bad signal
WARREN ELLIS

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Larry Young has suggested that, in the interests of tribute and reminding 
you all to buy this book, I post my Afterword to the REX MANTOOTH 
collection by Matt Fraction and Andy Kuhn, available in a couple of months 
from AiT/PlanetLar.  You can pre-order it from your local store.  It follows:

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REX MANTOOTH Afterword thing/Warren Ellis

REX MANTOOTH is garage comics.  And I don’t mean garage like 
that hideous bleepy retard-shuffle dance-pop shit, oh no.  I mean 
garage like the fucking Stooges.  Garage like beating the blood-piss 
out of your instruments with five syringes hanging out of each arm 
and naked hookers throwing chainsaws at you.  Like remembering 
that the Ramones wrote the soundtrack to planet earth and when 
the Cramps yelled Ooh Ee Ah Ah it made complete fucking sense to you.

Goo goo muck, you bastards.  Goo goo muck.

Shut up.  If you want something clever, find an Alan Moore afterword.  
They hire me because I’m always drunk when I write these, and that’s 
what the kids like, fuckface.

I mean, it’s like that ASTRONAUTS IN TROUBLE intro I wrote, and 
then Kurt Busiek wrote the intro for the next book in the series, and 
he said that I was a better writer than him but his books sell better.  
But his books are full of people with no genitals wearing pervert suits 
and wrestling with each other a lot.  And I make girls all over the world 
want to fuck bald flabby shouty guys because of TRANSMETROPOLITAN.  
I’ve ruined them for normal men.   America will look like a plague’s hit 
it in two generations.  And the shattered remnants of Yanqui humanity 
will be ruled like shit-eating dogs by the appalling mutant progeny of Matt 
Fraction and his devious Hemingway-wombed hobo-sodomising wife Kelly 
Sue.  They will read porno out loud like it was their Bible.  Because it 
fucking will be.  And anyone whose ancestors watched Star Trek will be 
forced to view a videotaped autobiography of Ron Jeremy with all the 
interesting bits taken out every day until they finally consent to scooping 
out their own living brains with a blunt butter knife as food for the spawn 
of Andy Kuhn, who, doubtless possessing the funny raw mobile cartooning 
skills of their sire, will take crayons in their eager flippers and scrawl 
terrible libido-blistering graffiti all across the face of their depopulated 
country, images that would sicken, shatter and beast-hump the minds 
of sane people – if there were any left.

So just hold the book open and imagine a big hippy bloke with scary 
eyes talking very slowly about The Golden Bough and Aleister Crowley’s 
left bollock.  Or go and flagellate your weedy pale cock over an issue of 
THE AVENGERS or something.  Because I win.  

And you’ve got a book to read, so fuck off.

Warren Ellis/In the pub/June 2002