I Admit That I Have Sometimes Claimed

So This Zealot Comes To My Door, All Glazed Eyes And Clean Reproductive Organs, Asking Me If I Ever Think About God. So I Tell Him I Killed God. I Tracked God Down Like A Rabid Dog, Hacked Off His Legs With A Hedge Trimmer, Raped Him With A Corncob, And Boiled Off His Corpse In An Acid Bath. So He Pulls An Alternating-current Taser On Me And Tells Me That Only The Official Serbian Church Of Tesla Can Save My Polyphase Intrinsic Electric Field, Known To Non-engineers As "the Soul." So I Hit Him. What Would You Do?

The Book Is Almost Always Better Than The Movie. You Could Have No Better Case In Point Than From Hell, Alan Moore's Best Graphic Novel To Date, Brilliantly Illustrated By Eddie Campbell. It's Hard To Describe Just How Much Better The Book Is. It's Like, "if The Movie Was An Episode Of Battlestar Galactica With A Guest Appearance By The Smurfs And Everyone Spoke Dutch, The Graphic Novel Is Citizen Kane With Added Sex Scenes And Music By Your Favourite Ten Bands And Everyone In The World You Ever Hated Dies At The End." That's How Much Better It Is.

What If I Left My Memory In The Future And I Have To Catch Up To It?

You're Miserable, Edgy And Tired. You're In The Perfect Mood For Journalism.

There Was A Time When I Liked A Good Riot. Put On Some Heavy Old Street Clothes That Could Stand A Bit Of Sidewalk-scraping, Infect Myself With Something Good And Contagious, Then Go Out And Stamp On Some Cops. It Was Great, Being Nine Years Old.