Matt Shepherd’s Man-Man: The Blog

This is kind of a test drive of something I want to do once I’ve revamped my blog to actually be a blog, and worked my way toward a WordPress-fuelled shep.ca that actually works as an integral site for the stuff I’m working on.

The premise, basically, is that people like to complain about how bad the state of the comics industry is these days. Decompression, violence, sex, nonsense… it’s true that there are a lot of deplorable comics out there.

But I encourage people to remember that comics have, for the most part, always sucked.

Let’s take — as a f’rinstance — Ghost Rider, which I loved as a boy. Johnny Blaze sells his soul to the devil to save his pa, and becomes a damned servant of the Devil, transforming into a demon at night while fighting to regain his soul! It’s spawned sequels, video games, and even a Nicolas Cage movie. What’s not to love?

Judging by issues #1 and 2, plenty.

A few highlights:

Ghost Rider steals an orange truck. And judging from his sheer delight, it doesn’t take much to impress Ghost Rider in the truck department. Check out how thrilled he is that the truck he stole has four-wheel drive:

Soon after, he considers alternate lifestyle choices. But can a flame-headed demon motorcyclist find true love with the henchmen of Satan’s Servants motorcycle gang?

Frankly, I think GR could do better than Curly. As his fellow cyclists worry, he is spending far too much time courting the damned and not nearly enough time using skin.

GR, however, is not the only one facing difficulties with gender identification. Across town, Satan has possessed a young woman, and only his demonic cunning saves him from making a terrible faux pas!

Something tells me if Satan’s Servants knew that their Dark Lord and Master could be rebuffed by visiting hours (and a lack of lozenges), they might consider changing allegiances.

Like I said, test drive — I need to work out format and stuff, but this is kind of something I’d like to work towards in the future.

We will, however, leave the last word to our flame-headed friend, and Beardy, a biker who went on to leave Satan’s service to write lyrics for Ray Parker, Jr.

I could spend a week on this panel alone — the expression of the guy behind the door is awesome, as are the tiny all-black playing cards, Curly’s astonishment at their reactions (and the frankly bizarre blocking of him and GR upon entry), the fact that Ghost Rider probably has the worst grasp of “camaraderie” ever, and Ghost Rider’s eerie power to cast flames with his head that not only put a shadow of Curly’s head on the door, but also the wall behind it. Freaky.

Oh, heck, one more.

From now on I think I’m going to introduce myself as “him men call Matt Shepherd,” and try to work that into whole sentences that start with “now you face.”

In fact, I think it might give me a memorable in for the ballroom classes that I plan to take in 2008.

“Start the music, vermin, and face the Charleston of him men call Matt Shepherd, and the unflaming calcium that by day is my head!”

That’ll work.