I went home last weekend to visit the family, and as usual, I tried to clean up a little of the driftwood of my young life that remains in the house, so that eventually it will stop looking like a teenager with no social skills lives in their house. (Now she lives in New York, where no one even notices social skills because they’re too busy avoiding being hit by cars. Upgrade!)

There are some really telling things in that house, some of which indicate I had taste (a silk kimono owned by my great-grandmother) and some of which indicate I had, well, questionable taste. (Uh, no comment.)

The thing I took back from this trip was my box of comics.

When I was, oh, 11-ish, I got into the X-Men in a major way. I read up on Uncanny, I devoured X-Men, and my passion for them lasted until one of those impossible crossovers a few years later where I was trying to get hold of 15 books a week just to find out who won the Shi’ar gladiatorial games when some mutants were kidnapped and something something Savage Land something and Genosha whatever and five THOUSAND people got involved. I was young, and I had no money. Eventually you just cannot cross over one more time, you know? EVEN IF ROGUE IS INVOLVED. (Sorry, Rogue. Nobody loved you more than me, I promise!)

To be fair, though, my comic-book habit was greatly aided and abetted by my dad, who tended to swing by the comic shop on a regular basis and bring home a comic for me. (At the time I assumed it was because of my grades, but looking back on my childhood I think he just wanted to prevent me from going outside and hurting myself, which is also good parenting, so, well done Dad!)

He knew X-Men was my book, and he knew I loved Rogue, so he was always on the lookout for her. Unfortunately, he never quite grokked what exactly Rogue looked like (the ever-changing costumes probably did not help), so my white storage box is about 70% X-Men comics and other random comics featuring Rogue, and about 30% old X-Men reprints that featured Kitty Pryde, in whom I had no interest, but about whom I ended up knowing quite a bit, just by accident! (Brunette X-Men Unite, I guess!)

I had forgotten the Kitty Pryde books, but when I got home there they were, filed quietly in the back of the box, bearing the evidence of one read before they were taped back in their sleeves and hidden away. I saved them even then, because I thought my dad was pretty cool for supporting my comic book habit, and when I opened the box, it was confirmed.

Uh, in other news, I will be carving out time this weekend to slap some Roxette on the tape player, shove my hair into a scrunchie, and read some comics.

So, Disney bought Marvel. I punned around over at Tor.com about it, because when a disaster this bad creaks into being, you should laugh before you run screaming from the corporate behemoth that is coming for you and your children, you know?

P.S. When I was a kid, my granddad bought me five stocks of Disney. In other news, today I’m going to buy a house with a pool.

P.P.S. I’ve gotten a couple of hilarious anonymous comments on my LJ since that article went up, including one about how normal people don’t shop at Goodwill. Oh, the internet; where quality folks will always find you.

New Watchmen photos are out, and I give Zack Snyder credit for doing his homework over on Tor.com.

Seriously, this is shaping up to be an aesthetically careful adaptation. However, I am (finally) beginning to worry that the movie will be too badass for the book. I mean, how much of this movie is gonna end up in slow motion? (My guess: 70%.)

Then I look at Veidt’s purple blazer and realize that everyone will look just as pathetic as they’re supposed to. (Where do you even FIND fabric that color? Damn.)

Also, seriously, too much Dr. Manhattan. I get it; he’s blue. Show me more Minutemen!

So at Tor.com today I’m talking about the new Watchmen portraits and what these might mean in terms of the adaptation from page to screen. The answer is mostly, “It looks good! TOO GOOD. Also, Laurie, go put on some pants. What are you, nine?”

However, anyone who has read an X-Men comic knows that Laurie got off easy. You know whose costume really sucked? Casablanca-records-sponsored mutant Dazzler! Who I hate. Let me show you why!

That’s not even why. That’s just how the poor thing looks.

Disclaimer: I am not well-versed on this; in a conversation about comics, I’m out-comic’ed in about two minutes. All I know is what I read as a thirteen-year-old, instead of leaving my room ever. That was mostly X-Men.

But seriously, Dazzler sucks.

She had her own miniseries back in the day, inexplicably called “Beauty and the Beast,” where she flipped out because of the pressures of fame and couldn’t control her power and had to go to Heartbreak Hotel (actual name) and attempt some mutant rehab. Meanwhile, Beast is all, “How about we go to the State Fair on Tuesday? I have my dad’s car for the weekend,” and she’s all, “I can’t believe that you, who are ugly, have more control than I, the beautiful one!”

You can start reading the synopsis of the series here, but I got acid flashbacks and had to stop.

The thing I most remember is her talking to the young girl who lives/works there, and finds out her mutant power is that she can change the color of a flower. Seeing this, Dazzler thinks, and I quote, “Hmm…makes sense that nature would have scattered a few lesser powers among all us big-time mutants,” which is pretty big talk for a woman whose power is basically to channel garage bands into the Fiesta Texas nightly laser show.

She sucks, is what I’m saying.

And what I’m really saying is, it never hurts to have good-looking costumes in your movie, but I have a sneaking hope that even in awesome latex costumes, everyone is still as lame as they should be. Right, Dazzler? (Oh yeah, I went there.)