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Tuesday, January 01, 2008Graphic Novel Review: The Blog of War (Review of Dan Goldman and Anthony Lappe, Shooting War, November 2007)One of the most buzzed online web comics of the year finally got a hard copy release this side of the pond last month. It's called Shooting War, and it's made waves over at Smithmag.net since May 2006, when uber-Geek (that's hard ware and binary, not math rock and horn rims) bloggers Boing Boing blew the roof off it with a throw away casual link. It threads terrain typical of graphic novels, reaching into a future dystopia to stick some allegories about the present up our ass for awkward digestion. The setting this time round is a 2011 Iraq, sectarian tensions are spilling into overdrive, rumors of an Iranian invasion from the south abound and President McCain's only exit strategy is a re-alignment with what's left of his old friends in Saddam's Baathist party. There's a My Lai massacre a minute, a McDonalds on every block and mortars are raining down on what's left of the Green Zone like it was Saigon '75. Enter Jimmy Burns to the fray. He's your penny dreadful Brooklyn blogger churning out anti-corporate rants all over the east coast but has no mass movement market to hitch his ride to. One day he's doing a story on the new enclosures brought about by eminent domain. It's a nasty piece of legislation allowing re-distribution of your property to corporations that find a more productive use. Next thing a terrorist bomb goes off in a Starbucks behind him and he's got the exclusive. Suddenly stuck for footage, mega media bad guys Globalnews steal his video blog feed, turning him into an insta-celebrity and selling him to the world like a new brand of toothpaste. Forced to dance a line between his DIY journalism and corporate cash, he's shipped to Iraq as one of only four American war correspondent's left there. It's nothing but a slight stretch to guess the novel comes from the direct experience of Lappe. The blokes traveled to the Middle East several times on assignment and produced Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire's Edge, picking up some awards for it along the way. Alongside this peeled back re-imagining of his own jaunt through bombed out Baghdad, there's visual gimmicks and vocab from activist sub cultures for a sprinkling of further credibility from his years with the Guerrilla News Network. The comic panels are a combination of drawings and photographs, some look like they've been automatically fed through a few Photoshop filters, and there's a neat stylistic use of web feed uploads and network TV graphics framing pages. Anything from a soldiers perspective angles at you like the screen of a first person shooter. It's in imagining the incidentals of future war and the political props of our own evolving dystopia that Shooting War rocks most. There's the jihad group that's cornering the call centre market with its throat cutting labour standards and the use of a dirty bomb to neutralise competition in the hi-tech squalor of Bangalore. Their leader, a maniacal Guevara stereotype bent on the Koran, delivers standout Bond villain lines to steal the show: “we are the Sword of Mohamed. We are not some sons of rich men hiding in caves and releasing videos to the internet like 13 year old girls.” Back home a video game called Infidel Massacre rises up the charts, both a manual for terrorism and a sharp riposte to military recruiting freebies like today's real America's Army. The US military has harnessed civilian technologies and next gen consoles to exploit skilled self-trained gamers that control robotic gun-bots engaged in asymmetric warfare straight out of one of Mike Davis' urban terror-scapes. Sadly Burns becomes completely divorced from his inception as the netizen every-man, used by mainstream news networks with faces battered from the blogging storm. He takes on this paper cut out April O'Neil as Naomi Klein routine that starts to grate. Much will be made of the novel's politics of the media. Really the authors pass up poking around at the consequences of Web 2.0. If you are going to name check Negri for kudos, then picking at the immaterial slavery of uploaders and bloggers generating free content in wageless legions for major players in the media market might be a thought. At heart there's just a raging cynicism dying to be proved wrong for once. The shits and giggles come from predictable across the board ironies, its all a flue of outraged liberal steam before the story arc can end with a final affirmation that our governance by a capitalism with the personality of "Godzilla on crank" really is just an issue of a few bad men. In that way its quite like Brian Wood's Jenny One series - Shooting War shares his concern with the media but in a much more disturbingly plausible mode. In comic book land it'll never end up a classic like Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis or more obviously Joe Sacco's brilliant account of his photo journalism in Palestine. That said, with history unfolding on our screens, context free and maybe, just maybe, sometimes analyzed with tones reserved for a Britney Spears outburst - Shooting War nicely drops us in boiling pots of speculation for the crime of complacency.Ye can check it out online at shootingwar.com and this A.D: New Orleans After the Deluge might be worth a gawk. This article was originally destined for the Village.ie website. Labels: Class Fictions, fiction, graphic novel, Literature, Warrior Dubz (0) comments Tuesday, December 25, 2007Twas the Season: Diary Of an X Mass Work Do 2004 (Photo taken from Emertont on Flickr)After spring cleaning the hard drive of a bent out of shape old work computer, that relentless 9-5 dosser Krossie, came across this hungover blast from the worklace past. We too are disappointed that RTE turned down his idea to unite Terror Danjah and Declean Nurney for a Christmas day broadcast called Songs from a Showband Era, but hopefully this tale of drunken woe will shiver the hangover cobwebs and get you through to Stephens... 7.30 pm: Speed off into the frosty night with Kris Kingle present for teacher A safely tucked under arm - thinking "What woman doesn't want the beano annual 2005" 8 pm: – Pub Teacher B (in fetching spider web dress) informs me that she just met Bono drunk in Spar shop. Supplies extremely badly drawn picture and signature in green biro, which she claims the great man "drew" for her. Observe that Bono's writing looks strangely familiar Teacher B refuses to abandon obvious "made up" story. 8.05 pm: Bono's wife Aili Hewson wanders past 8.06 pm: All teachers run to smoking area to touch Bono and obtain partial indulgence (plenary indulgence can be gained by dropping the knee to the great man) 8.08 pm: Loudly declaim to male teachers that Bono tm (net worth 0.55 billion euro) as quote wanker unquote with messianic complex AND an Irish tax exile. Teacher C observes he was in the same charismatic Christian group as saint bono but that his new stuff isn't too good. Reply that only like Adam Clayton cos he takes drugs and is not Christian. Application Teacher C quits unexpectedly and cannot be rebooted Further declaim that bono wife Ali is "ride" and desire to have sexual congress with said Ms Hueston. Note to self-stop drinking. Consume two pints of Guinness 8.30 pm: In restaurant – late. Several teachers ignorant of the Kris kingle – emergency redistribution of "presents" begins. Junior school have TWO Tables – RESULT Text g'fnd important news of great strategic victory G'fnd wishes me g'luck "with ironing" Consume two starters, wine and bottle of miller Further note to self – please stop drinking 10 pm: Main course – duck stuffed with some soft white stuff – absolutely delicious Attempt to begin food fight. Results desultory though achieve direct hit on teacher D's pink pate. RESULT Staff warning one. Further note to self – please stop drinking Desert enjoyed so steal second one Kris kingle stuff distributed to dissatisfaction of almost all. Though teacher A appears reasonably content with beano annual 11 pm: Attempt to drive Teacher C back out of our area into to "senior zone" Teacher C stands ground and continues conversation with Teacher E's tits. 11.30 pm: repair to pub – capture seats – inveigle teachers to sit down. Teachers remain standing. Past pupil is trapped by drunken teachers but eventually manages to sidle away with "I pity you look" attached to face. 12 am: Attempt to chat up teacher F. Teacher F appears vaguely interested. Text g'fnd that teacher F is attempting to chat me up. No reply. 12.10 am VERY loudly declaim to male, female teachers, past pupils and staff that Bono tm (net worth 0.55 billion euro) is a wanker with messianic complex, Christian, wealthy ass hole AND an Irish tax exile. Further repeat claim that bono wife Ali is "ride" and desire to have sexual congress with said. Note to self-probably too late to stop drinking. Consumption 2 pints Guinness – one bought by Teacher G's husband. Teacher H is getting off with teacher I's fiancée – teacher I too drunk to notice 12.20 am: Lead posse from pub of teachers J, K and L. Teacher J very drunk. 12.25 am: Achieve successful entry into club despite Teacher J's best attempts to prevent. Nature of club: Not bad – good DJ mixing (and beat matching) New Order, Britiny (toxic yeah!) Kenny Logins plus rnb and disco classics 12.30-1.30 am: Consume unknown quantity Guiness continue half hearted attempts on Teacher F plus Teachers M and N. Teacher N seems amenable but continues to flash huge ring with set diamonds in one's face for some strange reason. Teacher J grabbing punters by the neck in attempt to initiate romantic liaisons. Punters unimpressed and one attempts combat. Teacher J is narrowly rescued. Note to self continue drinking shure, shure you'll be grand Punter who attacked teacher J earlier now attempting to get off with him. 1.45 am: Drunk woman spills pint on teacher K. Teacher K expresses vague wish to respond with violence against punter's boyfriend. Point out size of b'fnd. Notice b'fnd is attempting to clean up under table. Further note that floor is covered with white powder -->[if !supportLists]-->- -->[endif]-->Very the season Why even wait for the jacks to get the cocaine into ya? 2.20 am: – Teachers have achieved mystical union in giant ruck on dance floor – feel mildly depressed at sharp contrast between cheery Christmas tunes and cokey punters – exit with Teacher K complaining about past teacher A and former career. Past teacher A has earlier accosted me with mistle tow earlier so feel vaguely disposed to drunken defence. Insert teacher k in taxi. Text message from teacher F. Teacher F thinks me sweet but "already seeing someone" Scroll through texts and note that boastful message about Teacher F coming on to me that I sent to g'fnd was, was, in fact, instead sent directly to teacher F herself. Achieve congress with bike and drunkingly and illegally make for home. ???? am: Accosted by small dog Take dog on in exciting death race Dog wins ???? am: Phone call from teacher B asking to "call up to mine" for a while ?.01 am: Succeed in breaking phone Labels: fiction, guest bloggers, Krossie, Rant, Xmas (0) comments |
About Soundtracksforthem specialises in iconoclastic takes on culture, politics, and more shite from the underbelly of your keyboard. A still-born group blog with a recent surge of different contributers but mainly maintained by James R. Big up all the contributers and posse regardless of churn out rate: Kyle Browne, Reeuq, Cogsy, Chief, X-ie phader/Krossie, Howard Devoto, Dara, Ronan and Mark Furlong. Send your wishes and aspirations to antropheatgmail.com
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