Johnny the Homicidal Maniac

Thirty minutes into reading the cult comic classic Johnny the Homicidal Maniac I began to suspect that I was reading it ten to fifteen years
too late. It’s not that it wasn’t fun, or even good in a subversive and outsider culture kind of way: but it immediately roused memories of
people I hadn’t thought about in ages.

Not to say that I knew any homicidal maniacs, per se. But growing up in the vast wasteland of South Florida culture in the late 80s and early
90s, this is the kind of comic that should have been passed around between my friends. I was reminded of all of the guys I knew who (despite
the sweltering South Florida heat) would wander around in black trench coats in 95+ degree weather (this was pre-Columbine, of course). I was
reminded of being the painfully “sweet” girl who hung out with the kind of kids that would chase her around with a plastic knife. And I was
reminded of a guy I knew who, when pulled over by cops, kept insisting to them that his name was “Lestat.” (Incidentally: the same dude tried
to “commit suicide” via a ceiling fan. Not the brightest kid in the mosh pit.) These kids–they are the ones that JTHM was written for.

And, clearly, it is not written for me (or the grown-up-ish me). Which, while a bit sad, obviously made for some nice nostalgia.

JTHM (written tongue-and-cheekily by Jhonen Vasquez, also known for Fillerbunny
and Invader Zim) is a slice-of-life kind of story about Johnny
(or “Nny”) who is (as the title promises)
an insomniac, occasionally suicidal, and completely homicidal maniac. The first few issues don’t really defy expectations. Nny gets annoyed at
a person. Nny brings them back to his house (forcibly or willingly) where he brutally (and often creatively) rips them to pieces. In large
part, this is to have a constant fresh supply of blood to paint his wall, which unfortunately after a few days begins to turn brownish (as
blood tends to do) and requires a fresh coat. The story begins to get interesting when Nny starts to ask himself the same question that
readers asked from the very beginning: why isn’t he getting caught? (And why do all of his suicide attempts fail?) After a brief death, and
a trip to both heaven and hell, he is not necessarily left with more answers, but certainly has a new sense of depth about his predicament.
A cast of recurring characters also are what makes this comic work: Nny’s growing compassion and “friendship” with a terrified little boy
nicknamed “Squee” who lives next door, and the “girl who got away” (literally) after a good date and a botched murder. The sanity of these
characters makes the insanity of Nny more compelling. After all, most of the people he kills are really irritating.

Needless to say, I was handed this independent graphic novel (now in it’s 21st printing as a “director’s cut”) and asked for my opinion.
And I think, what strikes me the most is the fact that it is in its 21st printing. Even as an unlikely story that probably fits
the description of “dystopic masturbatory fantasy for the un-assimilated” (who I’m quoting… I have no idea) it has persisted, and it has
persisted because of kids like my good friend “Lestat” and the trench coat dork mob (dripping of unnecessary sweat). It is written for the
high schoolers and college students who are just beginning to discover that there are subversive cultures that they can engage with as an
alternative to the mainstream pop culture formulas that they have been forced to memorize since birth. It is during the late-teen age that
something like JTHM would seem like the most subversive and funny thing ever produced.

And the cool thing is that there will always be a place for JTHM among the “dark” high school and college kids who deeply need this kind of
alternative culture to get them through the horrible-ness that is the teenage years. You don’t have to look far for a slew of
fan sites
to see that this comic is still deeply necessary and
full of affect. And while the post-Columbine (and post-Virginia Tech)
media would urge that showing this comic to already dark and depressed high school kids is a recipe for badness, I’d argue otherwise. I
would, instead, suggest that many of these kids need dark humored, subversive, and alternative culture just to make it through the day. With
outsider culture comes a feeling of camaraderie–of solidarity. While none of my weird high school friends ever did anything legitimately
violent, it was probably because they had others to share this kind of dark culture with.