Andrew Roller Presents
C O M I C U P D A T E
FREE! Internet Edition May 21, 1995
THE COMIC UPDATE ARCHIVES
by Andrew Roller
From: COMIC UPDATE #3, August 25, 1986 and COMIC UPDATE #4,
September 1, 1986.
Guidelines for Researchers: I have dispensed with the Ògrading system.Ó
Where the current address of the artist is known, I have published it.
Baby Oil (Unnumbered), 50¢. Mini. Bill Fitts.
Headline: BABY REAGAN
Story Preview: Ronald Reagan and James Watt as children. Will baby
Ron sell his back yard to an oil company?
Story Critique: Excellent but dated political satire.
1995 Commentary: The address for buying this mini is that of
Future ComicsÕ Chris Dire. For a long time I had trouble distinguishing
between Chris Dire and Ian Shires. Chris, of course, is utterly gone from
the small press today, while Ian struggles valiantly on.
For those who donÕt know, it was sometimes the case that an artist
would make books and then have another artist market and sell them. This
is to be distinguished from the Òjam sessionÓ comic, a group effort. In
the case of Baby Oil, it was entirely a Bill Fitts production. As for Bill
Fitts, today he is another one of the long lost artists of the small press,
though well known and well liked at the time.
Also from Chris Dire: Future Fanzine (a reviewzine), Courage Comics,
Time out for Fun (by Jeff Gaither). As for Jeff Gaither, his work is quite
similar to that of Mike Diana, whose minicomics got him convicted of
obscenity recently in Florida. Jeff Gaither and XEX and (now) Mike Diana,
all stem from a venerable and refined art in comics publishing, that of the
Òdistorted human beingÓ school. Everything is alive and active and
weirdly depicted in such a drawing. I first became aware of such an art
form in the early 1970Õs. Far from being part of some ÒobsceneÓ
backwater of the small press, Òdistorted human beingÓ art is often done
by those highly practised in drawing and inking. XEX and GaitherÕs work,
for instance, is totally professional in its appearance. The reason you
donÕt see more Òdistorted human beingÓ drawing is because it is an
elevated form of expression, rather like the Cubists or Picasso. Most of
us just stick to ÒactualÓ representations of the human figure (however
crudely we may bring them off). It is a rare talent that rises above the
mundane paths trod by most of us. Note, however, that the Òdistorted
human beingÓ school is strictly an approach used by ARTISTS. I have yet
to see it attempted by, say, a WRITER (and artist) of comics. In other
words, someone attempting to tell a STORY with words and pictures does
not use the Òdistorted human beingÓ approach. (At least, I have not seen
it.) So the reader is presented with pure art, pictures that are only (at
most) thematically related (distorted outer space scenes, for instance).
So you can see how the uneducated of the world (often found in abundance
in prosecutorÕs offices and jury boxes), see the minicomic consisting of
Òdistorted human beingÓ scenes as something that is merely Òobscene,Ó
without, in their mind, any inherent logic or purpose.
It is interesting to remark that in order to NOT be found obscene art
must have some Òsocially redeeming value.Ó It is as if art, in and of
itself, is obscene. But then it is redeemed by having Òsocial value.Ó One
would think art is born with original sin, and only Jesus (or, in this case,
the morays of the social community) can free it from its sin. Without the
benediction of the community, the art is judged ÒobsceneÓ and its creator
is punished. Notice, of course, that it is the contemporary community that
judges the artistÕs work. In olden times art depicting an unmarried
mother might be judged obscene (depicting fornication), and no doubt in
HitlerÕs Germany art praising Jews was judged obscene. So the artist has
the burden of being ÒredeemedÓ not only by human society, but by the
human society OF THAT PARTICULAR MOMENT.
The primary purpose of the artist in any society is to point out the
flaws in the contemporary societyÕs view of itself and the world. By
doing this, however, the artist runs the risk of violating the very norms
which would make his art Òsocially redeeming.Ó So it is a catch 22, your
art is only Òsocially redeemingÓ if it isnÕt art. To be art, it must
challenge the contemporary societyÕs viewpoint, but in doing so it then is
Òobscene.Ó This is why the ÒitÕs legal as long as it isnÕt obsceneÓ
standard must be done away with. It violates the very notion of art.
Continuing on with Chris DireÕs list of comics, we have (of interest)
Terror Comix, and Cheapocomix. Looking at this list, we see some very
nice names. I can easily imagine some publisher (in this era or, perhaps,
the 1950Õs) publishing a Courage Comics (and certainly a Terror Comix).
So the self-published press is certainly no less a fount of ideas than the
mainstream press (indeed, not hamstrung by commercial or ÒetiquetteÓ
considerations it is probably a wellspring of more ideas). DonÕt miss that
next issue of X-MEN, though, there are some amazing ideas in there that
will rank right up with Plato and Aristotle.
ÒLove MINI-COMIC UPDATE,Ó writes Allen Freeman.
ÒGreat idea with MINI-COMIC UPDATE,Ó writes Matt Feazell. ÒPrinting the
covers and samples of inside art with a review makes this an
indispensable addition to every mini-comic collection.Ó
1995 Commentary: Prior to the arrival of (Mini)Comic Update, it
was not the practise in reviewzines to show the cover of the book being
reviewed or any interior art. Thanks to Update, it is now almost de
rigueur to show the cover when reviewing the book.
ÒAndrew, MINI-COMIC UPDATE (is) an excellent idea and well done,Ó writes
W.C. Pope. ÒYou are critical but fair. Other review(ers) are either too
critical...(or) too soft. You seem to be honest about the critique but have a
fair realization of the medium.Ó
Amazon Girls #1, 25¢. Mini. W.C. Pope, Paradox Press.
Story Preview: The Amazon Girls capture Kong, a Tarzan-type
character, and use him to satisfy their sexual desires.
Story Critique: Excellent. Flawless, if a bit fanciful. The sole
purpose of W.C. PopeÕs story is to arouse you and Pope does a magnificent
job.
Adults Only Material? Yes. Cartoon portrayal of male genitalia. An
Amazon Girl sucks KongÕs penis and is rewarded with a face full of semen.
Art: Excellent, but I feel it could be a bit better. The girlsÕ breasts
appear to vary in size from panel to panel, from fulsome to gargantuan.
Special Features: Beautiful full-page drawing of a girl in an evening
gown beside the Paradox Press logo.
1995 Commentary: Water Closet Pope left the small press no later
than the late Ô80Õs. This despite the fact that he did ÒproÓ quality artwork
in all his minicomics.
Mind Load #3, 75¢. Digest. Jim Masyga.
Headline: EMPTYHEADED COMICS
Story Preview: Strange animal-headed superheroes (?) [ARE they
superheroes? Ed.] pursue an animal-headed villain (?) in ÒGrave Yard
Yarns.Ó Jack Kirby tigers, Skeletor, Satan, and a Steven Spielberg
Creepies monster in ÒBattle Royal.Ó
Story Critique: There is no story.
Story Complete?: No. No story exists.
Art: Worthless, but one or two figures are poor. [Which is better
than Òworthless.Ó Ed.]
Special Features: Table of contents, ad for other comics.
Pages: 40, printed on one side only.
Subjective Opinion: Worthless buy. Masyga does, however, deal with
expansive concepts in a bold artistic style. If developed, his work would
be quite good. The horse-headed characters are appealing, as is the title,
ÒPay Toilet Comics.Ó
1995 Commentary: One of the items I have been consistently
omitting from my re-typing of these reviews is the ÒLetteringÓ category.
I had worked as a draftsman, using pencil and paper, and so I rated each
comic I reviewed with regard to the quality of its lettering. However, it
is my understanding that today all commercial drafting is done on
computers. Obviously, typing letters into a computer requires no artistic
ability whatsoever. It is sad that the ability to draw perfect letters with
a pencil (perhaps even working in a subtle personal flair) is now a lost art.
As you can see by the comic reviewed above, I would ÒsellÓ the
comic in the ÒStory PreviewÓ section and then judge it realistically in the
ÒStory CritiqueÓ section. I never wanted to simply damn somebodyÕs work.
I always tried in the first category to make it look as tantalizing as
possible.
With regard to the (current) proposal to eliminate the U.S. Dollar bill
and replace it with a dollar coin, let me say that I am firmly opposed. Do
you know how difficult it is to get people to send coins through the mail?
The coins are often so heavy that it requires extra postage just to send
them. And, incidentally, postmen have been known to abscond with a
letter if they feel money inside (and coins are pretty obvious). FINALLY
the U.S. Dollar is so worthless (thanks to inflation) that one can simply
say: Òsend me a dollar,Ó and the person will not have a heart attack at the
thought of paying A WHOLE DOLLAR for a small press comic book. Now the
U.S. Congress is proposing to eliminate the dollar. That will make the
lowest bill the five dollar bill.
IÕll sell you one of my home-made small-press comic books for FIVE
DOLLARS. How does that sound? Pretty shitty, huh? NOBODY is going to
pay five dollars for a small press comic book. This means weÕll be back to
asking for fucking coins, and the dollar coin is going to be heavy, I hear, to
give it an appearance of worth. Just when we small pressers get to
participate in the economy in a realistic way (by being able to ask for
paper money) weÕre Òlocked outÓ once again! Some people have, in the
past, resorted to asking for stamps. So you wind up getting stamps from
prisoners, that theyÕve removed from envelopes by soaking them. Or you
get dirty stamps, which you must either lick with your tongue or Òover-
wetÓ with some sponge, as a result of which the stamps fall off in the
mail and your letter is returned. Or you must use some time-consuming,
elaborate method, like carefully putting glue on the back of each stamp
with a Pritt glue stick. DonÕt put too MUCH glue on, though...donÕt just
smear a bunch of it on the envelope, or your letter will get stuck to the
back of somebodyÕs bill and will be delivered to the wrong address.
So you see the many disadvantages (for small pressers) of switching
to the dollar coin. As for vending machine operators: they have now
thoroughly adapted themselves to the use of the dollar bill. It would be
somewhat retrograde, in my opinion, to go from the ÒadvancedÓ technology
of the dollar-bill vending machine back to the old 1950Õs Òcoins onlyÓ
type. The only argument left, of course, is that we must switch to the
dollar coin in order to save the U.S. Government money.
I have a better idea. Get the U.S. Government out of the business of
printing money altogether. ThatÕs why we have a budget deficit. If the
government runs out of money they can just...print more! I think anyone
ought to be able to print ÒmoneyÓ...any kind of money. Like I might print
ÒRoller money,Ó you might print ÒSuperDog money.Ó Right now it is illegal
for you or I to print money and actually try to get other people to accept it
as a medium of exchange. (Not counterfeiting, which is ÒfakingÓ the
governmentÕs money...but printing your own money for commercial
transactions amongst yourself and others.) Let there be a ÒcompetitionÓ
of moneymakers. We would wind up with several varieties of commonly
accepted currency. Each currency would become more or less valuable
depending on the credibility of the issuer. If the issuer of the bills
started printing lots of money, the value of that money would fall
accordingly. In this way the paper money in our wallets would have real,
substantive value, because we would all make damn sure we didnÕt accept
any of those ÒlesserÓ bills from moneymakers with no credibility. But
there would be a subtle ongoing competition, even after several national
ÒbrandsÓ of money had been established, for you never know when some
moneymaker (like, for instance, our U.S. government) might act
irresponsibly and print too much. So everybody would be aware of their
money and would not simply be assuming that Òthe government will take
care of it,Ó which, of course, it rarely does. Do you know what the price is
if the U.S. government should print too much money? Total societal
collapse. If a private moneymaker were to print too much money, people
would stop accepting its bills and it would simply go out of business. But
if the government goes bankrupt these spectres loom: war, revolution,
massive inflation, massive social instability, food riots, hospitals flooded
with victims, staffed by doctors who receive a ÒsalaryÓ that is worthless.
In this way we see that having a ÒnationalÓ currency, printed and
controlled by the federal government, is in fact far more dangerous than
allowing private printers of money to compete in the marketplace.
Back to the small press: You will notice that JimÕs comic is 40
pages, printed on one side only. This is the mark of a total amateur. Even
I made this mistake myself, in some of my early comics. I didnÕt want to
have the ink on one side of the page Òbleed throughÓ to the other side.
ÒBleeding throughÓ was a notorious aspect of the mimeograph era of small
press. You COULD NOT print on both sides of a sheet of paper, because the
ink did in fact bleed right through to the back. But with the advent of
xeroxing this problem has in fact been eliminated. There is no need to
worry about Òbleed throughÓ in a xeroxed comic book. Of course, offset
printing will sometimes Òbleed through,Ó if too much ink is used. But
with xeroxing there is no problem.
On the page count of 40 pages: this is obviously not a commercially
viable page count, even in the small press. The amount of cost involved in
xeroxing this much paper is untenable. Even if you have free xeroxing, it
is not possible to pay the postage to ship so many pages, unless you are
desiring to go broke and never print again. Of course, with the advent of
World Wide Web pages and such I imagine all of these considerations will
be Òlost knowledgeÓ in a few years, problems no one has to consider
anymore.
C O M I C U P D A T E S T O R I E S
The Fading Universe
Part Eight
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Four
The subway station was jammed with people. Every time a train
pulled in they crowded toward it, pressing themselves into the cars.
Within moments the train would be filled to capacity. Its metal doors
would slide shut and the train would pitch forward into the blackness
of the tunnel, leaving hordes of hopeful passengers stranded on the
brightly lit platform.
Marvin waded through the crowd, Elsa clasping his hand, trailing
behind him. A little further back Frankie, Harrigan, and Flaherty
followed. Perry, just behind Elsa, passed his hands lovingly over the
little girls he passed as the gang wedged its way forward. Anonymous
touchings in a crowd by a stranger whoÕd disappeared by the time the
girl turned her head to look.
They were somewhere in the heart of Ontario, sheep amidst more
sheep, with no shepherd around to protect them from wolves. Here on
the platform were bespectacled businessmen, librarians, city clerks,
all the culturally neutered people so necessary to the efficient
organization of a state. They were without weapons. And they were
without any survival plan. TheyÕd called 911 and no one had answered.
But they still believed in the state, whether it really existed any more
or not. The state, like Tinkerbell, MUST exist. And if they stood here
long enough and mentally clapped their hands surely it would come into
being. Someone would arrive. Someone with a badge, with authority.
They would be told where to go, what to do, how to live, and some of
them, surely, would have to be told how to die...violators, perpetrators,
those that remained uncastrated in modern society. Those that still
had Òballs.Ó
Marvin was uneasy in such a group. HeÕd grown up in the ghetto,
and just by looking at the walls of the subway he could tell he wasnÕt
in his element. There was no graphitti here. No incidental scrawlings
designed to say, ÒWe rule here, and weÕre not the State.Ó No, here the
state ruled. Instead of graffiti there were nicely lettered signs. ÒNo
Littering.Ó ÒDo Not Stand in Front of the White Line.Ó But there was a
sense of desperation in the crowd. An idea had been let loose, and it
simply would not get back in the bottle. It whispered among the people,
rattled in their heads, rattled their nerves. If they did litter, would
anyone arrest them? And if they...well, it was unthinkable. Did they
need a sign now that said, ÒDo Not Rape.Ó ÒDo Not Pillage.Ó ÒDo Not
Murder.Ó And if those signs were properly painted up and hung, would
anyone enforce THEM?
Half an hour passed. Marvin gazed into the abyss of the subway
tunnel, waiting for a train. Behind him Flaherty noisily sucked up the
foam residue of an empty milkshake. Occasionally, when the murmur of
the crowd faded, Marvin could hear a broken pipe dripping water.
Marvin shifted his weight onto his left foot. He licked the beads
of perspiration off his upper lip. His mouth felt dry, like sandpaper.
TheyÕd run with the other captives from Westminster Mall. It had
been total chaos. Their crowd had merged with others, and those into a
larger mass. People, well heeled and well clothed, with perhaps their
last meal already in their bellies, running. Shouting and grabbing and
trying to hold on, as rocket batteries echoed over them and into them.
Death was loose here, swinging his scythe. Death did not have arthritis
now. Marvin had no choice but to seek out the thickest part of the
crowd. Use the bodies as protection from all the firepower that was
going off around them. Alameda had lost control of the mall, but to
whom? And did it matter? Had Alameda merely lost the position
momentarily, suffered a setback, and were they now on the attack?
Whoever was doing the shooting, it seemed to be coming down on the
crowd from all sides. Someone had the bright idea of running down into
a subway tunnel, and the crowd followed. Marvin figured they must be
about on the level of the Westminster MallÕs basement, maybe five or
six blocks over. For all he knew a train would pull in and whoever had
gotten control of the mall would be on it, come to round them all up and
haul them back. ÒThis is your lucky day, shoppers. The mall is open
forever and you get to live there now. Until we decide what to do with
you, anyway. Until we restore Òorder.Ó Our order. Just follow our
orders.Ó Marvin didnÕt like this, being unarmed and among people like
this. It reminded him of Jews being herded off to a concentration camp.
Once you got a lot of people together they seemed worth less to
somebody with a gun, especially somebody with a grudge. They became
just bodies. They became easy to kill. Perhaps fun to kill. Marvin
could imagine Perry setting a bomb off among a group of people like
this. ÒHi, itÕs time to Die!Ó With a grin heÕd unburden himself of some
perceived offence, with luck heÕd cow and enslave the survivors. Well,
theyÕd live better then, that was for sure. But right now they had no
bomb and they were among the crowd, not outside it. TheyÕd die right
along with it if some wiseass did set a bomb off, or started shooting
into it. There would be no special dispensation for Marvin and Perry.
No Òfree passÓ for fellow bandits. They were faceless in a faceless
crowd. A crowd where there were no names, no addresses, just bodies.
And the bodies were pressed together, too close, and the people were
getting edgy. They were beginning to want to kill each other. The guy
next to them who sweated too much, whoÕd stepped on their foot, whoÕd
looked at their wife or their daughter. The crowd itself would turn into
a bomb if something didnÕt happen soon. Something to relieve the
tension. Fortunately, Anacin was on the way. Sometimes drugs do have
side effects, though, Marvin worried, as he caught the faint glimmer of
steel on steel shimmering in the far distance. He cocked his head.
Mentally he began rehearsing how he would handle the situation. HeÕd
gotten them close to the edge, in front of most of the people. One thing
was for sure, he wanted on that train. He felt like he was in a prison
here, like he was in a tomb that maybe somebody had already closed
shut. They were going to get on that train no matter what. Around him,
other ears perked up, heads turned, everyone heard it now. A train!
A low roar echoed from deep inside the tunnel. The crowd came
alive. It pushed forward. Relief at last. SOMETHING, anything to
relieve the terrible tedium. The waiting. God, they could not wait any
longer. A moment later a train pulled into the station, a harsh squeal
permeating the heavy air as its brakes engaged. Marvin half expected to
see Ringo Star emerge.
ÒHullo there,Ó heÕd say, in his proper, clipped British accent. And
he could feel the crowd feeling the same thing. Yes, it would be Ringo,
and heÕd have a pocket watch. And of course the first item on the
agenda would be the proper presentation of tickets. Not that any of
them had any, of course, but Ringo would ask for them all the same. A
matter of procedure, you know, and fill out this form in triplicate if
youÕre without one. Hurry, old boy, people are waiting. We have a
schedule to keep.
The train's pneumatic doors opened with a dull thud. But there
was no Ringo, not even any Leatherjackets. Just millions upon millions
of insects.
Elsa let out a shrill scream of horror, her ululation joining that of
thousands.
N O T I C E : There was no May 19th or May 20th Comic Update. (I was
busy reorganizing my porno collection.)
ROLLER PUBLICATIONS Free for a greeting-card SASE (or $1.00) from:
Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868. COMIC UPDATE
(Library of Congress ISSN: 0894-5195): small press comix. NAUGHTY
NAKED DREAMGIRLS (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427): sex stories.
(Include an age statement-18 or over.) DREAMGIRLS WITH SHAMAN:
poetry. This is online issue number 9 END OF TRANSMISSION
Subj: Comic Update May 21, 1995 Mike Diana, Jeff Gaither