I think I finally have realized the reason behind the vague sense of dissatisfaction, if not downright unease, that I’ve been feeling reading Geoff Johns’s and Jim Lee’s Justice League: these characters don’t act right. At best, they act like versions of the original characters that have suffered an extended and untreated fever, or perhaps some period of natural gas-related asphyxia, or some other unknown cause of mild brain damage.

I get that these are supposed to be the members of the Justice League at the beginning of their careers, and therefore it’s probably to be expected that their personalities are somewhat different than we’re used to. Which, as ideas go, is not a bad way to go, and one that could drive many character-driven stories. Unfortunately, over the course of five issues, it’s become apparent that Johns has decided that the primary difference in character is that five years ago, the World’s Greatest Superheroes were Complete Motherfucking Idiots.

Remember how cool it was last week when we found out after we bought comics that our local bar was closed so we had to stay sober, and we could post an immediate review? Yeah, that was last week. This week, we found out that they were closed so they could implement a new Happy Hour. And not just a Happy Hour, but one avec karaoke (‘Avec” is French for: “Too fucking classy to be arrested for doing”)!

Long story short: beer is good, and this week is readily available, which means that this…

…is the end of our broadcast day.

But things could be worse. Sure, we’re hammered, but that pile contains a new Justice League, a walking dead, new Flash, Justice League Dark, and a bunch of other cool stuff to praise / crap on!

But before we review them, first we gotta read them. So see you tomorrow, suckers!

If you’ve been following Marvel’s Battle Scars miniseries that launched from the still-twitching carcass of the Fear Itself event, you know that the prevailing mystery of the story is: who is protagonist Marcus Johnson, and who is his father? Now, a story about a young African-American man who doesn’t know who his father is might sound like one of those “conservative comics” that blew up the comics Internet a couple weeks ago (At least he’s not looking for food stamps, amirite, Newt?), but it’s actually been an intersting little tale.

Like I said in my review last week, the evidence presented is that Johnson comes from a family history of American heroes, that dad has a mortal enemy looking to get at him through Marcus, and his father reportedly might not be able to die. And the smart money has been on Nick Fury being being Johnson’s father. The prevailing theory is that Marvel, what with at the Avengers movie coming out in just a few months with Samuel L. Jackson in the Fury role, was looking to put a more familiar on the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the comics. I, however, I predicted Bucky Barnes… mostly because I drink and I am a contrary dick. One more beer before I wrote my review and I might have gone for Dick Clark.

Well, things are starting to look like I’m on the losing side of the argument, because Bleeding Cool recently got their hands on the full-sized cover to the issue 6 of Battle Scars…

EDITOR’S NOTE: I couldn’t spoil the plot to this book if I tried.

With God as my witness, I didn’t know that DC’s Diablo: Sword of Justice was related to the Diablo videogame by Blizzard… and if I had, I probably wouldn’t have bought it. Comic books based on videogames are almost never any good (A few outlier exceptions aside), and a comic book based on Diablo would have an uphill battle worse than a lot of them. Hell, I’ve played Diablo and I had no idea it had a story beyond Kill, Loot, Advance… which is less a compelling story than a kickass New Year’s Resolution.

There’s not much to Diablo’s gameplay to hang a story on. Not being a sword and sorcery guy, the times I have played the game were at a buddy’s house, taking over his saved games while he was on beer runs, and it’s not like I was confused as to why I was killing giant spiders on level five just because I missed the storyline of the first five levels, wherein my pal killed 1,600 giant rats. So on that level, the Diablo comic book fails, because I missed the first issue, and now that I’ve read the second, I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

Let me preface this entire review by saying: I know that it’s unconscionably wrong to hit a child. No matter how snot-nosed and entitled they may act, children are defenseless and we should not only protect them from harm, but behave as temperate role models so that they might understand how to conduct themselves in dealings with others as they make their way into the world. That being said, there is a moment in this issue where Emma Frost lays into Hope Summers with a queen bi-atch of a backhand (for being snot-nosed, entitled and mouthy – hat trick!) that will make any worn down adult with a recent weekend at the mall under hir or her belt and a fair sense of decency stand up offer writer James Asmus a hearty and heartfelt, “Well done, sir.”

Also, Hope Summers, the mutant messiah who will almost certainly become the embodiment of Earth’s next brush with the Phoenix Force, is far from defenseless. So, slap away, Emma – while you still can, anyway! Pretty soon she’s going to be able to apply her lipstick hands-free using her cleavage and level planets with a thought. God help you when she snarkily asks you if you get your wardrobe by raiding Barry Manilow’s RuPaul’s closet, then.

Generation Hope follows Hope and her team of young mutant super heroes, assembled from the first new mutants to arise on Earth since the events of M-Day decimated the Earth’s mutant population to a total of 198 remaining mutants. In their last outing, Hope and her gang of brains, athletes and basket cases round out their crew with a criminal – one Sebastian Shaw. Or is it?

Cha-cha-cha-changes…and spoilers…after the jump.

If you’re a genre fan around my age, you have fond memories of Jenny Agutter, whether you know you do or not. Granted, she hasn’t been in a lot that’s been on any American’s radar for quite a while, but she played Jessica in Logan’s Run and Alex in An American Werewolf in London, which means for a Generation X male geek, there’s a better than even chance she was the cause for the first time you said, “Mommy? My pee-pee’s broken. It’s pointing at the ceiling.”

Agutter’s making an appearance in the upcoming Avengers flick – after all, Joss Whedon is a male, Gen-X genre fan – which makes her newsworthy, particularly in England, where she’s apparently been working steadily since the 80s. Newsworthy enough to have done an interview for the Radio Times (Think England’s TV Guide) about the experience. An interview where she said that she was sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in the movie… and where she promptly dropped a massive spoiler that, if not a mistake on her part or the part of the reporter who wrote the story, is fairly fucking awesome:

David Finch and Richard Friend’s beautifully rendered cover of Birds Of Prey #5 isn’t the only reason to pick up this book, but it’s a damn good place to start. Yeah, it’s a little heavy on cheesecake, but, hell, Charlie’s Angels could only wish they could look this good while performing acts of badassery. Badassery is a word. I’ve decided.

The other reason you should be buying this book is Ev Crawford.

Who is Ev Crawford? That is a damn good question.

Spoilers that may or may not answer that question, after the jump.

We’re now five issues into the New 52 reboot of Green Lantern Corps, and the one thing that has become undeniably apparent is that this book has a distinct identity. Unfortunately, that identity is that it’s the book that swipes from – or to be charitable, is inspired by – other forms of entertainment. Issue 3 was lifted from a video game in hoard mode. Issue 4 looked a lot like an episode of 24. This issue’s a knockoff on Sylvester Stallone’s flick The Expendables. At this rate, issue 6 will be about a Green Lantern whose ring is positioned in the back of her throat and can only be activated by Harry Reems.

Seriously: this issue is about The Expendables of the Green Lanterns Corps: The Mean Machine. As Guy Gardner calls them, “…the toughest sons of bitches in the Corps.” They’re old soldiers, so old that after more than forty years of modern Green Lantern stories, this is the first time we’ve ever heard of them. So old they wear the traditional Green Lantern uniform of jeans, muscle shirts and leather jackets. So old they have code names like, “Lee” and “Flint” and “Bronchuk”. So old they drink heavily, and probably occasionally tip a forty for their dead homies Norrisum, Schwarzeneggerzil, and Van Damme (Van Damme being Oan for “Michael Keaton.”).

You may have missed it, but, this past Thursday, Nicole Polizzi (aka Snooki) found time to stop falling down drunk for a moment to tweet about Wolverine versus Jean Grey. No, really. I swear. She really did. Including a direct tweet to Hugh Jackman. I’ll let Annoying Orange and The Internet sum up how things went:

Snooki On Wolverine

Why do I think when she types “Wolverine” she means “vodka” and when she types “character” she means “booze”?

I’d never read Danger Girl before I picked up the first issue of the latest miniseries, Danger Girl: Revolver, because frankly, I’m not a spy story guy by nature. Keep in mind that when I was growing up, James Bond was Roger Moore; the only less effective casting choice for turning kids into spy fans would have been Jerry Lewis. Granted, my tastes have changed as I’ve grown up, but to this day if I want a good spy comic? That’s why God and Greg Rucka invented Queen & Country.

On the great continuum of spy stories, Danger Girl falls closer to Octopussy than Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. However, as an adult now, I can recognize and appreciate it for what it is: big, kitschy, goofy fun. It’s not necessarily my style of fun, but you’ll dig it if you’re looking for unlikely chases, big tits, guns, planes, stunts, big tits, explosions, big tits, and last but not least: big tits.