Know when to fold 'em
First the soul-less new
Lucky Luke (even if he is hangin' out in my neck'a the woods). And now a new punny
Asterix volume, which hits store shelves today.
You remember, the teeny
indomitable Gaul and his fat friend, Obelix, who fell in the vat of magic potion as a child and can as such never drink the stuff.
The pair wallop and bif and baf the evil conquering Romans of olden times, reminding us all that good humour, charm and a dollop of violence can solve all problems.
Collaborator Goscinny is dead, and Uderzo goes it alone, to create, according to this morning's La Presse review, a travesty of a piece of garbage-y. The year is 50 BC, and "Le ciel lui tombe sur la tete" (or as Yoda would say, falling the sky upon your head is) features alien beens and robots.
Ugh. I am an old cranky pants who demands historical accuracy.
Oh geez, almost forgot. Must pander to maladjusted need to hint that Asterix and Obelix are gay. There's one such creation
here.