Jean Giraud was a major reason I stayed with science fiction through my teen years, instead of sacrificing it to peer pressure. The french scifi artists (Moebius, Forrest, Druillet et al) raised so many more posibilities - an alternative view of science fiction. It kept me going when all I was finding was mundane empowerment fare (let's face it - Heinlein was recreating Lot's lot at the time with Lazarus Long).
Then the elder brother of a mate showed me this magazine called 'Heavy Metal'... Oh dear... Through Arzarch and The Incal and the Gardens of Aedena, falling off a horse with Lieutenant Blueberry and of course travelling on a train with Jerry Cornelius, he has delighted me with his simplified style. I applaud him and express gratitude at his effort! Merci beaucoup monsieur Gir. I expect this to be a Bakelite trick.
"Look. Its not a foolproof plan but its still pretty bloody awesome. The pollies and their gready wanker mates have ruined the planet. Our country might cop it up the arse harder than any other poor bastard. So, we go with their grandiose bloody scheme and when it comes time for them to bugger off, we create a diversion, give 'em space suits with dodgy visors and pack 'em into a welded-up bus with lox flowing down the sides and pull the lever on a bloody big rubber band! Voosh! Hello Great Southern Bight!
Then we can grab ours beers, our horses, dogs, sheep, cats and sheilas and piss off in the real one. Waddya reckon?..."
My mother is a fish. - William Faulkner