comics are like the mafia, kids
After more than a decade of only occasional glances at comics, it sure looks like I've been pulled back in on an actually caring about monthly titles basis (and already I want to strangle the Marvel execs. Just let me read the titles I like without having to deal with your ridiculous Events, stopit stopit stopit). I was only vaguely poking at DC again before the reboot and now someone who has already taken the plunge needs to tell me: Really? Really?
Let's start with Catwoman. When you open this book, you are greeted to Selina Kyle's undulating bosoms. After waggling in the breeze for a few pages, she goes to a Russian nightclub to rob gangsters or something. There, she whips out her bosoms again. At the end of the comic, Batman shows up. Catwoman and Batman abruptly have anonymous sex in their costumes - they don't know each other's secret identities now - in a position seemingly cribbed from the poster of Last Tango In Paris. The issue ends with a full-page illustration of Batman inside Catwoman. It is unclear if his utility belt comes equipped with Bat-Rubbers, ribbed for her Bat-Pleasure.
...I can't decide if the sheer terribleness that summary suggests makes me want to read it online/in a trenchcoat and sunglasses in a dimly lit corner of I shop I've never before been in, or just makes me want to make retching noises. Maybe both, but only because I need to know if it really is that bad.
Let's start with Catwoman. When you open this book, you are greeted to Selina Kyle's undulating bosoms. After waggling in the breeze for a few pages, she goes to a Russian nightclub to rob gangsters or something. There, she whips out her bosoms again. At the end of the comic, Batman shows up. Catwoman and Batman abruptly have anonymous sex in their costumes - they don't know each other's secret identities now - in a position seemingly cribbed from the poster of Last Tango In Paris. The issue ends with a full-page illustration of Batman inside Catwoman. It is unclear if his utility belt comes equipped with Bat-Rubbers, ribbed for her Bat-Pleasure.
...I can't decide if the sheer terribleness that summary suggests makes me want to read it online/in a trenchcoat and sunglasses in a dimly lit corner of I shop I've never before been in, or just makes me want to make retching noises. Maybe both, but only because I need to know if it really is that bad.