Friday, 3 May 2013


I was watching Die Hard 4 and the internet crashed. Life stops mores the pity. The media really is the message. No media: no message. I also had to hand Batman: Death by Design. I cannot pretend to have a good time with graphic novels. My mother banned my first and only copy of The Incredible Hulk when I was ten. I guess from then on I've preferred words to make images, a craft at best way more sublime. That or painting and drawing to outline something more precise. Pictures and words are just a head fuck; two separate mathematical sets.
But Death by Design is something I falter my way through. It is a Fountainhead like jumble but with the contemporary celebrity architect as a bad guy (named after Koolhaas, looking like Libeskind) plotting mini-maximalism or maxi-minimalism or whatever it is I can't give a damn about with nightclubs called The Glass Ceiling and general armadillos; it has it's laughs and it makes you wince.
Almost everybody else is bad too, it's a world of despair, Gotham always is. It's pretty good. It's pretty good because the idea is so accurate, just like Die Hard 4, which is of course ridiculous in all detail and effects but in it's central premise, that the computers will inevitably fuck us, completely reasonable. This may sound like waiting for the H Bomb to drop, but that was also necessarily inevitable. Such stuff keeps us in line. Meanwhile of course we should all realize that Batman and John McClane are simple variants on the same eternal theme. There is always doom to deal with.

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