Just finished this volume. The interesting thing is that Hulk and Bruce Banner are separated. And it sort of turns out that maybe Bruce Banner is the asshole, not the Hulk. So a twist.
The real question I have after some later situations in this book: Why the fuck do we ever go to Dr. Doom for anything?
Ignoring the fact that his name is DR. Doom…no, fuck that. Let’s not ignoring the fact that his name is Dr. Doom. Victor von Doom.
Quick piece of advice? Anyone von Anything is a bad sign. This Von is bad. Always. I know what you’re thinking, what about the Von Trapp family? Well, if you had to watch that damn movie every year of elementary school, you would understand that the Von still served as a portent of evil to come.
Oh, and let’s not forget the Doom part. That’s pretty terrible. What’s the worst name you’ve ever heard? I mean, as far as frightening. We had a substitute teacher in school named Mr. Bonecutter. At least, that’s what he told us. He was a Santa type who wore those suspenders with the ruler markings on them. I guess you could use those to do carpentry, although I would argue that a flexible ruler made from stretching material is going to run you into some big problems before you even finish framing.
The guy was just not scary. But part of the problem is that his name was Mr. Bonecutter. So it would take a scary-ish guy to even life up to that. And this motherfucker was…well, he was the kind of sub who mostly tried to fight off sleep. His Dead Poets’ Society moment was not hitting his head on the desk when the sandman arrived.
Alright, so based on name alone I would say that we should not be trusting this Dr. Doom character.
But what else?
Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that he runs a country called Latveria? With an iron fist, and I suppose making the trains run on time is a matter of debate. But again, in name alone, what country sounds more evil than Latveria? This is the kind of place where something like A Modest Proposal is taken very seriously and renamed Staple Food Contingency 714-B. This can’t possibly be a nice place to go on vacation. How many international incidents of people being caned or laser-caned have gone down by now? It’s gotta be 100%.
And guess what? This son of a bitch ain’t even a real doctor! Look it up! He got expelled for burning his own face off. Now, for my money, I don’t know that I’d mind seeing a doctor who was willing to take a chance here and there. My doctor? Lazy. Foolish. With Doom there’s half a chance you’d be terribly disabled by him treating an ear infection with nanomachines, but on the other hand you might go in with a aching finger and come out with the ability to move shit with your mind. I never come from the doctor actually improved, maybe just on the road to being where I was a week before I ever went to the doctor. With Doom, whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you into an unstoppable war machine or terror and genocide. It’s a calculated risk, but I’ve got a lot of sick days overall.
To get back to the book, I do have one piece of advice for the Hulk. He gives the speech, the classic speech where he says he talked to Reed Richards and Hank Pym and a bunch of other scientists and that Doom was his last hope.
Respectfully, Mr. Hulk and all others:
BITCH, THE DUDE YOU TRIED BEFORE YOU TALKED TO DR. DOOM? THAT WAS YOUR LAST HOPE.