Busy Doin' Nothin'

Mark Millar Caught In 2nd Trimester

You know how everybody regards comic book geeks, if in fact they regard them at all.  Ugly, fat, borderline retarded, socially inept, compulsive, sweaty, balding, repulsive, unfashionable.  I could go on and on (and this description is just based on myself).

Well, funny book creators are just as bad, if not worse.  Have you seen Bendis or Quesada?  Altho’ they’ve both lost a human being between themselves lately, they are both still on the ‘Danger Will Robinson’ side of their scales.  Kurt Busiek, Peter David, Frank Miller.  All ugly as Arseface’s ‘roids.  You get the picture?

Surely, however, Mark Millar, one of comicdoms favourite sons, must buck the trend.  A man that can go to bed at night, and dream up five best selling concepts in his sleep.  A man that continuously writes about the super human, ultra contemporary concepts about muscle riddled specimens of superior psychiatric and genetic stock, all within the confines of a reality the avid reader can easily recognise as only one or two degrees away from their own.  Surely, Millar must have one of those constantly evolving physiques that drips testosterone from its ever expanding muscle groups as he bench presses the weight of his family yacht whilst whistling the Captain America theme tune through his well formed, and oh yes, tight buttocks.

Ock aye the nooo Goo Goo Dolls I see you Jimmy Metrosexual

Nah.