No More Raises For Anyone

Forrest Brown of the Charlotte Observer is apparently sick of downsizing at newspapers (remember those?). At the Poynter journalism forum, he posts a memo from Perry White re: layoffs at the Daily Planet.

It won't make you shoot milk out your nose, but it does a fair job of summarizing the outright crap that Freedom's Watchdogs sprinkle over bad news directed at their own employees.

Actually, it's not that great. I just wanted an excuse to run this shocking panel from Superman #162, "The Amazing Story Of Superman-Red And Superman-Blue!" Look at that smug, stupid publisher giving raises to everyone but The Man Of Steel.

Proud Of Waid

From today's Entertainment Weekly.

Running Out Of Musicians

The guy who sang the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies? Dead.

Murder Update

Here's a messed-up thing: the Damageplan massacre happened on the anniversary of John Lennon's murder.

Murder In The Air

Pleasure at awesome Daily News front cover at right supplanted by horror of Columbus, OH killing spree.

Crime stories never get much of a rise out of me. My civic anger is for respectable people who do mostly legal things, like invade countries and close factories. But this...

Listen, world. Here comes a moral pronouncement. Don't murder musicians, especially while they're playing, and don't murder music lovers in the act of bobbing their heads up and down to a beat. It upsets me that you need to be told.

I'm now morbidly curious about the music of Damageplan. Isn't that sick?

From "Presidental Prayer Requests For December 9"

As the President now turns his attention to the domestic agenda, pray for his efforts to reshape the Social Security system. Pray for wisdom for the President and members of his team as they consider innovations and significant changes for the future of Social Security. Help him transfer many billions of dollars from working people to Wall Street, where it will buy nicer things. Okay, I added the last part. But this God they talk so much about always knows the truth even when they don't say it out loud, right?

Join the politically "not affiliated" Presidential Prayer Team. Or don't. But if you do, don't tell me He's all-knowing while you hand Him a bunch of talking points.

Notice How Their Sockets Seem To Follow You Across The Room?

Michael Paulus has added twelve more drawings to Skeletal Systems.

Lois Lane Vs. Blog

Merriam's-Webster's 2004 Word Of The Year was coined in a 1959 Lois Lane comic; Accordion Guy proves it. Like any good mainstream journalist, Miss Lane greeted the very idea of Blog with horror. (Via Waxy.)


Down the page, Accordion Guy remembers the time Batman and Robin tried to groove--I mean figure out--the "Paul Is Dead" mystery.

Comics Writer Fakes Own Mauling?

Or are horses worse than we thought?

Jocks Are Our Meat Because They Were Mean To Us In High School... And That's Beautiful.

I can't believe I almost let this day-old story get by me: Jason Giambi wants back in.

Oh, go ahead. Ask.

Tom, you're an eye-glass wearer. A little on the sensitive side. Artistic, even. If you wandered within half a mile of any high school football game, they'd capture you, put women's underpants on your head, make you stand on a box, and take pictures. For God's sake, Tom, you don't even know how to drive a car. Why would a... a thing like you care so much about sports?"

Fair question. The answer? You're looking at him. I follow baseball because of men like Giambi.

Maybe some of you wear glasses, go to demonstrations, roll cigarettes, dress funny, cry, read, sodomize, or have Jewish-sounding surnames. Some of you might even be women. Do you remember how athletes treated you in high school? I know, that's all in the past. You're an adult now, free to concentrate on things you love--Justice League Of America PVC figures or the latest issue of Harper's--and to ignore things you hate: jocks. I understand. But...

You're not catching what it means to be a fan, and what you can get from it. Many of us--a lot of us--read sports sections and go to games not because of any love for athletes. We do it because we get to lord it over them. We don't necessarily act out in public; as the jocks say, "it's all in the mental approach." They're here to please us. Period. We want our team to win, and any player who lets us down is a bum. And here's the reason baseball is the best sport: over a 162-game season, "any player who lets us down" is all of them.

Whether it's due to his own weakness or to the hypocrisy of the major leagues, Jason Giambi is inarguably suffering. Why not feed off that a little? A few crumbs. A binge. A binge, a puke, and then another binge. Does that make me a parasite? Fine, I'm a parasite.

Major-league pro athletes are rich and famous and living the greatest dream of their lives, but they've slipped since high school. They're no longer allowed to hurt us. Ask Ron Artest and eight other basketball players suspended last month for throwing punches at fans. We outrank them. They're our meat. At last.

Welcome to the Yankees, Tony Womack.