Well, be-bop-a-lula this book sucks,
The vampires look like rabid woodchucks,
Be-bop-a-lula I hate to say,
Travis is a greaser but he's no Link Wray,
Be-bop-a-lula, stop this stupid series now (stop it now, stop it now, stop it now.) (SCREAM!)
Oh, I could do another twenty verses Gene Vincent style, but is it worth it? This American Vampire series, it seems they never get tired of breaking my heart. I really enjoyed the first story, "The Thing IN The Cave." The artwork was pretty good for a change, apparently they brought in a ringer. It was fascinating to see Skinner Sweet and Jim Book as young cavalrymen in the Indian wars. If only the Native Americans weren't such an insulting collection of silly stereotypes! A bimbo goddess with big boobs, a dumb, power-mad chieftain . . . clearly Sherman Alexie didn't write this stuff.
Now the "Death Race" series, I really wanted to like it. Nobody loves the Fifties more than I do. A teenage hood who fights vampires and drag races them too? I mean, how can you mess this up? How? Well, all it takes is a really bad artist to crap up a sure-fire premise. You see, when you draw a teenage hood, who says he's a teenager, who in fact never shuts up about "the teenage brain," you don't want him drawn to look like a fifty-something Elvis imitator. This guy Travis, he's supposed to be a tough, sexy young hood. But he's so pale, skinny, and bloodless he looks creepier than the vampires he's supposed to be fighting! On top of that, he has a cute Sandra Dee type girlfriend named Piper, who IS well drawn, at least by the standards of this crap fest. Does Piper get any good lines? Does she show any charm, a sense of humor? Does she have any sex scenes? No, no, no, no.
The last story was not so bad, it was a Civil Rights story about Alabama in the Fifties. There were some good surprises about the redneck punks who try to mess with Calvin, the black vampire. The only problem was that the punks all had Kid Rock, Duane Allman type hair, what you might see around 1974. And this story is set in 1954. It was the era of the crew cut. But nobody bothered to do five minutes of research on how young white men wore their hair. And do you know why, Daddy-O? These hep cats just don't give a f**k.
See you later alligator!