Saga, by writer Brian K. Vaughan and artist Fiona Staples, is awesome. It is a space opera on a massive scale, spanning planets, including interstellar war, magic, technology, and strange races of aliens, from the primary warring races of ram-horned magic users and their pixie-winged opponents, to the charming triclopsed giant with man-tits and a scrotum that looks like it’s where the testicles of steroid-users go when they die, who we meet in Saga #7.

It has enough good guys, bad guys, androids and bounty hunters to populate ten Star Wars movies, with enough foul language and robot-fucking to make Disney put away its checkbook in gagging horror. And it does it with the kind of special effects budget you can only get with a pen and paper.

And yet, that is not what makes Saga awesome. It is awesome because, while this massive conflict is happening, this is not a story about those things, but one that happens during them, or perhaps in spite of them. Despite the aliens and robots and magic and technology, this is a human story, and Saga #7 is a perfect example of that. This issue contains magic and starships and the Scrotum That Ate Pittsburgh, but it is about a couple visiting their in-laws for the first time, when those in-laws don’t approve of the relationship. And as a guy who has been in situations where his girlfriend’s parents have treated him in a way ranging from aloof politeness to barely-restrained contempt, it is damn effective.

Plus, it has that splash page that I Goddamned guarantee you was shipped back to Staples with a note from Vaughan reading: “More scrote.”

Hey, remember, about two weeks ago on Saturday Night Live, when Louis C.K. delivered one of the most kickass monologues to introduce the program in recent memory and gave everyone about six minutes of hope that SNL wasn’t going to suck anymore? Yeah, that’s over. Meanwhile, this week Jeremy Renner is at least a good sport about Hawkeye’s place in the scheme of things in The Avengers. Have a shot of whiskey or two to offset the cringe that this clip will induce. Ready? Here we go:

Maybe SNL should have Joss Whedon just come in and write and direct their show? At least he knows how to make ensembles come off as smart and funny.

It’s been a good couple of weeks since the news broke that Disney purchased Lucasfilm and then announced that they were beginning production on a new Star Wars movie. And in that time, there has been a small amount of concrete news about the new movie: such as the fact that it is being written by Michael Ardnt, the dude who wrote Little Miss Sunshine and Toy Story 3… and not very much else.

Sure, we’ve learned a few things that aren’t happening, such as the fact that, despite working on a film in development for Disney, Brad Bird won’t be directing Star Wars VII. Nor will Quentin Tarantino, Steven Spelberg, or Zack Snyder. We’re reasonably certain that the film will be set after Return of The Jedi, and we’ve heard that Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford, at least, wouldn’t be averse to coming back in some capacity or another. So that’s where we are: we know the writer and we think we know the general era in which the story will be set, and there’s at least a chance that the three main characters will be coming back.

So that’s that. Nothing new to report. Nothing we’ve missed or forgotten that we might carry over from the original trilogy?

Oh yeah: there’s that guy who blew up the second Death Star.

Lando Calrissian might be coming back.

Well, maybe.

As you might or might not be aware, there is a reboot of Robocop in production. This is noteworthy for a couple of reasons, as it introduces the character to a new generation of moviegoers, and it marks the first real sign to the world that Generation X is sliding into obsolescence. This is how it starts, kids; I am convinced that we will learn that someone is remaking Pulp Fiction at exactly the same time we are being fitted for our first medical grade bag, or perhaps sack.

We got our first inkling that the remake was coming based on the fake OmniCorp ad for the ED-209 we saw outside the convention center at San Diego Comic-Con in July, and have since learned that it will be directed by Jose Padhila, director of The Elite Squad, about which I can only say: “Huh? I don’t speak Portuguese.” It will star Joel Kinnaman, formerly known for being That Other Cop in AMC’s The Killing, and is due for release on February 7, 2014…

But up until now, that’s about all we’ve known about the flick, other than the fact that new new Robocop suit looks like the old one went on a diet, walked through a vat of flat black Rustoleum, and decided to do himself the kindness of leaving his wank hand handy. However, a marketing reel about the flick has leaked, including interviews with Padhila and Kinnaman and a bunch of concept art.

So does it look like the remake can possibly keep up with Paul Verhoeven’s classic 1987 original? Well, take a look and decide for yourself.

As I have stated repeatedly throughout this history of this Web site, I am not the world’s biggest X-Men fan, despite my long time reading comic books. I’m not sure why they never hooked me in, but my guess is that it’s because those titles were the poster child for extensive, convoluted continuity that thrills longtime readers but is simply impenetrable to new ones.

Go ahead and pick a random issue of any X-Men title from, say, the late 1990s. You’ll see Wolverine; okay, everyone knows Wolverine. Then there will also be some dude from the future with a bionic arm, a gun as big as a Buick Skylark, and no feet – he’s the elderly son of one of the other 20-something X-Men. From the future. Yeah.

And then there will be seven guys you’ve never seen in any other Marvel comic, with names that sound like discarded names from failed 80s Sunset Strip hair metal bands (Shatterstar? Tracy X? Fucking X-Treme?). There might also be an alien, and a couple of coin tosses will tell you if Professor X can walk, or if Magento is a bad guy. And each one of them is fucking, once fucked, or is trying to fuck, each of the others. It’s an inscrutable mess that makes General Hospital look like Dick and Jane.

Besides: through it all, Cyclops was a real dick.

But thanks to Avengers Vs. X-Men, even people who aggressively don’t follow the X-Men have been exposed to the characters, and there is no doubt that that event has seriously mucked around with the mutant status quo. So when you combine that with the fact that Brian Michael Bendis has left the Avengers books he did such a good job rebooting and renovating over the past several years by shaking up the status quo and introducing new characters, and started a new book, All-New X-Men, it would seem that this would be a perfect time to jump into the mutants’ story without being bogged down in years of history and relationships. Right?

Yeah, not so much. However, that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

If you’re not old enough to have seen Star Wars in its original 1977 theatrical release, you are not a true Star Wars fan, and arguably not even truly a human being.

If the first time you saw Star Wars was on home video or, may God forbid, as a “Special Edition” DVD or Blu-Ray, you were not part of the original wave of excitement that occurred when the movie first broke, and therefore, are unworthy to call yourself a real fan. You were a kid who never had to live in a world where there was a Star Wars movie, but where there were no Star Wars toys. You never dealt with the crippling discomfort that came from pretending you were Luke Skywalker and getting a proto-boner over Princess Leia. The first time you saw Boba Fett was in a major motion picture, and not during a holiday special that made your sainted mother say, “With God himself as my witness, Diahann Carroll and Harvey Korman will die by my fucking hand. And if this program makes my eldest son say he wishes he had a Goddamned Lumpy Wookie… that’s it! Time for bed, you!”

My point is: to me, these experiences were integral to being a Star Wars fan. So when it comes to you little bastards whose Star Wars experience started with slapping in the VHS tape whenever you felt like it? You’re not real fans. Seriously: fuck you wretched, hipster poseurs.

So… anyone about ready to scroll to the comments and call me a shortsighted, ageist, elitist motherfucker yet? You ready to really rip into me and ask me how I dare to define your fandom based on my experiences?

Great! Now maybe we can all quit whoring around and whimpering about female cosplayers for a minute.

It is one hell of a thing to put up a post advertising the end of our broadcast day when we haven’t published anything since yesterday at just after midnight, but I have a good excuse: over the past couple of days, the comics Internet has blown up (again) over the concept of female cosplayers and “fake geek girls” at comic conventions. Which is nothing new; this kind of thing pops up every six or eight weeks these days… only this time, it happened during the two to six hour window on a Tuesday when I was sober, which meant I was able to have an opinion. Which has been written, and which is in the process of being reviewed by my co-Editor Amanda to make sure it makes sense and doesn’t contain words like, “bonerjonesers,” or phrases like, “you reactionary, unfuckable, drippy-dicked misogynists,” and it will hopefully be ready to publish once I finish going through notes like: “Rob: watch your capitalization. Example: Cameltoe is not a superhero. Neither is The Whimpering Boy-Virgin.”

Anyway, while that piece is being whipped into shape, it is still Wednesday, and that means new comics. Which means that, continued spellchecking on words like, “taintgrovelers,” or no, this…

…means the end of our broadcast day.

But lets put phrases like, “jizz-dribbling Raven snivelers” aside and acknowledge that this is one hell of a week for new comic books. We’ve got the lamented final issue of Garth Ennis’s The Boys, the start of Dan Slott’s runup to Superior Spider-Man with the first part of the final story of The Amazing Spider-Man, the first Matt Fraction issue of Fantastic Four, the second Batman issue of Death Of The Family, and the book I’m most excited about: Locke & Key: Omega #1. Plus a shit-ton of other cool stuff!

But before we can review them, we need time to read them… and to decide where to put the hyphens in phrases like, “woman-hating spunk-dumpers.” So until that time…

…see you tomorrow, suckers!

Some readers have privately wondered, after we reported earlier this year that there was still hope to see a movie version of The Goon by creator Eric Powell, Producer David Fincher, and Blur Studios, why we hadn’t made any mention of the Kickstarter project started by Blur in October to fund the $400,000 creation of a story reel to shop the project around again to investors in the hopes of getting the full movie (estimated to cost tens of millions of dollars) made.

Well, the answer to that is simple: we like to at least pretend that there is some kernel of journalism behind what we do here, and it would be impossible for us to be objective about the Goon Kickstarter because, in short, I contributed to it.

At greater explanatory length, I contributed a lot to it.

At even greater explanatory length, my pledge was enough to obtain one of the higher-end rewards offered for the project, which didn’t go for what you’d call short money. And it would have felt wrong to skew opinions on a story that, depending on how it went, would lead to me either obtaining something for which I have lusted for since I started reading The Goon, or to my ability to have the pledge be returned upon failure of the Kickstarter and therefore making me able to afford heat for the winter.*

However, it is now safe to discuss this story, because Sunday morning at 8:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time, The Goon Kickstarter surpassed its goals by more than ten percent, meaning that a full length, animated storyboard, with Clancy Brown voicing The Goon and Paul Giamatti as Franky, will be produced.

Does this mean the movie’s been greenlit? Well, not exactly.

A fabulously charming, billionaire, genius playboy walks into a bar with a hot air-headed blonde and a cold drink. The playboy says, “I have a lust for life that, when viewed from a distance is almost indistinguishable from a death wish.” The punchline? The cold drink is water because the playboy is an alcoholic, so he has to tolerate the blonde while sober. Also: the scene is drawn by Greg Land.

Iron Man #1 is written by Kieron Gillen. He is a man who knows his way around a solid, nuanced story, as anyone who has his recent work on Journey Into Mystery can attest. However, Iron Man #1 – titled “Demons And Genies”- appears to be, at the outset, more concerned with reestablishing plot points from earlier stories, such as “Demon In A Bottle” and “Extremis”, than breaking any new ground. So, yup – not a reboot. If anything, it’s taking Warren Ellis’s “Extremis” story and reminding the readers, “Hey, remember when storylines were fresh, new, and exciting? This isn’t one of those times. But don’t sweat it reader! We’ve got an app to fix that. Just view the selected panels through your smartphone using our Augmented Reality program and you’ll forget that what you’re reading breaks absolutely no ground at all!”

Probably not a good thing, right?

More blasts from the past, and spoilers, after the jump.

Editor’s Note: Well, I certainly hope this little incident hasn’t put you off spoilers, miss. Statistically speaking, of course, it’s still the safest way to review.

Before I forget: there’s one astronaut in Action Comics #14 who is the primary candidate to be that astronaut who’s pulled over by the state police with a bottle of pharmaceutical amphetamines, a box of Depends, a roll of duct tape and a switchblade. See if you can guess which one! But that’s not important right now.

Action Comics #14 is going to work for you, or not work, depending on how you feel about Silver Age Superman stories, because this is one. From unlikely astronauts on a truly improbable mission that has never been mentioned before (and probably never will be again) to unlikely pseudoscience that can only be accomplished because Superman’s there to accomplish it, to a familiar yet faintly ridiculous antagonist, to a Fifth-Dimensional Imp, the only difference between this and any Superman comic book from, say, 1965 is the actual danger the astronauts are put in an the big, goofy Curt Swan Superman smile… which artist Rags Morales actually apes in one panel.

So this is a tough issue to be objective about because it is ridiculous… but it is kinda supposed to be ridiculous. It features people in distress who can only be saved by Superman – including a kid who clearly idolizes Superman – even though it requires you to believe that these pussies (and children!) are the hardy sort who would be the first to terraform another planet. It needs you to be okay with the idea that ten thousand Christian angels would have a hard-on to tear Mars a new asshole, and that a human distress call from the surface of Mars would attract less attention from the citizens of Earth than the landing of a remote controlled Tonka truck that made this dude the jack fantasy for every female XKCD reader in the English speaking world.

So this story has some logical issue, but the logical issues seem to be there on purpose. So the overriding question is: does it work?