While present-day Marvel finds itself beginning to tie up their uber-story Dark Reign with this week's Dark Reign: The List - Wolverine and Dark Reign: The List - Punisher, the future presents itself in the form of the Wolverine: Old Man Logan hardcover collection, which can best be described as "What if Mad Max met The Unforgiven, only it was about Wolverine and took place in the future and guest-starred lots of over the top parodies of other Marvel characters as their own 'descendants'?" A particularly guilty pleasure, perhaps, but definitely one that hits a particular target.

Similarly on the "If you like this kind of thing, you'll love this," DC's Ambush Bug: Year None finally finishes its six-issue run with this week's seventh issue - which replaces the much-delayed and rumored-to-be-so-controversial-it-was-killed-by-editorial sixth, originally due out months ago... and that explanation is, oddly enough, one of the best examples of the sense of humor required to enjoy Keith Giffen's weird affectionate superhero parody. More straight-ahead DC thrills can be found in Arkham Reborn - which begins the reconstruction of Batman's favorite lunatic asylum, destroyed after Bruce Wayne died/went time-traveling involuntarily - and World's Finest, which brings together characters from Superman and Batman's supporting casts to solve crimes and compare sales figures.

Elsewhere, Dark Horse has a special issue of the Hellboy spinoff Abe Sapien, as part of its new initiative to get readers to try out new series and franchises (or comics, in the first place; the upcoming Doctor Horrible special is likely to entice some newbies into the fold, I think.)

And those who like that kind of thing are highly recommended to also pick up SLG's Pinnochio: Vampire Slayer graphic novel, wherein Gepetto's little boy realizes that life without cutting your nose off to stake the undead with just isn't worth wishing for. Yes, it's as odd and wonderful as that sounds.

Those looking for nostalgic thrills updated for a new cynical age could do a lot worse than the collection of GI Joe: Cobra, the mini-series I raved about recently (It really is very good.) And for those looking for a beautifully illustrated, touchingly gentle piece of storytelling, the hardcover collection of P. Craig Russell's adaptation of The Sandman: The Dream Hunters can't be beaten; I'd even argue that it's better than Gaiman's prose original.

Just like every week, the complete list of comics reaching comic stores tomorrow can be found here, and your local comic store can be found here. And, if you happen to have some spare change left in your pocket once you've picked up everything you're looking for...? Grab a copy of Boom!'s Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep #5; I've got a text piece about Philip K. Dick in the back, and I need all the help I can get, coming after Warren Ellis, Matt Fraction, Rockne S. O'Bannon and Ed Brubaker's efforts...

Galaxy Quest: Granted, the worst thing that happened at the actual convention celebrating the long-cancelled (and nonexistent) TV show Galaxy Quest was its star getting wasted and telling off a fan. But a long ways away, the Thermians were experiencing the minor crisis of genocidal war. For them, the convention is a bit of a salvation, as it puts them in touch with the actor they mistakenly believe to be the heroic Capitain Peter Taggart.

Futurama "Where No Fan Has Gone Before": Yes, the slaughter of all Star Trek fans (whose conventions had evolved into religious ceremonies) was pretty horrible, but the cast of the original Star Trek series seemed more miffed by the actions of noncorporeal fanboy Melllvar, who stages the most annoying Star Trek convention ever, and forces them to battle the crew of Planet Express.

Family Guy "Not All Dogs Go to Heaven": After watching the cast of Star Trek: The Next Generation field a litany of irrelevant fan questions, a frustrated Stewie builds a transporter and kidnaps the actors to stage his own personal Star Trek convention (taking a page, it seems, from Futurama's Melllvar). And, in the spirit of the show, he kills off Denise Crosby early on.

Family Guy's Stewie meets Star Trek The Next Generation from Work Avoidance on Vimeo.

CSI "A Space Oddity" and "Fur and Loathing": Some fans will take drastic measures to keep their favorite shows from getting remade. In "A Space Oddity," a filmmaker looking to remake the cult TV show Astro Quest turns up murdered. As if that weren't a sufficiently obvious reference to Battlestar Galactica, Grace Park, Kate Vernon, Rekha Sharma, and Ron D. Moore all have cameos.

Perhaps more notorious is the episode "Fur and Loathing," where a dead murder victim is found wearing a raccoon fursuit, leading the CSI team to a furry convention. But it's portrayed as less a fan convention than an opportunity for costumed attendees to "yiff" one another.

Mr. Monk in Outer Space by Lee Goldberg: How do you get away with murdering a science fiction creator? Dress as one of the show's most popular characters and escape into the convention. That's the set-up for the fifth Monk novel, where Monk must investigate the creator of the fictional scifi drama Beyond Earth, and rely on his agoraphobic fanboy brother to help identify the killer.

Bones "The Princess and the Pear": When a booth babe from a science fiction and fantasy convention is found decomposing in a nearby sewer pipe, her fellow convention-goers seem less concerned for her well-being than for the fate of a sword she owned, a prop from an early fantasy film. The otherwise geeky team is out of their element here, relying on gloomy intern Colin Fisher and wunderkind psychologist Lance Sweets (who, amusingly enough, dons a redshirt Star Trek uniform) to infiltrate the con.

Numb3rs "Graphic": Admittedly, this episode of Numb3rs has occupies a soft spot in my heart, and not for the theft-of-priceless-comic-book-ends-in-murder primary plotline. It's because in addition to Numb3rs star David "Mr. Universe" Krumholt, it features Wil Wheaton as a douchebag collector.

Bimbos of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb: Sharyn McCrumb's novel is an object lesson for all crotchety creators. Appin Dungannon is a fantasy author whose temper is so legendary that his fans attend conventions just to watch him throw furniture. When the small-statured author winds up dead, a hard science fiction author (implausibly named James O. Mega) has to figure out if one of Dungannon's fans took his insults to heart.

Deep Secret by Diana Wynne Jones: Jones' novel brings the entire multiverse down on an unsuspecting scifi and fantasy convention. Rupert is a Magid, a sort of magical lobbyist aiming to make Earth more magic-friendly. When his mentor dies, Rupert must take on an apprentice, and he gathers all the likely candidates at science fiction convention. Naturally, when things go awry, all multiverse breaks loose, leaving the convention vulnerable to rampant centaurs and assassins.

Atomic Betty "Cosmic Comicon": Conventions just wouldn't be the same without the occasional supervillain attack. When Atomic Betty's pal Noah publishes Atomic Chick a comic book based on her adventures, Dr. Cerebral becomes confused by a fan cosplaying "Dr. Brainy," and launches an attack on the convention. But, fortunately, a group of cosplayers portraying Atomic Chick make short work of him.

Link:

Sandman "The Doll's House": The "cereal convention" described in the second arc of Neil Gaiman's epic comic series isn't precisely a fan convention, but it's too weird and disturbing to ignore. Like any other group of professionals, serial killers apparently need to meet, hold panels, and swap trade secrets. But woe unto any tourist who inadvertently wanders into panels titled, "Women in Serial Killing" or "There is No Sanity Clause."

Power Rangers: Dino Thunder "Drawn into Danger": Who knew that Artists' Alley could be weaponized? The Power Rangers run into typical trouble at a comic convention, where their nemesis/high school principal hands a famous comic book artist a magical pen that traps the Rangers in a superpowered battle with the latest monster of the week, Fridgia.

Roswell "The Convention": It's no surprise that the city of Roswell, New Mexico, would attract the occasional alien enthusiast convention. And, given that Jonathan Frakes numbers among Roswell's executive producers, it's hardly shocking that Commander Riker would make a guest appearance. What couldn't be anticipated is the bloodshed that ensues when a conspiracy theorist meets up with an actual alien.

The Simpsons "Mayored to the Mob": Generally, the worst thing to hit Springfield fan conventions is the Comic Book Guy and his perpetually superior attitude. But during one ""Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con," a riot sparks, threatening to kill Star Wars actor Mark Hamill. And in, a first for celebrity guest stars on The Simpsons, Hamill finds Homer Jay Simpson is his only hope.

Barry Allen, the Flash of the Silver Age of comic books and generally considered the most iconic version of the character, gave his life in 1985's Crisis on Infinite Earths. His return in last year's Final Crisis was just the latest and biggest in a recent spate of resurrections from both DC and Marvel that have restored long dead characters like Captain America's sidekick Bucky Barnes and the second Robin, Jason Todd. (Really makes a mockery of the old saying, "Nobody stays dead in comics except Bucky, Jason Todd, and Uncle Ben." Well, at least Uncle Ben is still dead. Unless you count that alternate reality version from a few years ago. Which I won't.)

First of all, I really should mention the four most notable dead comic book characters: Captain America, the Wasp, the Martian Manhunter, and Aquaman. (And no, I'm not forgetting Batman. If I understood anything that happened in Final Crisis – and that's a pretty big if – it's that Batman isn't really dead.) It's a fair bet that all four of these characters will be revived eventually, despite Marvel editor-in-chief Joe Quesada's claims that death is now a more permanent thing on Earth-616. Oh, and there's always Jean Grey, but considering she's already on her fourteenth death, it's probably a reasonable conclusion that she'll be back soon enough. But none of these characters have been gone more than five years – what about some heroes and villains who have been gone long enough for us to miss, maybe even to forget? Let's consider only those who died in that most ancient time known only as…the twentieth century.

Since writer Geoff Johns has already promised all four Flashes will figure prominently in The Flash: Rebirth, perhaps he could find time to bring back Johnny Quick as well, who merged with the Speed Force way back in 1996. One of the three Golden Age speedsters (along with the original Flash and Max Mercury, who met a similar fate in 2002), Johnny got his powers from reciting the mathematical formula "3X2(9YZ)4A." Since his death, his daughter Jesse has kept up the family business as Liberty Belle, but if there's one thing we all could use more of, it's geriatric speedsters.

Speaking of which, there's a bunch of Justice Society old-timers who deserve a comeback. To be sure, some of them, such as original Starman Ted Knight and original Sandman Wesley Dodds, lived full lives that were brought to fitting conclusions, and are in no need of resurrections. Specifically, the heroes lost in 1994's ill-fated Zero Hour event – the original Atom, Dr. Mid-Nite, and Hourman – deserve a reprieve, if only because they surely deserve a more better end than Zero Hour. Hourman has actually already been saved following a switcheroo with an android duplicate from the 853rd century (long story), but that still leaves Al Pratt and Charles McNider. To be honest, there probably isn't much use for a second Dr. Mid-Nite, but the original Atom would fill a much-needed niche – namely, the short dude who works out a lot, doesn't take crap from anybody, and packs a little something called an "atomic-punch", which is like a regular punch except it's radioactive. Frankly, I'm not sure how the DC Universe has managed without him.

It's kind of strange to think that Betty Ross has been the romantic lead in not one but two failed Hulk movies, and yet she's been dead since 1998, when the Abomination poisoned her with gamma radiation. Of course, if either Ang Lee's Hulk or last year's The Incredible Hulk had been a smash hit, there's a pretty decent chance Betty would already be back among the living. The Hulk's story has always been defined by personal tragedy, so it makes sense the deaths of his loved ones tend to be more permanent than most, but isn't it about time something finally goes Bruce Banner's way?

I doubt anyone other than me is clamoring for the return of B'wana Beast, who died in a 1992 issue of Animal Man. Technically speaking, his companion, the gorilla Djuba, is also in need of resurrecting (the fact that his sidekick is a gorilla is a key reason why I think he needs bringing back to life). Although his identity as a white superhero representing Africa is admittedly troublesome – something Grant Morrison acknowledged when he used the character in Animal Man – that shouldn't necessarily take away from the awesomeness of his powers, which include the ability to combine two different animals into a chimera that he can then control. And I'll admit it – my love of B'wana Beast may have something to do with this episode of Justice League Unlimited.

When you're an X-Man, death isn't so much a risk as it is a rite of passage. At this point, it would probably be quicker to name the X-Men who haven't miraculously come back to life at one point or another. Which makes it all the more surprising that neither Cypher, who took a bullet for his beloved Wolfsbane in 1988, and Synch, who died saving children from a bomb in 2000, have yet to return from the great mutant beyond. To be fair, the cybernetic alien Warlock does retain all of Cypher's memories and has even shown traces of his personality on occasion, but I'm pretty sure the original Cypher would argue that's not quite the same thing as being, well, alive. And for a character whose power was copying the abilities of other mutants, you'd really think Synch would have been able to pick up from his fellow heroes what Magneto has called a "survive anything" power.

The first major death of an active superhero was probably the Kree warrior Mar-Vell, known for copyright-protecting reasons as Captain Marvel, who died of cancer way back in 1982. At one point, it looked as though he had been given a semi-reprieve, plucked from a point in the time stream before he became ill and brought forward to the modern day. Unfortunately, this Captain Marvel turned out to be a Skrull sleeper agent, but that does leave the path clear for a proper return by the real Mar-Vell at a later date. Of all the heroes who died in the eighties, he is by far the biggest name that hasn't yet returned.

Thought not nearly as famous, it sure would be nice to bring back Sylvester Pemberton, The Star-Spangled Kid (or Skyman, depending on which you prefer). Killed in 1988, Pemberton is notable if only because no one ever has anything bad to say about him. He's one of the most universally missed superheroes, and if both Jay Garrick and Alan Scott say he didn't deserve to die, that's more than enough for me to say he should return.

A rather more controversial case is Vigilante, specifically the Adrian Chase version of the character. Essentially DC's answer to the Punisher, this New York district attorney turned amoral crimefighter took his own life in 1988 when he could no longer handle the guilt he felt for his actions. Adrian Chase went so far over the edge that he occasionally made Rorschach look sane by comparison, going so far as killing innocent cops who just happened to be in his way. There aren't too many people in the DC Universe who miss Chase – the current claimant to the mantle recently dismissed him as a "fool" – but if there was ever a good man who was warped by a series of increasingly bad decisions and tragic twists of fate, then this is it. He's at least as deserving of a second chance as Jason Todd.

Although he briefly had to step in for Thor during one of Loki's mindbending pranks, Eric Masterson carved out his own identity as Thunderstrike before his death in 1995. Betrayed by his lover and slowly poisoned by the curse of the Bloodaxe, Masterson was forced to go on a murderous rampage before he ultimately sacrificed himself, leaving behind his young son Kevin. I'm having a hard time imagining a set of circumstances more tragically deserving of a return.

Many Green Lanterns have died in the line of duty, as is only to be expected in an intergalactic police force. Some of the most notable include Katma Tui, Tomar-Re, and Ch'p (who I'm including because he was a talking chipmunk with a power ring, which still might be the most awesome thing in the history of comics), who have since been more or less replaced by Soranik Natu, Tomar-Tu, and B'dg. We also shouldn't forget Abin Sur, whose death was what began the entire Green Lantern mythos in the first place (well, other than the Alan Scott part). Still, I wouldn't expect to see any of these dead Lanterns again anytime soon. It's not as though there are any huge upcoming events where the dead will rise and fight the living in an epic battle that will span galaxies. Wait a second…

But maybe you're the type who likes resurrections to be impossibly controversial. Well, try these last two on for size…

If one of the big reasons behind both Green Lantern: Rebirth and The Flash: Rebirth was to restore the most iconic versions of beloved superheroes to their proper place in the DC Universe, then it's high time we had The Sandman: Rebirth. It's been a good twelve years since the Dream of the Endless that we all know and love was killed, leading to his replacement by Daniel Hall. Sure, it would serve no clear dramatic purpose and almost certainly destroy everything Neil Gaiman was trying to do with his Sandman series, and, sure, the whole concept doesn't really make sense, considering Dream is meant to be endless, so it was only one aspect of Dream that was killed, but still…I bet the fight scenes would be pretty cool. And isn't that really the most important thing?

The last couple years of Spider-Man comics have been spent desperately trying to reset Peter Parker to his most iconic version, including erasing his marriage to Mary Jane and the public's knowledge of his secret identity as well as reverting his powers back to their traditional levels. After a lot of upheaval and one very notorious deal with the devil, Peter Parker is back where everyone remembers him being…so isn't it about time we resurrect his clone Ben Reilly, the Scarlet Spider? What better way to say Spider-Man is back and firing on all cylinders than to revisit the Clone Saga? Aren't there so many questions from that storyline that still desperately need answering?

OK, I'll admit it – even I have my limits when it comes to comic book resurrection. But how about it? What long dead characters would you most like to see return from the grave?

(It may also surprise you, especially if you are Neil Gaiman, when I say that the absolutely true story—told here for the first time ever—of how Delight of the Endless became Delirium ties in to this rallying cry, because you may not remember telling anyone that story, least of all me. Relax. All will be revealed.)

Many of us, especially those in the science-fiction community, take it as a given that knowledge is a good thing, and that the more of it we have, the better off we will be. But too much of anything—except for love in the truest sense of the word, and pet cheerleaders—can be dangerous. (And frankly, though it pains me to admit it, even the cheerleaders can be trouble, once you get beyond a single squad.) And of course, this is actually a common theme in SF: the scientist with the God complex, the poor sap marked for death because he knows too much, the experiment gone horribly awry—or gone all too perfectly, with unforeseen consequences. As Delirium’s older brother Destruction, from Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, puts it: “‘Are not light and gross bodies intraconvertible?’ Alas, they are. And from that follows the flames...the big bang. The loud explosions.”

Which is not to say I think we should turn back the clock on scientific progress—first, that would be a futile case to make, and more important, I would miss microwavable burritos too much. Nor do I think that the most earnest plea to the world’s thinkers that they stop and consider what they’re doing before they clone anthrax or build golem-lady toast-butterers would be heeded. But in the personal sphere, too, there can surely be great benefit to not knowing things.

For example, not knowing what the hell three big seniors from another school’s wrestling team were talking about, when they accosted my friend Pat and me at Hardee’s in ninth grade, saved us from a terrific beating, and I don’t think it would have worked if the blank looks on our faces hadn’t been genuine. (It was only after they left and our friend Harleigh returned from getting ketchup that he revealed he’d murmured something pejorative about their sexuality as we’d walked past their table earlier. Jackass.)

And some of you can probably attest to ignorance’s beneficent effect on getting laid. Yes, I’ve missed a couple of chances to sleep with someone because I never caught on, but I bet I’ve closed the deal as many or more times because I just didn’t catch on right away, which kept me from saying too many, uh, “witty” things to demonstrate how “awesome” I was at an early, fragile stage of the game.

And while that kind of authentic ignorance is certainly more pure, I would argue there is good to be had as well from the straight-up willful brand: How many bad internet fights start because even though you’re pretty sure you know the answer, you can’t help but wonder what numbskull thing someone will say if you push them a little bit (and I say this as someone who has started a few of these in his time)? How many hurt feelings—and maybe more important, hours that could be devoted to more productive pursuits—might be saved by simply quashing that desire to know exactly what kind of idiot you’re dealing with?

So this isn’t a call to arms for stupidity—I just want to give ignorance its due. I mean, it can even be fun! As a literary device, ambiguity is to be prized, after all. And even if you don’t want to get as highfalutin as all that, plain old not-knowingness can be pretty great on its own. Speaking for instance, as we were, of Neil Gaiman, there’s the case of the “forgotten god” in American Gods, whose identity I for one hope he never reveals; it’s annoying not to have that resolution, but annoying in the best way possible, not unlike when the cat jumps in your lap while you’re trying to work. Same goes for the aforementioned absolutely true story of how Delight became Delirium...

Which, as you the wiser among of you have probably figured out, I have decided not to reveal after all. It seems apparent to me, on further reflection, that it’s one of those things that’s more fun to be ignorant of, at least for now. As Delirium herself puts it, “Not knowing everything is all that makes it OK, sometimes.” And if you don’t agree, there’s also always bathtub gin. Cheers!

Commenter Moff’s real name is Josh Wimmer, and he can usually be found at scribblescribblescribble.com/blog.

The Skywalkers (Star Wars): The Skywalkers are more or less the gold standard for family dysfunction. Putting aside that twins Luke and Leia have the hots for one another, Papa Vader chopped off Luke’s hand, nearly killed him, and annihilated Leia’s entire home planet. Makes those family dinners pretty awkward.

Adding Han Solo’s DNA to the family tree doesn’t improve matters, as his Force-sensitive offspring Jaina and Jacen just end up battling to the death.

The Connors (Terminator): If it weren’t for all the time-traveling killer robots and the apocalyptic future, Sarah Connor’s treatment of her son John would be considered abuse. She intensely isolates the future leader of humanity’s Resistance against the machines, and encourages in him a level of paranoia, violence, and general criminal behavior that most parents would tend to avoid. And the future John will befriend Kyle and Derek Reese, never revealing to them that they are his father and uncle respectively. And, given that John and Sarah spend so much of their lives running from Terminators, they develop warm fuzzy feelings for a couple of them. A reprogrammed T-800 serves as John’s first father figure and Cameron proves a vital (and confusingly sexy) addition to the Connor clan.

The Ventures (The Venture Bros): Rusty Venture is a walking dysfunction all on his lonesome. Unable to live up to his father’s impossible example, Rusty turned into a pill-popping, underachieving neurotic with a shaky moral center. And it doesn’t help that his brother JJ (who played Abel to Rusty’s Cain in the womb) is successful in the very areas where Rusty fails. Conversely, Rusty treats his own children with less than benign neglect, cloning replacements whenever they are killed (which is often) and leaving their emotional care to the ultra-violent, highly promiscuous spy Brock Samson.

The Cylons (Battlestar Galactica): The Significant Seven models of Cylon are a big, dysfunctional family in their own right, albeit one that pulls out the heavy artillery when a disagreement over the family pets goes to far. But it’s within the individual model lines that the dynamics get particularly screwy. When everyone shares the same face and the same programming, personal identities and relationships tend to get blurred. At least one of the Sharons wants to be Sharon Agathon so badly that she sampled her fellow Eight’s memories and put the moves on her husband. And then there’s this scene:

The Mulder/Spender Families (The X-Files): It’s little surprise that Fox Mulder developed an interest in conspiracies given how much of his upbringing was based on lies. Bill Mulder, the man Mulder believed to be his father, traded Mulder’s sister Samantha for an alliance with a group of alien colonists. As result, Samantha is repeatedly cloned and Mulder develops an obsession with aliens and conspiracies. And no one told Mulder that his biological father is, in fact, the Cigarette Smoking Man, the ruthless conspiracy agent who has antagonized Mulder throughout his FBI career. The CSM has Mulder’s partner Dana Scully abducted, tries to ruin his career, lies to him about his sister’s fate, and generally torments him. Still, that’s nothing compared with the CSM’s treatment of his other son, Mulder’s half brother Jeffrey Spender. The CSM berates Spender for being inferior to Mulder, shoots him, and authorizes his agents to perform horrific and disfiguring experiments on him. It’s all enough to make Mulder’s emotionally distant relationship with Scully, the mother of his own child, seem downright warm and fuzzy.

Mama Ripley and the Alien Hybrids (Alien Resurrection): Ellen Ripley spends three movies ensuring the destruction of as many Alien xenomorphs as she could take a flamethrower to. Then, in the fourth film, her clone gestates and “births” an Alien queen. Tainted by Ripley’s human DNA, the queen develops a womb, letting her give birth to an Alien daughter of her own. Like so many children, the newborn Alien digs grandma a whole lot more than mom, and matricide ensues. Ripley repays her grandchild by getting it sucked out into space, but not before they share a vaguely erotic moment:

The Petrellis (Heroes): The Petrellis are generally marked by three characteristics: they all have superpowers; they all have secret parents, siblings, or offspring; and they are constantly trying to kill one another. Claire shoots her uncle Peter. Peter shoots his brother Nathan. Patriarch Arthur plans to murder his son Nathan. And brothers Peter and Sylar are constantly trying to kill each other. Only matriarch Angela Petrelli (wife of Arthur and apparent mother of Nathan, Peter, and Sylar) stays out of the attempted murder racket, though she’s pulling most of the other family members’ strings.

Just about everybody in Dune: The noble houses of Dune are dysfunctional precisely because they resemble so many of history’s noble families: propagated through inbreeding, filled with members of uncertain parentage, and driven by political marriages so that you can’t help but go to war with your cousin. That many of the series’ characters were conceived as part of the Bene Gesserit’s breeding program helps to further entangle the families. And the spice agony, which causes a person to take on the memories (and sometimes personalities) of all their ancestors, allows a person experience the full spectrum of familial dysfunction without ever leaving their own head.

The Endless (Sandman): Sibling rivalry is bad enough without having siblings who are the immortal embodiments of the world’s greatest forces. Dream gets along fine with his sister Death, but their sibling Desire, in concert with its twin Despair, interferes constantly in his affairs, and takes great pleasure in trying to bring the wrath of the Furies down on Dream’s head. Although generally fond of youngest sister Delirium, the Endless tend to ignore her incoherent babbling until it is far too late. And Destiny quietly watches on, acting only when his great book tells him he will do so. The only sensible one seems to be Destruction, who retired from his position and stays out of family matters.

It may sound like hyperbole to say that The Sandman changed the face of entertainment, and it is, to an extent - but there's no denying that Sandman changed the face of the comic book industry, and that comics are one of the more dominant forces in pop culture these days (Don't believe me? My friends Iron Man and The Dark Knight may be able to convince you). The series also made a star out of writer Neil Gaiman, allowing him to step into the roles of screenwriter and New York Times-bestselling novelist, and also inspired careers for people as disparate as Tori Amos and writer G. Willow Wilson. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here're the five ways in which I think that Sandman changed the worlds we watch, read about and imagine today:

It Brought Mainstream Comics Into The Mainstream Culture. By 1988, American comics were gaining a measure of critical acceptance thanks to the now-near-mythical trifecta of Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' Watchmen and Art Spiegelman's Maus - but it took Gaiman and Sandman to bring together the populism of the former two and the gravity of the latter to create a series that Norman Mailer called "comic strip for intellectuals." Gaiman's creation of a comic that had the pop-cultural cache of coming from the same publishers as Superman and Batman, yet relied more on highbrow myth than knowledge of the history of Krypton, and asked more of its readers than just the ability to tell men in tights apart, unknowingly capitalized on a trend for baby-boomers to look for more depth in the medium of their youth. By following his own interests and obsessions, Gaiman accidentally created a comic that was familiar in format (32 pages, color, monthly), but unfamiliar in the most thrilling way to readers who wanted something more.

It Wasn't About Superheroes. Primarily amongst the ways in which the series was unfamiliar was its lack of superheroes as we'd come to know them. Yes, superheroes appeared in the series on occasion, but the series abandoned the tropes and cliches of what most people considered mainstream comics to be (while, in turn, bringing in and building on a lot of influences from long-forgotten or indie comics), proving to publisher DC Comics that a comic aimed at an adult audience, without a superhero lead, could not only sell, but gain critical acceptance akin to Watchmen or Dark Knight. Without Sandman, there would have been no Vertigo imprint at DC, and series like We3, The Invisibles, 100 Bullets, Y The Last Man, Preacher, Transmetropolitan, User and many, many more would never have seen print.

(There's a side argument to made for the success of Sandman being responsible for American publishers continuing to bring British writers like Mark Millar and Warren Ellis into the industry, and those writers' influence on superheroes being directly responsible for the success of movies like Iron Man and X-Men, but I'm not sure that's one I'm willing to make here. However, it's definitely there if you want it...)
It Took Urban Fantasy Out Of The Genre Ghetto. With his liberal use of sources, Gaiman may not have been breaking all-new ground with his mix of magical realism and myth and the world we know (I am still surprised that Jonathan Carroll never pointed out that the fifth "book" of Sandman, "A Game Of You," is pretty much his own novel Bones Of The Moon with some minor additions), but the high profile nature of the series - especially as it continued, and started garnering praise from Mailer, Stephen King and many others - exposed people to a use of fantasy tropes that avoided elves and goblins - Well, except when it didn't - and integrated it into their lives before television shows like Buffy and The X Files did so on an ever larger scale.

It Reintroduced The Auteur Comicbook Theory. For the first time in mainstream history, when the series creator left a successful ongoing regular book, the book left with him; even Alan Moore's groundbreaking run on Swamp Thing had been followed, the next month, by a new writer. This was, in part, because DC had learned from the mistakes that had driven Moore from the company, and was eager to keep Gaiman around for future projects - and, to that end, had actually granted him a certain amount of say over where and when the characters could be used again in future projects. The lack of a second writer to ruin the series' good name - or, possibly, outshine Gaiman's run on the character - has given the series two particular qualities: Firstly, a definitive ending, and secondly, the knowledge that this story was firmly and distinctively Gaiman's.

(To that end, the new Sandman: The Dream Hunters miniseries that commemorates the series' birthday feels "wrong," in a way, because it's only adapted from a Gaiman story, as opposed to being 100% written by him.)

It Looked Nothing Like Other Comics. Outside of its groundbreaking qualities in terms of stories, it's impossible to ignore what cover artist and designer Dave McKean brought to the series. His covers, whether they were paintings, constructions, early experiments in the use of Photoshop or whatever were as important to the series as Gaiman's writing - and each one changed the perception of what a comic cover could look like even more. Taking influence from fine art and contemporary design, McKean threw out the conventions of what makes a comic book cover (The title character must always be on the cover, the logo must always be in the same place) to create beautiful pieces on a regular basis... and confuse people who thought they knew what comics were supposed to look like.

Marvel Comics, in its questionable yet infinite wisdom, is obviously pushing an Obama line with the release of the first issue of Adam: Legend Of The Blue Marvel - a series about the one black man that can save the world. They've even got a series about a potential McCain victory: Ultimatum (written by now-former Heroes producer Jeph Loeb) about disasters raining down on the Ultimate version of the Marvel Universe. No such political editorializing in their other big books of the week, which include the first in a series of paperbacks collecting Frank Miller and Klaus Janson's run on Daredevil , the oneshot Iron Man: The End, and the first issue of a series teaming up X-Men/Spider-Man.

Not to be outdone, DC are pulling out their big guns for this week as well - and I'm not talking about Superman/Supergirl: Maelstrom (which is, I promise, about an alien who tries to kill Superman to impress a prospective boyfriend. Admit it; that's kind of awesome), Adventure Comics Special Featuring The Guardian or even the completely enjoyable Superman Vs. Brainiac collection of stories from the last seventy-odd years. No, it's the new/old Sandman: The Dream Hunters (which sees P. Craig Russell adapting Neil Gaiman's prose story from ten years ago into comic strip form) and the paperback collection of the much-much-better-than-it-has-any-right-to-be Teen Titans Year One that both need a place on your shelf. The latter, in particular, is astonishingly beautiful and should be owned for the art alone:



But that's not all! Dark Horse unleashes Gigantic's first issue as well as a sumptuous hardcover collection for Dean Motter's Art Deco-inspired Mister X (Again, worth it just for the art; illustrators include Motter, Jaime Hernandez and Dave McKean, amongst many others), and Image are putting out the first volume of Liquid City, an anthology of stories from South-East Asian comic creators (You can find out more about the latter here; preview pages look promising).

(Of course, it's not all good news; the last chapter of Batman RIP? Delayed from tomorrow until November 19th at the earliest, apparently.)

So, when you get too bored waiting for a new leader of the free world to be announced, why not check out the complete list of this week's new comic releases (and then the Comic Shop Locator Service, to find your closest safe haven)? Go in, buy whatever takes your fancy, safe in the knowledge that the Florida recounts will still be going on by the time you leave.