At first, this is pretty funny.
If you can handle the intense drug use.
Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas.
Is there something wrong that this sometimes appeals to me. (Though, I guess, I wouldn’t be driving from Hollywood.)
I may start using a cigarette holder, too. I don’t smoke, but I could take it up.
In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught.
And part of me wants to have this death cry:
YOU’D BETTER TAKE CARE OF ME, LORD…
BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE ME ON YOUR HANDS.
But it kind of stopped being funny when they got some poor woman high and dumped her at another hotel.
And it got more and more disturbing.
Instead of wanting to be these people you started to pity and be disgusted by them.
This is almost a wonderful morality tale. Basically, if you’re a white dude in this country you can get away with anything. Or at least a hell of a lot more than if you weren’t. (I realize that his attorney was Samoan, but I think that if they were both brown-skinned these activities would have had different outcomes.)
And then it just ends.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if it hadn’t ended with him dying. But then, he is stuck in the Denver Airport, which is its own kind of hell.
As far as a comic, it’s well-adapted, and the art is perfect. As far as the activities the characters partake in. Well, they’re more toxic than not.
Thanks to NetGalley and Diamond Book Distributors and Top Shelf Productions for a copy in exchange for an honest review.