Set to move into the Amazonian apartments owned by Wonder Woman, Supergirl -- cousin of Metropolis' guardian, Superman -- has now found herself looking for a new room-mate. Her preference is to share the flat with a single white female, but will consider other applicants should they prove to be suitable.

This position follows on the news that her would be flat-mate, Wonder Woman is finally set to star in her big screen debut with Joss "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" Whedon on as director and writer of the project.

With the casting set to start in earnest any week now, WW has already packed up and moved closer to the filming location in order to ease any conflicts should they arise on the pre-production set. No word yet on firm casting details.

Rejected contestants from The X Factor as well as patrons of My Restaurant Rules need not apply.

 

With teenage fed riots in the streets of Macquarie Fields simmering down their boil, the youth cry out for a release. Pent up is their frustration at all things left just outside their reach. Their wasting days gone faster than the speeding cars down the flat track.

Recent new findings as to the cause of death of the teenage Egyptian emperor, King Tutankhamun, only highlights the astounding pace and achievements facing today's teenagers. With sports stars shining bright and actors getting younger than the popcorn, their chances at the high life flicker as the days pass on by.

"Though twilight and red ruin falls on Camelot, the Knights of the Broken Table stand ready to battle the forces of the Beyond. Little do they realize that the only one within their spent and bloodied ranks who can save what remains of their world is 16-year-old Sir Justin, a teenaged warrior who, with his winged horse Victory, finds himself thrust into the maddening world of the 21st century to save the future of all mankind! And the best place to start the battle? Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, of course!"

Bedlam rains down the city streets as reports of a mass hallucination flood the drain washes. Bystanders and hapless witnesses report sightings of a winged horse charging down the main road, a teenager brandishing a sword keeping best to hold on the rampaging stead. Whispering mushrooms suspect that he may be leading a charge to bring back the children of the streets as rulers. A notion spurred on by the aforementioned reminder of a dead Egyptian.

 

Lex Luthor, one of the most powerful men in Metropolis, is fuming. Again. Luthor, while making a leisurely walking pace toward a fixed camera, was disrupted as the focus of the lens was taken over by the red, blue and yellow of Superman. Particularly taken aback by the massive inclusion of the alien's arm, Luthor was heard to curse a string of obscenities drowned out by the racket of hair pulling from the director of photography.

Taking yet another chance to steal the spotlight, the last son of Krypton once again foiled the plans of the well-to-do-what-exactly billionaire. On set reports confirm that the "follicularly-challenged" businessman was at the time delivering the opening monologue to an examination of Superman.

The appearance of Superman on Luthor's photo location may serve as deflection and distraction over an ever-running court case. At stake and issue -- with a side of onions and fries -- is the party conflict over who will determine Sunday visitation rights. As the Siegel and DC battle wages on, Superman's adventures will continue to be highlighted in the many, many avenues available.

 

War in Iraq. Commercial televison. Grant Morrison. "Mystic forces are on hand," proffered one local questioned on a street corner. "We were just coming out of the solarium when these people started running all over the street," says his goggled and well-tanned companion.

As the new Grant Morrison monster project -- a project of monstrous proportions and not of monstrous inclinations (bar one actual monster in the mix) -- Seven Soldiers starts to make DC universe waves this week, people are beginning to question the timing of events surrounding its release.

Two events in particular sparked such questioning of the world and the pinkus mucous we live in. Earlier this week, commercial network Channel Seven celebrated a win in the ratings. A long time coming and cautiously unexpected on their part. Past surveys often showing the ribbon laced network to cling desperately onto the third spot behind Nine and Ten respectively.

As the bubbles on the cask wine settled down, Prime Minister John Howard revealed news harder to swallow than a shredded golf ball. That the government had declared a rejuventation of troops into the never-ending war in Iraq. Australian forces would be staying on and keeping the peace with their peices that much longer.

(Incidentally it was recently announced at the Joss Whedon panel of Wonder Con 2005 that both he and artist John Cassaday would be staying on for a further 12 issues of Astonishing X-Men.)

With both the mark of Seven and the soldiers making the national press, their connection is most likely as a result of coincidental overlap or a stark misreading of headlines fed through a shredder as authorities bear down, cuffs and court orders in hand. "These marketing people have taken it to another level," remarked a businessman clutching a one kilo tub of yoghurt. "It makes the brain spasm, doesn't it?"

As the tag line for the new DC series of miniseries warns: "The end of history is on its way, and nothing will survive the catastrophe..."

 

Crime fighting vigilante, Batman, has come out against claims that he has been dealing himself a volatile cocktail of experimental drugs. Accusations levelled against the Gothamite charge him with the kind of wearily suspicious eye the media throw upon non-Australian swimmers.

The Caped Crusader was fired up against the press conference waiting and watching several metres underneath a rocky gargoyle. "The accusations are damned preposterous," said the costumed hood. "I have never taken a performance alluding substance in my entire career as a crime fighter with a fixation on death."

Photos and images of Batman circulating the internet show rippling muscles on top of muscles atop of other muscles. With a massively disproportionate head compared to the mounds of musculature on his person, several notions on the reason have been bandied about. One theory doing the most leg work is that the rather garishly grotesque figure is another weapon against crime in the Dark Knight's utility belt which has for some time now been without shark repellent.

 

Twaddling the printers and hitting the memory button to flash back, the battle continues between the two giants, DC and Marvel. At such Marvel induced times of rush releasing trades before or one the last issue of a mini-series or arc, questioning the single issue status itself, there was an eyebrow in the air as news hit the rounds on reprints.

The DC mini-series Identity Crisis is set to walk another round on the bases one last time. Reprinting for one more show, the issues to each part of the seven-part parter will stay on shelves for until they are no more. Fans and the curious sitting back over on the sidelines watched as the finale opened itself and let out the secrets. Now the question is whether or not the flavour will hold on a repeat or if it will turn like that jug of milk left in the spa from last week that was over from the night's shopping.

Days later, the Vertigo imprint of DC announce a taster pack of their long percolating library of titles such as Transmetropolitan and Swamp Thing. Ranking high in terms of what it means to eat an array of rice crackers dipped in all sorts of food colouring, the intent is to build an interest not unlike the plate of fudge squares and bacon bits in the supermarket.

With fresh and as-yet-to-hit-the-shelf reprints of late rocketing like a stick of cheese up that sleepy room-mate's nose, the game looks set to roll over. Hiccoughs that had been signalling a death of current monthlies and ancient olds doing nothing to make sense in a fashion catwalk.

(If there is sense to be made, it isn't here.)

 

 

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