Comic Review: The Bomb

The  Bomb – Steve Mannion
 
 The term ‘guilty pleasure’ has become both overused and a defensive shield for enjoying music, games, tv, etc, that others might possibly snub their noses at:
 
Sublime tribute band? Guilty pleasure.
Straight to DVD movies with poor CGI monsters? Guilty Pleasure.
Any Stephen King book in the last 20 years? Guilty Pleasure.
 
The time has arrived ladies and gentlemen to cast aside the moniker of Guilty Pleasure, grab your privates, raise your middle finger, and scream in a faux British accent, “Sod off! I fekkin’ love this!” Have pride in your opinions and trust in your taste.
 
The Bomb is just such a beast. Essentially, the book is about a vamped -up pugilistic roller skating Bettie and Veronica imagined by Big Daddy Ed Roth, Mad Peck, Sam Keith, or  John Kricfalus running around fighting zombies, Nazi-doctors, and mindless mutant thugs who are, as per usual attempting to ruin the collective lives of the Cleavers.  
 
Mannion’s world is brimming with page girl vixens and ham-fisted violence. He makes dutch-oven jokes and moose antlers seem sexy and fun. Mannion’s dialogue is reminiscent of Bazooka Joe comics with the same rim-shot punchlines. What this collection lacks in cohesion and plot (it reads like years of restarted mini-comics pasted together) it makes up for in the beauty and whimsical nature of the art. Each panel is a toss back to pre-comic code excellence without feeling cliché or forced. It is clear Mannion loves his work.
 
The book has, for me, destroyed the concept of Guilty Pleasure. I feel no guilt what-so-ever in stating that despite the lack of significant cohesion of the book, I am ready to shell out more money for Mannion’s current book Fearless Dawn.

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