Praise Turtle-Boy, Countdown has Counted Down

Confusion abounds as I attempt to logic out--yet again--this week's comics. As anyone who is literate and steeped up to their ankle in the DCU can notice, everything is currently a cluster fuck in regards to where characters are, what they're actually doing and what is really going on. This isn't a big shocker and complaining about it at this point, while gratifying, won't actually solve anything. I will say that I shed a tear on this issue and am considering framing the final page in a nice shadowbox with the phrase, "Never Again".

It'd be nice if this never, ever, ever happened again. Didio, make a note.

Countdown: Firstly and most importantly, what the hell was going on with Donna's hair? Kyle, Ray, Donna and Ambush Bug elected themselves as Super Monitors in a move that wasn't as nearly as impressive or intimidating as they'd like you to believe. (pssst, Kyle, the OA need you, PHONE HOME.) Jimmy isn't a turtle anymore. Black Adam is still my personal Asshole Hero and had the best line in the last whole-buncha-issues.

"As I normally find beating children distasteful, I'll ignore you. Farewell, Mary."

Well played, sir. Mary Marvel = annoying plot device of a woman, though at least this week her skirt doesn't look like a cupcake. The ruffles, though, are completely out of control and I want the number to her seamstress.

Best part, aside from Black Adam Super Sexiness, was poor Ray's apartment being invaded by the mopey, lonely heroes. Pssst, guys, I'm sure there's something happening SOMEWHERE you could busy yourselves with.

The OMAC was cool--especially the Mohawk. Super sexy, even if his feet do look like they can be unattached/reattached at will. And Jason Todd making his way back into Gotham where he belongs makes me very, very, very happy. As does the prospect of Morrison writing him sometime soon and all you naysayers can go eat a dirty sock.

All in all, I'm proud/shamed/SHAMED to say I made it through all 52 issues. And now I feel like I have a hangover. I'm not exactly sure what happened. Or what the point was. Or why. Or . . . anything, actually. I actually feel like I'm in my late teens/early twenties again, half-drunk at six in the morning and blindly trying to find my panties in some guy's apartment so I can make my happy post-sex getaway as the memories swim to the alcohol-soaked surface. Thanks, DC.

If anyone can actually succinctly condense the important parts of this series for me, I'd really, really appreciate it.

Countdown was an awesome idea that grew way too big for its britches and tried to do too much without the support of surrounding monthlys. In a perfect world, we could all afford every comic book we wanted, so in that perfect world, Countdown would have had the support of surrounding main titles like Batman, Superman, Green Lantern and so on as well as whatever tie-in minis DC wanted to introduce. (Also in this perfect world, every character--especially female--are written astonishingly consistently and well, art is always awesome and Bruce 'fesses up to his fetish for young spry things in kid boots and there's a lot more naughty Kal-El because hawwwt). Because that's exactly what Countdown needed to have succeeded really well. Think of the surrounding monthlys as a Super Bra and Countdown as a DDD attempting to sprint through a crowded park. Not pretty.

Really though, if DC could've pulled that off, this would've been an astonishing series. It would've had consistency forced upon it, it would've had more interest drummed into it, it would've . . .

Woulda-coulda-shoulda.

Congratulations, though, DC, for making it through to the end. That's something. And don't worry, all you artists and writers that were involved in it: I won't hold it against you this time.