Bully Says: Comics Oughta Be Fun!

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Today in Comics History, August 15: Happy India Independence Day!

…and don't listen to these jerks:

Most racist episode of Laugh-In EVER.

Panels from White Tigress: On the Great Helmsman's Secret Service graphic novel scanlation (Darguad, 2005), script by Yann Pennetier, pencils and inks by Didier Conrad, colors by Julien Loïs
Now for a big Bollywood musical number and a plate full of lamb vindaloo! Now that's a party!

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 227: If you look at Han the wrong way, Chewie will kill you

Geez, put your legs together, Leia! Princesses don't sit like that!

Pin-up from Star Wars (Marvel 1977 series) #3 (September 1977), pencils and inks by Howard Chaykin

Friday, August 14, 2015

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 226: It's Bring Your Daughter to the Death Star Day

Vader's STILL gonna kill him, but cutely.

Panels from Vader's Little Princess (April 2013); script, pencils, inks, colors and letters by Jeffrey Brown

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Thor has zero time for sign language

'Wherefore dost you all have 'Black' in your names? Mayhap I might be called 'Black Thor.' 'Thor, NO.'

Panel from Marvel Future Fight one-shot promo comic (2015), script by Peter David, pencils and inks by Todd Nauck, colors by Rachelle Rosenberg, letters by Joe Sabino

Today in Comics History, August 13, 1914: John Constantine regrets booking a WWI adventure holiday instead of going to Ibiza

'Yes, well, I've been on packaged tours many times before, so your advert really baught my eye. What's the point of going abroad, if your just going to be treated like a sheep? Carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Boventry. Their blothed backs and their bardigans and their transistor radios, complaining about the tea or they don't make it properly, do they? And stopping at endless Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamaris and two veg. And sitting in their cotton sunfrocks, squirting Timothy White Suncream all over their puffy, raw, swollen, purulent flesh, 'cos they overdid it on the first day. Being herded into countless Hotel Miramars and Bellevues, Bontinentals with their international luxury modern roomettes and swimming pools full of draft Red Barrel and fat German businessmen pretending to be acrobats and forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging into the queues. And if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss your bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup, the first item in the menu of International Cuisine. Every Thursday night there's a bloody cabaret in the bar featuring some tiny emaciated dego with nine-inch hips and some fat bloated tart with her hair Bryll-creamed down and big arse presenting flamenco for foreigners, and an adenoidal typist from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhea trying to pick up hairy, bandy legged, wop dagos called Manuel. And once a week there's an excursion to local Roman remains, where you can buy Cherry Ade and melted ice cream and bleedin' Watney's Red Barrel. And one night they take you to a typical restaurant with local atmosphere and color and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep singing 'I love the Costa Brava! I love the Costa Brava!' And you get cornered by some drunken green grocer from Luton with an Instamatic camera and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and he's on and on and on about how it is running the country and how many languages Margaret Powell can speak and she throws up all over the cuba libres. And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton Airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dry British Airways sandwiches. And you can't even get a glass of Watney's Red Barrel because you're still in England with the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty. And the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ashtrays. They keep telling you won't be another hour, but you know damn well your plane is still in Iceland, because it had to turn back, trying to take a party of Swedes to take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia. Of course it loads you up there at 3 a.m. in the morning. And then you sit on the tarmac for four hours because of unforeseen difficulties, i.e. the permanent strike of airtraffic control over Paris. When you finally get to Malaga airport, everybody's queueing for the bloody toilet, and queueing for the bloody half-customs officers, and queueing for the bloody bus that isn't there, waiting to take you to the hotel that hasn't yet been built. When you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel Limassol, while paying half the holiday money to a license Spaniard in a taxi, there's no water in the pool, there's no water in the bath, there's no water in the tap, there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet, and half the rooms are doublebooked, and you can't sleep anyway, 'cause the permanent are in the jungles in the hotel next door. Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a mild outbreak of the Spanish Conleigh, rather like the previous outbreak in 1616, even the bloody rats are dying from it! Meanwhile, the bloody guardia are arresting 16-year olds for kissing in the streets and everybody's buying little awful horrid donkeys with their names on, and when you finally get to Manchester, there's only another bloody bus to carry you another 60 miles...'

from Constantine (2013 series) #17 (DC, October 2014), script by Ray Fawkes, pencils by Edgar Salazar, inks by Jay Leisten, colors by Tanya Horie and Richard Horie, letters by Taylor Esposito

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 225: Yeah, I'm pretty sure no one would have realized that

'NOOOOOObody expects the Yuuzhan Vong Inquisition!'

Panels from Star Wars: Rebel Heist #3 (June 2014), script by Matt Kindt, pencils by Marco Castiello, inks by Dan Parsons, colors by Gabe Eltaeb, letters by Michael Heisler

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 224: It's still better than Taco Bell

Later, George Harrison sued Jabba for the tune of the song 'My Dear Rancor.'

Panels from Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire #3 (July 1996), script by John Wagner, pencils by Kilian Plunkett, inks by P. Craig Russell (!), colors by Cary Porter, color separations by Heroic Age Colors, letters by Dave Cooper

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 223: Darth stole that line from Clint Eastwood

'After you, of course.' 'You first, my good man.' 'But, no, no, no. It must be you who goes first!' 'Oh no, I absolutely insist.'

Panels from Darth Vader #6 (August 2015), script by Kieron Gillen, pencils and inks by Salvador Larroca, colors by Edgar Delgado, letters by Joe Caramagna

Monday, August 10, 2015

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 222: Wooly Chewie

Accompany this with Willow Smith's 'Whip My Hair' and it becomes the BEST MONTAGE EVER.

'Are YOU wearing the same clothes you have for the past year?'

Panels from "Hair of the Dog" in Only What You Take with You (2009); script, pencils, inks, colors and letters by Rosemary Travale

Sunday, August 09, 2015

365 Days of Star Wars Comics, Day 221: This week on "Star Wars: Hoarders!"

'And yes, that includes your pet 'Ratty,' son.'

The fat guy is suspicious! Pull off his rubber mask! He's a Hutt!

HOLY COW LUMINARA YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUT HIM IN TWO

Panels from "Hide in Plain Sight" in Star Wars: Clone Wars Adventures v.2 (November 2004); script by Welles Hartley, pencils and inks by Matt Fillbach and Shawn Fillbach, colors by SnoCone Studios, letters by Michael David Thomas

Today in Comics History: Happy birthday, Tove Jansson!

Born on this day in 1914: Finnish author and cartoonist Tove Jansson, creator of the Moomin novels and comic strips! One of my favorite authors since childhood, as the melancholy mood of the later Moomin books perfectly matched my childhood. (her adult books are great, too!)

Moomins taste delicious!

I want to see them test that first panel at MythBusters.

from Moominvalley Turns Jungle (D+Q, October 2012), by Tove Jansson
Grattis på födelsedagen, Fröken Jansson! Good thing the Snork Maiden went shopping -- she hasn't got a thing to wear.