It’s 1990-ish. I’m 15ish. I’m sitting in my friend Colin’s room, reading some issue of Uncanny X-Men while I wait for Colin to get the crap beaten out of him by his younger brother. I’m flipping through this and I’m noting that the colors are getting better, the art is getting worse, and the plot involves a bunch of people yelling at each other from cover to cover.

MOM! HE STARTED IT!

None of this matters, of course, because, in 1990-ish, I’ve just discovered local alt-punk shows, my body is a roiling six foot cosmos of life altering chemical reactions,  and I’m going to live forever.

Chris Claremont clearly felt the same level of exhilaration when writing X-Men the first time, because he’s trying to recapture his long faded creative prime with X-Men Forever. I gave it three issues to see what it was going to do, which was the same thing as waiting three hours after feeding food to someone else’s baby: I wound up giggling at silly crap.

(mild spoilers, but seriously, who cares)
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