Bummer.

First prize went to Charity Larrison, graphic designer and illustrator of the beautiful Webcomic “Busted Wonder.” Charity’s work reminds me at once of Winsor McKay and Paul Pope. Her inks have a lush, painterly line quality and yet everything she draws looks three-dimensional and lifelike. Not an easy skill.

You can read the fourth part (at least I think it was the fourth part — I lost count!) of Charity’s profile in Colleen’s blog here. Also, check out Charity’s blog, her online store, and the Busted Wonder Webcomic written by Kieron Gillen and illustrated by Charity.

Okay, did you check them out? No? What are you waiting for? Do it! I’ll wait.

Good. Now that you’re back, let’s have a look at Sue McLoughlin, owner and sole proprietor of Suso Fashions. Sue creates costumes and custom clothes aimed at the cosplay, live-action roleplay, and renfair crowds among others. You just have to admire someone who can drill in on a niche market like this and succeed.

You can read the second part of Sue’s profile in Colleen’s blog here, and delve into Sue’s wonderful creations even further at her own Web site. Oh, and Sue, you may expect to receive an inquiry from me in a week or so about whether or not I can commission you for something.

Did you check out Sue’s work? Great. Now that you’re back, I’d like to give you a heads up about my next post. It’s about me, because, hey, it’s MY blog! Jokes aside, I’m a bit nervous about posting it because it will represent a level of self-disclosure I haven’t dared since my very first post in this blog back in January 2006. But I think it’s worth discussing openly for a number of reasons, not the least of which is its implications for my yet-to-be-written-and-illustrated comic, “The Victory Streak,” and, for that matter, my entire life. I’m not kidding. Stay tuned.

Three things happen in this comic: Wonder Woman gets bitchy, Batman beats the crap out of some rapists, and Robin picks up an axe.

I’m serious. That’s the whole comic.

All-Star Batman and Robin is a series written by Frank Miller, penciled by Jim Lee, and inked by Scott Williams. It’s yet another trip to the well of Batman’s past: in this case, it’s a “reinterpretation” of Batman’s recruitment of Dick Grayson, who will become Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Frank Miller stated years ago that American comics were often too “constipated,” too filled with text, making them a chore to read. His answer, like that of many other writers today, is to stretch out the story to the point where it crawls by slower than a parapalegic turtle. As I said, issue #5 has only three plot points and I’m being charitable in calling them such.

I’ve never been a big fan of complaining that an industry legend’s older work was better, because often that’s a smokescreen for wanting an artist to remain like a fly stuck in amber. In this case, however, I feel comfortable leveling that criticism at Miller. He’s clearly a victim of his own success, and his writing now goes to such ridiculous levels of excess that it is naught but a parody of his earlier, better works.

The problem with Miller’s writing today is that his characters are virtually incapable of displaying anything but wild extremes of emotion. In ASBR #5, Wonder Woman is filled with spite towards men, being an Amazon who is new to our bi-gendered world. So when the nascent JLA — also including Superman, Green Lantern, and Plastic Man — debates what to do about the Batman, she stomps around, hurls insults, threatens everyone, and demands that they kill the Batman.

Most of the characterization in the book is like this, with people remaining at an emotional Defcon 1. Without quieter moments against which to contrast these passionate extremes, the characters come across as flat and unengaging.

Moreover, Miller’s affection for violence has become a near-fetish. When Batman kicks the hell out of some rapists, we are treated to panels that consist of nothing but the sound effect “Krunch” repeated over and over, spattered blood, and a rapists’ busted arm that is broken to the point where it bends in the wrong direction. Batman instructs the rapists’ intended victim not to call the cops, nor an ambulance: he wants these scumbags to suffer pain that they’ll remember for a lifetime. It’s the worst kind of fanboy masturbation, a Walter Mitty-esque fantasy in lieu of an actual story.

The intended victim, by the way, joins in the fun by kicking one of the injured rapists in the crotch rather than displaying the kind of fear that any normal human being would in that kind of situation. Again, Miller’s lost the knack for writing characters that act like people.

Dick Grayson, meanwhile, has been stuck in the Batcave by Batman in an attempt to harden the boy. At the end of the book, he begins exploring the cave, picks up an axe, and with a gleam in his eye says, “Cool.” This youngster who watched the brutal murder of his parents only to be subsequently kidnapped by the Batman adapts to his situation rather quickly.

The art by Jim Lee and Scott Williams is pretty. Unlike some of the other Image boys, Lee knows how to tell a story with some degree of competence. But the art lacks subtlety, just like Miller’s writing.

What scares the hell out of me is how late this book has been. I hope it’s because of the art. I mean, how long could it take Miller to write these vapid scripts?

Frank Miller is still deserving of being recongized as a legend. The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One, Daredevil: Born Again, and Ronin have assured him of a place in the firmament. But for God’s sake, what the hell happened to him since then???

I’m serious. He says he took his father’s ashes, mixed them with cocaine, and snorted them.

I have no earthly idea what possesses people to do things like that. I mean, what is the thought process? “Gee, I’m bored and there are my father’s ashes. They should go up my nose. It makes perfect sense.”

I don’t understand how Keith Richards is still alive.

X-Factor and Wonder Man were enjoyable, as I expected they would be. They were written by Peter David, and he never fails to deliver good stories.

Then I took a look at Civil War and…

(SFX: sound of record needle scraping across a vinyl album)

What… the $%*#… is THIS???

For the last few years I’ve been buying just a few comics per month from the spinner rack at the grocery store. I’ve not had my finger on the pulse of either the mainstream Marvel nor DC universes. I’ve been reading Civil War tie-ins but this was the first time I’d seen the main book.

This ain’t the Marvel Universe with which I grew up.

I know that change is necessary and inevitable. But that doesn’t mean that every change is good.

When I was a youngster, the one-dimensional square-jawed super-hero who was always brave and true had for the most part been swept by the wayside. And good riddance. Those characters were boring.

But the super-heroes who had taken their place were still, y’know, heroes. They strove for an ideal. They sometimes fell short, but the important thing is that they tried. These heroes had values. They stood for something more than just themselves.

That, moreso than anything, is why I’ve always loved super-heroes. They serve as a metaphor for the ideals we should all strive to attain.

Unfortunately today’s super-heroes are “super,” but not so heroic. They fight amongst themselves and are consumed with so much personal angst and outright narcissism that there isn’t much room for heroism in their hearts and souls.

Look, I don’t think all entertainment needs to be sweetness and nice. I think Battlestar Galactica is currently the best show on television, precisely because it doesn’t shrink away from the darker aspects of humanity. But not everything has to be so grim.

There’s room in the super-hero genre for all sorts of stories, including the grim and glum material like Civil War. But there’s also room for the optimistic tales that made Marvel and DC great back in the day. So where the hell is that stuff???

SPOILER ALERT: DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER UNTIL YOU’VE WATCHED THE EPISODE!

The first thing I noticed about “To Serve All My Days” is that the plot involves the Federation undergoing economic collapse, forcing the abandonment of colonies that are then gobbled up by the Klingon Empire. This is a pretty radical departure from Roddenberry’s Utopian vision. Hell, the fact that the Federation uses money is a radical departure from that vision. In my view, though, this provides the milieu with a sense of realism that TOS always lacked and is a welcome departure.

The acting in this episode is a marked improvement over the first two. Young Chekov is ably played by Andy Bray, who even looks a bit like a young Walter Koenig. James Cawley’s portrayal of Kirk has matured a lot from the first two episodes, having evolved from an homage to William Shatner that bordered on parody, to bringing his own interpretation to the character. While he still exhibits some of Shatner’s tendency to overact, Cawley shows a capacity for bringing a subtlety to the character that Shatner never did. John Kelley as Dr. McCoy seems a bit less wooden in his role than in the first two eps, although some of that may have to do with the fact that “To Serve All My Days” provides him with better lines. Kelley’s problem, however, is that he’s a bit too young, and I don’t think he imbues the character with the warmth that DeForest Kelley did. Jeff Quinn is quite good as Mr. Spock. His voice lacks the resonance of Leonard Nimoy’s, and thus Quinn’s Spock is a bit less imposing. But Quinn nevertheless rises to the challenge of portraying an emotionless character without making him seem hollow. We don’t see enough of John Lim as Sulu to really judge his performance; and Julienne Irons (Uhura) and Charles Root (Scotty) aren’t awful, but they’re definitely amateur actors.

And of course, what can I say about Walter Koenig as the artificially-aged Chekov? I always thought Koenig had some rough edges as an actor, but he is Chekov. And it’s a real treat to see him reprise the role.

What really wowed me about this episode, however, was the writing, hands down. Fontana really went to town on this script, giving the characters depth and nuances they never had in TOS. For example, Chekov’s temper tantrum as he rails against the unfairness of the death sentence his illness has forced on him was heart-rending and believable.

Fontana also does a nice job of weaving disparate plot elements together into a cohesive story. The presence of the ambassador serves to tie everything together nicely and without it seeming forced. She’s involved in the economic conference on Babel, and she knew Chekov’s father, thus tying together the main action with Chekov’s deteriorating condition into a nice, tight whole.

I did have a couple of quibbles with the story. The conversation between the elderly Chekov and his younger self was a clunky plot device that called attention to itself at the expense of the overall story. Moreover, during those conversations elderly Chekov took on the perspective of a truly old man, as opposed to a 25-year-old whose body is aging unnaturally in the space of a day.

Still and all, I really enjoyed the episode and am looking forward to the next one, which features George Takei reprising his role as Hikaru Sulu. This fan film has hit the big time, folks.

See, here’s how it happened. Mulligan and some of his friends (who comprise a film production company called The Adrenalin Group) made a 15-minute zombie movie called Second Death. It told the tale of 6 people thrown together trapped in an old house surrounded by zombies. They had so much fun — and did such a nice job with it — that they decided it merited a prequel (and they were right). The prequel addresses the questions raised in that little vignette of a movie: how did those people end up in that old house? Where did the zombies come from? Why was everyone covered in blood? Why does France love Jerry Lewis? OK, I made that last one up.

Anyway, dumb-ass Bill Mulligan keeps trying to downplay his acting abilities but he’s actually a very capable actor. There was nothing remotely cheesy about Second Death. It’s a very engaging and entertaining little film. I expect The Forever Dead to be even better. As in knock-you-on-your-ass-it’s-so-good better. It’s had 5 screenings, sold 250 tickets, and will soon be available on DVD. You can pre-order it here. And you should. You’d better. After all, I’m gonna buy a copy. If you want to be cool, you’ll need to buy one, too.