Caliban by Garth Ennis
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I maaaaaay have had a good deal of Nyquil in my system before I read this, and that may have affected my enjoyment.
I have this problem with Nyquil.
It turns out that a couple years ago, I was taking Nyquil, and I lost the stupid cap, which also serves as the measuring cup. I had these little metal sauce cups in my cabinet, and I was like, “Oh, I’m totally a good judge of volume, and these seem to be the volume of that Nyquil cap, for sure.”
In case you’re wondering, I knew then and know now that I am a pitiful judge of volume, space, all that stuff. I created an entire bed in Google Sketchup last week that looked great, and then I realized it could fit inside a large-ish television.
The sauce cup ended up being about 2.5 times the normal Nyquil dose. Which is a pretty good amount of Nyquil. If you want to sleep, and if you want to have a wonderful dream where you live in a minimalist beach house and just kind of walk around, and if you want this dream to last 18 hours, then my friend, have I got a sauce cup for you.
And once you’ve gone sauce cup, it’s hard to go back to the regular, mortal dosage. It seems so stingy. Sad. I miss my fucking beach house. It was so happy. I was so happy.
Anyway, Caliban is one of these Event Horizon things. Some bad shit happens in space. Evil shit. Which seems to be the norm for space. I’ve yet to pick up a space comic or a space movie where the idea isn’t that space is horrible. Hell, flip through Netflix. There are like 50 movies you’ve never heard of, they all have 1.5 stars, the covers all show astronauts from behind looking into some deep void, and I’m sure those astronauts are all totally fucked. Except Cosmos. That show is legit and doesn’t involve dying astronauts. Although it kills a part of you inside by making you feel so insignificant that why even go on.
Through my some-Nyquil haze, Caliban was satisfying, but I don’t think it’s something that’s going to stick with me all that long. Nothing about it really lit up my brain or anything like that. Nothing as exciting as my long lost beach house, that’s for sure.
Jesus. I don’t even like the beach.