Sean Gibson > Recent Status Updates

Been wanting to read this for a while and, thanks to an unexpected (but exceedingly welcome) gift from Mr. Boom-Boom Bowman, I'm able to do so now.

(Note, friends, that Mr. Bowman also contributed one of the lovely pieces of art in The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple, so he's a gentleman AND an artist.

Been wanting to read this for a while and, thanks to an unexpected (but exceedingly welcome) gift from Mr. Boom-Boom Bowman, I'm able to do so now.

(Note, friends, that Mr. Bowman also contributed one of the lovely pieces of art in [book: The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple}, so he's a gentleman AND an artist.

These Reggie stories aren't nearly the same wheeze as the Jeeves and Wooster stories. Come on, Wodehouse--get with it.

(Not that they're bad, mind you...still entertaining.)

Is there a more headline-grabbing phrase than “Nazi gold”? It’s a newspaper editor’s wet dream.

Note to self: Deadpool is suboptimal read-aloud-to-a-four-year-old material. Oops.

I could really use a good wheeze right about now.

It’s amazing how many fewer words per page Claremont uses when Frank Miller is doing the art. I feel like Miller probably just threatened to beat him if he put more than 60 words on a page.

Maybe it's just because they're so portable relative to, say, a cathedral (you don't move it, it moves you--hey-oh!), but it's interesting to me how much "art" means "paintings" when it comes to what the Nazis were unabashedly pilfering.

Alfred frowned. “You cannot be in search of Excalibur…”
“Well, we are not pursuing that particular item for one very simple reason.”
“And why, pray tell, might that be?”
Henry shrugged. “Because we’ve already found it.”

Now that we've gotten your attention...why are you not reading The Camelot Shadow yet? All the cool kids are.

#shamelessandannoyingselfpromotion

No one ever refers to me as being "rummy," which I think is a good thing. But, I have no idea what Wodehouse is saying half the time (though that's a good thing, because it's fantastic), so maybe I really want to be rummy.

Regardless, I DO want some rum.

This isn't the MOST ridiculous throwdown I've ever read (that would Sherlock Holmes versus Justin Bieber), but it's up there. Ten bucks says that Deadpool makes a stake/steak joke that...oh, wait--there it is. Right on the cover.

If I ever write something as incandescently funny as Wodehouse, I will commit to dancing in my front yard in a pink tutu and record it for posterity and all of the interwebs to see.

(Which is to say there's a 0% of me writing something that funny.)

Silly rabbit...there's no way you're hitting Clark's fastball, Bruce.

Okay, so, I'm a self-starter and all, but what these Monuments Men dudes (is that redundant?) had to do to get the ball rolling on doing their jobs is insane. It's basically like telling two tennis players to go have a match and then dropping them of in two totally different places wearing tuxedos and not giving them rackets, balls, a net, or a court. I mean, yes, there were other military priorities...but, still.

God Loves, Man Kills stands up as a phenomenal X-Men story—it’s powerful stuff. And, geez, I really miss when Cyclops was the most articulate champion of Xavier’s dream rather than a psychopathic monotone robot killer.

For those inclined to show a modicum of interest in this sort of thing: I'm happy to report that I've just completed the first (rough) draft of a new Heloise book (which takes place a few decades before The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple). It needs a lot of work yet before it's ready for public consumption, but things are moving!

Stay tuned for more (purportedly exciting) details...

I kind of feel like if I was responsible for trying to save and/or steal back the most precious artwork in western Europe from the Nazis and there were some Picassos in there, I'd just "accidentally" let those go missing. I just don't get that dude.

But, that's neither here nor there. Bring on the heroics!

It's not that I'm not enjoying this (I am, much as I enjoy using double negatives), but, jeez, guys, we're getting a little over the top here with what Pendergast is pulling off. If he were ice cream in this book, he'd be mint chocolate chip with chocolate fudge and whipped cream and sprinkles and Oreos and peanut butter cups and M&M's.

(Though not mint chocolate chip in the Rod Holder sense.)

I really hate it when you hit one of those stretches where that whole real life thing makes reading progress virtually impossible.

That notwithstanding, I really feel like Diogenes is the kind of guy who would wear someone's head as a hat. I'm a little disappointed that he's not. Like, you're a serial killer, man--take a fashion risk, you know?

Jeez...Dracula really has a thing for Storm. It's getting creepy, even for an Eternal Dark Lord.

Oh, Diogenes...you so crazy.

Watching Holmes and Houdini have a pissing contest is even less fun than it sounds (and yes, I’m speaking metaphorically).

*GASP* He IS alive!

That was about as shocking as finding out that the tooth fairy is, in fact, a cross-dressing plumber from Des Moines.

(You guys didn't know that?)

Looking forward to spending some quality time with my old pal Pendergast...assuming he's not actually dead, that is (given that there are like 54 more subsequent sequels to this, I'm going to go out on a very thick limb here and suggest that I think he IS STILL SOMEHOW ALIVE).

BUM BUM BUM!

Look, I'm not a psychiatrist (though I play one on TV), but I'm pretty sure there are some strong prohibitions against sleeping with your patients, especially those you've just telepathically removed from a catatonic state. Can someone get Professor X an updated code of conduct, please?

Dark matter and I have a lot in common with respect to our ability to baffle scientists as to our purpose and how we function.

Next up: I go full-on fanboy as the the X-Men take on Dracula, which is simultaneously the most ridiculous and entertaining concept since the Scooby gang teamed up with Mama Cass to battle a malevolent ham sandwich with the nefarious intent to do Mama Cass some serious harm...

It baffles me how physicists have determined that all matter/space/etc. in the universe started as a dot infinitesimally smaller than the period at the end of this sentence while I can't even understand how it is that using my toaster and microwave at the same time trips my circuit breaker. It's probably a good thing that I'm not in charge of NASA.