Frank Miller slams Occupy Wall Street, becomes a parody of himself

Frank Miller's had an interesting career trajectory. First, he was the guy who pumped out oodles of unimpeachably classic comics. Then he was Hollywood's new golden boy with the success of Sin City and 300. His star began to fade with the missteps that were All-Star Batman and Robin and The Spirit. And now — with the release of the absolutely head-scratching Holy Terror and the blog post below — he's sold his wardrobe and donned the tin-foil pajamas and tissue-box loafers sold exclusively at Wild-Eyed Rufus' Paranoid Menswear Emporium.


Earlier this week, Miller told us how Batman would deal with the Occupy Wall Street protests. His answer seemed to evince a sense of humor about the whole thing, but that was before we read this blog post over at Frank Miller Ink. Apparently, he's pissed about way more than those controversial drum circles:

Everybody's been too damn polite about this nonsense:

The "Occupy" movement, whether displaying itself on Wall Street or in the streets of Oakland (which has, with unspeakable cowardice, embraced it) is anything but an exercise of our blessed First Amendment. "Occupy" is nothing but a pack of louts, thieves, and rapists, an unruly mob, fed by Woodstock-era nostalgia and putrid false righteousness. These clowns can do nothing but harm America.

"Occupy" is nothing short of a clumsy, poorly-expressed attempt at anarchy, to the extent that the "movement" – HAH! Some "movement", except if the word "bowel" is attached - is anything more than an ugly fashion statement by a bunch of iPhone, iPad wielding spoiled brats who should stop getting in the way of working people and find jobs for themselves.

This is no popular uprising. This is garbage. And goodness knows they're spewing their garbage – both politically and physically – every which way they can find.

Wake up, pond scum. America is at war against a ruthless enemy.

Maybe, between bouts of self-pity and all the other tasty tidbits of narcissism you've been served up in your sheltered, comfy little worlds, you've heard terms like al-Qaeda and Islamicism.

And this enemy of mine - not of yours, apparently - must be getting a dark chuckle, if not an outright horselaugh - out of your vain, childish, self-destructive spectacle.

In the name of decency, go home to your parents, you losers. Go back to your mommas' basements and play with your Lords Of Warcraft.

Or better yet, enlist for the real thing. Maybe our military could whip some of you into shape.

They might not let you babies keep your iPhones, though. Try to soldier on.



At this point, someone should really give Frank a friendly phone call and tell him that Harry Potter films weren't documentaries and that the guy who played Voldemort is just an actor. Hey Frankie, Voldemort was also John Steed in that Avengers movie nobody liked!


But for serious, it's always a bummer to see the guy who penned Robocop Vs. Terminator supplant any sort of cogent discussion of the issues at stake with wackadoodle Islamophobic conspiracy-mongering (and I really, really fucking liked Robocop Vs. Terminator). I imagine this song plays 24/7 in the jukebox at the diner in Frank Miller's brain.

[Thanks Nick Jones — edited Batman: Year One image via Bleeding Cool]


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