Xtinction Agenda

He brought the war back home to them, back to all those sweaty little men who got their kicks from telling Leroy to sling that paint, boy. He brought a war like they wouldn't have believed. And the world watched. They watched when at first there were lies and then again when only the awful truth remained. They watched the colonel bring the war hero to justice, closing the loop, sealing the wound so that it could be once again forgotten.

"Nothing is over! Nothing! You just don't turn it off!"

Justice before the dark mirror is not anti-justice. It is death and insanity. And every principle of goodness requires a strong man. Or, in this instance, two strong men. And a telepathic woman. Persons willing to get their hands dirty in order to set things right, to battle death and enclose madness, to save the hedonists from themselves.

"Let the dead fluidsss flow!"

The Devil whispered into the young Captain's ear, "I just want you to think big, Frank, for Christ's sake!"

The young Captain, overrun, turned his mind to the hunger inside him and to the vision set before his eyes and he said 'yes'.

He thought as big and wide as one could manage and then grabbed the sixty. It was time to finish them. All of them. Every god damned last one of them.

"Not every day you meet your polar opposite."

People are creeps. Just a bunch of creeps crawling around with their tongues out licking the ground for food. Frank knows this. He hunts for the biggest creep he can find and gives him what for. Tries to anyway. The man in red, overcoming the barrel roll, carries the creep off to justice.

In response, Frank does drugs in Mexico.

"I'll need my uzi to handle this mob."

Put on The National. We are sad dads. Sad dads who cannot be glad. Who cannot be glad about being dads.

It's dark, bro.

Give us a day or two to post a new episode. Please. 24 hours. Something. Just put the gun down.

We are doing it for Maria and the kids.

Even if the improvisation of serialized fiction is eternal, nothing stays the same. All is change. The mainstream comics world has new blood, writers who have entered the scene since 2017. We decided to find out who they were and then pit them against each other. We wanted blood. And we got blood. A river of it.

Gerry Duggan vs. Tini Howard, Kelly/Lanzing vs. Tom Taylor, Kelly Thompson vs. Saladin Ahmed, Steve Orlando vs. Philip Kennedy Johnson, Zeb Wells vs. Jed MacKay, Leah Williams vs. Ram V, Ed Brisson vs. Al Ewing, and Joshua Williamson vs. Torunn Grønbekk.

After nearly two hours, a champion stood at the crimson mouth, arms raised, challengers strewn or drowned.

It was good.

"He loves you Selina. And so do I."

Reality is bending. If we wake up, it breaks. Or does it? Does it matter if The Key finally slides into The Lock? Or has it already happened? Would we know the difference if a drug addled, megalomaniacal lunatic merged with the fabric of being itself?

The punch is spiked, the phone is back on the hook, and we are spinning wildly three years into the past. Tie us up before we cause too much harm.

It's showtime!

"Wreck it completely!"

She's been twelve for a long time, under the care of her own inept Renfield. Now she is alone. Meanwhile, he's been building his quiet rage, preparing himself for the pleasures of murder. Outcasts both, they find each other, tapping kisses into the pine.

Twenty five years earlier, Tony Scott makes an extended music video.

Somehow these are both vampire movies. Find out why!

[Sarah smiles, shakes her head, and then spills wine on her top]

This one goes out to Swedish Noble, Jake Gyllenhaal. The Swifties done did him dirty. Like, maybe he was a mean boyfriend to Taylor Swift at the tender age of twenty. Maybe he didn't hold her hand at that party. So what? GROW UP. Jake is a phenom who will not be stopped by some clingy, stupid little girl. He's got movies to make. Movies like Dan Gilroy's Nightcrawler. Movies that expose America for what it is. Not like you, Taylor, not like you at all.

#teamjake #erastoursux #alltoowell #cringe.

"Is that blood on your shirt?"

There is nothing better than sport, is there? Sport and school dances. Those transformative rituals that are the true magic of life. Press-ganged into prison-like enclosures, we battle each other and face our fears. We learn to 'grow up'. Sometimes we even grow up to be important. And, in rare instances, we grow up to be something more than important. Sometimes we grow up to be a hero, a lightning-scarred hero destined to battle the ultimate evil. So let's hear it, shall we?

Three cheers for sport and school dances!

"Blimey, Harry. You've slayed dragons. If you can't get a date, who can?"