Friday, 26 March 2010

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Glenn Beck is punk rock. (One last political post before I start pulling from the backlog of comics-related material I've written this week.) I have a confession: I have never watched or listened to Glenn Beck for any sustained period of time. I’d read transcriptions of his rambling monologues and seen parodies of his lunatic shtick, but until today, I’d avoided prolonged exposure to the Glenn Beck Experience. Would that I could still say the same. As a public service to anyone else out there who might be tempted to try and understand his appeal, I offer the following transcript of the horrors I witnessed condensed down to their rhetorical appeals: Good evening, America, I am you. Do you know what you hate? Let me tell you: You hate it when people tell you what to think. Do you want to be told what to think? Let me tell you: You don’t. You hate it when people tell you what to think. You’re an independent thinker, and what do all independent thinkers hate? Let me tell you: You hate to be told what to think, because you're an independent thinker. How should you feel about being told what to think? Let me tell you: You should feel insulted by these people who are telling you what to think. What does being talked down to by Washington elites make you feel like? Let me tell you: Being talked down to by Washington elites makes you feel like a child. How should you feel when Washington elites treat you like a child? Let me tell you: You should be outraged that Washington elites are trying to tell you how to live your life. How should you live your life? Let me tell you: You should live your life with freedom, because you're an independent thinker. What should you do when condescending Washington elites treat you and other independents just like you like children? Let me tell you: You should buy my book, because you're an independent thinker, and my book tells independent thinkers what they think. To be honest, I expected something more. I assumed Jon Stewart’s parody of Beck was a parody, but I was wrong—the Glenn Beck shows demonstrates that a significant number of American adults have the intellectual maturity of a punk apologist insisting that until you listen their favorite band, you’ll never learn to think for yourself. I honestly expected Beck to possess more rhetorical savvy than a teenage version of myself, but if you replace “America” with “the Replacements,” the resemblance is uncanny. (Before you say anything: I understand that I’m so late to the party that I shouldn’t even bother posting this, but I’ll risk inevitable redundancy in order to register the magnitude of my shock.)
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On the moral universe of Mark Millar (which is incoherent, but frequently explodes) By now, you know how I feel about Mark Millar; but until I read Nemesis, I couldn't have accounted for why my dislike has always been so visceral. Turns out, all I needed was to witness his treatment of a character I have more than a fleeting investment in to figure it out. For those unfamiliar with it, the premise of the book is, according to Millar: What if Batman was a total cunt? Mystery solved! I react poorly to Millar's work because despite its adult themes, adult language, and adult visuals, it is written by a child and intended to appeal to readers who live in a world devoid of moral complexity.* It's no accident that The Ultimates opens with Captain America fighting Nazis: Millar's attracted to the cleanliness of the period, i.e. to wars whose necessity is self-evident, because that allows him to focus on action-packed-violence as an end in itself. Moreover, when the body of Steve Rogers is discovered in the second issue, it provides Millar an opportunity to import what he considers a laudable moral simplicity into our decidedly complex historical moment. What began bad quickly turns awful, as Millar decides to follow in the footsteps of Adrian Veidt and unite the world by means of an invasion of aliens who are also Nazis; but the worst part about his game of perpetual one-upmanship is that, unlike Veidt, there is precious little evidence that Millar even momentarily weighs the moral consequences of his fictional narrative. He enlists the aid of intergalactic Nazi financiers because both can be slaughtered with impunity, and for pages and pages, the reader is treated to exactly that: violence unburdened of the need to justify its existence because these Nazis aren't even people, so why should there be a check as to the degree or kind of violence acts perpetrated against them? The problem with Millar's role-reversal should be obvious: The Ultimates is a What If...? title that explores what would happen if the Nazis were considered less than human instead of the Jews. Millar loves "the flip" more than any other narrative device, but in The Ultimates (as in Red Son), he is incapable of thinking through the consequences his counterfactuals have for his characters. In The Ultimates, for example, he failed to notice that he transformed Captain America into jingoistic ass presiding over an abattoir, meaning his reversion to the uncomplicated and sympathetic character he had been reads false. You would think—you would hope—that Millar would notice that there's something disturbing about slotting Captain America into the spot reserved for Nazis in that analogy, but he doesn't. His characters are who they are and they can be no one else, which means the possibility for character development is limited to the teleological process of becoming who you were destined to be, e.g. Superman and Batman in Red Son, both of whom embody the essence of their characters in their purest form despite having been born and raised in the Soviet...

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