Batman Day Cancelled by Costumed Madman

I was expecting it to be lame. I was not disappointed.

If you watch this promo video for the event, it looks like the other participating cities had a lot of fun with Batman Day a couple of weeks ago, celebrating the 80th anniversary of the character.

Montreal, true to form, fucked it up.

It’s all been forgotten and swept under the rug by now, but after trudging downtown and into the fray, I thought it was worth documenting our local embarrassment. So I covered the fiasco for Bleeding Cool. The article is up now, and you can read it here.

Meanwhile, this begins tomorrow.

The Floor Show

I have been to the Montreal Comiccon and I no longer fear hell.

The Palais des congrès, also known as the Lite-Brite convention centre due to its design atrocities and crimes against aesthetics, is conveniently located right on top of the Place des Arms metro station. Last Saturday, I came spilling out of the turnstile wearing my new Necropolis t-shirt with a QR Code on the back (or, as I call it to be technical, “blocky-blobby-stupid-phone-thingie”). The idea was to walk around the comic convention for twelve hours straight and see how many people would scan me and get directed to the Amazon book page. This, I was certain, was a terrible idea.

It was first thing in the morning, on the big middle day of the three-day show. And there were already thousands upon thousands of people there. It had been a while since I’d done a comic convention, but I recognized the usual misshapen body types, along with a phenomenon new to me since the last time I’d attempted an appearance. Never before have I seen so many tatted-up scrawny nerds. I’m used to seeing tattoos on people with more meat on their bones. Some of these kids looked like they weighed 98 pounds soaking wet, but were sporting the kind of ink you usually need to do ten years in a supermax to earn. They don’t make comic-book geeks like they used to.

Despite my comic background street-cred, I felt like an outsider. I was the sweaty middle-aged dude, grumpy about the early hour, dying in the July heat, eager to get into some air conditioning only to find it negated by so many human bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder.

“I’m in the entirely wrong line to buy tickets, aren’t I?” I said, once I’d spent half an hour following the incorrect flood of people, spurred on by the convention centre attendants demanding “Avance! Avance!” at all the tourists who didn’t understand French.

The girl at the ticket-check smiled sympathetically and directed me outside to a whole other line for kiosks that weren’t even operational when I first passed them, forty minutes past the supposed opening time of the show.

Great start.

At least I didn’t need to be anywhere. The main point of the excursion was to get that QR Code in front of as many people as possible. And the people just kept coming. Surely some of the bored attendees in the queue would whip out their phones and scan my intriguing shirt to pass the time.

Once I was inside, one $55 ticket later, I took some time trying to get my bearings in the enormous hall. It’s always nice to pay that kind of money to get into a venue filled with nothing but people selling things for even more money. I stopped by the closest booth, and any illusions I had about not belonging there were dispelled immediately when I caught a father asking about the identity of a superhero Lego minifig on behalf of his young son.

“I don’t know all the DC guys,” apologized the shopkeeper.

“That’s Dr. Fate,” I said, feeling a certain shame in knowing that.

I was thanked profusely, yet still felt dirty.

I don’t know why I ever bother to feel dirty about knowing geek stuff or flogging my wares. If I was dirty, then everyone else there was absolutely filthy. Particularly the celebrity guests.

Yeah, I know it’s standard for them to charge for photos and autographs, but dammit Elijah Wood, you starred in three of the biggest movies ever made. Didn’t you save some of that cash?

$95 for an autograph, another $95 for a selfie? A selfie! That’s right, for $95 you have to take your own damn picture. Nobody will even press the button for you. Fuck you, Frodo! Can’t you at least get your bitch, Samwise, to handle somebody’s camera for them while they’re paying your exorbitant fee? It’s not like you’d even have to give him a cut. He’d probably do it all day long for a thimbleful of mead, a turnip, and a pat on the head.

Okay, I’ll try to give the guy a break. He’s been making a lot of indie films for the love of his craft lately, and I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore was my favourite film of 2017. But damn dude, even working for scale on all those projects has to add up.

At least I know who Elijah Wood is. And Lou Ferrigno. And Christopher Lambert. Some of the other guests? No so much. Describing them as celebrities is a use of the word “celebrity” I am unfamiliar with. Take it from a old pro, not everybody who appears on a TV show is famous. Or the least bit notable.

As I wandered up and down the aisles, looking at all the merch for sale, and marvelling on the rare occasion I spotted actual comic books, I quickly filled up my Bingo scorecard of cosplayers.

Darth Fatty? Check. Unintimidating average-height Michael Meyers? Check. Damaged girl dressed as Harley Quinn? Check.

Check. Check.


Goddamn, that’s a lot of Harley Quinns.

On a related note: ladies, if you’re wearing a costume that would make a stripper say, “Girl, get some clothes on!” rethink that. In fact, any outfit concept that has you walking around the show half naked, rethink that. I’m talking to you too, gentlemen. Nobody liked Jared Leto’s Juggalo-Joker. Nobody. Tuck your boy-titties away.

Props, however, to the guy dressed as Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark. At least somebody was trying to get laid by dressing for success.

I should say that not all of the more repulsive cosplayers put me off. A small child crying in terror at the sight of some murder-clowns brightened my day. I’ll admit it: I had to hide my face behind my program to stifle a laugh.

One of my key goals of the show was to scout out Artists Alley and see if it was well-travelled, or a desert of tumbleweeds and bored artists with no one to interact with. I have a notion I might want to pay for a table of my own next year and see how many books and comics I can hustle.

Once again, keeping to the theme of modern comic conventions having as little to do with comic books as possible, I was several rows into Artists Alley before I even knew I was there. Where were all the comic artists? Tucked into the very last stretch, it would seem. Most of the tables were manned by artisans of a different sort, selling all sorts of derivatives of comic-book culture without tainting their displays with any art that ever appeared in an actual comic. It’s great if you want a fashion accessory with an Avengers logo on it, not so great if you’re looking for someone who had anything to do with an Avengers comic book to sign your back issues.

I remain on the fence about dropping the chunk of change necessary to secure my own shop next year. It might prove to be money well spent, or it could turn into a PR fiasco. Speaking of which…

So how many confirmed pings did I get on my blocky-blobby-stupid-phone-thingie after exposing it to tens of thousands of nerds who would probably enjoy the hell out of Necropolis if they gave it half a chance?

Last I checked…four.

Promotion ain’t no easy thing.

Listen to the first half of last week’s episode of Cinema Smackdown if you want to hear additional details of my Comiccon adventures. Broadcast version is here.

Are Comics Still a Thing?

It’s been a while.

I can’t quite remember when I last attended a comic-book convention. I used to go to the one in Montreal all the time. No, not The Montreal Comic Con—the big one in the convention centre with all the celebrity guests—I’m referring to the boutique one. When I used to go, it was a little show in a hotel off the highway in the middle of nowhere. It was stuffed full of comic retailers, back issues, and an average of three guests. Usually two within driving distance, and one real guest they had to pay to get there for the day.

It was small time. So small time, I was a guest once or twice.

There were other conventions. More generically science fiction and fantasy conventions. One downtown—I can’t even remember what it was called—had me for a few panels. It was the single worst experience of my entire professional career and it made me swear off ever attending another local con.

In the realm of the big time, I did San Diego twice and Dallas once. That was back in the ‘90s. So long ago, comic-book conventions were still mostly about comics. They were experiences worth having.

Montreal has had its own similarly huge comic convention for several years now, and I’ve been tempted to go more than once. But when even an appearance by Malcolm McDowell failed to draw me in (to get him to sign my DVDs of the Mick Travis trilogy, of course) I figured I was never going to attend.

And yet.

For a variety of work-related reasons, I’m compelled to scout out the show this year. It’s going on right now, but I’ll be there for the big Saturday festivities, wandering around aimlessly, watching the clock until I can go home. If you’re there, come say hello. I’ll be the one in a Necropolis t-shirt. Unless I end up giving some away, in which case I’ll be just one of the guys in a Necropolis t-shirt.

Exhaustion permitting, I’ll stick around for the Pornomedy Hentai Edition show at 9:00 pm. Monica Hamburg is hosting, and we just had her on last week’s episode of Cinema Smackdown talking about all sorts of filthy porn-related things, including her time at the Eve porno theatre (featured in David Cronenberg’s 1977 film, Rabid) that burned to the ground shortly after she started working the projector there. An unrelated event, I’m sure.

Listen to the episode at the CJLO archives, or watch the raw studio feed below.

I’ll be back on the radio on Sunday, so I’m going to skip a return visit to the comic con that day, even though there’s some local-kid-made-good named Bill Shatner who’ll be there. He was on an old TV show or something. I’d turn out to support the ex-Montrealer, but I’m pretty sure I’ve bumped into him before.


The year 1997 was a busy one in the history of Longshot Comics. Book Two, The Failed Promise of Bradley Gethers, came out under the Slave Labor Graphics banner, and I was hopping flights around the continent doing multiple convention appearances.

I was also working on several shorter Longshot stories to help promote the book. In the midst of this, Brian Michael Bendis approached me to do a page for his Jinx Special. This was a charity collection from Caliber Comics, centred around his titular bounty-hunter character. Most of the pieces other artists were doing were pinups, but I’m not exactly a pinup artist by the stretch of any lunatic’s imagination. What I offered to do was an original Longshot piece, featuring a crossover between one of my characters and his. In a sex shop. There would be a reference to what had been going on in Jinx’s comic, as well as an update on the current whereabouts of Douglas Gethers (Bradley’s estranged son).

“Douglas Gethers’s Worst job Yet” was published under the two different covers of the Jinx Special and later collected in a larger Jinx omnibus. At San Diego, Bendis told me he was getting a lot of questions about me. Namely, “Where did you dig this guy up?” Four years into the Longshot Comics saga, most people had still never seen anything like it.

Skip ahead a quick twenty-one years, the story has been reproduced in the new forty-panel format. I’m hosting it on my Patreon page for free (as in not behind a pay wall), so parties interest in both Longshot Comics and Jinx can go check it out, no strings attached.

I also shot a short video about it last night.

I’m still trying to decide when and how to move forward with this fledgling Youtube channel. Three videos in, I’m debating upgrading my broken-down dead-pixel flip. Interest in the material is, unsurprisingly, minimal so far, since I barely speak of it. Nevertheless, I got a random subscriber out of nowhere. Just one. But it shocked and delighted me.

I don’t know. It’s going to take a lot of effort to get used to talking to myself alone in a room. The radio show is vastly easier since I’m interacting with other people. Plus I’m concerned about unleashing my inner opinionated dick. Blogging is bad enough. Get me on a vocal rant and I’m likely to say all sorts of things that will get me fired off projects down the road and sabotage my eventual run for political office.


World’s Finest

Bleeding Cool has announced the release of Longshot Comics, and I couldn’t ask for a nicer article.

The headline flatters my ass clean off. Here it is in the mix of headlines on the front page.

I have nothing to add to that.

But in update news, I should mention that I had to bump up the price of the Longshot ebooks. This was my first time publishing a graphic novel through Amazon—the key word being “graphic.” That means lots of pictures taking up a lot more space than mere text. And I’d forgotten to account for Amazon’s distribution fee for larger file sizes.

Jeff Bezos ended up eating my lunch for the first couple of days of release, and there’s a guy who doesn’t need to get any richer off the efforts of poor, starving artists like me. I’ll take the sales that went directly into his pocket as a life lesson and move on. Thankfully, the vast majority of copies sold have been for the paperbacks, because collectors still like physical copies of comics to entomb in bags forever.

As an incentive, I’m lowering the Kindle MatchBook price to FREE. That means, if you buy a paperback of Book One, Book Two, or Book Three, you can also download a Kindle ebook copy from Amazon for zero dollars and zero cents. This one’s on me. And Jeff.

Back me on Patreon for more Longshot Comics stories, and to force my hand to start work on a Book Four.


They Weren’t Called “Eyestrain Comics” for Nothin’

One of the great advantages to having a digital version of Longshot Comics is the panel-zoom feature on the Kindle. Here’s a short video where I, and my lovely and talented assistant Finnegan, explain how that works. It’s the perfect solution for old, tired eyes.

If you’ve already bought a paperback copy, you can also get a digital copy from Amazon for the reduced price of $0.99 (down from the regular $2.99). If you don’t have an actual Kindle like the one in this video, there are free Kindle-reader apps you can download for your phone or computer.

Swan Song

Longshot Comics Book Three: The Inauspicious Adventures of Filson Gethers was, as I may have mentioned on a dozen occasions, a long time coming. But Filson has existed in the Longshot universe almost from the very beginning.

Passingly referenced in a largely speculative way in The Long and Unlearned Life of Roland Gethers, he appeared in his own story in 1995, right after the Slave Labor Graphics edition made its debut. It was a story you probably missed, but one that now functions as a coda to Book Three.

I hadn’t initially planned on making a string of short Longshot Comics stories, but during my first appearance at the San Diego Comic Con to promote the book, I was set upon by a representative of Tower Records. He loved Longshot, and wanted me to do an original story for the comics page of their in-store magazine, Pulse! The chance to reach a young, hip audience of pop-music fans was a golden opportunity I promptly rejected. Instead, I suggested doing a story for their other in-store magazine, Classical Pulse! because a chance to reach an old, out-of-touch audience of opera fans was more in keeping with my self-sabotaging business model of zero market penetration.

Nothing mixes better than classical-music enthusiasts and avant-garde experimental minimalist comics, I always say. With that pearl of wisdom in mind, I wrote a story about the final years of Roland’s mysterious grandfather, and his interaction with British composer Edward Elgar in the Powick Asylum, where Elgar worked during his early career. This quiet end for Filson suggested nothing of the rollicking life of daring adventure I had in mind for him, but provided the eventual third volume of Longshot an endpoint to aim at.

Reprinted in Money Talks #4 to help build anticipation for The Failed Promise of Bradley Gethers, that was the last anyone ever saw of Filson Gethers’s Music Lesson until now. The entire five-page story has been redone and reformatted, and is now the third Longshot story hosted on my Patreon page.

The Dot at the End of the Tunnel

Release day is here!

The entire Longshot Comics Trilogy is now available on various Amazon sites in paperback and for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited. Follow the links below to the dot-com pages, or head to your local-country version of Amazon to order your copies today.

Longshot Comics Book One:
The Long and Unlearned Life of Roland Gethers

The classic (dare I say legendary) original epic-minimalistic comic book that started it all 25 years ago. When it first came out it shocked—SHOCKED I SAY!—the industry to its core, with many top artists wondering aloud what obsessive-compulsive madman would ever attempt such a thing. An historic comedy saga, set in the waning days of the British Empire, it told an unparalleled story across an insane format of 3840 panels. With dozens of tiny panels per page, and the entire cast depicted as distant dots, no one had ever seen anything like it. Multiple printings, editions, formats and translations followed as the book became a featured subject of lectures, academic texts, and museum exhibits around the world. Now it’s back in print at last!

Book One Paperback edition

Book One Kindle edition

Longshot Comics Book Two:
The Failed Promise of Bradley Gethers

“Magnum Opus” was a term bandied about when it came to the original Longshot Comic. Surely even the lunatic responsible for the first book would never attempt anything of the same scope or scale ever again. Well, that opus turned out to be not so magnum after all, because several years later the sequel launched and told another 3840-panel epic tale of the Gethers family. Hailed as worthy successor, with a story that intertwined and expanded on the original, fans who missed out on the smaller print run have been clamouring to get their hands on a copy for years. Now they finally can!

Book Two Paperback edition

Book Three Kindle edition

Longshot Comics Book Three:
The Inauspicious Adventures of Filson Gethers

On this quarter-century anniversary, the long-awaited third book has arrived. A prequel to the rest of the saga, this all-new chapter delves into the earlier generations of the Gethers family, and the wild ride between high and low society that ushered them through the triumphs and disasters of the British Empire and its colonies overseas. Adding over a century of material to the epic trilogy, it is the most ambitious chapter yet and, arguably, the funniest. Whether you’re a newcomer to the series, or a long-time reader, this volume makes for an equally perfect start or end point.

Book Three Paperback edition

Book Three Kindle edition

Visit my recently launched Patreon page for even more Longshot Comics material that will be rolling out in the coming days and weeks, including all the original short stories that haven’t been seen in decades.

Rewriting History

Returning to work you did decades ago and preparing it for a new release is a tricky thing. As an artist and perfectionist, you have to resist the urge to tamper with it. You have to accept that there are already plenty of fans who enjoyed it the way it was, love it for what it is, and don’t want their memory of it soiled by your compulsion to “fix” things. No, it’s not how you would have done it today, and that’s okay. It’s a snapshot of who you once were as a creator, and that’s worth preserving.

You can’t go and arbitrarily change things, even with the best of intentions. That would make you no better than George Lucas. And the next thing you know, you’re selling your baby to a corporate conglomerate for a measly four billion dollars—barely enough money to keep you in flannel shirts, and certainly not enough to pay for that life-saving chin-transplant surgery you so desperately need.

Revisiting the first two volumes of Longshot Comics, I saw a thousand little things I might have tweaked today. But I was firm in my conviction to preserve them as milestones in my career, if not outright monuments. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do a bit of a spit-and-polish. But I kept the editing down to a bare minimum. You would have to be some sort of obsessive superfan to spot the changes. The previously mentioned switch to all-British spelling is the most obvious alteration. Some added commas and slightly rearranged text within individual panels should be invisible. There are a number of word substitutions and trims here and there, but nothing important that modifies content or meaning. Mostly it’s about flow. I also discovered one or two typos that survived the ages. They were corrected. Hopefully I haven’t added any new ones.

So rest assured, even with the new format and the recreated artwork, these are the Longshot Comics of old. I did not paste any windows onto Cloud City. I did not remove anybody’s eyebrows during a grand unmasking. And Roland Gethers still shoots first.

Book Three was a different matter. Two-thirds of the script had languished on my hard drive for years. I’d started writing it after The Failed Promise of Bradley Gethers came out in 1997, but petered out, suffering from Longshot exhaustion (a feeling I have become reacquainted with over the course of the past year). I’d open the file and add to it periodically, but it felt like it would never get done. No matter how many lines of dialogue or scenes I wrote, it seemed to be perpetually trapped at two-thirds—well short of the 3840-panel mark I was shooting for again.

Over the years, I turned down offers to reprint the first two volumes, determined that I would only do so when Book Three could be published right alongside them. More than once I rattled my tin cup at the Canada Council for the Arts to see if I could get some funding to incentivize myself. I was met with blank stares and dead air. Critical darling or not, my brand of artsy-fartsy was not artistic enough, nor flatulent enough, for their tastes. It took one of my foreign-language publishers to come at me with an advance to finally light a fire under my ass.

Revising an old, incomplete script, was not a crime against preservation to me. But I still retained a certain amount of material I liked, even knowing that’s not quite how I would write it today if presented with nothing more than a blank page and a vague notion. The end result is a hybrid of who I was back then and who I am now. The mix works, the humour is a few shades darker than ever before, and, unless I’m deluding myself, I think it’s the best book in the trilogy. Chronologically, The Inauspicious Adventures of Filson Gethers takes place before the other two volumes, and is as fine a place as any to start reading the Longshot Comics Saga.

So when is this long-awaited release?

Hint: all three books are already out on Amazon in Kindle ebook and paperback as of several hours ago. I’ll be announcing it here officially, with links and covers and all that good stuff, just as soon as Amazon finishes merging the digital and physical editions and adding them to my author page. If you’ve read this far, and are an eager beaver, I’m sure you can find them on the site yourself and be among the very first people on earth to buy copies. Or read them for free on Kindle Unlimited.