Somehow, even though the amount of attention I have paid to this blog over the years would, were it a child and I a parent, have sent me to jail for abandonment, I have made over 200 posts. Somehow. I know this because I am going through each and every one, repairing links and slapping one of these new-fangled category thingamabobs on ’em. Even nuked a couple of them because they were only there to present YouTube clips, and the forces of Satan had long since removed said clip.
Today was the first paycheck in some time that was not promised in its entirety to the mortgage company; it was instead delivered kicking and screaming into the gaping maw of Verizon, in the hopes of getting my Internet service back before the long weekend. Of course, Things Do Not Work That Way, so it will be Tuesday at the earliest before I can do anything like, you know, blog from the comfort of my home.
This means, at least, I’ll have more enforced reading time, which is a good thing. In all this reviewing and tweaking I’ve run across my original post in which I thought it was a good idea to finally read the entire run of Cerebus, since that sneaky Dave Sim had finished its 300 issue run while I wasn’t looking. I’ve been muttering about that 140 characters at a time on Twitter, but that of course is the sort of thing which fills reams of digital paper and drives people crazy who come here to hear me snark about bad movies .
Speaking of which: we finally have another bad movie night coming up this Sunday. I’ll be livetweeting occasionally, so follow me and avoid the rush. Of course, any plans to embloggen it Memorial Day have now been stunned with a hammer and dragged onto the kill floor, but it might still happen in the usual slow, torturous way.
Now that I’ve gotten the bad movie folks excited, back to comics. I’ve now read 200 of the 300 issues of Cerebus. Some went swimmingly, some of it was like hacking your way through gelatin with a paper machete. We’ll talk. But while I wait to be able to buy the last two books, I’ve set my wandering gaze in other directions, and am now reading the One Volume Edition of Jeff Smith’s Bone. I’d read… well, quite a bit of it in periodical form, before I had to give it up in one of my periodic belt-tightenings. Turns out I had gotten nearly to the halfway mark, and MAN, am I loving it.
The fact that the One Volume Edition could be used as a murder weapon is mere icing upon the cake. It will be finished over the weekend, and then I will be very, very sad.
Such is the power of good writing, and yes dammit, I am talking about a comic book.