"I've been sentenced to life in a rich white banker's scrotal sac!"
Welcome to Hothead Paisan's view of the world. You'll like it, it's funny. It's also violent. As in stick-a-telephone-pole-up-a-straight-white-male-ass, blow-a-sexist-head-off, rip-out-a-homophobic-tongue-and-tie-it-around-a-penis violent. You see, Hothead Paisan's a homicidal lesbian terrorist, and she is, by her own admission, nuts.
Diane DiMassa, the creator of this lovable character, has opened up quite a can of worms with her ongoing comic book, the first nine issues of which have been collected in a big paperback. Remember the ridiculous male reaction to Thelma and Louise? How a female revenge fantasy stirred up a sea of male discomfort at men being portrayed as a sexist stereotype, and violently abused to boot? Wait until Newseek and Vanity Fair see Hothead Paisan. She isn't going to be the subject of any articles on "lesbian chic" any time soon.
The fact is, Hothead's kind of, well, a dick. Fueled by rage, caffeine, Count Chocula and easy access to ammunition, she's on a rampage to rid the planet of all straight men and the women who love them. Most of her aggression gets focused on rapists, anti-abortion Christians, gawking heteros, male doctors who enjoy ripping out female parts and jerks who yell sexist shit at her, but she'd be the first to tell you she sometimes goes overboard and snags an "innocent" victim or two. The telephone pole episode is a not-so-funny male rape; the guy's crime is walking down the street without fear. Hothead thinks "not fair!" and demonstrates to him what women go through. It's pretty disturbing stuff, particularly the last panel where, as Hothead tra-la-las out of sight, the sad-eyed guy sobs, "I'll never be da same." A sardonic little "boo hoo" ends the page. Ouch.
So why on earth would anybody read this stuff? Try the following:
1. It's hilarious. Not the violence so much as Hothead's absurdist take on the sexist consumer culture which surrounds her. She sees the world through a misfit's eyes and is simultaneously damaged and enraged by it. Roz, a zen Buddhist dyke friend, calls Hothead "a true 20th century casualty," but her furious critique of TV news, advertising, medicine and religion is dead on. The only difference between Hothead and you is that she's better armed -- and feels no guilt.
2. The revenge fantasies Hothead acts out are good for you. Naomi Wolf, during her recent visit, claimed it's essential for women to begin creating stories of female power for themselves, and called them "Diana myths" (the hunted becomes the hunter). I didn't get a chance to ask Wolf if she'd heard of the comic, but it seems to me that Hothead is just such a myth, although an extreme version. DiMassa claims the comic springs from her "desperate search for a way to purge my own rage without getting injured" and says Hothead acts out the fantasies "we would never really carry out ourselves, even though we're thinking them." I call that healthy, and the real-life lunatic lesbian who pumps bullets into a pro-life demonstration sometime in the next couple of years won't prove otherwise, even if they find Hothead comics in her apartment.
3. Whatever problem you might have with the comic has already been anticipated by the author. Hothead's sharpest critics are other lesbian characters in the strip, including Fran the PC granola type, Roz the blind Buddhist, Alice the teacher, and the somewhat femme Suzette, who also likes sleeping with men. Hothead's conscience battles it out regularly with her neurotic defensiveness, and some of my favorite scenes involve the homicidal terrorist meeting "all-that-is" (sometimes confusingly called God), who appears to her as the bedroom lamp and plants seedlings of love inside her body. Believe it or not, there's a thread of deep spirituality running throughout this comic.
4. Hothead's cat Chicken. Smart, philosophical, non-judgmental and cute as hell, just like my cats. A great character.
5. The art. At first I thought it was too sloppy, almost as if DiMassa hadn't taken the time to finish; then I realized that the sketchiness really works to amplify Hothead's manic aggressiveness and violent mood swings. DiMassa conveys facial emotions well and bodily motion well enough, so if the perspective's off on a couple of panels, who cares? It just serves to remind me that I, too, could do an intelligent, successful comic without being a technical genius. Besides, any imperfections are more than made up for by the sly details DiMassa places in the background of nearly every page. Every time I read it I find new parodies, slogans and notes from the author crammed into the margins (just like Mickey Death).
Hothead Paisan is a complex comic book. The main character is a contradictory mess of ulcers, lust, paranoia, kindness, rage, bewilderment, vulnerability and love. Most people who pick up this collection won't get it, probably turning up their nose in disgust. They don't understand that Hothead is a visual crystallization of the bleak, angry sadness a lot of us share, and that seeing her violently rampage through the American landscape, gleefully kicking the rich white banker's scrotal sac through the window, is spiritually cathartic in a way church never was. Hothead Paisan continues to come out quarterly; I've seen it at the Internationalist and Books Do Furnish A Room. Support this stuff. It's good for you.