I knew I was getting older when I found myself hating music that people under the age of 25 seem to enjoy. I also find myself, on a painfully regular basis, not knowing who the guest host is on Saturday Night Live. I don't think Dane Cook or Carlos Mencia are funny, I don't find Paris Hilton attractive, I think John Grisham is a weak writer, and don't even get me started on how stupid American Idol is.
So, I acknowledge that I'm just not in step with the times. I accept that.
But explain this:
It's a trick question. You can't. There is no explanation, no excuse, no justification for bringing this thing back from the dead, much less putting it in hardcover.
For those of you that are fortunate enough not to be familiar, Kitty Pryde is to the X-Men what Cousin Oliver is to The Brady Bunch. She was brought on board by Chris Claremont to become the focal point of stories and basically signal the end of when any of the X-titles were actually worth reading.
Not that they didn't try. Lord, they shoved her down our throats for years. But she didn't have a unique ability (she could phase through solid objects like the Vision, but couldn't alter her density or be of any practical use in a fight like he was), and they couldn't even stick with a name. Let's see, we went from "Sprite" to "Ariel" to "Shadowcat" to "Reverse Mortgage" or whatever they call her now.
This Kitty Pryde and Wolverine mini-series was from the early days when (even more so than now) you could attach anything to Wolverine and it would fly off the racks. But keep in mind that (a) It's a mini-series from Marvel circa 1980's (which should be enough to scare you right there) and (b) Kitty Pryde got top billing, so you know at least half the content focuses on her.
And it's in hardcover. Not even a paperback, the thing is in hardcover. It's like rolling a turd in powdered sugar. Do not be tempted. Thus endeth my public service for the day.
Not to be shallow or cruel, but is this the face of a girl who can afford to be choosy? Bird in the hand, sweetheart....
My joke of shame for the day:
What's worse than getting crabs?
Well, what's worse than getting molested?
Still don't know?
Getting molested by a crab.
Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week! Don't forget to tip your waitress!