Madam President, Queen of Snark (kellinator) wrote,
Madam President, Queen of Snark

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Of Gotham Central and stupid fanboys (with liberal use of the word "fuck")

As most of you comics fans have probably heard by now, Gotham Central is ending with issue #40, in two months. Despite DC's rather crummy treatment of the book (the excruciatingly sloooooooow release of the trade paperbacks, including Half a Life, which should have been released five minutes after it won the Eisner), the book is not being cancelled. Rather, Greg Rucka decided he didn't want to continue it without co-founders Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark (damn you, Marvel, damn you and your exclusive contracts!), as he explains in this interview.

I hate to see it go. Going to the comics store won't be the same without it. But then I think of all the friends I've introduced to Homicide, and how I have to warn them that seasons 6 and 7 suck, and how sometimes I've wished that it had ended with dignity at the end of Season 5, before Falsone, before Kay getting transferred out, before "got beat down got my gun took." Part of me is grateful that I will never have to explain why the last year of Gotham Central was a pale imitation of what came before. Rucka is claiming that DC plans to collect the entire run in trades. I'll believe it when I hold those trades in my hand and not a minute before, but I have every single issue, and I will treasure those forty issues as comic-book-cop perfection, crystallized in time.

*cue violins*

Anyway, as soon as I got off work yesterday I ran to get Gotham Central #38 and read it right in the store. Yep, Gotham Central is going out with a bang. Just as I told you guys back in October, RIP Crispus Allen. Of course, this would have been a hell of a lot more shocking and upsetting if I hadn't had a month and a half to steel myself for it. Which is the reason DC shouldn't have made it SO FUCKING OBVIOUS by the covers. Renee Montoya's breakdown and near-suicide, alternating panels with Allen's investigation and murder, were more shocking to me because I didn't expect them quite so much. This issue did a terrific job of showing the bond between Allen and Montoya -- and you know she's going to be utterly shattered. *sob*

However, I'm now feeling more and more confident about my prediction upon first hearing the news: Crispus Allen will become the new Spectre. All the evidence is there: the manner of his death, the loss of his faith, the mention of the Spectre on the cover of issue #38, and the Jim Corrigan connection (Jim Corrigan was the name of a previous Spectre, a red-headed murdered cop, and also the name of Allen's murderer, a red-headed, corrupt-as-hell CSU tech). And really, could there be a better choice? For those of you who don't read Gotham Central (which is most of you), I invite you to imagine Frank Fuckin' Pembleton as the Wrath of God. Can I get a hell fuckin' yeah?

Of course, I've been looking for more information, but my visits to the DC message boards have just reminded me why I don't hang out there. There are a clump of moronic fanboys who are INSISTING that Jim Corrigan will be the new Spectre. Their evidence? His name is Jim Corrigan. Oh, and he has red hair!

Okay, assholes. If the Spectre is the instrument of God's vengeance, it serves to reason that God would pick someone He could stand to work with, right? Like a fallen hero, like Hal Jordan? Well, let's look at the current Jim Corrigan. He runs CSU like his own personal fiefdom of corruption. He sells evidence on eBay. He deals drugs out of the evidence room. Everything he touches is tainted. Oh, and HE KILLED THE BEST COP IN GOTHAM. In short, he makes Vic Mackey look like a choirboy. Is all that really trumped by a name? Stooopid fuckin' fanboys. They wouldn't know subtlety, foreshadowing, or a good plot if it took a shit on their heads.

So, yeah. My money's on Crispus Allen as the new Spectre. Though part of me can see Renee totally losing her shit and being overtaken by the need for vengeance for her partner, but in the end I just think it's going to be Allen. Come on, won't he look cool in that green robe?

  • (no subject)

    You know you're getting old when "too drunk to fuck" becomes "too drunk to floss."

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