Why was ‘Girls’ comics ever created? It’s a series published by the Luna Brothers that first hit stands in 2005, aimed squarely at a modern audience obsessed with pseudo-feminist tropes and the illusions of empowerment. This twelve-volume eye-roll inducer is set in a small town called Pennystown, dealing with themes that would make any political conservative chuckle. We’ve got a narrative brimming with ubiquitous political correctness and the kind of male-bashing storylines typical of mainstream narratives today.
The premise revolves around a small, idyllic town that suddenly finds itself under siege by strange, beautiful women that emerge from mysterious eggs—each being a mute doppelgänger of each other. These ‘girls’ wreak havoc, and as stereotypical as it gets, the male characters are portrayed as predictably incompetent or driven by their baser instincts, leaving females to steer the narrative. It’s the sort of plot casual audiences might find entertaining, at least if that audience is drinking the Kool-Aid served liberally by today’s media.
The Luna Brothers penned and illustrated this tome of frustration over the course of 2005 to 2007. Pennystown is painted as any quaint American town, possibly to cash in on the Midwest charm before invoking chaos worthy of a liberal's happiness. The central conflict is simple: survival from these alien femmes fatales, coupled with a sidebar on gender dynamics, all wrapped up in a comic series that ironically falls into the tropes it seems to decry.
What’s not to love if you fancy thinly veiled attacks on traditional values? 'Girls' slathers on metaphors about female empowerment but trips over itself—though the fans sucking up today’s comic and Hollywood pandering probably wouldn’t notice. These ‘girls’ are not the embodiment of empowered female warriors leading a revolution. Instead, they’re mindless, destructive forces, which is as close to an unwitting self-parody as you can get.
Another notable feature is the male protagonist, Ethan Daniels, who embodies every negative stereotype perpetuated by hyper-progressive agendas. Ethan is flawed and often morally questionable. He’s not a strong, silent type turned hero. He’s just “there,” burdened by unearned sympathy. Around him, the town grapples with the calamity, but again, it’s nothing you wouldn’t expect from a production aimed at manipulating societal narratives through pop culture.
Why does an apparently apocalyptic clash interest us? Mainly, because it mirrors real societal shifts and presents them under the guise of entertainment. Here we see a town crumbling under pressures, most of which could be interpreted as exaggerated allegories of what people fear. Yet, the execution is admittedly too biased toward an agenda, lacking honest representation of any real complexities facing towns or families.
The art itself is deceivingly inviting. The Luna Brothers have a knack for drawing in that simple, eye-friendly style which suggests clarity but, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, misleads with its underlying themes. Panels are populated with ample action scenes—a generic grab-bag of gore at times—appealing to audiences with more base cravings. Despite this, it’s still a comic worth showing off to fellow collectors simply because it seems like an attempt to pay homage to classics while turning them on their head.
While ‘Girls’ stands as a notable mention in independent comic circles, it’s more of a cautionary tale against taking cookie-cutter narratives at face value. Like many supposedly ‘woke’ contributions to pop culture, its collection fills bookshelves, reminding readers of the dangers of indoctrination through storytelling. For those uninterested in sipping from the progressive tea party, the comic does entertain momentarily but without the profound moral or cultural introspection of classic narratives.
And that, dear readers, is how modern media often operates, pretending to showcase diversity while sneaking in biases against the foundational structures—family, tradition, and realism. ‘Girls’ is no different, a comic that offers plenty of food for thought if you’re interested in dissecting how fiction mirrors societal discourses, albeit in an exaggerated form. Whether it’s remembered fondly or regrettably, it remains within the vast tapestry of pop culture artifacts, inviting scrutiny from discerning eyes.