I am a fan of Fight Club and I am a fan of Chuck Palahniuk. I just don’t see the need for a Fight Club 2, The Comic. It is exactly the kind of crass commercialism, Ikea Catalog, Matt Fraction, New York Hipster bullshit that Fight Club railed against.

“If you don’t know what you want,” the doorman said, “you end up with a lot you don’t.”

Chuck is giving people who don’t know what cool is a sense of cool, a sense of returning to something they thought they were a part of, something they don’t need or want but will buy because it radiates an aura of authenticity because the people that make it are so much cooler, smarter and more charming than they are.

The Fight Club comic book is the epitome of everything Tyler Durden hated. I won’t buy it. Because I am smart enough to know I don’t want it or need it and life is too short for sequels to things that are better left alone in their angry perfection.

You tell yourself, this is the last comic I will ever need in my life. Buy the comic, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your cool comics issue handled. Then the right set of video games. Then the perfect t-shirt. The statues. The toys. Then you’re trapped in your lovely Fight Club nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.

It’s really that fucking simple, Chuck.