Once I reached the event, I had to shell out a king’s ransom for parking ($12), then the attendant told me to park way out in Hell’s Half Acre, not in the parking structure adjacent to Hall D, where the actual event was being held. I hadn’t even bought a single comic book yet and already felt like I should bail on this whole thing.

A one-day ticket was $35 if you purchased it at the event. I couldn’t get a ticket for $5 cheaper online because my home computer has HIV-AIDS. So, I had to bite eat five bucks and pay a service charge for no discernible reason.

Are we having fun yet?

Actually, the event in and of itself wasn’t a complete wash. It felt a little crowded, though. Wizard World Los Angeles was held at the more spacious L.A. Convention Center, which doubles as the U.S. Capitol building in “X-Men” and a museum in “X2;” I guess Bryan Singer loves that place. Hall D at the Anaheim Convention Center, on the other hand, seemed cramped. I was constantly bumping into people or tripping over their carry-on bags. Seriously, attendees now wheel around carry-ons like the one George Clooney has in “Up in the Air.” They make for excellent stumbling blocks!

George Carlin has a joke where he talks about how he’s never been with a 10, but one night, he was with five 2’s. Typically, all five of those 2’s are at the Los Angeles Comic Book and Science Fiction Convention that’s held at the Shrine every so often. At the Anaheim Comic-Con, however, there were surprisingly quite a few attractive women. We’re talking 6’s and 7’s, baby. Gals who’d get with me. Maybe. The ones who’d poured themselves into Batgirl, Black Cat and Scarlet Witch costumes were especially easy on the eyes.

Boy, am I sick of fat people dressed up as Jedi. Man alive, you’d think that there hadn’t been three prequel movies which tried valiantly to convince socially maladroit men and women that “Star Wars” isn’t worth obsessing over anymore. I think the Browncoats who lovingly embrace “Firefly” are less pathetic than folks who still go gaga over lightsabers, Yoda, and all things OT.

Speaking of pathetic, I took a stroll down the Walk of Shame, where you can purchase autographs from some prehistoric z-lister. Now, as an aspiring writer, I think it would be fun to do events at specialty book stores or comic book shops or even a convention, and sign whatever it is I had a hand in writing. I own a pile of books that are autographed to me by filmmakers and celebrities, including the late David Carradine, FTW. But shelling out $20-$25 to some has-been for their autograph on a publicity photo has always seemed kind of lame to me. And I know from lame. I own a few autographed publicity photos. I always felt awkward paying someone for their autograph. Now if I’m buying their book, and they’re signing it, that makes more sense. I can glean entertainment and insight from a book; the personal touch of their signature and a few kind words to me is just a value-add. An autographed photo, however, is pretty damn boring and useless.

That being said, who in the hell would spend $75 on an autograph from William Shatner? That’s what he was charging deep-pocketed Trekkers. Jesus wept. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love William Shatner. I was pretty starstruck just seeing him at the event. But I can’t imagine spending $75 on an autograph from anyone. That’s like three lapdances in the VIP room. Maybe lapdances are baked into the cost of the autograph, I dunno.

The Anaheim Comic-Con served as a reminder why I don’t bother going to the San Diego Comic-Con. The traffic, the admission fee, the fat people dressed as Jedi — it all takes the fun out of the experience.

-Brad Lohan

Let’s see if I can do this without consulting Wikipedia. The seven founders of Image Comics were Rob Liefeld, Todd McFarlane, Erik Larsen, Jim Lee, Mark Silvestri, Jim Valentino and Whilce Portacio. Hot dog, I did it! Formerly artists for Marvel Comics, these gentlemen grew tired of not enjoying any creative control over the books they penciled, so they formed their own company and published titles that proved none of them really were all that creative to begin with.

Image came into being about six months after I started collecting comics. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t buy every issue with the Image logo for the first year or two they put out books. It didn’t get as expensive as it sounds. Since every Image artist was also his own editor, deadlines were frequently missed, and the issues shipped hella-late. “Wetworks” #1 came out like a year after it had been originally scheduled to. But, these were all new superheroes — who looked like Spider-Man or Wolverine for the most part — by the hottest working artists in the industry. It was a dream come true for an undiscriminating 13-year-old.

And as an undiscriminating 30-year-old, I couldn’t resist “Image United” #1, a new mini-series that re-teams the original Image artists in the ultimate collaborative effort. Each artist draws his own character(s) in the book. Youngblood is drawn by Rob Liefeld, Spawn is drawn by Todd McFarlane, the Savage Dragon is drawn by Erik Larsen and so on and so forth. Witchblade is in there too, although her book wasn’t one of Image’s inaugural titles. Mark Silvestri’s first Image comic was “Cyberforce” — basically X-Men with bionics — but he enjoyed much more success with his top-heavy Witchblade character. So there she is. Jim Valentino’s Shadowhawk is also sadly part of the series. I don’t think there’s a bigger mort in all of the Image Universe than that also-ran.

The experience of reading “Image United” #1 is not unlike revisiting an old cartoon show from your childhood that’s clearly not as flawless as you remember. Unfortunately, the book came out last Wednesday. That it reads just as shittily as Image titles from over a decade and a half ago is nothing short of remarkable. Series writer Robert Kirkman is no better at breathing life into these characters than their creators.

The plot, such as it is, should satisfy anyone who endlessly obsesses over the outcomes of superhero fisticuffs. The super-team Youngblood joins forces with the Savage Dragon to beat up on a Spawn villain, Overt-Kill; I’m embarrassed that I just typed that sentence. Because each artist handled the penciling chores on his own characters, the fight scenes look like Colorforms. Punches don’t connect. Characters may exist on the same page, but the stylistic flourishes of each artist work against any sense of cohesiveness.

Each artist only seems to know about three different character poses, too. The characters can run, jump or punch. Regardless of their body type or gender, they perform these actions all pretty much the same. Facial expressions are also about as varied. Everyone’s screaming, clenching their teeth or being all closed-mouthed and stoic. In almost two decades, these artists haven’t matured at all. They’re still sloppy and cutting corners.

In all, “Image United” #1 didn’t really compel me to get back into buying monthly comics again. It’s a gimmick, not a comic. Knowing these artists, I can’t imagine the mini-series will reach its conclusion before the year 3000. That said, instead of buying the individual issues, I think I’ll wait for the trade.

-Brad Lohan

All that being said, I picked up the first two issues of McFarlane’s new title, “Haunt,” yesterday. I’m not exactly sure what I expected. Maybe I thought that McFarlane had exhausted all his ideas with “Spawn” and wanted to try something different. Or maybe I’m just a damn fool. Or maybe it’s a little from column A and a little from column B. At any rate, the book is just as boring as “Spawn” and not all that different, either.

I went into the first issue thinking that McFarlane had penciled the thing. So I ended up being disappointed straightaway when I found out that he’d only handled the inking chores. McFarlane’s art was intially what put him on the map. His style evokes John Byrne and George Perez, but more wild, more cartoony. During his heyday at Marvel, he reinvigorated Hulk and Spider-Man and co-created the overused ’90s anti-hero Venom. Not everyone is a fan of McFarlane’s pencils. And I’m beginning to think McFarlane himself is in that camp. It’s extremely rare these days when McFarlane puts a pencil to paper. I think it’s a shame because he’s spent the past 15 years writing some of the worst comics on the racks. Penciling would at least keep him away from a word processor and writing books like, well, the one I’m about to review.

“Haunt” is about two brothers, a Catholic priest and a secret agent. The priest seems to grant himself some moral flexibility, as we first meet him moments after being with a prostitute. He doesn’t, however, like taking confession from his superspy bro, who kills people with extreme prejudice while on assignment. There’s also some bad blood between the brothers over the secret agent’s super-hot wife, suggesting a love triangle of some sort. At any rate, the spy goes on a mission where here’s tortured to death, and his ghost begins haunting the priest. When a couple of thugs come looking for the priest and the spy’s super-hot wife, the spy’s ghost possesses the priest and transforms him into Haunt, a noseless Venom-looking dude who slings a substance that looks like ejaculate but could be webs or ectoplasm or who-knows-what. Haunt tears the thugs apart effortlessly, and that’s how issue #1 ends. I have virtually no recollection of issue #2, and I read it last night as well.

“Haunt” is basically “Spawn” all over again. You have an elite black ops agent who’s killed and returns from the grave in the form of a gruesome looking Spider-Man clone. The love triangle is there; the absence of faith is there; the tired and cliched dialogue is there. It’s clear that McFarlane is a one-trick pony. He’s not bringing anything new to the table with this title. He’s biting his own style, and that’s hardly something worth aping in the first place. He co-created(?) the book with Robert Kirkman, another dull and limited scribe, but the storytelling is so creaky, it reads like an emo 13-year-old’s creative writing assignment.

I have no interest in seeing what happens next in “Haunt.” It’s a terribly unremarkable bit of mayhem. Even the graphic violence is meh-worthy. I’m not going to get suckered into more of McFarlane spinning his wheels. He’s been on autopilot since I began reading comics, and part of the reason I quit was because of listless creators like him doing the same thing they’ve always done.

-Brad Lohan

So who has the most pimp lair of them all? I’d have to nominate Dr. Doom. He not only has a castle, but a friggin’ country. Victor Von Doom lords over Latveria, an Eastern European hellhole with a population that’s made up of primarily gypsies. They probably enjoy a better health care system than we do. What’s crazy about Doom having his own nation-state is that it gives him diplomatic immunity. Diplomatic immunity, like those d-bags in “Lethal Weapon 2!” Doom can get away with all sorts of illegal bullshit while he’s Stateside, things like double-parking and trying to destroy the Fantastic Four, because he’s a duly elected representative of Latveria!

Magneto has a pretty dope asteroid — Asteroid M! — that’s in a geosynchronous orbit around the planet Earth. Forget Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. An asteroid is definitely where you go when you want to get away from it all, including gravity. It’s not like the X-Men are just going to show up on his doorstep and launch a pre-emptive ass-kicking. Space rocks aren’t the easiest places to get to even if you’re a mutant. That said, Magneto probably doesn’t order pizza all that often.

Lex Luthor’s subterranean lair is much more down to Earth. The self-proclaimed “Greatest Criminal Mind of Our Time” lives in style 200 feet below Park Avenue in an abandoned train station with the super-hot Ms Teschmacher as well as his oafish sidekick Otis. Luthor’s lair also contains a large map of the United States, where he can outline his masterstroke using visual aids; big bads often believe it’s best to show, not tell. Even better, Luthor’s hideout is at the end of a network of tunnels that are equipped with all sorts of anti-personnel devices: machine guns, flamethrowers and industrial fans that can flash-freeze uninvited guests. There’s also an indoor pool.

Ozymandias — the David Bowie-lookalike in “Watchmen” — bites Superman’s style, owning a crystal palace somewhere in Antarctica. Karnak has the requisite wall o’ televisions that many ADD villains tend to favor. It’s also home to his genetically-engineered pet lynx, Bubastis. He even built an intrinsic field generator booby trap for Dr. Manhattan. But, like the Fortress of Solitude, it’s a little cold and uninviting.

Supervillain lairs tend to be in fairly remote locations, booby-trapped up the yin-yang, and expensive to maintain. Evil-doers are generally more narcissistic and self-aggrandizing, which is often reflected in their decor. They must drop piles of stolen cash on interior decorators to create living environments that only they would consider livable. But after having served lengthy stretches in a maximum security prison, they can hardly be blamed for wanting places that cater to their unique sensibilities.

-Brad Lohan

It makes me wonder why I shell out so much every month for a one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, when I could be living like a king in a subway station that’s no longer in use or some boarded-up soap factory. The mind reels. But I digress.

A superhero’s lair says a lot about him. If you’re the Green Arrow, it says you wish you were Batman so very much. Yes, G.A. has about the least imaginative hideout of any super-type, the Arrowcave. Need I say more? At any rate, most superheroes like to bring their work home with them. So they usually retreat to an undisclosed location — often subterranean — to brood, to experiment, to watch “Stargate Universe” undisturbed. They also use this lair to store spare costumes, weapons, mementos and the like. It’s kind of romantic in a “Phantom of the Opera” sort of way.

Probably the most well known hideout is, of course, the Batcave. Batman has the best superhero feng shui in all of comics. His HQ is heavily inspired by not one, but two Phantoms — the aforementioned operatic one as well as the guy in the purple suit from the radio serials who hung out in a place called the Skull Cave. The Batcave also draws inspiration from Zorro’s cavernous Lair of the Fox. Batty, however, has state-of-the-art tech in his base of operations, not to mention the Batmobile, the late Robin’s costume encased in glass, and a giant dinosaur for some reason. I’m still unclear why he keeps a dinosaur in the Batcave. It’s not a real dinosaur but a full-scale model of one. I guess it’s to suggest that Batman is still an 8-year-old at heart.

Superman’s Fortress of Solitude is also worth mentioning. It’s way the hell out in the middle of Antarctica in the comics and the Arctic Circle in the films. Wherever it is, it ain’t someplace that gets a lot of Jehovah’s Witnesses. And that’s sort of the point, as you may have guessed from its nomenclature. The Fortress is less of a crime lab than the Batcave and more like a living tribute to Superman’s home world, Krypton. Here, Superman goes by his Kryptonian name, Kal-El, while chatting up his dead parents via holographic images. Even Superman gets sick to death of helpless human folk always wanting him to solve dopey problems they should figure out on their own. As such, the Fortress is where he can get away from us.

The Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude are highly-sophisticated hideaways.But what about superheroes on a budget? Where can they sneak off to when they’re not busting heads? Well, characters like the Ninja Turtles, as you may already know, live in the sewer beneath New York City. It seems like a fairly icky place to spend one’s free time, but they’ve cleaned it up rather nicely. Their homestead is more like your parents’ basement than a vermin-infested network of tunnels filled with human excrement and dead goldfish.

Darkman has lived both above- and below-ground during his storied and mostly direct-to-video career as a superhero. He first chose a condemned warehouse in a sketchy part of town to set up shop, rebuilding his lab and befriending a feral cat. But he had to blow up that particular domicile — and maybe the cat as well — when the baddies discovered it. And so, he went underground, relocating to a section of subway track that had long since been forgotten about by city planners, maintenance workers, etc.

The Punisher is a character who seems to think even a superhero can never go home again. The most nomadic of costumed vigilantes, he’s lived all over the place — the sewers, the slums, the subway system. Wherever he’s located, it’s not particularly homey. Punny’s lair is mostly a weapons cache and where he performs DIY surgery, patching himself back together after a hard day’s work.

Spider-Man doesn’t have a spider-hole or anyplace like that. He simply operates out of his apartment, which has been problematic when he’s had a roommate or unexpected guests. When he began his superhero career, he was 15 and still living with his doting Aunt May, creating all sorts of issues with keeping his dual-identity a secret. A character as cash-strapped as Spider-Man would probably find squatting in some building that’s fallen into disrepair an easier way to make ends meet. But the whole Spider-Man mythos has been more about the burden of superheroing rather than the badassery.

A superhero’s chief concern, apart from keeping the villains from knowing who he is behind the mask, is making damn sure no one finds out the address to his lair. Ever the romantic, he’ll usually bring his love interest back to his place and try to impress her with all his cool superhero shit and home theater, but this can create blowback if the villains decide to put a tail on her. She’ll invariably lead them straight back to his hideout. Then he’s got to level the place and start afresh somewhere else. Moving sucks. Sifting through the rubble of your bombed-out HQ, looking for anything salvageable, must be even worse.

Superheroes may not generally have the most cozy lairs or lairs that are located in the nicer parts of town. Yet their man-caves aren’t necessarily designed for hosting dinner parties. A lair is basically an externalization of the superhero’s psyche, a window into what type of person he is beneath the spandex.

-Brad Lohan

So what does this mean?! Like I know. Bob Iger, the Disney chieftain, prattled on about the comic book publisher’s “strong global brand and world-renowned library of characters” as well as his company’s “unparalleled global portfolio of entertainment properties.” All that corporate lingo makes my eyes go crossed. In sum, I think what he’s trying to say is that it’s a good fit.

Or…is it?!

Marvel still has a five-picture distribution deal with Paramount. After “Iron Man II,” “Thor,” “Captain America,” “The Avengers” and a TBA Marvel pic are released, only then will Disney begin distributing Marvel Studios properties; Marvel Studios is a production company that doesn’t have its own distribution arm. It gets even weirder, too. The film rights to Spider-Man are still owned by Sony, and Spidey is the most profitable Marvel movie franchise by a country mile. Sony is currently pre-producing “Spider-Man 4″ and is concurrently developing movies five and six in the series. Meanwhile, 20th Century Fox owns the rights to the X-Men characters, the Fantastic Four and Daredevil, all of whom have reboots in the works. And Hulk still lives at Universal.

The deal sort of seems like Disney’s getting engaged to someone who’s still married…to like four other people. That said, it’s only Marvel’s film properties that are scattered all over creation in terms of licensing deals. Disney will immediately be able to capitalize on all of Marvel’s comic book revenues. I’m sure the “Punisher: FrankenCastle” miniseries will bring back countless readers and sales will skyrocket. Yeah, no. The Marvel films are the publisher’s biggest money-makers. They’re what put the publisher on the map as a merchandising giant. Remember, Marvel filed for Chapter 11 in 1996. They came back big-time only after the first “X-Men” movie hit in 2000.

Maybe Disney could break ground on some Marvel superhero theme park attractions? Well, Universal Studios already has a thrill ride park in Orlando called Islands of Adventure, where there’s a Marvel Superhero Island. In the short term, it definitely seems like Marvel’s getting more out of this deal than Disney.

-Brad Lohan

That being said, I was still had to check out the 600th issue of “Archie,” where he finally pops the question to Veronica and breaks poor Betty’s heart.

The issue — written by “Batman” film producer Michael Uslan! — begins with Archie and the gang as they graduate from high school. Not having applied for college yet, Archie’s feeling pressured to experience what we writers like to call “character development.” He goes for a walk to contemplate his future. The story then miraculously flashes forward four years after he finds a street called “Memory Lane,” which he chooses to walk up rather than down; no, it doesn’t make sense on the page, either. At any rate, Archie’s now a college grad, yet still uncertain about his what he should do with his life. So he does what any listless young person in his position would do: he decides to get married. In a colossally boneheaded move, he blows his graduation money on an engagement ring for Veronica, who accepts before going on a three-month cruise without him.

Betty, meanwhile, is shattered by the news that now Jughead’s the only eligible bachelor in Riverdale. The issue ends on a cliffhanger when Veronica calls Betty and asks her to be her maid of honor. “Gossip Girl” wishes it had this much drama!

“Archie” #600 is the first issue in a six-part storyarc. I don’t know if I’m curious enough to pick up the next chapter. Again, weekly comics have lost their appeal and very few multi-part comic book sagas ever stick the landing. However, marriages in comic books tend to last. Superman and Lois Lane are still married and so are Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman. But Spider-Man and MJ divorced in the most fantastical way I’ve ever seen by making a contract with the devil Mephisto who retconned their entire marriage. I guess that helped them avoid having to decide who gets the flatscreen.

Will Archie and Veronica live happily ever after? As long as the Punisher doesn’t crash the wedding, I think anything’s possible.

-Brad Lohan

Speaking of a character who’s been spinning his wheels for ages now, Superman is at the center of a pitched copyright battle between DC/Warner Bros and Jerry Siegel’s estate, according to Variety. The Siegels have won back the rights to the early comic strips as well as Superman’s Kryptonian origins, his birth parents and other bits of minutae. DC retains the rights to Superman’s power of flight, his weakness to Kryptonite and Clark Kent’s co-workers at the Daily Planet.

What’s interesting about this is how it reminds me of that scene in “The Jerk” where Steve Martin leaves Bernadette Peters, and as he’s walking out on her, he starts taking random objects and insisting that they’re all he needs. It’s so petty and stupid. Thing is, Superman deserves a bit of a shakeup. Losing the rights to certain elements of Superman’s origin might simply allow for DC to reimagine the character to some extent. Believe it or not, he has evolved over the decades. Hell, when he first came onto the scene in ‘38, he couldn’t even fly.

Interestingly enough, Warner Bros. will lose the rights to “Action Comics #1″ — the first appearance of Superman — to the Siegels in 2013, giving them the freedom to shop the property around to other studios. I’m all in favor of that. Warner Bros. has squandered the rights to Superman for decades now. It’s high time someone else was given a shot at doing something with the character, which is sort of the point of allowing something to go into the public domain anyway.

-Brad Lohan

I grabbed four books and went to buy them. There were two people behind the counter and two registers. One guy was in front of me in line. He apparently had been in suspended animation for the past six months or so because it looked like he was buying enough books to take up a long box. The dude behind the counter said I was going to have to wait a bit for this guy’s order to be totaled by the chick behind the counter. Never mind that there were two registers and TWO PEOPLE WORKING BEHIND THE COUNTER!!!

I’d parked at a meter and only put in enough change to last me 15 minutes. There was nothing I was planning to buy that I couldn’t live without. So I stood there for a couple minutes, watching this dipshittery unfold before me, waiting for it to occur to someone behind the counter that my comics could easily be rung up on the other register. Finally I put my books back on the shelf and left. I won’t be going back to Hi-De-Ho anytime soon. In fact, I think I’m just done with collecting comic books altogether.

I’ve been a comic book collector now for almost 18 years. I’m almost 30 now. Do I really need to keep doing this? Comics themselves aren’t even that great anymore. As blasphemous as it may sound, comic book movies are oftern more satisfying than their source material. It’s amazing how many books I’ve stuck with for no good reason whatsoever. I keep reading simply because it’s something I’ve always done. That’s insanity, pure insanity.

Well, I think I’m over it now. I did the math, and I spend approximately $100 a month on comics. That’s over a grand a year. Collecting comics isn’t an addiction like smoking or drinking or even whore-mongering — addictions I think sound more emotionally satisfying than reading some dopey funnybook. This hobby has stunted me in some way. I’ve always sort of been embarrassed by it, but kept doing it nonetheless. It’s ri-goddamn-diculous.

But my experience yesterday taught me that comic book collecting is just one enormous friggin’ hassle that I can easily walk away from.

-Brad Lohan

I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I believe that #600 kicks off the “Reborn” storyline that brings Steve Rogers back from the grave. For those of you who don’t read Cap’s book regularly, Steve Rogers — the original Captain America — was killed about 25 issues ago after surrendering at the end of the “Civil War” storyline. His former sidekick Bucky has since taken up Cap’s mantle. Interestingly enough, Bucky was killed way, way back in the ’40s. His death was believed to be one of the rare few that actually stuck…until they brought him back.

I don’t know about you, but I find all this terrifically boring. Death is virtually meaningless in comic books. I’m surprised it’s still used as a dramatic device or that it has an emotional impact on the readership. It’s a gimmick, a cheap cynical gimmick. When will readers catch on?

That said, it is kind of funny that Steve Rogers is returning from the dead to take back his mantle from another guy who returned from the dead. But at the very same time, it’s living proof — zing! — that the industry is completely out of ideas. A shit-ton of heroes and villains have returned from the back issue bin in the sky lately. It’s as though creators are completely incapable of coming up with new characters. Even worse, it undermines classic storylines by robbing them of lasting repercussions!

Please note that I don’t lose sleep over this. It’s just mildly irritating.

So who else has died and come back in recent years, you ask? Here’s a quickie list off the top of my head:

Norman Osborn/The Green Goblin

Harry Osborn/The Green Goblin II

Jason Todd/Robin

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Clint Barton/Hawkeye

Thor

And now Steve Rogers is the latest Marvel Zombie. Yawn.

-Brad Lohan