Dokumentation: Den Verbale Ni-Millimeter fra Nøvørk
Balladen der ikke vil dø fortsætter, ansporet af hhv. T. Thorhauges spritnye kritik af Strip! og tegneserietegner Henrik Rehrs reaktion på den. Jeg vil ikke gå i detaljer om Strip!-kritikken, men Rehr bringer som forsvar mod den en gammel bussemand på banen:
“Pudsigt som han [Thorhauge] også har slemt travlt med et prøve at tryne mig i det han skriver, min kritik af Blæks pengemæssige fordeling fra sidste år og mine bemærkning om “Sjuske-Dorte” i forbindelse med Blæks indholdsfortegnelse, spøger åbenbart stadig i hans baghoved. Når man stikker en verbal lussing, er det altid rart at se at den går rent ind, og jeg må tilstå en vis skadefryd ved at se vredestårerne i hans øjenkroge et helt år efter, men samtidig føler jeg også et anstrøg af dårlig samvittighed.”
I efteråret stod der et mægtigt slag i den danske tegneserieverden. Slaget var både af principiel og ganske konkret karakter: Ivar Gjørup, der i over 20 år har tegnet striben Egoland, var nonchalant blevet tilbudt en alvorlig forringelse af sin placering i den avis der har været stribens hjem i næsten ligeså lang tid, Politiken. I forbindelse med den på mange måder ellers vellykkede omstrukturering af avisen, skulle han gå ned i format og se sig anbragt på bagsiden sammen med venstrehåndsbagatellen WulffMorgenthaler. Det kunne selvfølgelig ikke have sin rigtighed, hverken principielt eller i den konkrete situation. Den holdningsløse indstilling til tegneserien det var symptom på, var en gammel bussemand, der i det konkrete tilfælde forværredes af, at vi her havde at gøre med en af de største klassikere indenfor mediet herhjemme.
Mens vi her i bunkeren er i færd med at 
Opportunistic Denmark-based imam Ahmed Abu Laban’s passing earlier today, almost exactly a year after the flames he helped fan triggered the insanity that became the so-called Muhammed crisis, seems strangely serendipitous. It reminds us what a difference being at the wrong place at the wrong time can make. Though his track record of consorting with unsavoury Islamic extremists such as Sheikh Omar abd El-Rahman, associated with the first WTC bombing in 1993, does not exactly gather him any sympathy around these parts, he of course cannot be held responsible for the sad manifestation of humanity, on the part of pretty much everyone involved, that was the Muhammed crisis (and the Danish courts decided as much a few weeks ago). 
As a manifestation of comics as an art form, this year’s festival was the best in a long time. It was the happy result of the synergy of a market in which a number of quality comics unprecedented in the past 25 years have become available, the reform of the awards to match this fact, which resulted in 
It was the best and worst of festivals at Angoulême this year. On the one hand, it was logistically chaotic because the exhibitor’s space had been moved to the suburb of Montauzier, a half-hour walk away from the city centre, with no restaurants, no cash machine, no trashcans, and no soul. Most of the debit for this bizarre attempt to have it both ways can be laid squarely at the doorsteps of City Hall. The same people who are obliterating one of the town’s two central squares with a butt-ugly shopping mall.