As we all know, comic book artists are a bunch of miseryguts. They hang about in poorly-lit corners of attics and basements, day and night, chained to their easels, drawing insane acts of violence, with only the voices in their heads and abusive text messages from editors for company. These unique pressures can make them lurch to their Macs and make suicide threats on their blog, or even weirder cries for help.
Now, imagine the state of mind of a poor freelancer, already driven to the edges of sanity by recent disappointing contact with the thronged mass of humanity outside his door. He hears that one of his peers, a taller, ridiculously successful and acclaimed one at that, has announced a new project that sounds not completely unlike his own. What would happen then when he hears that yet another publisher has announced another similar sounding variation on the theme? Would he crack? Would he fly to California, strap an I.E.D. around his chest, and march right in to the San Diego Comic-Con making barely coherent threats? I'd like to think he would.