Tag: Dennard Dayle

4chan’s dead for the week, but the damage to the species lives on. Including formative damage to me, and at least one coworker. No funeral is in order, but I’ve heard worse excuses to recap action schizophrenia.

Meet the Pizzagate James Bond.

And his imaginary friend.

Out of all the QAnon superheroes I’ve read—-

Fair. Out of all the QAnon superheroes I’ve read, Alt☆Hero Q (I’m pasting the star one time) has the fanciest pedigree. The writer, Chuck Dixon, once wrote comics for people that kept their shit off the asylum walls. It’s inspiring to see a successful reinvention.

In theory, Dixon shares this universe with wordy nazi Vox Day—-

Come on, I have feelings. In theory, Dixon shares this universe with wordy nazi Vox Day. Day’s pasty Avengers knockoff Alt☆Hero didn’t worship improv by preteen klansmen, so we’re here. Besides, Chuck’s book reads better, thanks to his edge writing scenes related to each other. It’s still a case study in untreated posting. Chuck’s lost the ability to Log Off, and Nightwing runs don’t pay wizard-level royalties.

To keep the brand strong, this thriller’s called Alt-Hero Q. Or Alt Hero: Q. Or, in the best of all worlds, AltQHero. A move less confusing than the comic’s metahuman-free world. Alt-Hero: Q is closer to Alt–SVU than Alt-Watchmen, putting the shared universe somewhere between pointless and sabotage.

Creatively, at least. Chuck’s selling out for pennies here, and the front page of Arktoons. Arktoon’s a Webtoon clone for nazis and…no slam? Cool, only other inmates are left. It’s Webtoon for people that resented nonwhite HTML. Chuck’s decline is there in full for free, so you’d have to be really petty to swipe it.

The trade paperback’s cover doesn’t quite capture the vibe.

See? A half-measure. It looks like sane spy action, save the title. Every story should be “Politics-Job Cult.” Macbeth just gives you a name, but Monarchist-Murderer Marriage scans in a heartbeat. In fact, forget fiction. Call me Lefty-Clown Warhammer.

Issue One’s art lands closer to today’s tone.

Now that’s worth our sanity. “Where we go one, we go all” still gives me a Disney hyena’s smile, even after joining the national anthem. It sounds like a drunk Power Ranger, or Treebeard explaining death. And the sneer fits better than stoicism. This is a man that has toured Congress, unannounced.

As for Lincoln, we’ll get there. Suffice to say, a global nonce club is burning fives to spark a nuclear war in Ukraine. To defend it they’re deepfaking footage of Senator’s daughters, deeprealing footage of the Secretary of State, and shooting discount Jon Berenthal. But they couldn’t keep the plan off 4chan. There’s no such thing as a spoiler when your story makes negative sense. That’s a QAnon thriller’s magic.

Our hero starts out as an elite Treasury officer. I wanted to riff on that, but each limb of the government needs its own Master Chief. They protect you from disgruntled citizens, unelected cost-cutting, and other limbs’ Master Chiefs.

Roland stumbles into the Plot Against Lincoln during a routine counterfeiter purge.

Something’s amiss. These goons don’t have a cartoon accent or gang tattoos. They look like Real Americans. Before Roland can beat answers out of this nerd, the conspiracy does its thing.

At a glance, Roland doesn’t have much character or motive. I think this scene’s the key. It hurts to be excluded, and Roland’s the only Treasury Master Chief left out of this conspiracy. That’s rotten. So while this looks like a story about mixing PTSD with InfoWars, it’s really about workplace bullying.

Roland gets kicked upstairs to the Secret Service, so that the Secret Masters can manipulate currency in peace. He escorts the Secretary of State, a caricature of sloth that seeks death. The Secretary stops just short of painting Bullseye’s logo on his own forehead. His bosses in the Shadow Government are sick of him too: they oblige. Ethnics besiege the odd couple:

They’re not very good at it.

Roland–the real target, in case you’re new to this–slips away after letting a cabinet member die. He wanders Peru for a few pointless pages, until the plot tracks him down.

You decide if this is a compliment, insult, or gas leak, but the counter-conspiracy has a wonderful voice. It vibrates between The Matrix and a child learning to text. I think it’s meant to imply a full team, but Roland just looks even more schizophrenic.

Any guesses? They sound like a Ted to me. Or maybe a Lee.

Comics are God’s perfect medium, and I curse my worthless thumbs every day. Films need millions to hit like this dumbass panel. Novels need revision, and I’ve got shit to do. But Arktoons has, with negative talent, effort, or resources, spun gold.

Q is real and speaks in greentext. We don’t deserve comics.

Roland embarks on a magical, Q-directed journey. It’s the satire of a generation, and dead-serious. If you did this with dick jokes, they’d call you a geniu–let me write that down. Anyway, Roland’s still skeptical of the magic voice telling him to kill. Smart guy.

Smart-ish. Calvin tells him he has cancer, and Roland’s all-in on being Q’s one-man hit squad. I might need two old men to convince me, but I’m a traitor.

Chuck faces the classic imperial problem: he wants an underdog story, but needs his heroes to be invincible monuments to tradition. He picks the best option: ignoring it. Roland’s got caricatures of soy culture to choke out, starting with Hollywood. I told you, there’s a full-blown picaresque hiding in here. Also known as a Eurotrip.

He’s after a Weinstein. Well, more of an Epstein in the details, but Alt-Hero Q paints broadly. Chuck thinks post-Zaslav CNN is a communist newsletter. Comicsgate (exactly what it sounds like) let him escape the cage of acclaim and profit to be a Stonetoss knockoff’s hypeman.

Good one.

Roland’s War Journal narration adds a lot to the weirdness: think noir monologues by someone banned from SomethingAwful. It’s hard to take seriously, even when reality bends to make him right. Roland finds Rip in pervert uniform, planning perversions with other perverts on Pervert Zoom.

That’s why I blur my background. Patriots love flashing steel during serious calls. Try arguing against burying students in San Miguel while Jason Bourne flails behind you. You might as well buy their plane tickets yourself.

In an anti-twist, Roland learns the senator’s up to the usual. QAnon has a short list of themes. Child predators should’ve been in play by page four. Chuck’s creative pride might ask for a slow burn, but this cult was born on 4chan. A virtual babysitter for kids without the attention span for YTMND. Who then never left. Alt-Hero Q needs to move fast or promise them love.

Now, you can make a great action about anything. But work aiming for light thrills keeps trying to take on human trafficking, and it’s a death sentence. Once you pick up that topic, the work is grim, stupid, or both. After this page, I’m not thinking about Roland’s cool scowl or Q’s genius access to the script. Just how much vodka costs in a trade war. It’s like writing dance pop about MS.

Like most nude men with a gun pointed at them, Rip projects total confidence. “Bad Actor” seems premature.

It doesn’t work out.

Finally, with the truth in hand, Roland and Q get bored and go home. The Freemasons kill Rip themselves, per Sith HR policy. The point wasn’t for our hero to prevent or learn anything, just for us to see Hollyweird and the Demonrats hand-in-hand, buying Christian children in bulk. For a nominal spy/superhero/readable story, a remarkable amount of Alt-Hero Q treads water. I’m watching a slow-motion rally.

While the threat to godly youth is solved, neighbor-fearing adults remain in danger. Q air-mails Roland east to defend the real heroes: Tea Party congressmen. The Illuminated Ones have targeted Rep. Hammond Wyler, who takes over the book. Honestly, I get it: Roland’s character is a quipping robot, whereas Wyler can rant about the Deep State in character. Which is how we meet him:

The gammon is strong with this one. For once, there’s a reason: a nuke’s gone missing, and the government’s treating it like our health or groundwater. Standard action problem, but Wyler has passion. And yells.

I see how he takes Roland’s job, the guy’s slow on the upkeep. With the patience of a 4chan scammer, Q spells out that the rage monster screaming about unseen enemies is on their side.

Q is, far and away, my favorite character here. Maybe anywhere. Each word makes me smile. I suspect it’s Chuck’s talent fighting the rest of his soul for control.

Galileo’s cult returns fire. No, really, they ambush Wyler’s church:

Is that the negative world from the op-eds? If so, fair play. Anything less would be lunatic paranoia. But weekly Illuminati spree-killers warrant a constant defensive crouch. I apologize on behalf of the hellbound community.

Our alt-hero should probably do something. You know, if he has a minute. Roland seems to like doomscrolling with Q.

Impressive rescue, if Roland didn’t see him in the parking lot four pages ago.

Again, it’s very important scrolling.

Alright, a few dozen people died for no reason. Roland’s superpower is his cell phone, and he can barely use it. His only contact’s an imageboard poet running out of synonyms for “pedophile.” Are the Lizardmen hiring? Because I’m ready to join the winning team.

…Q’s winning team.

Maybe you’re curious about the Q-powered satellite network. I certainly was. That curiosity pulled me through the family drama of Congressman Wyler. The Wyler Show gets every page I would give to the origin and aftermath of a 4chan satellite network. When this came out, that would’ve threatened everyone. Especially children.

First, Wyler thanks Roland for fucking nothing. He also asks what’s up with Q, the enemy, or anything that’s happened so far. I hope Roland knows, because after reading this twice I’ve got nothing. I could recap War & Peace with less confusion, less words, and less tragedy.

See what posting does to your writing? I’m deleting everything. I already was, but this helps. “Patriots protect patriots” belongs on an unsold boardwalk tank top. Or a top-selling boardwalk tank top. Chuck could retire off this page.

God, I should’ve stuck with the Lizardmen. It’s not too late, is it? How do cabals feel about mockery and betrayal? I hope they’ve got thicker skin than Rocco’s whiner.

For Wyler’s trouble, the Deep State unleashes its fiercest weapon: beltway milfs.

No sale. Meeting Roland immunized Wyler to cryptic bullshit. The Deep State unleashes its second fiercest weapon: deepfakes.

The tireless congressman persists. Pretty easy, when you’re not the target. His offscreen daughter’s less lucky:

I think Chuck felt me on the child porn being a bit dark. To lighten the mood, Wyler’s arc includes his daughter’s exploitation, overdose, and death. Which, come to think of it, is child porn again. This comic is James Bond’s Phone vs. Child Porn.

As for MJ12’s strategy, go fucking figure. They’ve already fired full-auto rips at Wyler and his family. A PornGPT film isn’t escalation. I haven’t run a global conspiracy since undergrad, but the basics are universal. The order of operations is bribery, then bullying, then murder.

All this generates enough man angst for Wyler to beat the MJ12 sales rep to death. Chuck’s a procrastinator: all the femicide’s crammed into the tail end of Alt-Hero Q. ComicsGate titles normally spread that flavor out, like paprika.

It goes on for a bit.

That’s probably enough of that.

Meanwhile, back in the title plot, Roland ninjas on mercenaries in Ukraine.

Sorry Wyler. “Patriots protect patriots” doesn’t even make it to the boardwalk. You’re just there to suffer while Roland practices mall karate and delivers “both sides” lectures. His cryptic GPS assistant insists.

Remember all that money? And the nuke? Against all odds, both bricks land. Chuck’s efficiently plotted a plot by idiots. The enemies of Q need the nuke to blow up the money. Lighter fluid is for povvos, they want to see mushroom clouds. Our friend Q explains it more directly and insanely than I can. It involves the nuclear deal, so unfreeze your “Thanks Obama” macros:

I’m not sure Chuck knows what Q is. Fair, since there’s nothing to know. A sidekick asks Roland anyway:

What’s “Q is us” mean? Fine question. I don’t know. The shitposters brainwashing your grandma don’t know. Chuck doesn’t know. Chuck doesn’t even know who the villains are. In fact, they’re even vaguer:

She doesn’t know! She’s evil’s sales rep, and she doesn’t have a fucking answer! Roland’s whole arc, from Treasury cop to shooting a nuke, is the story of no one fighting no one. But he does shoot at a nuke to disarm it. That page is legit. The last, dying scream of Chuck’s talent before his next Arkhaven production.

I know it looks stupid. It is, by intent. After bashing my brain against the rest of this comic, I welcome that. I’m not sure what it’s doing in the same story as all the child porn, but life’s like that sometimes.

There’s a way to have fun with the rest. It’s the simplest patch in the world. An easy upgrade from F+ to C-. You don’t have to spend a second in Photoshop, or even Word. Chuck can thank me later, or at least get clever with the slurs.

Every Q line? Imaginary. Roland’s out of his fucking head, and on a delusional rampage from Washington to Kyiv. “Patriot confirmed” isn’t one sane human talking to another. But it’s definitely a history-defining nutcase talking to himself.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: ObsoL33T, the only confirmed patriot we trust.