Mon cÅ“ur mon cÅ“ur ne t’emballe pas,
Fais comme si tu ne savais pas
Que l’Anglais est revenu !

Mon cÅ“ur arrête de répéter
Qu’on va venger l’affront de l’an passé
De l’Anglais qui est revenu !

Mon cÅ“ur, arrête de bringuebaler
Souviens-toi qu’il nous a déchiré,
L’Anglais qui est revenu !

Mes amis ne me laissez pas !
Dites-moi, dites-moi qu’il y a de la bière au froid
Maudit Anglais, puisque te v’là !

Le crunch ! France - Angleterre, avec un parfum de revanche du match de l’an passé (34-10, avec un essai assassin de Mark Cueto au bout d’une minute et une équipe de France stérile toute la première mi temps).

Ce sont nos pires amis, ou nos meilleurs ennemis, comme vous préférez, qui débarquent ce soir : la terrible, orgueilleuse, et perfide Angleterre. Quelle joie de la retrouver !



Voici donc le drapeau  anglais, dit drapeau de Saint George. Il vous dira sans doute quelque chose : il rappelle en effet celui de la Géorgie, que nous affrontâmes lors de la dernière coupe du monde.

La croix rouge sur fond blanc est un emblême très répandu dans la chrétienté, Saint Georges étant le Saint Patron, outre de l’Angleterre et de la Géorgie, de l’Aragon, de la Catalogne, du Canada, de l’Ethiopie, de la Grèce, de la Serbie et du Montenegro, du Portugal, de la Russie et même de la Palestine, ainsi que des villes de Beyrouth, Barcelone ou Moscou. C’est ainsi que le symbole du club de footabll de Barcelone, le fameux Barça, comporte la croix de Saint George.

Ce symbole remonte aux Croisades, où il était le symbole des chevaliers et soldats français, le pape ayant décidé que les anglais porteraient une croix blanche sur fond rouge, les germains ayant une croix bleue et jaune, devenue le drapeau suédois. Les Anglais ont néanmoins adopté le croix rouge sur fond blanc, et la croix de St George est ainsi devenue le symbole des croisés dans leur ensemble, étant à son tour adoptée par les Templiers. Lors de la Réforme, tous les drapeauxs représentant des saints ont été abandonnés en Angleterre à l’exception de celui de St George. Dans la Navy, le drapeau de Saint Georges indique un navire amiral.

Le drapeau du Royaume Uni s’appelle le drapeau de l’Union, ou Union Jack dans la marine (“Jack” indiquant un pavillon de marine), car il est composé de la réunion des drapeaux des trois couronnes réunies sur la tête des rois d’Angleterre, chacun représenté par une croix liée à un saint : la croix de Saint George pour l’Angleterre, la croix de Saint André pour l’Ecosse, et la croix de Saint Patrick pour l’Irlande. Cette union s’est faite en deux temps : en 1606, quand James VI d’Ecosse devient roi d’Angleterre sous le nom de James Ier, les croix de Saint George et Saint André sont réunies pour faire le premier drapeau d’Union. Puis en 1801, la croix de Saint Patrick est ajoutée quand l’Acte d’Union (Acte désignant une loi) fusionne les royaumes d’Angleterre, d’Ecosse et d’Irlande pour former le Royaume Uni, dénomination encore officielle de nos voisins d’Outre Manche. Le pays de Galles n’est pas représenté dans ce drapeau car il ne s’agit pas d’un royaume mais d’une principauté, dirigée par les héritiers du trône d’Angleterre (actuellement le Prince Charles, Prince de Galles, le titre de princesse étant vacant nonobstant le second mariage du prince).

L’équipe joue ainsi isolément car le Royaume Uni n’a pas de fédération de rugby. A la place, chaque royaume a sa propre fédération, reconnue par l’IRB. Il en va de même au football, d’où le match d’ouverture Brésil Écosse lors de la coupe du monde 1998.

Le symbole du XV d’Angleterre est la rose rouge. Il s’agit d’une allusion à la rose rouge des Lancastre, famille opposée à celle d’York au cours de la guerre des Rose, qui aboutit à la chute de la maison des Plantagenêts, dont Lancastre et York étaient deux branches, au profit de la maison des Tudor. Je ne crois pas que la fédération anglaise prête allégance à la maison des Lancastre cinq cent ans après la fin du conflit, mais le maillot de l’équipe d’Angleterre étant blanc (couleur royale, comme le maillot du Real Madrid, que je me devais de citer ayant mentionné le Barça afin d’éviter une autre guerre civile), une rose blanche ou la rose des Tudor (rouge et blanche pour marquer la réconcilation du royaume) serait peu visible sur le maillot.

L’Angleterre n’ayant pas d’hymne officiel propre, c’est bien le God Save The Queen qu’entonne le XV d’Angleterre, qui est pourtant l’hymne du Royaume Uni. Une scène fort cocasse a lieu quand l’Angleterre joue contre l’Ecosse à Murrayfield, quand l’hymne (lui aussi non officiel) écossais, Flower Of Scotland, est entonné, car on voit la Princesse Anne, fille de la reine Elisabeth et Duchesse d’Edimbourg, chanter de bon coeur cet hymne nationaliste célébrant la victoire des Ecossais contre les Anglais à Bannockburn en 1314 (la bataille qui clôt le film Braveheart). Au  Royaume Uni, le pragmatisme est la vraie religion d’Etat.

Mais en réalité, le XV à la rose a un hymne non officiel, qui galvanise autant les Anglais qu’une Marseillaise fait oublier la fatigue aux Français. 
Priez, mes amis, priez pour ne point entendre résonner cet hymne païen (même si c’est un gospel) près de la basilique qui accueillit l’Oriflamme…

Le Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, la kryptonite universelle. 

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

L’histoire de cette chanson se confond avec l’histoire de notre vieille rivalité rugbystique qui nous oppose à nos cousins d’Outre Manche. En fait, une vieille rivalité oppose l’Angleterre à un peu tout le monde, et c’est une des équipes les plus cordialement détestées, chacune de ses (trop rares) défaites étant savourée d’un hémisphère à l’autre, mais la France jouit d’une position de détestation cordiale privilégiée. Un adage écossais dit ainsi “I support two teams : Scotland and whoever is playing England” : je soutiens deux équipes : l’Écosse, et celle qui joue contre l’Angleterre, quelle qu’elle soit.

Tout d’abord, l’Angleterre n’a accueilli la France dans le concert des nations rugbystiques qu’avec réticence en 1910. Le sport de l’aristocratie anglaise était en France pratiquée par les paysans rugueux du sud, et l’Anglais n’aimait guère se mélanger. Il faut dire qu’au début, la France a tout fait pour lui donner raison. En 1913, la foule envahit le terrain pour assommer l’arbitre de France-Ecosse. La France est exclue du tournoi, mais sauvée si j’ose dire par la première guerre mondiale qui suspend le tournoi, qui reprend en 1918 toutes rancoeurs oubliées au nom de la fraternité d’armes. En 1927, c’est la première victoire contre les Anglais (le pays de Galles résistera jusqu’en 1948). En 1931, la France est à nouveau exclue pour son comportement violent jusqu’en 1939. En fait, deuxième guerre mondiale oblige, la suspension durera jusqu’à la reprise du tournoi en 1947. En 1952, l’Angleterre accuse la France de professionnalisme des joueurs (ironie de l’histoire, l’Angleterre sera la première à passer au professionnalisme dans les années 90 : en Angleterre, le pragmatisme est religion d’Etat) et des joueurs français sont définitivement exclus de la sélection pour apaiser les Anglais. Voilà donc le terreau de la rivalité. La fleur éclora à la fin des années 80.

En 1988, le XV d’Angleterre était en train de traverser une des plus mauvaises passes de son histoire, battu notamment par la France plusieurs années de suite, y compris sur son sol sacré, à Twickenham. L’Angleterre jouait face à l’Irlande, et avait perdu 15 de ses 23 derniers matchs du Tournoi des Cinq Nations, tournoi qu’elle n’avait plus gagné depuis 1980. En deux ans et demi, les supporters de Twickenham n’avaient vu qu’un seul misérable essai marqué par les Anglais. A la mi temps, l’Irlande menait 3 à 0. Et puis comme cela arrive parfois au rugby, l’espoir changea de camp, le combat changea d’âme, et tout à coup, rien ne semblait plus pouvoir arrêter les Anglais, qui gagnèrent 35 à 3, dont trois essais marqués par Chris Oti, qui faisait ses débuts de jour là. Les collégiens d’une école bénédictine de Woolhampton qui assistaient au match entonnèrent alors un gospel en l’honneur d’Oti, Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, que la foule reprit en choeur.

Ce fut le signal d’une résurrection, et d’un nouvel âge d’or pour le XV à la rose, l’époque de Will Carling et Brian Moore, époque qui se construisit sur le dos de l’équipe de France. Pendant sept ans, nous ne gagnerons jamais, et toujours pour la même raison : être poussé à la faute par les Anglais, de préférence à 20 mètres en face de nos poteaux, ce qui donnait trois points aux Anglais, et faisait résonner le Swing Low. Le clou était enfoncé par Will Carling qui félicitait les Français vaincus d’un “Good game” dont l’évocation fait encore monter les larmes aux yeux des joueurs de l’époque. Il faudra des années pour que le XV de France vole aux Anglais leur sang froid, et il est encore fragile : la propension des Français à garder le ballon au sol, à le talonner à la main, quand ce n’est pas distribuer des baffes sous les yeux de l’arbitre est pudiquement appelée “le jeu latin” des Français. C’est la défaite assurée quand il pointe son vilain nez. 

Cette rivalité prendra fin brutalement, du jour au lendemain, lors de notre inoubliable victoire en petite finale de la coupe du Monde en 1995 (19 à 9), où enfin, la série noire prendra fin, et au plus beau moment, la Coupe du Monde. Les joueurs Français sont tous allés serrer la main de Will Carling abattu en lui disant un “Good game !” chantant avec l’accent du sud ouest. La partie s’est en réalité terminée le lendemain à l’aube, les joueurs des deux équipes s’étant donné rendez vous pour faire une fête de tous les diables jusqu’à l’aube, enterrant définitivement la hache de guerre. Cela sera aidé par le virage vers le professionalisme, des Anglais venant jouer en France et des Français allant jouer en Angleterre (Sébastien Chabal a joué cinq ans dans le club de Sale, près de Manchester), ce qui comblera un peu le fossé d’incompréhension, les Anglais allant jusqu’à recruter un entraîneur français, Pierre Villepreux en 1995. Il fut naturellement tondu à son retour, rassurez-vous.

Cette époque a laissé une tradition, une rivalité qui fait que vaincre l’autre équipe est un plaisir sans nul pareil, mais la terrible tension 1988-1993 a disparu. On la rejoue pour s’amuser. Il n’empêche : piétiner les Anglais est toujours une coupe d’ambroisie. Un petit point sur ce Tournoi qui, déjà, touche à sa fin. PositionNationPartiesPoints
Tableau des PointsJouéesGagnéesNullesPerduesMarquésEncaissésDifférenceEssais1 France440012359+641382 Irlande43018672+14963 Méchants42117864+14554 Pays de Galles410380107−27725 Italie410359104−45426 Écosse40136080−2021

La France l’a quasiment gagné, l’Angleterre, avec ses deux défaites, l’a déjà perdu. Seule l’Irlande pourrait nous le voler sous le nez, en écrasant l’Écosse, à condition que l’Angleterre nous écrase elle aussi, de façon à remonter les 50 points d’écart sur le goal average. Peu probable. L’enjeu essentiel de ce match est la récompense suprême, le Grand Chelem, 5 matchs, 5 victoires, 10 points tout rond au tableau du score. Ce serait le premier de l’ère Lièvremont - N’tamack - Retière, et le premier pour Sébastien Chabal, qui n’avait pas été retenu dans l’équipe de France en 2002 et 2004, date de nos deux derniers Grand Slami. Et à un an de la Coupe du Monde, ça ferait le plus grand bien à cette équipe si jeune et qui se construit encore. Ceux d’entre vous qui le souhaitent pourront suivre mes commentaires éclairés en direct sur Twitter, sur le compte spécial @EolasRugby.
Alors, plus que jamais… ALLEZ LES BLEUS ! ! !

Whether it's sweet or savoury, breakfast or dinner, the addition of a little nutmeg can improve a dish no end

In this final part of my spice trilogy, I'm not quite saving the best until last, but I am perhaps saving the most versatile. Nutmeg is the spice that transcends cultures and cuisines, sweet and savoury, and takes the flavour-hungry cook from breakfast to dinner with its sweet, warming, pungent aroma.

Not surprisingly, such a miraculous spice has a history splattered with bloody rivalry – the gore shed over several centuries in its violent pursuit. Nutmeg is one of the two spices obtained from the beautiful, tropical evergreen tree, Myristica fragrans, the other being its lacy covering, or aril, mace. It is native to the Banda Islands of the Indonesian archipelago, whose spicy bounty was tussled over by the Portuguese, Spanish and Dutch, until the pragmatic French smuggled out a few seeds and planted them in Mauritius, thus breaking the Dutch monopoly.

Nutmeg was probably first brought to Europe by the Crusaders, though it wasn't until the 18th century that we really lost our heads over it (it contains myristicin, which gives it its warmth and savour, and which can also, in huge quantities, have a narcotic effect). It became the height of fashion to carry your own nutmeg around with you, along with a fancy silver grater, to scatter its sweet, aromatic and spicy gratings on everything from drinks to meat.

So much more than something to sprinkle on your cappuccino or hot chocolate, nutmeg's uses are almost too numerous to list. At breakfast time, it gives an added dimension to porridge, eggy bread or muesli. Later in the day, its pungency adds savour to all manner of savoury dishes. It softens spinach's slightly metallic edge, marries beautifully with creamy fried onions in the classic Alsatian tart, perks up cabbage and kale, adds depth to sweet carrots and squash, gives an added shot of subtle flavour to mash, and marries beautifully with charcuterie (see today's quatre-épices blend) and slow-cooked ragùs.

Of course, nutmeg's affinity with eggy, milky dishes is legendary; it's essential to perfect rice pudding and a béchamel sauce would be a poor thing indeed without a grating or two. It has an affinity for orchard or vine fruits – in which context it's more subtle and sophisticated than ubiquitous cinnamon: it steals less from the fruit. So try some in an apple tart, with poached pears or in a cake bursting with juicy dried fruits.

Writing this, I'm now thinking those 18th-century dandies were really on to something, so I'm off to commission a gold nutmeg grater on a chunky chain. Nutmeg bling – you read it here first.

Quatre-épices

This classic French spice blend is used most often in charcuterie, particularly in pork terrines and sausages. If, however, you'd like a sweet blend to add to gingerbread and other kinds of baking, for instance, simply replace the peppercorns with an equal amount of allspice and replace half of the ginger with cinnamon. The finished mix will keep well in a dark place in an airtight container for a couple of months.

2 tbsp white or black peppercorns
1 tsp whole cloves
2½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1½ tsp ground ginger

In a spice grinder or clean coffee grinder, whizz the peppercorns and cloves to a fine powder, then mix with the nutmeg and ginger.

If you have neither the time, inclination nor equipment to make your own sausages, give these simple patties a go instead – they're the perfect, spicy addition to a special cooked breakfast. You need to make a start a couple of days before you want to eat them, but it's not as if there's a great deal of work involved. Makes eight to 10 patties.

750g coarsely minced pork (you want it fairly fatty – a mix of shoulder and belly is good) or 600g pork shoulder, coarsely ground, plus 125g streaky bacon, very finely chopped
10g flaky sea salt (5g if you've used bacon rather than pork belly)
1 tsp quatre-épices (recipe above)
1 tsp rosemary leaves, finely chopped
1 tsp thyme leaves, finely chopped
8 sage leaves, finely chopped
¼ tsp chilli flakes
50ml red wine
1 egg yolk
1-2 tbsp groundnut oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 small handful sage leaves
1 bay leaf

Combine the first eight ingredients in a bowl, cover and refrigerate for two days. Then, when you want to cook your patties, mix in the egg yolk and break off a small piece. Fry this in a little oil, taste for seasoning, then add salt and pepper to the mix as necessary. Form into patties. Warm the oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat, add the sage leaves and bay leaf, and fry the patties for about four minutes a side. Serve with fried eggs and toast.

Custard tart

This English classic is the perfect combination of soothing, creamy, eggy filling and warming, spicy nutmeg. Makes one large tart or six small ones.

125g unsalted butter, softened
90g caster sugar
1 egg, lightly beaten
250g plain flour, sieved
1 good pinch salt
1 egg yolk whisked with a little water, to glaze

For the filling
500ml double cream
100ml whole milk
1 vanilla pod, split
3 egg yolks
2 eggs
60g golden caster sugar
1 tsp freshly grated nutmeg, plus a little more for grating over the top of the tart

To make the pastry, beat together the butter and sugar until smooth and light, then gradually beat in the egg. Slowly beat in the flour and salt. As soon as you have a crumbly dough, tip it out on to a lightly floured surface and form into a smooth, flattened disc. Wrap in clingfilm and chill for a couple of hours.

On a lightly floured surface, or between two sheets of greaseproof paper, roll out the pastry so that it's large enough to line, with some overhang, a 22cm loose-bottomed flan tin; or divide it into six and use to line six 10cm loose-bottomed flan tins. Don't trim it too closely at this stage, and reserve a little excess pastry for patching up gaps later. Lightly prick the base(s) all over with a fork, line with clingfilm or greaseproof paper, and fill with baking beans (or uncooked rice or dried pulses). Chill for 20 minutes. Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4.

Place the flan case(s) on a baking sheet and bake for 10-12 minutes. Carefully lift out the clingfilm or greaseproof paper and baking beans, and trim the edges with a sharp knife. Patch up any tears with the reserved pastry offcuts. Return the flan case(s) to the oven for five to eight minutes, or until it (they) just takes on some colour. Remove from the oven, brush with the egg wash and bake for another five minutes. Remove and set aside to cool. Reduce the oven temperature to 150C/300F/ gas mark 2.

Meanwhile, over a medium-low heat warm the cream and milk with the vanilla pod in a saucepan until bubbles appear around the edge of the pan. While the cream is heating up, beat together the egg yolks, whole eggs and sugar. Pour in the hot cream, stirring constantly, then strain through a sieve into a jug and stir in the nutmeg. Pour into the tart case(s), grate over a little more nutmeg and place on a baking tray.

Bake until just set – they should still wobble a little in the middle: about 13-15 minutes for small tarts, 20-25 minutes for a large one. Serve at room temperature or cold.

· Go to rivercottage.net for the latest news from River Cottage HQ.

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Arriving on DVD June 1 from Phase 4 Films is Uwe Boll's first watchable movie, Rampage (review), which stars Brendan Fletcher, Shaun Sipos, Lynda Boyd, Robert Clarke, Matt Frewer, Katey Grace, Brent Hodge, Katharine Isabelle, Michael Paré, Malcolm Stewart and Pale Christian Thomas. "The boredom of small town life is eating Bill Williamson alive. Feeling constrained and claustrophobic in the meaningless drudgery of everyday life and helpless against overwhelming global dissolution, Bill (Brendan Fletcher) begins a descent into madness. His shockingly violent plan will shake the very foundations of society by painting the streets red with blood." Check out the art and trailer below.

[‘Design Diversions’ is a biweekly GameSetWatch-exclusive column by Andrew Vanden Bossche. It looks at the unexpected moments when games take us behind the scenes, and the details of how game design engages us. This time -- how emotional design can make us think about not thinking about violence.]

Senseless violence in videogames is fun, but more importantly, it can also be intellectually stimulating and thought provoking. While designers and critics alike cry out for more depth in games, pathos is not the only path to artistic merit. For a medium that's constantly patronized, misunderstood, and derided even by its supporters, sometimes satire and irony is the best way to get a point across.

This is the philosophy of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, as the most unapologetic of that series so lambasted by those who were the target of the game’s satire. The ultraviolent and candy colored Vice City is an excessively pink world in which violence is comical and cartoonish. Violence in this game is already highly desensitized. Pedestrians die, but after their bodies despawn the world will be back to normal as if nothing happened, maintaining the status quo like a TV serial.

It's the worst possible environment for a serious engagement with issues of violence, but it's a great environment to engage with how we depict violence. Most games take the opposite position of Haunting Ground, and are designed to soften, justify, or excuse violent actions so that players feel like heroes instead of murderers.

It's the same treatment summer blockbusters get. But unlike most of these media, Vice City goes a step further. This is a game that mercilessly skewers the groups most opposed to its existence, freely leaps into self parody, and satirizes the cultural attitudes towards violence that ultimately gave it form. By the end of Vice City it's clear that everyone from the mob to the talking heads on the radio are guilty of the same violence as the protagonist. No one in Vice City is innocent, and neither is anyone in the world.

How to Take the Sense Out of Violence

While technology makes blood and gore more realistic, game designers continue to construct this violence to minimize its impact. In the goriest of games (like Mortal Kombat) violence is there to thrill or disgust, not to inspire existential terror. Designers (and gamers) get excited over realism, but we want it for specific reasons. Despite how much we clamor for realism in graphics and physics, emotional realism actually gets in the way of enjoying games like Grand Theft Auto.

For this reason GTA4 has actually been criticized for being too realistic. GTA4 succeeded in its attempt to be more serious and taken more seriously, but it resulted in a different game experience--one that many fans hadn't been looking for and subsequently found in the much less serious Saints Row 2.

GTA4’s Nico feels more like a person than the caricature that is Vice City’s Tommy Vercetti, and for that reason it can be hard for players to engage senseless violence. Even the normal missions feel a little odd considering the sheer number of people you kill, creating a scenario in which the gameplay and story don’t quite mesh.

Abstracting Emotion

Trauma Center is an interesting example of a game that uses abstraction to eliminate squeamishness. This is a game inspired heavily by medical dramas with surgery-based gameplay. Medical dramas have a wide appeal; exposed organs do not. Surgeons and other medical professionals have to get used to blood and guts, but most people are pretty squeamish about that. Even the bloody fantasy violence of the average videogame can be less intense than the exposed entrails of a living human. Because of this, the designers went to great lengths to create a representation of the human body that wouldn't be grotesque.

Naoya Maeda, the lead 3D and event designer said on the Trauma Team web site that he came up with this abstract approach while thinking of how a surgeon would see the entrails. What's interesting about this approach is that the more realistic option may be less "true." In the game, the player is a doctor and revulsion is not part of the experience. In the same way, Tommy Vercetti attitude towards human life is pretty obvious from the way pedestrians are depicted.

A World of Mannequins

In violent videogames, it’s common to dehumanize the enemy so that players can feel justified in killing them. Zombies, robots, and aliens all serve their roles. With human opponents, it’s common to make them as evil as possible, which may be why WWII is the favorite FPS genre and Nazis the favorite foe. Ultimately though, the greatest tool for removing humanity is simply to leave them undeveloped.

The civilians in GTA don’t mourn, cry, or express themselves. Because they don't exhibit sympathetic actions, it's hard to empathize with them. They exist only to run screaming like Godzilla was stomping through the city. Vice City is inhabited by crash test dummies that respawn endlessly no matter how many times they die. It’s similar to watching Bugs Bunny gets blasted point blank with a shotgun: the next second, he's up and chomping carrots.

No matter how many times the player dies in GTA, or however many generic citizens he wastes, everything in the world will be respawning and back to normal in minutes. In this way, actions that would normally appear reprehensible loose all their emotional impact. If GTA was an accurate murder simulator, depicting the horror of real-world violence and murder with unflinching accuracy, the nightly news stories would have been about kids getting PTSD.

Sensitive Violence

If there is a flaw in this form of violence in videogames, it’s that it isn’t violent enough. It’s emotionally casual, designed specifically to not challenge the player’s feelings of empathy or guilt. Although it takes a lot of design work to make sure the player won’t feel sorry for the extras, seeing how many pixilated crash-test dummies you can run over isn’t emotionally challenging for the player.

Haunting Ground has a near-opposite outcome, but the design is obviously quite intentional. Compare GTA to the visceral Manhunt, and you can see that Rockstar is quite capable of creating an experience uniquely tailored to inspiring certain emotions. That’s a game that really does make the player feel like a murderer.

So Vice City is engineered for players to be as violent as possible without thinking about it. This is where a lot of game stop, having accomplished their purpose, and just let the player have fun. But Vice City fills the game with relentless satire, and this cleverness works in part because it's so violent. The result is a game about thinking about not thinking about violence.

Whose America?

The talk radio blabbering about videogame violence is underscored by the incredible violence perpetuated by the player. With Tommy Vercetti chaining rows of exploding cars and fighting everything from SWAT to the US Army, the irony of legislating against bleeding pixels isn’t lost on the player.

The jingoistic ads run by the game's gun stores unsubtly implicate that GTA is not the cause of America's attitudes towards violence, but a product of it. The entrepreneurial rise of the main character reflects a certain pulling-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps-attitude that, along with this construction of violence, satirically constructs Tommy Vercetti as an ideal American.

Vice City is violent videogame about America’s attitude towards violence. Vice City came out after GTA 3, and it was born while the immediate reaction to that game was fresh in the minds of its audience and opponents. As the in game talk show parody unfolds, extremists from all sides fight over which vision of America to cram down the rest of the country’s throat while the player is laughing at them and having a grand old time.

While the guests on talk radio worry about fictional violence, their world is being blown up by the player on a regular basis. After mowing down the city in a tank, players may wonder why they aren't the ones being discussed on the news. Shouldn't they be thinking about real violence? Shouldn't the player? It's fun to live the American Dream as Tommy Vercetti, but is this bitter satire worth bringing to reality?

Even though Vice City goes to great lengths to create emotionally uninvolved violence, it wants the player to be conscious of how different this is from real world violence. At the time, the charge levied against the playerbase and the industry was that videogames confused the two. With the pitch perfect satire of radio pundits and activists, Vice City invites the player to think about whether the game is more damaging to society than the people trying to ban it. Rockstar has a clear agenda, of course, and stacks the deck in their favor. Even so, that’s a lot to think about for a game that’s not supposed to be about thinking at all.

Pathos certainly has its place in videogames, and it's certainly something we need more of. A GTA like game that forced players to confront the realities of murder would be an interesting idea. It couldn't work as a satire, and it wouldn't really be fun, but that’s just fine as it’s another way to engage the player. One of the great things about survival horror games like Haunting Ground is that they've proven that games don't necessarily need to be fun to be compelling.

But let's not underestimate Vice City just because it makes us laugh.

[Andrew Vanden Bossche is a freelance writer and student. He has a blog called Mammon Machine, which is updated less often than this message, and can be reached at AndrewVandenB@gmail.com]

La suisse est un pays calme et pacifique, tant et si bien que les jeux violents viennent d'y être purement et simplement bannis. Amis suisses, on pense à vous...

What the crap? A French comic? Are the French even allowed to make comics? Aren't they too busy being snooty and smoking Gauloises and wearing inappropriate swimwear? Where do they find the time to make comics, anyway?*

Well, the French can do all those things as long as they keep making comics this good, I tell ya. West Coast Blues is a cracking good crime comic, not really noir but definitely a tale of bad people doing bad things to each other. It's also, oddly enough, very wryly humorous, in a way we don't often see in crime comics here in the States. It was a novel by Jean-Patrick Manchette in 1976, and in 2005, Manchette's old collaborator, Jacques Tardi, finally adapted it to comics (and then Kim Thompson translated it into English). Presumably, had DC's association with Humanoids continued, this would have been a DC book. As it is, Fantagraphics has published it in the States. Good for them!

The plot is deceptively simple, as for most of the book, we have no idea what's going and Manchette simply follows his main character around. We begin in the present with George Gerfaut, cruising around in his Mercedes in the middle of the night listening to West Coast style jazz (hence the name of the book - George digs the jazz!). After a few pages, we're introduced to another man, Alonso Emerich y Emerich, a Dominican of German descent who used to be in military intelligence. We have, initially, no idea what his purpose is, because we quickly get back to George, who is passed by two cars, one chasing the other. The first car crashes, the second car takes off, and George helps the first driver to the hospital. Then he returns to his house. A few days later, his family heads out on vacation. It takes us a few pages to realize that this is happening in time well before the opening scene, because Manchette doesn't give us any indication that we've flashbacked. That's okay, though - the transition between the "present" and the "past" is interesting because Manchette links them through George driving late at night. While we may be a bit lost initially, we quickly regain our footing.

George doesn't realize he's being tailed by two hitmen in the employ of Alonso, who goes by Mr. Taylor. Again, we don't know why they want to kill George (we can figure out it has something to do with the driver of the car, but we don't know what), but that's part of the fun. Because as the follow George to the seaside, the plot kicks into high gear. It's rather humorous - the hitmen can't kill George. Through, really, very little effort on his part, he manages to elude them. In their first attempt, he manages to grab one of the killer's balls, which of course tends to put him off. This attempt switches something on in George, and he abandons his wife and returns to Paris. The killers can never quite catch up with him, and when they do, he escapes again, killing one of them almost accidentally. Then he flees into the forest and ends up in the foothills of the Alps, where he's found by a slightly eccentric woodsman. And he simply stays there. He becomes someone else completely, learning how to be self-sufficient, hooking up with a woman, and changing his appearance by growing a beard. But the second killer tracks him down, and George ends up back in the world, ready to find out exactly why these two men were sent to kill him.

The fascinating thing about this story is the character of George. Actually, Carlo and Bastien, the two hitmen, are pretty interesting as well, but George is the central character, so he ought to be fascinating. As I pointed out, he doesn't escape from the killers because he's tougher than they are; he might be a bit smarter, but he's also really lucky. Manchette doesn't make it a ridiculous, corny kind of luck, but he does show that George happens to do things that throw them off the track without knowing he's doing it. This makes the pursuit rather odd and darkly humorous. The book is full of violent death, and it's definitely not a comedy, but just the fact that these two professional killers have such a tough time blowing away this rather inept sales manager makes it border on the surreal. Then, we think the book will be about George becoming more of an independent dude and less of a simpering whiner, as he's forced to live in the wild for so many months. But Manchette doesn't quite give us that, either. George is a complicated guy who realizes certain things about the way society is structured but still yearns for other things. By the end of the book, we're back on the freeway, but Manchette has made us see that George has changed, just maybe not enough that we would expect. West Coast Blues is, in my mind, very "European" in that regard - this is a broad generalization, but Europeans are more bound by history, both societal and personal, than Americans, so if this book had been written by a Yankee, it probably would have ended much, much differently. That it doesn't is a testament, I think, to Manchette's storytelling - he never takes the easy way out, even if George's fate might seem like he does. George has been affected by what happens to him, but in not so overt (American?) way.

Tardi's art is quite stellar, as well. He's amazingly detailed, but he doesn't pull any tricks on the reader - his work is very straight forward. He relies on very strong storytelling skills, as he simply takes us through George's story. We get a great sense of place from Tardi, either in the urban settings or, even more impressively, in the rural interlude George experiences. Tardi does masterful work with the characters, too - they look and move like people, stumbling when you might expect it, breaking bones when you'd expect it, acting like human beings. His best work might be with Carlo and Bastien, as George remains very low-key throughout (except for one brief scene). Carlo and Bastien, however, have a fun relationship, and Tardi helps with it. Manchette gives them good banter, but Tardi manages to portray their care for each other even as he keeps their faces impassive. It's a very verbose comic, but Tardi matches Manchette with panels that demand a great deal of attention - this is a visual feast as well as a literary one.

I suppose the only problem one might have with the book is its somewhat excessive narration, because often Manchette simply tells us what the pictures already do (and Tardi adapted it to comics, so why he didn't cut some more of it is beyond me). Occasionally, the narration is absurdly excellent - when Manchette lists all the weapons Carlo and Bastien have in their car, for instance, it's a comic mini-masterpiece - but occasionally, we can tell exactly what's going on and don't need to be told. Again, this is a comic adapted from a book into French and then translated into English, so there are many filters for it to go through. I don't have too big an issue with the words, but I should caution you that it feels bloated every once in a while.

Other than that, West Coast Blues is a very good crime comic. The fact that it has a slightly different sensibility than most American crime fiction makes it refreshing, and the fact that Manchette has a wry sense of humor about the material works well, too. And it looks great. And Ed Brubaker thinks Tardi is great. Dare you go against Ed Brubaker????

* Before you jump my shit, I'm joking. I am well aware of the long French tradition of comics, and cut my teeth on Asterix and Obelix before I had even heard of the X-Men when I was but a lad. Chillax, people!

Next: Can it be more Tardi? Well, of course it can!

Switzerland’s government has pushed through legislation that may eventually see a ban put on the sale of violent videogames.

Late last year, the government passed legislation making the PEGI ratings mandatory, with a second amendment that threatened to ban the production and sale of mature games outright.

read more

La Suisse a récemment vu passer une loi qui va, au final, interdire complètement la mise en vente de jeux violents dans le pays.

Débutant par un interrogatoire violent à outrance, cet extrait de Splinter Cell Conviction se concentre par la suite sur une longue séquence d'infiltration.(...)

Débutant par un interrogatoire violent à outrance, cet extrait de Splinter Cell Conviction se concentre par la suite sur une longue séquence d'infiltration.(...)

«Cette censure démontre que les politiciens ne comprennent ni notre industrie, ni les consommateurs. Personne ne pense censurer des films ou des livres ayant un contenu adulte.

Pour Jean-François Legrain, chercheur au CNRS et auteur des Palestines du quotidien. Les élections de l'autonomie, janvier 1996 (Beyrouth, Cermoc, 1999), les violences qui secouent Jérusalem-Est rappellent celles, brèves mais brutales, de 1996.
De violents affrontements opposent depuis cinq jours des Palestiniens aux forces de l'ordre israéliennes à Jérusalem-Est. Le bilan, mardi soir (17 mars), était d'une quarantaine de blessés parmi les manifestants et de quinze autres parmi les forces (...)

[In this opinion piece, Game Developer EIC Brandon Sheffield takes Electronic Arts and Visceral to task for their competition asking fans to "design a kill" for Dead Space, calling it "incredibly regressive for our industry."]

Here we are in an era of video games coming under intense scrutiny for their violence, and for any hint of sexuality. This is an era in which the Australian and German governments are rejecting the sale of certain games by the handful, Venezuela has banned all “violent” video games with sweeping terms, and psychologists study the effects of violent games on behavior around the clock.

It’s in this climate that EA has chosen to launch its Design a Kill for Dead Space 2 contest, which to me runs second only to Acclaim’s attempt to buy ad space on tombstones in terms of irresponsibility.

Here’s the text from the press release, describing the contest:

"Have you ever played a video game and thought ‘wouldn’t it be cool if...’ Well, Visceral Games announced that fans of the critically-acclaimed Dead Space franchise can make their “what if” dreams a reality. This is their chance to design a kill and get it in the game. Players can submit ideas via text, video or still images.

Since the contest began last week, there are over 1,000 entries already, so the cooler the kill, the better chance it has of winning a place in the upcoming Dead Space 2 video game. To prove to the Visceral development team that they have the right stuff, players have to demonstrate Isaac Clarke defeating or dismembering various Necromorphs including the Slasher, Lurker, or Leaper using their own signature kill.

The grand prize winner will not only have an opportunity to have their dismemberment move recreated in the game but they’ll also win the opportunity to have their likeness modeled onto a non-player character in the game."

Where To Draw The Line?

I don’t believe we should shy away from violence in games – violence is a part of life, and can make for very interesting scenarios in games. And it’s no secret that a large majority of fun video games are based on conflict, much of which is combative. But I also believe that asking fans to think as hard as they can about an innovative way to kill someone is a very regressive thing for our industry.

Just think for a second about what EA is actually asking people to do. Yes, this is what many of us do every day – there are those of us who design combat and combat scenarios for a living. But asking fans to do it is just too much.

First, it’s acknowledging that games can inspire fans to think of ways to kill. Second, through promotion, the contest is saying this is a good thing to do, or that it would be fun, posing ‘wouldn’t it be cool if...’

Third, it’s implied that this is a proper way to enter the industry (that’s part of the implication, that this design will be your foot in the door). That really hammers home the misconception that all we do is think of ways for things to kill each other.

Fourth, it asks for documented evidence of this fan violence. EA must certainly have plenty at this point, with over 1,000 submissions, which anyone will be able to view once the competition is over at the official Facebook page.

Fuel For The Fire

Many in the mainstream media, parent-advocate groups, and in the public opinion at large consider the game-playing population to be mostly children. And for better or for worse, it’s likely that a number of children have in fact played the M-rated Dead Space. This kind of contest is amazing fodder for the groups that want to limit and restrict games, and it’s hard to believe EA or Visceral would not be aware of this.

If they are not aware of the regressive nature of this competition, as the video on the official page seems to suggest, that is incredibly unconscious, and certainly indicative of the immaturity of our industry. This seems like the sort of thing you should really think through. Perhaps we’re all so desensitized to violence in this industry that they did not think about it in this light.

If the intention is to get the contest to stir up controversy, well I suppose they may achieve their goal. If the mainstream media does get wind of the competition, and they get hold of even one video of a kid doing a “brutal kill” on his brother, the shitstorm begins. I do not think the results of this storm will be positive for anyone.

Little To Smile About

One of the images that accompanies the press release (above) shows a sample entry from an actual fan, in which all the descriptions of actions are accompanied by smiley faces, such as "knee in the head ^^." This description comes after the one that says "grabs the head and shoot in the neck."

You could argue that since the creatures you kill are not human, this is not so bad. I would disagree. They are humanoid enough, and asking fans to figure out a way to kill anything is enough to cause a horrified gut reaction in any parent or politician that may see it. A company as large as EA cannot simply make the “games are just fun” excuse. I do not believe this is an overreaction. I believe the reaction from those outside the game industry would be magnitudes above what I write here.

You could argue I’m bringing more attention to this contest by mentioning it here, and you’d be right. I think we have to take these things to task when we see them, and I can only hope that if an intrepid journalist is researching this “brutal kill” phenomenon they might see this article and pause before decrying the entire industry as actively breeding violence in its players.

Know that the assumptions and drives of one marketing campaign do not reflect the majority. There are those among us who recognize that this is regressive, and I would caution any game company against taking this sort of action in the future.

When we were driving out of town I said, "I hate the corpses of empires, they stink as nothing else. They stink so badly that I cannot believe that even in life they were healthy." "I do not think you can convince mankind," said my husband, "that there is not a certain magnificence about a great empire in being." "Of course there is," I admitted, "but the hideousness outweighs the beauty. You are not, I hope, going to tell me that they impose law on lawless people. Empires live by the violation of law." (Rebecca West, from Black Lamb and Grey Falcon)

Strange week this week. All Marvel and Vertigo. And lots of sex. Weird. And yes, I'm aware the fourth issue of Daytripper came out last week. I didn't get it, for some reason. I should have it this weekend. Dang. Let's move on!

Avengers vs. Atlas #3 (of 4) ("Hulk Smash!"/"Hey, Venus!") by Jeff Parker (writer, "Hulk"), Paul Cornell (writer, "Venus"), Gabriel Hardman (artist, "Hulk"), Leonard Kirk (artist, "Venus"), Elizabeth Breitweiser (colorist, "Hulk"), Brad Anderson (colorist, "Venus"), Tom Orzechowski (letterer, "Hulk"), and Joe Sabino (letterer, "Venus"). $3.99, 30 pgs, FC, Marvel.

Everyone reading this should know what I'm going to rant about. When Thor transports the Avengers and the agents of Atlas to Norway, he says, "But I know of one place on Midgard I can bring us all to!" Sorry, Thor - it's TAKE!!!!! Seriously, poor "take." No one loves it. So sad.

I love how Parker casually makes Hank Pym a dick even when he's not really trying. When the old-school Avengers find out that Bruce Banner is the Hulk (because Venus sang to him and calmed him down, turning him back to Banner), Pym says, "That's Dr. Bruce Banner! He's maybe the top physicist in the world -- well, besides me ..." Ha! And Parker makes Tony Stark a bit of a wuss, too - Marvel Boy telepathically informs Pym about what's happening, and Stark says, "He could have put the knowledge in me ... I would have gotten it." If that's not enough, in the next panel, Stark looks down at himself and says to no one in particular, "I built this suit ..." Whenever a writer is clever enough to drop stuff like that into his fairly standard superhero team-up (which this is), I appreciate it, because it just humanizes them and makes it easier to deal with the wackiness of a team from the 1960s (or a decade ago, according to Pym) joining up with a team from the present thanks to some time anomaly. They all fight the Hulk, Bob figures out what's up, and everything is set up for the final showdown. It's good, clean fun!

In the back-up story, Cornell and Kirk bring us Venus, love advice columnist. It's pretty hilarious (see the panel of awesome below), as she answers questions from Hercules, Deadpool (which is particularly hilarious), I assume Jocasta, the Hulk, Norman Osborn (more hilarity!), Kitty Pryde, and Clint Barton. It's very dependent on knowing Marvel continuity (unsurprisingly), and the only one I didn't get was the letter from Miss Dean. Help me out, more knowledgeable readers! It's a fun little tale.

Sex in this comic? Hoo-boy, you bet. It stars Venus in both stories, for crying out loud! In the first, Venus has to sing to calm Bruce down, and two superheroes get caught in the sound wave. Macking commences! And in the second, well, Deadpool's letter is the highlight, and I won't spoil it.

One panel of awesome:

Oh, Hulk, no one understands you!

Fables #93 ("The Little Murder Part Two of Two") by Bill Willingham (writer), David Lapham (artist), Lee Loughridge (colorist), and Todd Klein (letterer). $2.99, 22 pgs, FC, DC/Vertigo.

It's been two months since the last issue of Fables. Strange. Anyway, I always dig the short stories of this series because they seem to contain standalone stories, but Willingham always makes sure that things get tied into the main story later. In other words, I doubt we've seen the last of the some of these characters. The story itself is not great but not bad, as Ambrose needs to figure out a way to deal with the serious transgression from last issue in a way that doesn't rip his kingdom apart. He does it, of course, but there's still some restlessness among the subjects, and that can't be good. I do like the only witness for the defense - at first, I thought it was absolutely idiotic, but once John started expanding on his story, it made better sense. And hey - those people who wish to read political intent into writers' books can kind of have a field day here, as Willingham tackles the death penalty and the idea of culture leading to what some would call crime. I honestly don't care when writers inject their political beliefs into comics (if, indeed, that's what Willingham is doing here), because this issue, while not superb, does show how much difficulty Ambrose is going to have moving forward. That's what makes this such a neat series.

Sex in this comic? Definitely. Off-panel and after the issue ends, but oh yeah, someone's getting lucky!

One panel of awesome:

Won't someone think of the ... squirrel children!

Hercules: Fall of an Avenger #1 (of 2) (Hercules main story/"Greek Tragedy") by Greg Pak (writer, "Hercules"), Fred van Lente (writer, "Hercules"), Paul Tobin (writer, "Tragedy"), Ariel Olivetti (artist, "Hercules"), Reilly Brown (penciler, "Tragedy"), Jason Paz (inker, "Tragedy"), Wil Quintana (colorist, "Tragedy"), Simon Bowland (letterer, "Hercules"), and Joe Sabino (letterer, "Tragedy"). $3.99, 30 pgs, FC, Marvel.

There are a few writers that I simply will not read. I've read their stuff, disliked it enough to know it's kind of a pattern with them and not an anomaly, and won't try it again. There are some writers who I dislike so much that even if they hook up with a fantastic artist, it's not enough to get me to buy it. However, if I like the writer, usually I can take lousy art, because I'm much more interested in the writing in comics than the art. If the art doesn't make my eyes bleed and tells the story serviceably, I can deal with it. Very rarely will the art on a book I want to read by a writer I like keep me from buying it. Let me tell you, I had one of those moments on Wednesday, when I looked at this book and Ariel Olivetti's art.

I can't really put my finger on why I don't like Olivetti's art. I didn't always dislike it. A decade ago, when he was still drawing using heavy lines rather than whatever the hell he's doing now, it wasn't great art but it had a kind of mad energy to it. Then he started doing more and more delicate line work, it appears he's given up on inking, and I don't know what's going on with the coloring (an Irene Y. Lee is credited with "production" on this book; does she do the coloring or does Olivetti?). It's that faux-"realistic" look that, to me, is ridiculously static and, at times, downright creepy. It's kind of the same thing that Salvador Larocca has done in the past five years or so, with color washes that drains everything heavy from the page but makes the art far too ephemeral. It's not a good look. Olivetti is fine telling a story, but the art just repels me. But I bought this anyway, because I knew that Pak and Van Lente wouldn't let me down. And, heck, they didn't. Well, except for one brief exchange. I'll 'splain.

The premise of the book is that Amadues Cho and a bunch of heroes congregate at the Parthenon to honor Hercules. Amadeus is peeved at Athena and wants her to show up, but instead the heroes do. So they all tell stories about how groovy Hercules was. Thor talks about the time he and Herc had to outdrink a bunch of giants, while Namor tells them of the time Herc beat on him to get him out of a funk. (I wonder why Namor is wearing his new, "I'm so cool" outfit in his flashback when he's wearing his old-school, "I'm so cool I can look UNcool" underpants in the original comic. I mean, will people reading this comic be that confused that he ... changed his clothes?!?!?!?) These are not bad stories, and Thor's is quite funny. Then the babes show up, talking about how hot Herc was (it's true - they all say it!). Snowbird says that they all "lay" with him, then continues: "I know there are others in the crowd who should join us ... don't be shy." At which Northstar says, "Is that the time? Gotta go!" while Namor looks on, a question mark above his head. Ha ha, Jean-Paul had sex with Herc and he's embarrassed about it! Now, this bugged me. First of all, Herc is a god. And he's, you know, Greek. I always assumed he was kind of pansexual, so the idea of him having sex with men isn't that strange. Second, Northstar is (wait for it) gay. And everyone knows he's gay! Who cares if he had sex with Herc? It felt, to me, that Van Lente and Pak were saying that a gay man would be embarrassed that he had sex with a man, while the women aren't. This would have, actually, been a perfect opportunity for another Marvel hero to come out of the closet - the joke would have been funnier if Snowbird had said that and someone like Warren or Logan had shrugged and said, "Hey, it weren't no big thing." But it's weird that Northstar is embarrassed about it. This weird feeling continues on the next page, when Alflyse starts talking about her time with Herc (see the panel of awesome below). Wolverine and Fandral looked shocked. After she's done talking, Namor too looks shocked (and Thor looks like he's fondly remembering his own experiences with the Elven Tickler, which isn't too surprising, given that he's, you know, Thor). Logan is older than a century, and he knows how to get with the ladies. Fandral is a freakin' god. Namor, I suppose, is the most stuck-up of them, so him I can forgive. But the idea in mainstream comics, it seems, is that men like the sex as long as it's not too weird, while the women kind of tolerate the sex but certainly don't do anything wacky. Pak and Van Lente are subverting the second assumption, but reinforcing the first. Are you telling me Logan never got really weird with any of the seriously crazy women he hooked up with? Are you saying Fandral never did anything bizarre to mix things up after a thousand years of the missionary position? I've seen this attitude before in Marvel and DC comics, and it's a bit strange. If someone who looks like Alflyse starts talking about how much she enjoyed Herc's mastery of the Elven Tickler, I wouldn't looked shocked, I'd be breaking out the instruction manual to figure it out!

And then Athena shows up and tells Amadeus that he's the new leader of the Olympus group, which leads into next issue. And the back-up story has Venus and Namora going around telling people that Herc is dead. It's a clever idea by Tobin - apparently Herc invested money in stuff and then forgot about it, so he has all sorts of weird holdings all over the world, some of which have done very well for him (he was an early investor in Stark Industries, for instance). It's a nice little story that features a hydra. Which is never a bad thing to see.

Sex in this comic? See above. Plus, Venus get naked in a totally non-sexual situation (one of Herc's holdings was a nudist colony), and all the people who lived in homes that Herc owned happened to be women. I wonder why?

One panel of awesome:

I love Wolverine's expression!

Joe the Barbarian #3 (of ВосемБ) ("The Dying Boy") by Grant "Yes, this is just propaganda to get you to keep rats as pets, why do you ask?" Morrison (writer), Sean Murphy (artist), Dave Stewart (colorist), and Todd Klein (letterer). $2.99, 22 pgs, FC, DC/Vertigo.

Morrison unveils a few more secrets in this issue, as Joe is shown something that makes his journey through the strange world of more import than it already was, and a new adventurer joins the team. And of course, because it's a Grant Morrison comic, the very odd bad guys (well, I'm just going to assume they're bad guys; they could be kindly monks for all I know) are revealed at the end. There are typical Morrisonisms sprinkled throughout the dialogue, and it all moves along at a nice clip. Murphy remains the absolutely stunning star of the comic, though. The chase at the beginning of the issue is terrifically exciting, and when Joe and Jack arrive in Draka's town, Murphy gives us a full-page drawing that is simply gorgeous. When Joe collapses near the end of the issue, Murphy looks downward through his house, almost giving us vertigo. The book itself continues to get better, writing-wise, but Murphy's art is so staggering you almost don't need to read the text. That's so rare with a Morrison comic that it's almost unbelievable. But there it is!

Sex in this comic? It's about a boy in a fantasy land. Let's hope not!

One panel of awesome:

So portentous!!!!!

Marvel Boy: The Uranian #3 (of 3) ("Man of Two Worlds") by Jeff Parker (writer), Felix Ruiz (artist/letterer), and Val Staples (colorist). $3.99, 22 pgs + 18 pgs of 3 back-up stories, FC, Marvel.

This isn't a bad comic, and it looks great, but it does feel more like Parker is filling in the gaps of the characters from Agents of Atlas (or, I guess, Atlas) than telling a standalone story. He fleshed out some crucial points about Bob's past, namely his connection to Uranus and what his overlords really want (and if I call them "overlords," they can't be too benign, can they?), but this feels a bit trifling, as if it could have been told in a flashback in the regular series over the course of an issue or possibly two. Three issues is a bit much. I mean, we get to see a giant 1950s Marvel monster (see below), some nice parts about Bob's life, and a groovy mad scientist, but it still feels a bit too slight. Oh well. The art is fantastic, Parker's writing is fine as ever (even if the book itself is slight), and we get to see a bunch of reprints drawn by Bill Everett. If you're a fan of Jimmy Woo's team or Parker's writing, it's a fun book. For four bucks a pop, though, it's a bit steep.

Sex in this comic? Bob gets busy in a rocket with Violet. There's nothing better than zero-gravity sex! (Or, you know, so I'm told. By my astronaut friends. Of which I have many.)

One panel of awesome:

Jeff Parker + Felix Ruiz = awesome!

Spider-Woman #7 by Brian Michael Bendis (writer), Alex Maleev (artist), and Cory Petit (letterer). $3.99, 35 pgs, FC, Marvel.

Bendis writes at the end of this book that it's over, because it's way too much work for Maleev to do it, motion-comic style. Why they specifically had to do it motion-comic style isn't addressed, but apparently putting together a motion comic takes a lot more time and effort by the artist, and it was killing Maleev. KILLING HIM!!!!!! So they pulled the plug. Oh well.

I'm not that put out by it, because I was probably going to drop the book anyway after the first arc. I will defend the Bendis/Maleev Daredevil to anyone who tries to put it down (which, to be honest, isn't many people), but this just never got good. It had a nifty hook but Bendis simply didn't do anything with it, and in the end, he had to bring in the Avengers to bail Jessica out. This issue is just a big ol' dumb superhero fight with a few clever Bendisisms, but mostly, it's dumb. And Jessica is a total bitch. She's not a bitch in a charming, fucked-up way that Jessica Jones was in Alias, she's a bitch in a "Gosh, I really hope that Skrull kills her" way. She keeps calling the Asian girl "dumb" because she claims that her Skrull boyfriend is Spider-Man. Now, the way Maleev draws her, it seems like she's blind. Second, the Skrull is, you know, a shape-shifter, so even if she's not blind, he could look like Spider-Man. Jessica points out that Spider-Man "famously" lives in New York, but she's only been dating him three weeks, meaning he could be on vacation or something. So, um, Jessica? Shut the fuck up. As Abigail points out, your track record so far in this comic isn't great in the intelligence department, so if the girl from Madripoor believes she was dating Spider-Man, you're the last person in the world to call her dumb. And then, later, the Skrull tells her that the queen chose her form because "of all the people in the world ... we discovered that no one on this entire planet cares enough about you to notice you at all." Really, Skrull? Okay, from the way Jessica behaves in this comic, I see Skrull dude's point, but that's a bit extreme, isn't it? I mean, she has plenty of friends, after all. It's one of those things that sounds cool the first time you read it but then, once you think about it for more than a second, makes absolutely no sense. And then Wolverine tries to stab a shape-shifter to death. You'd think he'd know better.

So I would have ditched the book anyway, but now I don't have to. If you've been thinking about getting the trade, I'd skip it. Spend it on something, you know, good.

Sex in this comic? Not a bit. Jessica finds the Skrull in a strip club, though.

One panel of "awesome":

Really?

Vengeance of the Moon Knight #6 ("Shock and Awe Chapter 6") by Gregg Hurwitz (writer), Jerome Opeña (penciler), Jay Leisten (inker), Paul Mounts (colorist), and Joe Caramagna (letterer). $2.99, 23 pgs, FC, Marvel.

And now, Moon Knight And Me: A Love Story.

I have never made my love of Moon Knight a secret. I dig him. I love the whole multiple personalities thing, I love the whole weird network of operatives, I love the Doug Moench/Bill Sienkiewicz run with a love that is probably a little unhealthy, I love the Doug Moench/Kevin Nowlan run that followed it, I love the "Fist of Khonshu" series that followed that only lasted six issues and wasn't very good, I liked the 1990s series that also wasn't very good but lasted longer than any Moon Knight series ever, I loved the James Fry issues in the latter part of that run that were really bizarre eye candy, I loved the Stephen Platt issues that ended the run ... okay, that's a lie. I hated those issues. They're AWFUL. I loved the late 1990s mini-series that brought the character back from limbo, with Mark Texeira and then Tommy Lee Edwards on art. I loved the new series that launched a few years ago, which made our hero truly insane for, really, the first time (as much as Moench explored the idea of multiple personalities, you never got the sense that Moonie was all that crazy). And I loved the first few issues of this series, which returned Moon Knight to New York and brought back Bushman (okay, that wasn't too great an idea) and featured out of this world art by Opeña. I bought the first Moon Knight Essential volume because I didn't have the early appearances of the character. I'm going to buy the new hardcover of the Moench/Sienkiewicz collaborations before the first series launched even though I own some of them, because I love the character so much. I think that the first series is wildly underrated, as it was one of the first (if not the first) series to be released through the Direct Market, bypassing newstands and therefore allowing Moench and Sienkiewicz to tell more mature stories than mainstream comics before it. I think the character has a ton of potential that has been tapped a bit, but not enough. But that's just me.

So why am I explaining this? Well, as much as I dug what Hurwitz did in these first few issues (even though I didn't agree with bringing Bushman back and turning him into Bane), I thought this was a terrible way to end this arc and it makes me wonder if I will even buy the next arc. It makes me sad, but that's the way it is. In the first issue, it seemed as if Hurwitz was poking fun at the silliness of superheroes, but doing it subtly. I can deal with Moon Knight as satire, because it's an interesting take, especially as he's a bit, you know, out there. But as we got further into the arc, Hurwitz stopped doing that and this became much more of a straight-forward superhero comic. And I'm just not that interested in that anymore. I mean, Hurwitz brought Bushman back. So what? What happens to him? He ends up in an insane asylum. So what? Bushman's death was interesting because it pushed Moon Knight even further over the brink and set the stage for the previous series, which was excellent. Now he's back, and he's just another boring villain. Even in the mediocre 1990s series, he ruled a country, which added a bit of tension to his dealings with our hero. Now, he's dull. And we get another joke about Crawley getting hit on the head and changing his personality, back to what it was. This wasn't funny when it happened to Guy Gardner twenty years ago, and it's still not funny. I realize that I'm too close to the situation and I should be able to laugh at head injuries just like those uptight [insert ethnic group here] should be able to laugh at jokes at their expense, but it's not the fact that Crawley sustained a head injury and it changed his personality. It's that this book isn't a comedy, so tonally it was all wrong, and it's also that nobody seems to care. That's what bugged me when it happened to Guy - wouldn't someone think, "Hey, maybe we should check him out?" even if they liked his new personality more? Shouldn't Moon Knight have suggested that Crawley ought to get an MRI? It's too fraught with potential pitfalls to make it really funny, and Hurwitz didn't do(...)

Right-wing bloggers and columnists have recently accused President Obama of instigating an "intifada" against Israel through his administration's criticism of Israel's announced plan to expand housing in a section of East Jerusalem or by purportedly "incentiviz[ing] Palestinian Arabs to violent uprising."

Columnist, bloggers invoke "Obama Intifada"

Shapiro: "This is the Obama Intifada." Ben Shapiro wrote in his March 17 syndicated column that "When President Obama is unhappy about his inability to convince Americans to nationalize health care, he incentivizes Palestinian Arabs to violent uprising" and that the Obama administration's response to Israel's announcement "was far too well-rehearsed for it to have been triggered by something equivalent to a Housing and Urban Development dispute in the United States." Shapiro added:

This is the Obama Intifada. It is he who has suggested that the Palestinian Arabs have legitimate grievances, that Israel is the victimizer, and that the United States will stand aside and allow violent atrocities by Arabs to go forward without comment. He wants this Intifada, and he's got it.

The Obama Intifada will serve a dual purpose: it will knock health care off the front pages, and it will provide a "crisis" for Obama to solve. If a few Jews get killed, Obama doesn't truly care. What's a few eggs if you're frying up a socialized health care omelet? What's a few Jews if you can win another Nobel Peace Prize?

Nothing, to President Obama. All that matters is his personal victory, even if America and her allies lose.

Geller issues "Call to End Obama's Intifada." In a March 16 Atlas Shrugs post headlined "Action Alert: Call to End Obama's Intifada," Pamela Geller urged her readers to "Join Christians United for Israel in their surge against the President's intifada against Israel," and quoted their statement that "the Obama Administration has reacted to this announcement by creating the worst crisis in relations with Israel in decades. First Vice President Biden condemned the announcement in unusually harsh terms. Then, over the weekend, Secretary of State Clinton and advisor David Axelrod escalated the rhetoric still further. Today, Middle East envoy George Mitchell indefinitely postponed his trip to the region. Where will it end?"

Jawa Report headline: "The Obama Intifada." A March 16 Jawa Report blog post, headlined "The Obama Intifada," included numerous links to stories and blog posts about the controversy, adding, "This too shall pass, by which I mean the current US administration." The post was a reposting of a March 15 post on the Internet Haganah blog carrying a similar "Obama Intifada" headline.

"Obama Intifada" meme first embraced by right-wingers in 2008

2008 report made right-wing rounds. Jihad Watch and NewsBusters were among the conservative blogs that highlighted a November 3, 2008, article in an Arabic newspaper by Abdelbari Atwan, the first journalist to have met with Osama bin Laden. According to Robert Spencer's translation of the French-language blog post he cited at Jihad Watch, Atwan's article carried the headline "The Historic Intifada of Obama" and claimed that with Obama's election, "the Americans thus give the kickoff of their historic Intifada against racism." In highlighting the Atwan's article, NewsBusters' Warner Todd Huston wrote: "A president Obama is no friend to Israel or the west, at least as far as Abdelbari Atwan and many of his comrades are concerned. The most pressing question that Americans have is: should we support a man for President of the United States that our enemies imagine to be on their side?"

La fièvre photovoltaïque est un syndrome qui a été bien identifié depuis deux ans, lors de sa première manifestation massive en Europe, durant la première partie de 2008. Ce fut la célèbre "grippe photovoltaïque espagnole" qui fit de nombreuses victimes et participa aux ennuis économiques de ce pays. Pour bien comprendre ce processus violent, il faut tout d'abord en analyser les causes. Elles sont simples. 1- il faut tout d'abord un pays à la fibre écolo, ou plus exactement voulant...