I am always looking for comics that are different—in a fantastic way. That goes the same with bringing creators onto the podcast. I often reach out to creators and invite
them on the podcast. Normally, it might take a few weeks to line things up with a guest.
Not so with Jimmy Palmiotti, who quickly arranged for taping. Now, I’ve been doing this for a while, and I manage to keep the fanboy separate from the podcaster. Not so, with Mr. Palmiotti! I was nervous as heck, and it showed during the taping.
Truthfully, he’s a really, really nice guy! Still, it’s Jimmy Frigging Palmiotti! I mean, he’s been involved with so many comics over the years, but I didn’t go with the obvious choice with Tales of the Gunslinger. Instead, I wanted to talk to him about Pop Kill, which you can learn more about in the interview. And, you can watch the full show on YouTube.
Now, here’s why I wanted to cover Pop Kill. It’s Palmiotti at his most unapologetically pulpy, taking a premise that sounds like satire — rival soda empires hiring assassins to protect their fizzy fortunes — and playing it with enough straight‑faced conviction that the absurdity becomes part of the fun. The world is loud, corrupt, and heightened, but the book never winks at the reader. Instead, it leans into the idea that corporate greed can be as deadly as a
ny crime syndicate, and that commitment gives the story its bite.
The relationship between Dina Delux and Jon Pyle is the engine that keeps everything moving. They’re professionals who know exactly how dangerous they are, yet neither is as in control as they pretend. Their chemistry is sharp, messy, and full of the kind of tension that makes every decision feel like a gamble. Palmiotti uses their dynamic to ground the book, giving the violence and double‑crosses an emotional throughline that keeps the story from drifting into pure spectacle.
Dave Johnson’s covers set the tone with bold, graphic swagger, but the interior art carries the real weight. The visuals are all sharp silhouettes, expressive faces, and action sequences that feel choreographed rather than chaotic. The world of Pop Kill is drenched in neon and shadow, and the art embraces that contrast without losing clarity. Even the quieter moments have an edge, as if every conversation could turn lethal with one wrong word.
The book moves fast, sometimes too fast, but the momentum is part of its charm. It’s a story built on excess — big personalities, big violence, big corporate stakes — and it never pretends otherwise. The pacing leaves little room for reflection, yet the emotional beats between Dina and Jon land because they’re rooted in the same pulp logic that drives the rest of the book.
What makes Pop Kill work is its confidence. It knows exactly what kind of story it wants to be and never apologizes for its swagger. Beneath the soda‑cartel absurdity is a sharp, stylish crime thriller with two compelling leads trying to survive a world designed to chew them up. It’s slick, loud, and proudly over the top — and that’s exactly why it hits.
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