|The thing about Ennis is, I reckon you could call him a sick fuck and he'd just laugh and turn the other cheek. Which would leave him wide open to a deftly-placed swingball sconner on said, of course.|
And who'd be laughing then?
I didn't like The Boys and stopped reading it after the third issue, and was about to really just reemphasise what Boboss has to say about him (the MAX Punisher is consistently brilliant, IMO, in a rifle-barrel black, fucking brutal way and largely because the puerility that plagued his earlier work on the character has been almost entirely dispensed with...) but then I read the latest Barracuda tie-in to said, which is and has been chock-full of what one might be inclined to call his worst instincts, and - well - it's so unbelievably, like grand mal, OTT, the lead is so horrible, the comic and he alchemically attain a certain charm.
So. Maybe it's just the fact that the title discussed here is that peculiar sub-sub-genre carved out initially by, I think, Marshall Law (a comic I certainly enjoyed age 14 or so) and latterly versioned by other populist writers like Dan Clowes and, I believe, James Kochalka that wound me up - but there again there were those scenes with Butcher, is it, and the woman who really hated him but was also, like, totally wet for him and the whole prelude to a b.j. that the third issue was, and I just felt a little ill at those junctures. The first's probably harder to justify than the second, given it might be argued that this is, in fact, a more realistic take on superheroes than the likes of Watchmen, which is really a formal exercise in comparison, inasmuch as they'd be inconsiderate, vain and shallow with bloated egoes and fatal and/or degrading consequences for everyone else. Really, in the end, there just seemed very little heart in the book (as opposed to Barracuda? not really) other than all-too-brief bits with the Simon Pegg character and, in that respect, it utterly failed to out-Preacher Preacher.