Comics reviews: Hawkeye, vol 1

When the people who decide these sorts of things get around to splitting up the ridiculously-named “Modern Age” of superhero comics, Hawkeye by Matt Fraction and David Aja will certainly land squarely in the middle of the canon for whatever time period now ends up being.

The current historical moment of the superhero genre is a fascinating beast. In the 80’s, as we all know, Alan Moore and others began to thoroughly deconstruct the genre. Then the 90’s introduced superhero cartoons and movies largely aimed at children, inculcating the superhero myth into a new audience au naturale. Simultaneously, fiction writers like Michael Chabon and China Mieville have worked to reclaim and rehabilitate genre fiction, massaging the essential tropes of sci-fi, fantasy, and others to coexist with literary modernism. My twitter buddy Ben likes to call this genre puree Fantastical Materialism.

So when superheroes arrived again, such as in the 2001 Spider-Man movie, the very deconstruction that created genre-defying works like Watchmen and Miracleman now reinforced the genre entirely. What would you do if you, like Peter Parker, were by chance bitten by a radioactive spider, giving you unique and incredible powers? Why, you’d become a masked hero, fighting villains and saving lives, of course! Why? Because this superhero myth has become so ingrained in our cultural psyche that that reaction has become a default expectation to the situation.

Now, when we see a superhero, we don’t ask “what kind of self-aggrandizing pervert puts on tights to beat up strangers?”—we simply say, “okay.” This is especially true in the Marvel universe (616 to fans), with superpowered beings seemingly on every New York streetcorner. In Joss Whedon’s 2004 Astonishing X-Men #1, Cyclops discusses the X-Men’s image problem and the need to emerge from Grant Morrison’s black leather to new costumes of brightly colored spandex. He states, “We need to present ourselves as a [superhero] team like any other. Avengers, Fantastic Four—they don’t get chased through the streets with torches.” For Whedon’s X-Men, gaining the acceptance of the public, both in their world and in ours, means fulfilling the expectations of the superhero genre. This acknowledgement of the construct of a superhero, and the tropes it entails, such as costumes, is an intrinsic part of the contemporary superhero story.

Hawkeye (2012) applies this context to the titular Clint Barton, a hero who previously was so vanilla that even Joss Whedon couldn’t come up with anything interesting for him to say in the Avengers movie. In four hyper-compressed short stories, stretching the first 5 issues of the comic, Fraction recasts Hawkeye as a superhero everyman. Without powers or technology, Hawkeye is your average Joe Superhero; he fights crime, has regrettable sex, and spends a lot of time in the hospital. His main villain thus far is a new invention—the “tracksuit mafia,” a cartel of Russian immigrants who profit from gentrification and should win Fraction the Pulitzer prize this and every year for “best comedic use of the word ‘bro.'” But make no mistake: Hawkeye is a superhero. Though he bumbles, and lacks superpowers or a flashy costume, something essential about the superhero DNA remains in his story—the “of course” part. In fact, absent those other elements, his heroism shines even brighter.

For example, Fraction even rehabilitates the genre kitsch of Hawkeye’s “trick arrows”—specialty arrows outfitted with ridiculous gimmicks like an acid-filled tip or a boomerang effect—in a frenetic car chase with the tracksuit mafia. These arrows are a staple of the Hawkeye character since his introduction in the 1960’s, yet have been increasingly toned down in recent years since the superhero deconstruction and the subsequent push to make superhero stories more plausible to the real world. Dealing with the trick arrows, Fraction begins with a deconstruction—Hawkeye decides to “finally” organize his trick arrows, much like your or I might rearrange our sock drawer. Of course, this earns him a merciless mocking from his more contemporary counterpart, Kate Bishop, Hawkeye of the Young Avengers. Yet by the end of the issue, even the stupidest arrows have proven unexpectedly useful. Yes, this deft deconstruction and reconstruction, a fully realized story, a fantastic chase scene, and an emotionally revealing sex scene, all happen within the space of a single issue—a compression of scale rare in contemporary comics.

Of course, Hawkeye’s super-compressed adventures wouldn’t be possible without the masterful work of David Aja and Javier Pulido—though most especially Aja. I spent several minutes on more than a few pages, reading and rereading, trying to figure out how Aja was able to convey so much on a single page, until I realized maybe I just enjoyed looking at it.

With the Avengers movies bringing millions of new eyeballs to the franchise, it’s nice to see their companion comics excelling at the same time—and Hawkeye absolutely fucking kills it. Read it for both a great story and a fantastic look at where and what superheroes are today.

Comics Reviews: The Massive, vol 1

Take Whale Wars and get rid of the reality show, the whaling industry, the whales, and most of industrial civilization, and I think you’d end up with something very close to The Massive. Writer Brian Wood (DMZ, Northlanders, X-Men) teases the series as an exploration of what it means to be an environmentalist once said environment is completely and irrevocably fucked. But while the first volume features beautiful art and sets a strong tone, nobody ever really gets around to any environmentalism.

Volume 1 of The Massive is instead a series of character sketches, as we are introduced to the crew of the cheekily named Kapital and the new, post-apocalyptic world they inhabit. We meet Captain Callum Israel, an ex-mercenary who grew a conscience; his mysterious yet incredibly capable girlfriend Mary; first mate Mag, a no-fucks-given soldier of fortune and passion who has suffered the effects of globalization first-hand; obligatory tech dude Georg; and my early favorite, Ryan—a sweet Minnesotan punk forced to confront her privilege. It’s an intriguing enough enesemble, and they’re given plenty of opportunities to display excellence as they scour the far-flung corners of the Pacific Ocean gathering supplies, fighting off profiteers, and searching for their lost sister ship, the titular Massive.

The Massive unfolds at a pace reminiscent of the ocean; at times placid and meditative, then unexpectedly turbulent. Dave Stewart’s moody color palette matches the story perfectly, creating a fatastically moist, restless tone—dark without the implied overwrought grit. However, the main attraction in The Massive is the exploration of its uniquely built world.

The post-apocalypse of The Massive is important to me in the way it denigrates the apocalypse itself as just another thing that happened. When civilization collapses (or as the primitivists are fond of saying, “when the lights go out”), there will still be people with needs beyond finding food and killing zombies. There will even still be an environment to be studied, protected, hopefully even enjoyed.

Sure, the world of The Massive is a good bit more grim than the one I live in now, but it doesn’t trip over itself in the way that Mad Max, Waterworld, or any number of zombie stories might. When Hong Kong is flooded, its residents build a brand new city out of garbage and shipping containers, floating on top of the old one. Volume 1 of The Massive feels like it has accomplished in its exposition all that most post-apocalyptic stories ever attempt–securing supplies and ensuring short-term survival—to allow its broader mission of post-ecological environmentalism to unfold in the coming chapters.

Or, at least, I hope so. Despite the sweet and slowly churned worldbuilding going on, it seems like the best days for The Massive, and possibly the world it inhabits, are ahead of it.

Comics Reviews: Punk Rock Jesus and As You Were

It’s been a great month or so for comics: A handful of interesting collections and series have all come out or finished within a few weeks of each other. So, I decided to review all of them. Here’s the first one: I review both Punk Rock Jesus and As You Were. I promise they won’t all be this long.

Punk Rock Jesus and As You Were

I was near the end of Punk Rock Jesus, (DC/Vertigo) when I realized the third act I was waiting for was never coming. That there’d be no adulthood, no moral synthesis or catharsis following the conversion of the protagonist, the reality-show clone of Jesus Christ, from his bible school childhood to his vitriolic atheist adolescence—Richard Dawkins with a dash of Johnny Rotten.

Then I picked up issue 1 of As You Were (Silver Sprocket), a punk comix anthology written by and about these same real-life adult punk rockers, and part of me wished that these lives—my life—shared even a shred of Punk Rock Jesus’s idealism. Whereas Punk Rock Jesus is naive and bombastic, As You Were is mostly introspective and quotidian. Each accomplish what they set out to do and do so enjoyably, but have the unfortunate effect of making each other look bad. Reading them back to back, As You Were felt like that missing third act from Punk Rock Jesus: had Jesus not died (come on, that is so totally not a spoiler), his adulthood would have been full of alienating house shows and drunken, belligerent bro punks. It would have not-quite-been-redeemed by some fleeting moments of great music, in-jokes, and a warm, familiar community. Which one of these things is more punk? Hard to say.

Punk Rock Jesus, written and illustrated by Sean Murphy, is built on a fascinating and sickeningly believable concept: what if Jesus Christ was cloned in the present day—a la Jurassic Park—to star in a reality TV show? Unfortunately, resurrected baby Jesus, named Chris, isn’t even the star of the comic: he doesn’t even appear as a character until a third of the way through the book. Instead, his ex-IRA bodyguard, Thomas McKael, gets the first and last scenes of the novel, as well as the fullest character arc. Thomas is a Catholic who fights to keep his faith in the face of betrayal, lies, and buckets of gore. While he sometimes falls a bit close to trope of the gruff and gratuitously violent comics anti-hero with a secret heart of gold, his character is authentic and unique, and definitely worth reading.

However, when it comes to punk rock and Jesus, Punk Rock Jesus falls flat. Just as Chris was cloned from DNA from the Shroud of Turin, the punk scene in Punk Rock Jesus seems to be resurrected from the very first bloodstain at CBGB’s. And while the novel’s villain, a violent fundamentalist group, portrays how Christianity has changed in the last 2000 years, the spirit of ’77 has somehow remained mummified in punk. With Sex Pistols block letter typography and spikes and suspenders fashion, the Punk in Punk Rock Jesus clearly refers to the Punk everyone always refers to: The Ramones, the Sex Pistols, and nobody else. Sure, they name drop Stiff Little Fingers, The Misfits, Dead Kennedys, but… come on. There’s not a single punk band from the last 20 years in here, and as a result, none of the punks in the book look like they could have existed today either.

Punk in ’77 was a response to the mainstream swallowing the previous counterculture and the backlash to that backlash, and the demons it spawned in Thatcher, Reagan, and Jerry Brown of California Uber Alles fame (who knows a thing or two about being horrifically resurrected into today’s world). Likewise, the present day villains are very well mapped out in Punk Rock Jesus: religious fundamentalists, corporate greed, reality television, and a public that loves all of these things and wants a never-ending supply of more. However, when Punk Rock Jesus poses the punk scene of 35 years ago as a moral counterforce to battle these present day villains, the conflict is stunted and disjointed. Chris’s and his “punk army” never do anything besides preach and yell, while Thomas does the actual gruesome fighting by himself.

The villains in As You Were, on the other hand, are almost entirely rooted within the punk scene itself. Several comics address douchy hetero-patriarchal assholes (“We’re Fabulous, Don’t Fuck With Us”, “How I Wish it Would Go Down”), and the anti-social, cliquish house show scene (“Rose-Colored Glasses”, “The Best House Show Ever in St. Cloud”, “Haunted House Show”, “Your Bike’s Locked up to Mine”). On the other hand, the cops only break up “Once Upon a Time in the Suburbs” and “People Men’s Last Show”. The tone of the whole anthology is introspective to the point of myopia, with only one comic featuring actual characters from outside the punk scene—the whimsical and hilarious “It Came from the Basement”.

This kind of self reflection certainly has its place. I’ve been, it feels like, to every single one of these shows, both awesome and awful, and it felt validating to see these experiences in comic form. Compared against Punk Rock Jesus, though, I found myself wishing at times for some acknowledgement of the world outside, instead of endlessly validating and critiquing our own subculture.

My favorite thing about As You Were was the tremendous variety of beautiful art. Editor Mitch Clem did a phenomenal job getting submissions from artists with styles ranging from punk-rock black sharpie minimalism to chibi manga, Jhonen Vasquez-esque itchiness, gorgeous watercolors, R. Crumby comix, and the wonderfulness that is Andy Warner. Even in black and white, the art in As You Were was engaging and fun. By contrast, the art of Punk Rock Jesus, though brilliant and expressive, felt at times too cramped and detailed to survive without color.

In the end, I strongly recommend As You Were to anyone who’s ever been at a house show, though its microscope on the punk scene might limit its audience from including anyone else. Punk Rock Jesus, though, gets a more conditional recommendation. It would be a fantastic recommendation to anyone undergoing their own process of questioning their own Christian upbringing, except Craig Thompson’s Blankets has already done that story, and better. I’d instead ignore the Punk Rock Jesus part and recommend Punk Rock Jesus to anyone who is already a fan of comics and has at least a passing interest in the IRA.

One final note: I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out some real Islamophobia in Punk Rock Jesus. Christian fundamentalists may be portrayed as violent, fat, and ignorant, but at least they get a spokeswoman and signs displaying some mockery of their views. The Muslim fundamentalists who invade Chris’s show in Jerusalem, on the other hand, are faceless, numberless, and have Stormtrooper-like aim. They’re only in 4 pages of a 200 page graphic novel, but it’s still pretty fucked.

You can buy As You Were on Silver Sprocket’s webstore for $5 and Punk Rock Jesus at your local comic shop for $16.99.

Ok, cool, that’s my review of two very interesting comics. Next review: The Massive, vol 1.

For Boston

Another bombing here. Another shooting there. We call these horrible acts of violence unthinkable, but we’re lying. We watch them in the movies. They’re described to us in pornographic detail by newscasters and politicians. We think the unthinkable, constantly.

The last 12 years, we’ve been instructed to prepare for acts of terror and imminent danger. Are any of us truly shocked when it happens? Again? Or are we just tired, and hurt, and sad?

Do we have any hope that these are going to slow down, or stop? Of course not. Why should we? More fear more surveillance more alienation more despair more hate more shootings more bombings.

“There is hope, an infinite amount of hope, but not for us.” — Franz Kafka

Flush the Regents

Just a few years out of school and the joke is already dated #UC #newlogo #yeahbutthenewoneactuallylookslikeatoilet

Dear Friend

I wrote a story for my friend Traci, and she had very nice things to say about it. I’m rather pleased with it too, if I do say so myself. You can read it here: http://tracichee.blogspot.com/2012/11/dear-friend-part-ii-how-did-you-know-i.html

Traci is a fellow UCSC Creative Writer, and one of my favorite writers and people. I’m constantly blown away with her voice and style. Buy her book while you’re on her blog; it’s fantastic.

In other writing news, I’m giving nanowrimo another shot this year, against my better judgment. I’m 6 days in, 3,000 words behind, and it’s still already one of the longest, most substantive pieces I’ve ever written. Here’s the thing though: you’re probably never going to read it.

The novel I’m writing for nanowrimo is erotica. Well, fetish erotica, really. And while I’m aware of the argument that it’s a liberatory experience to be able to wear your kinks on your sleeve, I’m not sure I want to. Our subculture really seems to fetishize our fetishes, and sometimes I feel—not shamed, exactly, but like I have to defend myself if I’d prefer to keep my sexuality intimate and private.

I understand that this is a privilege not afforded to people whose sexual preferences, such as their attraction to people of the same gender, can’t be hidden without denying themselves the happiness of an open and honest relationship. Maybe someday I’ll feel the same way about my kinks, and I’ll find the need to “come out”. In the meantime, I’m really quite happy with my sexuality being the business of me and any partner I might have, and nobody else.

If I actually do finish this novel and you want to read it, go find some really good porn. Something you’re into. Enjoy it completely. If you want to pretend I wrote it, that’s fine. You can tell me about your enjoyment of it, or not.

working class raaaage

(11:21:29 AM) S: oh goddd
(11:21:38 AM) J: ?
(11:21:55 AM) S: so i want to pitch an article for my company’s blog on robo-signing
(11:22:08 AM) S: in order to do that i’m reading up on it a bit, from various perspectives
(11:22:32 AM) S: i’m reading an article from forbes magazine and the class bias is blowing my fucking mind
(11:23:02 AM) S: ok, take a look at this article. without reading it, what’s the first thing you notice. http://www.forbes.com/sites/realspin/2012/02/20/the-robo-signing-settlement-seeds-of-recovery-or-chaos/
(11:23:48 AM) J: other than the ads around the article?
(11:24:00 AM) J: i’m not sure what you’re going for?
(11:24:11 AM) S: the font size!
(11:24:22 AM) S: it’s gigantic!
(11:24:26 AM) J: ok?
(11:24:35 AM) S: who needs large print?
(11:24:37 AM) S: old people!
(11:24:48 AM) J: uh
(11:24:52 AM) S: no really
(11:25:04 AM) S: we talk about typography demonstrating cultural bias
(11:25:36 AM) J: we do?
(11:25:37 AM) S: the body of every article in forbes is a good 2-4 points bigger than any article anywhere else
(11:25:45 AM) J: hmm
(11:25:46 AM) S: work with me here
(11:31:01 AM) J: meh
(11:31:16 AM) J: do you have a further point?
(11:34:00 AM) S: Just that the article is taking a negative stance on the robo-signing settlement from earlier this year, and this quote: For the rest of us who fortunately are not in foreclosure, however, the potential value of the settlement will be to lay the foundation for recovery of the housing market and, therefore, the economy at large.”
(11:34:53 AM) S: making assumptions that the reader is like the author, is not poor, and that their needs to not lose money are equal to or greater than the needs of those who are in foreclosure
(11:34:58 AM) S: and it’s not like i didn’t expect this
(11:35:04 AM) J: but that’s what forbes is
(11:35:08 AM) S: but it still enfuriates me
(11:35:11 AM) J: it’s not for actual rich people though
(11:35:12 AM) S: and i needed to vent
(11:35:18 AM) S: it’s for people who want to think they are rich
(11:35:22 AM) S: well, sure
(11:35:29 AM) S: they wouldn’t have a large enough circulation otherwise
(11:35:53 AM) S: and.. what use would actual rich people have from a magazine
(11:37:42 AM) J: so you’re angry there is a magazine to help the middle class construct their imaginative aspiration to the upper class?
(11:37:56 AM) S: no
(11:38:00 AM) S: well yes, but
(11:38:01 AM) J: which is really the essence of the bourgeois
(11:38:11 AM) S: i’m angry because i’m reading this and it offends me
(11:38:20 AM) S: and i need to read it and internalize it to do my job
(11:38:30 AM) S: and that contradiction is fucking frustrating, and i need to vent
(11:38:44 AM) J: offends you that to be bourgeois is to construct a class conscious based on aspiration to an imagine upper class?
(11:39:24 AM) S: no. it offends me because of the way it dismisses the needs of working class people
(11:39:35 AM) J: steve. you have no needs.
(11:39:43 AM) J: except maybe booze and debauched sex.
(11:39:48 AM) J: and thumping things.
(11:39:51 AM) S: or elevates the needs of rich people to the same standing as the needs of poor people to, you know, survive
(11:40:05 AM) S: true. shit. i should stop reading forbes and click up maxim.
(11:40:17 AM) S: perhaps sports illustrated.
(11:40:35 AM) J: see?

Mass Effect and Performative Identity, pt. 1

If you’ve ever been curious as to why I’m so fascinated by video games, I recommend Extra Credits. They do some of the best, most accessible game critique I’ve ever come across.

Anyway, I just watched the above video, Extra Credits’ take on storytelling and moral choices in Mass Effect 2, and it made me want to dust off my notes from my planned piece on Mass Effect and performative identity in the Judith Butlerian mode. So I think I shall. Soon. But first, I want to post this response I just wrote to the above video:

Dear ExCr crew,

I just watched your (very old) episode “Enriching Lives,” and felt compelled to write you. I know, I’m late to the party. Anyway, in this episode, you detail the scenario in Mass Effect 2 in which the player is forced to choose between destroying and reprogramming the Geth splinter group. You ended the episode with a statement that the mechanics of the game would have been better served by that decision if both decisions led to earning Renegade points. I thought about it some, and I have to say I disagree with you, but that disagreement is worth discussion (:D).

My argument: Being labeled as a “Paragon” or a “Renegade” for the decision you make in that scenario is perfectly appropriate, and is actually an example of the morality system in Mass Effect succeeding. However, that morality system is undermined by the large number of scenarios in the game in which “Paragon” and “Renegade” more closely equate with a more traditional morality scale of Good vs. Evil. Ultimately, though, the more complex morality system succeeded, by enabling my favorite moment ever in game storytelling.

First, back to the Geth decision. Both choices lead the player, essentially, to genocide by different means (destroying a population bodily vs. the erasure of their culture). But the important thing in marking this decision with a morality marker isn’t to determine whether the choice made by the player is Good or Bad, but rather what type of Good or Bad the choice was. I believe this sort of dilemma is the  reason why Mass Effect used “Paragon” and “Renegade” instead of “Good” and “Evil,” and why Bioware decided to move away from the firm binary system of morality from the Knights of the Old Republic series and instead employed a morality system in which each moral pole could be filled independently of one another. In so doing, I think they were trying to hearken back to their earlier games, based off the Dungeons and Dragons system.

As I’m sure you know, in those versions of D&D, morality was based on two axes: the spectrum between Good and Evil as well as between Lawful and Chaotic. For the sake of argument, let’s say that in Mass Effect, Paragon represents both Lawful and Good, and Renegade represents both Chaotic and Evil. With that assumption in place, let’s go back to Shepard’s choice re: the geth — to brainwash or annihilate.

In your episode, when you discuss why reprogramming the Geth is an act of evil, the examples you used were psychiatric institutions lobotomizing the mentally ill, religious groups forcing “cures” on homosexuals, the Catholic Church torturing heretics in the Inquisition, and the US government interning its citizens of Japanese ancestry. Each of these are acts of evil and ill intent taken by an institution of orthodoxy or law with the intent of assimilating deviant people into their orthodoxy by attempting to remove the presumed source of their deviance: to make a blunt analogy, you could say that the reprogramming choice in ME2 is an attempt to “Kill the Geth, save the man” — and is an act of Lawful Evil.

However, killing the entire lot of those Geth, whether intentionally or by neglect, is equally evil. I’d argue, though, that that type of evil is on the Chaotic Evil spectrum. In movies (and in real life), the terrorists are generally not concerned with converting the hearts and minds of their enemies. They want everyone to die, and explosions are generally, I guess, an effective way to do that.

The fact that Mass Effect has a morality system which can distinguish between these types of evil, I’d say, is evidence that they’re doing something very very right: such interesting philosophical questions would not be possible with a binary morality system of just good vs. evil, or even law vs. chaos. The problem, though, is the huge number of smaller interactions in Mass Effect 1 and 2 (I haven’t played 3 yet) in which “Paragon” and “Renegade” really do boil down to “Good” and “Evil,” or at least “I like to help other people sometimes” vs. “My primary concern in life is to look like a badass.”

To a large part, this is understandable: I’m sure Mass Effect’s lead writer spent a lot of time on A House Divided (the Geth mission), and a team of scenario writers much further down on Bioware’s totem pole wrote all those other interactions.

The payoff is worth it, though. My mostly-Paragon-oriented Shepard was able to make some huge Renegade actions through the course of the game, including that one, which better reflected my own personal ideology — in D&D terms, I’d be the far corner of Chaotic Good. Even better, the game script honored these decisions. While playing the “Lair of the Shadow Broker” DLC for Mass Effect 2, I was chasing down Tela Vasir, the Shadow Broker’s agent, when she took a civilian hostage. Sensing the situation, I didn’t feel like Diplomacy was going to work, so I chose to Intimidate her. “I’m Commander Shepard, and I allowed the Council to die at the Citadel and unleashed the Rachni on Noveria,” said Shepard, referencing my two biggest Renegade decisions from the previous game. “What makes you think I’ll be bothered by a dead hostage?” The bluff, as it turns out, succeeded, and the hostage was saved. And that was my favorite moment yet in video game storytelling.

Fiesta parade lunch break liveblog

12:12: On the balcony at my office, watching people mill around before the parade happens. The chairs are assembled, the streets blocked off, and confetti is slowly eating the obnoxious red bricks of state street. I fucking hate fiesta. This should be fun.

12:14: The man directly across the street has the most ostentatious sombrero I’ve ever seen. It’s so bad that, even in the realm of sombreros it warrants mention. Purple, gold trim, and an orange flower on top. An unseen woman on a bullhorn is sharing the revisionist history of the old spanish days. Nobody listens. I think maybe that’s a good thing?

12:19: “We have every kind of horse here at the parade,” says the disembodied voice on the speakers. She spends the next four minutes talking about what goes into planning a horse parade. I assure you, none of it is the least bit interesting. We have six horses that we’ll see on this parade, I think she said? That can’t be right. I’ll be on horse count. I’ll also be on dogs eating horse shit count. We’ve already seen more of that than horses today.

12:23: Correction. Over 500 horses. I will try to count that high, but if anyone has any sympathy they will deliver me too much alcohol to be able to do so.

12:27: The announcer voice is now telling us where the tourists who’ve shown up for Fiesta are from. Fucking shoot me. Side note: if glitter is an STD, what’s confetti? Are they both STDs, and we should just be more precise in our analogies?

12:31: Disembodied announcer voice is now giving the myth of “welcome stranger”, and “mi casa es su casa”: California was so welcome to strangers because the rancheros were so spread out, with nowhere to stay in between long horse rides with no towns. The unsaid subtext being: were they to stay outside of these guarded, gated compounds, they’d get fucking killed by the locals? No wait, can’t tell the tourrerists that. Parade is just a couple blocks away now.

12:33: Disembodied announcer voice is trying to instruct the kids on how to say “viva la fiesta.” Nobody cares. BTW, big ups to my coworker Cary for the beer.

12:40: A 4 year old is missing. All the chairs in front of the bank, which have been set up since early this morning, are empty except for 4. My coworker Sean just broke a confetti egg on my head. Disembodied Announcer Voice is shilling for the sponsors, including Cox, KEYT, Fess Parker, Marborg, Paseo Nuevo, and all the other local monopolies. It’s a small world, after all. Still no parade.

12:48: Police escort expertly misses the horse shit, gets a less than rousing ovation. The parade is here. 4 girls holding a banner, a stampede of flower girls. Horse count: 6. American flag count:6. Old people on horses count: also 6.

12:51: Dancers with fans also miss the horse shit. Mariachi music does not top the naked mariachi band from the movie Orgazmo. Horse count: 22. They’re serious about this. One of the drivers of the horse carriage has a fishing line in front of him? I’m so confused.

12:54: Sherrifs bring the Horse count up to 47. Amazing mustache count: 1. Can something be a handlebar mustache and super bushy at the same time? Pulled it off.

12:55: la reyna arrives, and stops for a red light? or for a sherrif presentation of the california flag? THE QUEEN DOES NOT RESPECT YOUR PETTY “STATES”! QUEEN! DESTROY! Albino horse is having a seisure. Navy uniforms are still super gay. Horse count: 62.

1:01: Horse count: 94. Fake horse standing still on a float of banana leaves count: 1. Um, what? Are the other horses jealous?

1:01: My coworker just informed me that some of these might be donkeys or something. Whatever. THey’re all fucking horses to me.

1:07: High-stepping horses either look like hardcore kids dancing or like they’re in tremendous pain. Disembodied announcer voice is saying something about representing the role that african americans played in colonizing the frontier and, well, I didn’t hear it well enough to know if she’s just making an excuse to tokenize a few black folks. Horse count: 150. Old people on floats waving aimlessly is still entertaining.

1:08: Some of the horses pulling carriages have their tails tied up into cute little buns. I was unaware of this development in horse fashion. Meanwhile, the knights of columbus have kicked hte horse count up to 174 and the flag count to a jazillion.

1:09: Disembodied Announcer Voice shills for their diamond sponsor, the Santa Barbara Bank and Trust. Who is no longer actually SBBT. I’ve lost count of the horse count at 189. I’m just gonna say it’s 189. Does anyone really care?

1:15: A fake cable car and another cute old person throwing grafitti mostly into into her own hair brings horsewatch 2012 up to 201. Disembodied Announcer Voice is still talking. And there’s the Chumash float. I’m suppose I’m simply happy they survived the old spanish days at all. here’s the SBHS marching band. Gonna take a quick break. If anyone sees a horse I forgot to count, lemme know.

1:20: Horse count is stalled at 214. Disembodied Announcer Voice informs us that the helicopter might have been an official flyover! but she’s not sure.

1:25: I think it’s done? Disembodied Announcer Voice is still talking, but there hasn’t been anything on the street in 10 mins. Less than half of the advertised number of horses, too. Fiesta is shit. 2 more missing children. Viva la…

1:26: Just saw another horse, and the music started up again. Don’t care. Liveblog over. I’d actually rather do work, now. Just have to find a secure location where I don’t have to hear this shit going on anymore. take care everybody, and if anyone tries to confetti egg you,you should take bath salts and eat their face.

What does an anti-nuke zombie say?

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaanes…