As longtime readers can attest, my skill-set may not be as deadly as Liam Neeson’s… but it’s nothing to sneeze at either.
In addition to being a world-class smartass, a blogging machine, a Twitter explorer of the highest order, and a family man like no other… I’m a nerd.
No, scratch that, I’m not just a nerd, I’m a MEGA-NERD.
One-quarter of my attic is occupied by my comic book collection.
My daughter has felt my influence to the point where she loves Nicholas Sparks’ movies – and Marvel movies equally.
I have dragged my wife – and I mean dragged – to dozens of comic cons. To her eternal dismay, of course.
I spend my Saturday nights watching Doctor Who.
Still don’t believe I’m a MEGA-NERD?
I’m 45-years-old. And I sleep in Captain America and Star Wars pajamas.
Yes, you’re right, my wife is a lucky gal, isn’t she?
Now, onto the point of this little exercise in self-humiliation. Which, by the way, is not to be confused with the exercise in self-humiliation I normally engage in… uh, never mind…
Here’s mt latest contribution to the good – and extremely nerdy – folks of Pulp Nation.
Krysten Ritter isn’t afraid to get down ‘n dirty like a grim ‘n gritty superhero should.
Jessica Jones is the latest addition to Marvel’s Netflix universe… and it’s delightful. How delightful? Granted, this review is from a few weeks back, but it’s been chemically treated to stay fresh. You’re welcome.
Click on the link.
Read my words.
Thank whichever god you worship for bringing me to your attention.
Get to Netflix and watch Jessica Jones.
See you in the lobby, kids…