Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

krisis

Krisis has been creating Crushing Krisis since 2000, writing songs since 1996, and reading comics since 1991. He is a Customer Success and Digital Brand Strategy executive, serial organizer, parent, and feminist, among other things. Based in Philly through 2017, he now resides in Wellington, NZ.

DC New 52 Review: Deathstroke #1

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Meet Deathstroke, AKA Slade Wilson, DC’s silver fox of a meta-human assassin. He’s DC’s answer to Marvel’s Bullseye – and maybe even Deathlok: an unflinching, unfailing assassin who can also mix it up hand to hand with his enhanced strength.

(Of course, Marvel shot back with Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool, who started out as a legitimately entertaining anti-hero became one of the most profitable solo characters in comics.)

From Deathstroke’s preview it sounded like it would be a blood’n’guts title reliving the past glories of a popular 90s character.

Did I get it right? And, even if I did, is that such a bad thing?

Deathstroke #1

Written by Kyle Higgins, art by Joe Bennett & Art Thibert

Rating: 3 of 5 – Good

In a Line: “And sharpshooting. Everyone forgets I sharpshoot.”

#140char Review: Deathstroke #1 manages to inject some context & intrigue into anti-hero DS for new readers. A fun brisk ish w/a minor twist. Slightly >avg.

CK Says: Consider it.

Deathstroke’s re-debut eeks out on the plus side of average, with less blood and guts than promised (not a bad thing) and a little more thought-provocation than expected.

The story by Higgins takes a tact that not many of the 52 books have to this point, which is to tell a complete one-shot story in the debut issue. We travel from intro to a firm, bloody resolution in a single read, with a single plot thread dangling to carry us to the next issue.

I enjoyed the heavily inked artwork. Particularly, the age and gravitas of Slade’s unmasked face is consistent and effective, as opposed to the slick lines of him in costume. It supports the idea that Deathstroke isn’t being taken as seriously as an assassin anymore. Maybe it’s more of a young man’s game.

Deathstroke’s leet-speaking fanclub is annoying at first, but as the issue presses on they develop a bit of charm as his unwanted Greek chorus.

Despite being rather middle-of-the-road on the whole I find myself interested enough to want to read a second issue, mostly because of the smart twist at the close that reinforces a legitimate point of mystery (even if it is stolen from Tarantino).

DC New 52 Review: Batman & Robin #1

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Batman & Robin is DC’s most marquee book of the week.

I’m not well-versed enough in DC trivia to tell you what iteration of Robin we’re on, but I’m pretty certain it’s at least the fourth. The difference here is that this bean-pole sidekick is Bruce Wayne’s son.

How is the caped crusader as a dad? How does the pair hold up as the focus of a debut issue that doesn’t come with the hefty background the new Robin emerged from? Will any comic in the relaunch be better than Batgirl?

Batman & Robin #1

Written by Peter J. Thomasi, art by Patrick Gleason & Mick Gray

Rating: 2 of 5 – Uneven

In a Line: “No, father, but I’m sure you’re going to regale me with some obscure factoid.”

140char Review: Batman&Robin #1 focuses too much attention on petulant 10yr-old Robin, B’s son. He’s over-the-top. Not approps for kids, annoying for newbs.

CK Says: Consider it.

Why not “skip it” if I disliked the issue so much? Because this is one of those times when it’s clear that my opinion on comics has very little to do with the mainstream comic audience.

If you’ve been reading the Damien Wayne back-story to this point, this is likely a mildly amusing issue that hews pretty close to what you expected. Batman feels custodial, Robin is a loose canon, they take out some minor league thieves with a few mishaps along the way. The art was strong, sometimes excellent – well-proportioned and with great attention to shadowy detail on Batman to contrast him against Robin

As a new reader and non-Batfan, I found myself turned off every time Robin spoke. It’s not that I can’t suspend my disbelief that he’s a badass 10-year-old with a killer instinct. These are comic books, after all. It’s that he’s annoyingly one-note in every panel, even as Batman is as patronizingly doting as he’s ever been. Plus, so maudlin you feel like he might start hearing him hum a few bars of “Man in the Mirror” from beneath the cowl.

Adding to that a super extreme villain to bookend the plot does nothing to improve the book. What it could have used was some subtly, anywhere.

I feel like the tone might work for slightly younger readers (also hinted at by the cutesy logo treatment on the cover), but I didn’t get that vibe from the plot.

30 for 30 Project, 1991: “Losing My Religion” – R.E.M.

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You can read a lot of different meanings into “Losing My Religion,” but to me it has always been a song about the status quo, and how some people are better at changing than others.

I’ve never been good at change. Not in the short term, anyway.

In 1991 I had the opportunity to leave my small, private, religious school to attend a magnet-school program at Masterman, which was (and is still) the best public school in the state. I wanted to stay. Why attend a magnet school with other smart kids? The MG program I used to go to was lame. Wouldn’t this simply be all lame, all day? Yet, clearly I needed to leave – my grades were dipping as I grew increasingly bored with my classes.

In 1991 my interest in music waned. I was much more interested in reading. This might have been because records began to be phased out in favor of CDs. I remember the last vinyl LP we bought was Madonna’s Like a Prayer in 1989. We didn’t have a CD player in our house until 1994. I didn’t want one; I didn’t want to have to buy my cassettes all over again. Yet, clearly I fell behind – when I look at the hot singles and albums from the intervening four years, much of it is unknown to me.

I’ve never liked losing my religion, but eventually I learn how to move on.


(Watch me cover “Losing My Religion” on YouTube. For more info on my 30 for 30 Project, visit my intro post or view the 30for30 tag for all of the related posts.)

(1991 was one of the trickier years for me to choose because of my LP-to-CD gap. It was always going to be this or “I Touch Myself.” I would not be surprised if you hear Arcati Crisis covering this tune now that I know how to play it. I never realized it was so simple! I memorized all the changes in about twenty minutes; this was my first play through the song.)

DC New 52 Review: Static Shock #1

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Static Shock is the week one hero I know the least about. He’s young, his suit lets him manipulate energy, and he’s recently transplanted to New York.

That’s all I’ve got.

What makes it interesting is that it’s one of DC’s relaunched titles with an artist listed as a co-writer. That always intrigues me, as it doesn’t happen so often in my familiar home of X-titles. Does it mean a true writer/artist needed a minor assist on script-polishing? Or, that an artist with a solid connection to the character did more chiming in than usual in their collaboration with a writer?

More to the point: what does it say about quality. The one single-creator book this week was a knockout, but the other writer/artist collab was drab. Which side of the spectrum will this one fall on?

Static Shock #1

Written by Scott McDaniel & John Rozum, art by Scottt McDaniel with Jonathan Glapion & LeBeau Underwood

Rating: 2.5 of 5 – Okay

In a Line: “Not to sound all Keanu, but ‘whoah.’ This is definitely the coolest thing I’ve seen all day.”

140char Review: Static Shock #1 was the only DC reboot that felt like a comic for kids, with a Spider-Man-esque teen hero, explosions, and evil bad guys. Ok

CK Says: Consider it.

Static Shock seems to be DC’s nearest analog to Spider-Man, thanks to his by-day geekery, teenage gumption, self-narration, and relocation to the actual city of New York instead of one of DC’s imaginary amalgamated places.

Does it work? Hero Virgil is charming enough. He comes off as much older in costume than out, and his quips aren’t Peter Parker witty. More interesting is that his in-costume confidence isn’t entirely founded. Unlike Spider-Man, who tends to luck into solutions, Static Shock is so sure of the science behind his powers that he doesn’t consider that he’ll decommission a bridge full of cars by using them. He’s a cocksure teenager who is clearly still a rookie, and there’s a lot of story to be played out there.

It seems like writers McDaniel and Rozum put a lot of thought into the mechanics of how his electrical powers work, but watching our hero explain them in detail as he chases down passive bubble of plasma isn’t the biggest thrill ride. However, that’s just half the issue, as a team of mysterious Power Ranger esque mercenaries are now on Static Shock’s tail. The pairing seems like it will yield interesting fodder; how will Virgil (who fled the scene of his co-worker being shot) deal with merciless killers? If the writers follow through on the shocking final panel we’re going to find out pretty soon!

As an artist McDaniel is strong on action, but his normal people look awkward. He mostly relies on a straight-lined approach that eschews curves on limbs and faces. It makes for solid costumed panels, but the visit to our hero at home looks like a mediocre Sunday comic strip. (And, what’s with the random appearance of a non-speaking Joker in the background of a scene with the villains? Intentional, or a coloring error?)

The element that distinguishes Static Shock is that it’s completely kid-appropriate. From the quick-moving action to the relatable hero, this is the first week one offering I’d hand over to a younger reader interested in comics.

30 for 30 Project, 1990: “Vogue” – Madonna

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Look around, everywhere you turn is heartache. It’s everywhere that you go.

Last night I was idly surfing the web as I waited for today’s video to upload. I noticed a New York Times article titled, “In Suburb, Battle Goes Public on Bullying of Gay Students.”

You try everything you can to escape the pain of life that you know.

The article was about Anoka, the largest school district in Minnesota, which has a pervasive bullying problem that focuses on students that are perceived to be gay or lesbian, or come from LGBT homes.

(Apropos of nothing (or everything) the district is partially situated in Representative Bachmann’s Congressional district.)

Several students and their families have brought a lawsuit against the district, in part charging that, “district staff members, when they witnessed or heard reports of antigay harassment, tended to ‘ignore, minimize, dismiss, or in some instances, to blame the victim for the other students’ abusive behavior.”

When all else fails and you long to be something better than you are today…

The Anoka School District has seen eight suicides in the past two years. At least two of the students were gay, and possibly half of them had been known subjects of LGBT-focused bullying.

I know a place where you can get away: it’s called a dance floor, and here’s what it’s for.

Now the parents, families, and friends of these children will have their young image suspended forever in time, ageless and smiling, a pose that can never be unstruck.

Come on, vogue.

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All you need is your own imagination – so use it that’s what it’s for.

I don’t think it’s a spoiler to confess that I have plans for Madonna’s catalog for beyond this 30 for 30 Project, which is why I’ve been studiously avoiding her hits thus far. However, when it came to 1990 my list kept coming back to “Vogue.”

I tried to choose another song for 1990. I really did. Fans on Twitter suggested “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I spent a day trying to cover it, but I simply hate the song. I’m unable to let go of my eight-year-old’s obsession with the fact that it was ensconced at number one for five weeks while the more deserving “Vogue” waited patiently for its spot at the top.

Go inside for your finest inspiration. Your dreams will open the door.

I decided that if I was going to let Madonna into this project, I couldn’t try for perfection. My cover had to be something else entirely. In the spirit of the Material Girl, I turned it into a deliberately silly game of dress-up, donning some of my still-surviving (and surprisingly fitting) glam clothes from high school and doing a bit of dancing.

If I had read the article a day or two ago you might be watching a very different version of “Vogue” in this post. Something nearer to “Nothing Compares” – a dirge-like ballad that merges sorrow and joy.

Maybe I’ll still record it that way. For now, you get this ridiculousness. I hope you enjoy it.


(Watch me cover “Vogue” on YouTube. For more info on my 30 for 30 Project, visit my intro post or view the 30for30 tag for all of the related posts.)

It makes no difference if you’re black or white, if you’re a boy or a girl.

Take a long look at what I’m wearing in the video. That’s what I wore to high school, daily.

One of the plaintiffs in the lawsuit is a 14-year-old boy named Kyle Rooker, who is perceived by bullies as being gay because he wears glittering accessories and belts out Lady Gaga tunes in his school’s halls. He’s been subjected to humiliating bullying that the school has done little to stop. Beyond that, teachers are under strict orders not to teach or speak on gay rights, history, or acceptance – thanks to a large Christian influence on the district’s policies.

If the music’s pumping, it will give you new life.

In my born again Christian grade school I was a tiny stick-figure of a boy who hated playing sports and carried around a cassette tape case full of Madonna. It wasn’t the reason I was mercilessly teased and bullied, but I’m sure it wasn’t helping.

In middle school all the other boys said I walked with a switch and teased me because of how I cross my legs. It was the first time I ever heard the word “gay” slung as an insult. I changed the way I walked, but kept crossing my legs.

You’re a superstar.

In high school I wore skin-tight vinyl and body glitter, and painted my lips pale white – all to attend calculus class. Once in high school an older kid shoved me up against a locker, trying to intimidate me. I told him to go fuck himself.

Yes, that’s what you are.

In college I started to wear tight, low-rise jeans and stylish button-up shirts. Once at a party I mentioned I had worked as a summer camp counselor, and a guy said, “I thought people like you weren’t be allowed to work with little boys.” Ross offered to kill him for me, but I declined.

You know it.

Three years ago a neighbor defaced and vandalized the front of our house because I – the “queer” – got too fresh with him.

Men sometimes harass or threaten me from passing cars if I walk a certain way. I still won’t play the open mics at some bars because I know they won’t like it when I cover Madonna.

Come on, vogue.

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Beauty’s where you find it, not just where you bump and grind it.

It has always been a fact of my life that being who I am and saying what I feel gets me teased and bullied. That’s fine. I’m strong, and I don’t have to contend with the stigma of half a nation being set against my love life like some of my friends do, so hit me with your best shot.

I don’t know what I would do in Kyle’s place. Stop being me? Ditch the sparkles and singing and try to be more of a boy?

I don’t know. I hope he’s singing “Born This Way” in his bullies’ faces at the top of his lungs.

Soul is in the musical – that’s what I feel so beautiful. Magical. Life’s a ball.

In June of 1990 my mother took me to see Madonna’s Blonde Ambition tour as a reward for doing well in third grade. She was my favorite pop star.

So get out on the dancefloor.

We sat next to a pair of men who, in retrospect, were clearly a gay couple. I didn’t care. I thought it was cool that two older boys liked Madonna as much as I did. They thought it was cool an eight-year-old boy wanted to see Madonna and his mom decided to let him. Madonna closed the show with “Vogue.” All four of us were happy.

Come on, vogue.

It gets worse and then it gets better.

Let your body move to the music.