It looks like the “If I get a million fans my sister will name her kid Megatron” scheme has hit over a Million.  Now, when will baby Megatron see light of day?

Powered by Twitter Tools

Something like two years of waiting to see what happens; to maybe understand why.

I know we will probably never see a “why” in “The Walking Dead”  because that would mean an ending and why stop riding that cash cow, huh?

At least we knew Crossed would have an ending; and I imagine there are some who read it only to see it end and not be left out when their other (in their minds) more “fucked up” friends finished reading it.  I kept wanting to know where we would be going, I had imagined for a while that the narrator was the kid and that this future history was about how the main character would become one of the crossed and then hunt him.

Instead, when you look at it again through the lens of this issue you see what the crossed is really about.  In every issue we meet a so-called clean person or group who is doing the very thing that the crossed, the MONSTERS are doing.   Cannibal Children, homosexual rape and murder, casual cruelty to the less powerful.  All there for us, and it wasn’t laid bare until the end.  The Crossed is (and always was about “the clean ones)  the Crossed is about the sickness that pervades us and we don’t treat it as such, at least when one of them has that big mark on their face one can easily separate the monsters from the innocents.  By the end though; are there any innocents left?

This last issue caps the Horsecock story and addresses the issue of the Crossed’ level of intelligence, placing them somewhere in the clever toddler level with a mean streak a mile wide and a complex reasoning ability that lets them… I won’t give away more about this issue itself.  I’m kind of glad this is over.

Where Black Gas covered much the same ground in terms of action on the page, Mr. Ennis and Mr. Burrows have attempted; I think, to elevate the message above the medium.  These things exist, they are here already and if you don’t confront them, you are as much to blame as they are themselves.

For those of us who cannot affored to travel to the United States for private health care are left with only one choice, the government’s health care. And when you only have one choice, you really have no choice whatsoever.

Read more: Here.

Let’s dissect this notion as it presented:

1. For those of us who cannot afford to travel to the United States for private health care…So, if there was Private health care in Canada you imagine you could afford it?  The last time I checked the cost of a flight into the USA was the gas to cross the border then 99 bucks on southwest to pretty much anywhere.  So minus those 300 or so dollars the rest of the (20 to 30 thousand dollars) are totally in reach?
2. The Government’s health careChosen by an elected government and easily changed by wide complaint.  When the people (as a majority) are unhappy those folks in Ottawa are fairly quick to react as public opinion really does shape policy.
3. When you can only have one choice…
   See point one; if someone cannot afford the new special private tier” they are stuck with the public (possibly underfunded due to the Private Clinics stealing funds from the public coffers like they do in the States) system anyway, how is that more “fair”.

“What’s it like seeing real live trees all day?”

“Is that your tree house?  Can I climb up there?”

“Are you a Druid?  Are you related to one of them? “

“Is it true you dance naked among the trees to celebrate the seasons?”

Day-in, day-out people come to gawk at the century trees and wonder aloud about how they got so big when the rest of the trees have been left stunted brush by comparison.

Calling them Century Trees at all is a bit of a stretch too; as the druids seem to be able to grow massive 200 foot tall apple trees in what seems like less than a decade.  Green thumbs, toes and everything in-between it seems when it comes to the Tree-Folk, which is what they call themselves.  They live around the trees, sometimes in tree houses up in the canopy, sometimes in the trunks but mostly in little adobe huts on the south faces of the trees, attached to the outside of the trunk and slowly rising up, up up as the tree does.

The tourists come into town (Gramercy, thank-you very much, not Apple-Town)  and gawk at the trees to the west and marvel at the nearly constant humidity and the way that the rain has become so predictable in the shadows of the Grove.  They come, stop a while in town, spend a night or two in the hotels or camp in the north wood near the river and then leave; back to normal forests and unpredictable rain; back out over there.

Gramercy was here before the Grove and before the Tree Folk moved in.   We got by as a highway/biway a food stop with curios for people on long road trips going from important place to important place.  It was flat and dry and future-less here.  A town populated by people perpetually leaving or settling in to die.  We had one public school servicing Kindergarten through Grade 12 and then the kids would leave for college and leave the town a little more quiet than it had been.  The closest thing to modernization that the town council had ever implemented was a municipal sewer system to bring indoor plumbing to the sleepy village of 110.

When the first Tree Folk arrived about 40 years back; they were just passing through like anyone else.  The Sheriff at the time thought they were hippies or something and hassled them out of town; but some lingered and bought up the dusty scrub land west of town with what seemed like an endless supply of cash.  This pleased the town council at the time; because the land had been “town land” for as long as anyone could remember and it was good for nothing but rabbit hunting and atv rides in the dust.  The Tree Folk set about building their grove as soon as the ink was dry on the deal and within 20 years something like 30 Century Trees stood west of Gramercy and even in their shadow the whole of the area was green.

The Tree Folk mostly keep to themselves; tending their grove and trading massive fruit for what they need.  They all kind of dress the same, the men wearing tight crew cut hairdos and the women smart bobs.  They all have a healthy glow about them and arms like chimps, from climbing and tending their trees.  The Tree Folk kids attend one of three Public Schools in the area; with Gramercy now boasting a population of 10,000 most of the year and a few (not many) chain hotels and restaurants calling the area a new tourist hot spot.  A wholesome Las Vegas or something.   Their kids rub elbows with the rest of us and then go home to the Grove at night; nestled in their adobe houses on the sides of massive apple trees.

About 35 years back; as the grove started to grow there was a huge hoopla about the water table and how much water all this Green was costing us.  The Tree Folk’s leader at the time, Paul, he just smiled at the question and produced a sheaf of paper showing the water levels for 100 miles around over the past 10 years, showing an actual increase in the water table in the local area.

“The Trees, ” he said, still smiling that beatific smile they all seemed to flash when talking to folks from Gramercy, “The trees don’t take water, they make it.  They convert Oxygen and Hydrogen into water on their own and then the excess leeches down their roots into the water table below.   The trees make their own food and then share the bounty with us”

Some bigwig from the EPA showed up a while later and after some harrumphing and more official visits from the CDC the Tree Folk were given leave to do what they would with the Land; with the only consideration to the government being lights affixed at the top of the trees to ensure they would not be a hazard to air travel.  Paul had smiled a little smile at that, whispered something to one of his followers who nodded and wandered on foot back to the grove.  Weeks later the canopy of the trees glowed a soft blue at night, like the massive leaves had stars weaved into them.  When asked about it Paul would only say “We asked the lightening bugs how they did it then shared it with the trees”

Years later; when the third public school opened and the latest organic plastics plant went into operation (supplied via the skins left from a pulping mill down the way) the Tree Folk became a national treasure; something to read about in books and learn about on educational specials.  Like the Amish of Pennsylvania, the Tree Folk of Montana were just another reclusive farming folk; building their land of Milk and Honey and finding Utopia among the leaves.  And Gramercy, we’re along for the ride, living here in the Shadows of the CEntury Trees and always ready with an answer to “Do you know any Druids?  Did you see them dancing naked at Springtime?”

Credit to: OldMaison @ Flickr

The Olympics have come and gone and Canada has apparently won “The most medals Evar” by a host nation.  Which is nice I suppose.

With a price tag of 8 Billion and counting I hope that the balance sheet works out for Vancouver as the Recession continues unabated.  Right?  Around here I think people would be willing to literally shovel shit for work as the job market tightens into a tight ball like a potato bug and doesn’t show any signs of letting up; never mind the HUNDREDS of positions in the want ads.  If the news tells you that it’s poverty-aggeddon then you should behave like it is.

Powered by Twitter Tools

It’s been what?  Five years now since Rick was smacked on the head with a shovel while prowling outside his own home.

Did you ever get the idea that Rick died right there an then and the rest of “The Walking Dead” has been some kind of melodramatic Hell? A Purgatory for Rick who woke up after the world had ended but didn’t move on with his family.

I’m beginning to think that if it isn’t; perhaps now it’s time to just end the thing.

All of the twists have been turned; kids have been eaten.  Babies blown to bits by shotguns; rapists roam freely.

If Robert Kirkman hasn’t been describing Hell, he’s bound to be close.

The Walking Dead 70 drops the remaining survivors in what appears to be a safe town; and I say that with all the foreboding we should just expect now.  There is no safe town for Rick and crew, right?  The series can’t possibly just become a day-to-day about surviving comfortably… right?

If this panel doesn’t set off your “Oh shit that kid is getting beat at home alarm” then you haven’t been reading this comic.  Yeah, and uh, that is rick now.  He must be hungry all the time now.

Nothing plot wise goes down in this issue; however as there hasn’t been a real plot since the end of the Governor plot-line why should that matter?  I think I continue to read this comic just to find out what happens in the end.  Please, Rob, End this soon.

Powered by Twitter Tools

Powered by Twitter Tools