Silver Surfer No Match for Angry Driver

Silver Surfer: Requiem #1-4
Written by J. Michael Stra… you know, that guy.
Drawn by Essad Ribic

In all seriousness, you can’t do much better than this without just rewriting All-Star Superman.
In less—or more, depending on your viewpoint or my mood—seriousness, I GOT A $145 TICKET FOR EXPIRED TAGS ON MY WAY HOME TO WRITE THIS GOD-DAMNED REVIEW. I WILL RUIN THIS ZINE WITH MY ANGER.
GOD. I FINALLY GET MY HEAD ABOVE WATER AND SOME MIDDLE-AGED DOUCHE WITH A QUOTA TO MEET DECIDES TO RUN MY FUCKING LICENSE PLATE AND SHOVE A FINE UP MY BUTT ABOUT THE EXACT SIZE OF MY CHECKING ACCOUNT. WELL THAT’S JUST GREAT! WHY DON’T I COOK YOU A NICE DINNER AND GIVE YOU A BLOWJOB AND WE’LL JUST MAKE A NIGHT OF IT!
Okay. I think I’m done. So yeah, in this absolutely breathtaking miniseries, the Silver Surfer discovers that he is dying, and that there is no one in the Universe, not even Galactus, who can stop the Surfer from succumbing to his mysterious disease.
You know what else is mysterious? GETTING PULLED OVER BY THE FIVE-OH TWICE IN EIGHT MONTHS FOR PETTY PAPERWORK BULLSHIT WHILE MURDERERS ALL OVER THE STATE RUN FREE.
Anyway. Reed Richards and Doctor Strange both find their abilities taxed to the limit, and neither can find a cure for the dark, sunspot-like blemishes all over the Surfer’s form… speaking of taxes, that’s all that traffic tickets are, a form of random taxation! If you can take a class or fill out a form and then shell out some cash, and get the charge removed, it’s taxation, not a crime! You can’t take an assault class or pay a homicide ticket! SILVER SURFER? HAH! THE STATE SHOULD BUILD A GODDAMNED LIFE-SIZE SILVER STATUE OF ME TO PAY ME BACK FOR THE TAXES I PAY AND THE TICKETS I GET STUCK WITH!
(At this point the author degenerates into complete incoherent alcoholic madness and it’d be wise to just end the review here. Simply put, when Requiem comes out in trade you should buy it, because it’s a really good story.)

Rating: Four Whiskey Sours.