my mom threw mine away

If and when I write a forward for a DEMON collection, I will tell how Jack created that entire comic in–this is not an exaggeration, it’s what was happening at that moment–the time it takes to get a hot turkey sandwich at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant. Asked earlier that day to come up with a macabre hero, Jack went to dinner with his family and friends (I was a friend) and he ordered, then sat there very quietly at the table, figuring out all the essentials of his next comic while he waited for the waitress to deliver his meal.
—  Mark Evanier in the introduction to the collection of Jack Kirby’s OMAC.
I’m devastated. I thought the world of Dwayne and never did enough to remind him of that. Back in the early ‘90s, long after I’d been an editor and had established myself in the industry, I still sent him a long, gushy fan letter one day about how great his work was, and I regret not doing that at least once a year every year since. God, he was a good writer and, more importantly, a good person. Last time I saw him was at Free Comic Book Day at 4 Color Fantasies in Rancho Cucamonga. We made another of our long-standing pledges to “get dinner soon,” and of course we never did because we always assumed there’d be more time later. Let that be your takeaway from today, as it is mine: if there’s someone you admire or respect, someone whose laugh you’d miss if it were suddenly gone, someone who inspires you, pick up the phone right now and let them know. Don’t wait. Time is the enemy of all living things. Use yours well, as Dwayne did his.
—  Mark Waid, remembering Dwayne McDuffie. Sorry if I’m getting overly-sentimental with this, but this is a great quote standing on its own.

“H.P. Lovecraft and the Horror of the Unseen” by Jess Nevins, image by Sean Phillips in the backmatter of Fatale #1. I’m a junkie for this kind of letter column-backmatter stuff, and like Casanova the back pages in all of Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips’ independent work has never failed to educate me. Nevins is what I would call a comics (he’d probably correct me and say “pulp”) scholar. Some of the text: 

H.P. Lovecraft died when he was 47. He only had one year of primary school and never graduated from high school. He lived in poverty all of his adult life. Of the 48 stories and three novel-length works written when he was an adult, only 26 appeared in professional (rather than amateur) magazines during his lifetime. The most attention he ever received from the literary establishment during his lifetime was when the critic Edward J. O'Brien included “The Colour Out of Space” in O'Brien’s influential Best Short Stories anthology.

And yet Lovecraft is, by critical consensus, the most influential horror writer of the 20th Century.

This right here is why I nearly lost my shit on my lunch break yesterday. When the little girl asks Aunt May if she was Spider-Man’s mommy at his funeral, from ULTIMATE FALLOUT #1 by Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Bagley. Like look at that third panel. Tell me you don’t nearly cry, such great expression from Bagley. Something tells me the next five weeks of this series is going to be something special.

Lois Lane makes a crummy first impression. She’s thin-lipped, strident, and self-involved; you can see how Clark Kent’s disguise of bumbling-plus-birth-control-specs could dupe her so handily (despite there never having existed such a black-haired, blue-eyed, 6′3″, 225-pound reporter-mancake—unmarried, heterosexual, or otherwise—in the history of movable type). Yet as a journalist interviewing an indestructible space alien, she devolves into a hair-flipping, loin-scrambled giggle of a girl. She’s supposed to be a watchdog, a serious reporter, but over seven decades of revamps and reboots in every medium, Lane wants the scoop way less than she wants to get scooped up. Frankly, it’s gross.
—  Mary H.K. Choi, one of the very best female writers on comics around, on Lois Lane. Mary is righteous. (Fist bump).