaxing. The result was I’m healthy as a clam. Fat, but no high blood pressure and labs are clean. Now I have to get my head examined, but I’m looking for a shrink who also specializes in eating disorders. I like shrinks. The last therapy I received saved my life and my marriage, so I’m looking forward to seeing “Dr. Shrinker” and getting my shit worked out. It feels great having my thoughts and ideas validated by someone with a degree.
NEW JOB
I arrived early to work today because I have an interview this afternoon. It feels like I won’t be here, at this hospital, too much longer. I have two interviews this week, and I’m still waiting for an update on my last interview in a different department. So, I might still be here, but I won’t be in this department anymore. I’ve been here for seven years and it feels strange and exciting that I may leave. I’m really looking forward to it. In retrospect, it’s not bad here, but I think I just out stayed my welcome. I need a fresh start. New place and faces to meet; new things to see and do and a much simpler job for more money.
REVIEWS
Saw Fantastic Four and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But, I think that was the plan of the marketing at FOX. Reverse psychology: have people thinking the movie is a big pile of shit, so when they see it, it has to be better than what they were expecting. And it was, it worked, and now a sequel is two years away. The main problem with FF was the story structure; nothing was explained properly. You never knew why things were happening, and before long you found yourself in the middle of a fight with no dramatic reasoning. It was like watching kids playing Fantastic Four instead of actually seeing the FF duke it out.
I bought The Crow: Wicked Prayer. My God, what was Jeff Most thinking letting that pile of shit hit the stores? Better to squash the whole thing. Eddie Furlong plays the latest goth avenger and he is without a doubt the worst at it. Each installment in the franchise after the first movie has been bad, but their saving graces were passion and creativity. The people involved gave a damn, they had imagination and were truly trying to be original and build upon the mythos. Salvation was bad, but after a few viewings it grew on me. Once I forgot about the other movies, it took on it’s own personality. The special effects were sub-par, but the ideas were enough to get me through the bad mechanics. Alex Corvis, a death row inmate framed by crooked cops for his girlfriends rape and murder, who gets executed and raised by the crow is a damn good idea that separates it from the previous movies. Having him discover his “crow face” by tearing away the scarred remnants of burnt flesh was cool to watch. Better, was the idea of him turning into a crow and flying across the city. And it was interesting to watch Fred Ward as the villain who weakens Corvis, not by directly harming the crow, but taking away Alex’s belief that he was not responsible for his ladylove’s demise. Wicked Prayer had a lot of cool ideas to play with: Native American mythology, a cool old west feel, and a main character who was a murderer and irredeemable. All gone to waste with bad acting, worse villains, and dialogue that was indirect rips from all three films. The director and writer introduced nothing new to the mythos. And despite my love of David Boreanaz, he sucked in this movie. In a nutshell, he was Angelus under a different name, but his acting was far below anything Whedon would allow. And if you wonder why Tara Reid has been reduced to reporting for the E! Channel, you’ll know after you see this movie.
XXX: State of the Union was fun to watch. Ice Cube was a little stiff. It’s hard for me to see him in an action movie like this. Or, perhaps it’s hard to see his character assume a mantle that was meant for someone else. The whole concept of XXX was taking the James Bond spy stories and amp them up for the younger crowd. But this movie had nothing to do with espionage or an over the top spy vs. spy style. It felt more like the old Masquerade show from the eighties, where the CIA would get different people for different situations. A more recent example would be Tom Cruise’s version of Mission Impossible. For people who liked the first movie with Diesel, they might find its sequel slapping him in the face on several occasions. First, they dismiss Xander’s death as nothing more important than squashing a roach. Then, Ice Cube has several lines that put down Vin’s character throughout. Call me a geek, but if Vin wouldn’t do the movie, better to find another actor to play Xander and stick to the original script than have Ice Cube go from roadie to main character. The change comes off like Doughboy from Boy’s in the Hood joining the military, becoming a S.E.A.L., getting imprisoned, escaping, and now gets to blow up the capital to save the president. And what was up with all the cars? They totally moved the story away from any chance to show Ice Cube as a ladies man and surrounded him with automobiles. Whether it’s reality or fiction, there’s no explanation for me to believe a buffed up and chiseled Ice Cube is more interested in saving the President or attracted to a scrawny white girl, not while Nona Gaye is standing in front of him in a black dress with her boobs pushed up to her chin. Worse, Diesel got busy in his movie with two different women. Ice Cube gets no play at all. Diesel gets to lounge with a chick a Bora Bora. Cube gets a car and immediately set-up for replacement, but not without being marked with the XXX tat. Or, perhaps I should call it a “brand”?
SCRATCHING MY HEAD
Still working on my new story, a couple in fact. But, things have slowed since I was offered a chance to help on a screenplay. Actor brought me in on the gig and last week was spent hammering out an “audition”. This week is about getting my bearings back. I’ve got too much I’m trying to do, that’s for sure. It’s a sure thing that, when you try to do too much, you’ll fail. So, I have to re-access what I want to do first, get that done, and then move on.
I’m mostly excited about my vigilante story. It’s not copyrighted yet, so I won’t write anything about it yet. Besides, it’s still only a plot, but the idea is coming along.
Lazarus is almost done. Yeah, I know, but by “almost” I mean less than five pages. I haven’t heard from the colorist in a couple of weeks, so I have to drop him a line. Lettering is proceeding and I just got word that Image will look at proofs. I have to put together a package and send that out ASAP. If I get on the Image bandwagon, this whole thing takes on a totally different head; totally.
But things do feel like they’ve slowed down a bit. Sometimes there’s a week when I’m getting updated nonstop and then another week there’s nothing new to report. The only person I feel like is churning & burning is my penciler. He’s doing some great stuff with the last chapter of the book. It all comes down to a huge fight above the city between Laz and a demon he’s been chasing throughout the book, and it looks great. Carlos is drawing the epilogue, wrapping things up, but I needed to make some changes to Laz’s last page. On page 109, Laz is in a Catholic Church lighting prayer candles for his deceased family and I felt it was too religious. It made Laz seem like he was a Catholic and this was his chosen place of worship. But, what the scene represents is him still feeling responsible for their deaths, where he pays tribute is inconsequential. If he were in Japan, he’d light candles at a Buddhist temple. It’s just that, in this case, it’s a Catholic church. So, I need to show he has no allegiance to the church by changing one panel on the page to show a more “disrespectful” attitude. Besides, Laz knows Jesus was black, but every church he goes to has a white guy on the cross. He may not comment on it, but he is pissed about it.
After this, we go back and fix some trouble pages, and then we’re done with pencils. It will be nice not to worry about pencils anymore and just focus on two instead of three things. Focusing on one thing, I tend to forget the other two and leave them in the dark. A week or two will go by and I haven’t asked for a report because I was concentrating on pencils. But, having the pencils done, I can push on the colors and lettering. It also gives me more to show people and start seeking out other avenues for the project.
BOARD OF IGNORANCE
My vigilante story has a black main character. Black heroes don’t do good in American comics and I’ve gone back and fourth with other creators about why that is, then Merlyn told me how he posted an inquiry on a message board asking why or what White readers don’t like black heroes. So, I went to different boards and did the same, and the experience has confirmed that message boards are a waste of time for people who have no lives.
My post garnered one of three responses; my inquiry was criticized, belittled, or treated seriously in only one of several respects. I asked what people don’t like about black superhero comics and included some questions they could answer along with giving their personal opinions. The first half-dozen comments were people attempting to be funny and not treating the topic seriously. Then, you had people giving their opinions, but not really answering the questions. Instead, they chose to comment on the book I used as an example, Spawn, to discuss whether or not he was black. One pro did take the time to give his opinion, but fluffed it with mentioning his own book several times: “ I hate when comics are like this, BUT IN MY BOOK…” Another pro semi-attacked me, insinuating I was closed minded for using the term: black superhero comics. He clamed there are no such things, and I could have rebutted by pointing out it was a term I didn’t create, but heard used on several occasions. There’s even website devoted to black superheroes, and a panel at the SD convention two years ago where black creators gathered to discuss black heroes in comics. But, since the person plays in major role with a publisher I’m trying to get into, I kept my rebuttal to myself.
What really discouraged me was the lack of honesty. Or, maybe it’s not that anyone was being dishonest, but they were truly ignorant of the marketplace and their own habits. Most of the responses were generic replies like: “If the story and character is written well, I’d buy it regardless of the character’s race.” And that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever read. Several ethnic heroes are written well, but they all still tanked in the marketplace. Probably the most popular black superhero, Black Panther, has seen failure time and time again for this same reason.
In the comicbook world, Black and White unite against their common dislike for ethnic heroes. Hell, even I don’t like Black Panther, and it’s because he’s too black for me. I’m so used to white heroes of all kinds that any black hero I see is too “out there”, even though they look more like me than I do Superman. I remember speaking with Merlyn once about Black Panther and how I thought it was “too black”. I think I said something about it not being realistic that an African nation could be so technologically advance and he wanted to slap my head clean off my shoulders. But no matter how programmed I may be, at least I was honest about it and continue not to pull punches. I’m not a fan of black heroes because most of them are all about being black and not being a hero. Those that don’t follow that mold do great disadvantage to the character by omitting race completely. What I’m looking for is a balance, characters that are true to themselves without using any racial gimmicks. And that’s hard because you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. I could write a character that doesn’t like rap, but then he’s too white. But, if he does like rap, then he’s just like all the other stereotypes. So, where do you draw the line?
I went to the boards looking for honesty and all I found was bullshit. I wanted to know what people don’t like so I could avoid those things, but instead I found out why people continue to fail, because no one is being honest. No one wants to be the racist who says: “ I hate John Stewart as Green Lantern because I can’t believe the Guardians would choose a black guy to have the most powerful weapon in the universe.” A black writer writes the Panther now and it’s still not a top seller. Worse, people have openly admitted to hating his work, calling it racist. So, if the black hero is a carbon copy, then they are “inferior product”. But, if the writer gives it a unique flavor, he’s a racist.
Comics could be one of the few bastions of racism in this country and I don’t see it ending soon. Sure, I want to find a way to end it, but what chance does anyone have when the majority of readers won’t admit their crime of prejudice?
JPG.
posted by QABBAL at 1:24 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home