Ah, Sydney from the 70s to the early 2000s—a time when the streets thrummed with the vibrant pulse of creativity, where every corner seemed to hold a treasure trove waiting to be discovered. As a young Sydney sider, I remember wandering the inner city's winding lanes, my heart racing with excitement at the thought of stumbling upon one of those beloved comic book stores that dotted the landscape like hidden gems. It was a golden age for fantasy, and at the heart of it all was the daring figure of Simon Roptell’s fantasy goddess: Lyra Zeth. In those days, Lyra was more than just a character; she was a symbol of rebellion, a fierce warrior clad in her iconic thong leotard attire, wielding the first gun in a world steeped in myth and history. I can still picture the free Lyra Zeth publications that greeted me at the doorways of those comic shops, their black and white ink covers beckoning like sirens. Each issue told an edgy story—one that intertwined history with fantasy, exploring t...
By T. B. Mindser Pulp Fiction arguably contains one of the most fascinating sequences and stories ever committed to celluloid. In this sequence we see a boxer, or Palooka Butch,not take a dive, due to family pride which causes him to be on the run and later in a showdown with his nemesis, Marsellus Wallace, in a city street and then in pawn shop which becomes the mouth, or orifice of hell. Fascinatingly, the destiny and fate of Butch is intertwined with the watch as this becomes a film about boxes within boxes. Even Butch’s profession sounds like a box: He is a boxer and one that refuses to lie down, whether it be in the ring or in a Gimp trunk. Let’s examine the box in more detail. When we first see the infant Butch, he is watching a “box” a television playing a children’s show about totem poles; symbols of Indigenous pride. He is forced to turn off the box when his mother introduces Captain Koons, a war veteran, close friend and fellow POW combatant of Butch’s d...