The Daily Waffle: Issue Eleven

April 2, 2020

 

COMIC HUB

 

You may have seen on social media that the company Comic Hub may have a cunning plan to link digital comics sales with physical comics sales through comic shops. So far as we're aware this is likely to be US only, but we're looking into it. More hopefully in the next few days.

 

 

APRIL PREVIEWS ONLINE FOR FREE!

 

As reported yesterday, click the images to go to the appropriate sections:

 

 Previews main section

 

 Previews UK pages

 

 DC, Image and Marvel Previews

 

 

GIFT VOUCHERS STILL AVAILABLE

 

Buying a few of these really will help us stay afloat. Click the image to buy a voucher you can spend when we re-open and all those lovely new comics come flooding in!

 

 Thank you everyone for your continued support. We won't forget.

 

 

LOCKDOWN COMICS CHALLENGE CONTINUES

 

Click the image to go to the page!

 

 

CULTURE!

 

A poem to remind us that our forbears had it much, much worse.

 

Dulce et Decorum Est 

 

BY WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

 

Notes:

 

Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

 

 

 

That's it for today. I'll be more cheerful tomorrow. Until then, be kind to yourself, be kind to everyone else, stay safe, take care, stay home.