TUROK, DINOSAUR HUNTER #31-33 Valiant Comics, 1995

These three issues of Turok, Dinosaur Hunter may be the most manly comics I have ever read in my life.

Seriously, these things are so soaked in testosterone that they should be used in hormone therapy. They are so utterly male that they should be used as reference material for university-level gender studies classes. These three comics should be given to pubescent boys as a rite of passage: “Read these Turok comics, son. They’ll make a man out of you.” The musk of manliness that these comics give off is so powerful that I have to put the damn things in special bags or my office will stink like a mandrill in heat. They are so macho that every time I read them I want to punch somebody in the neck.

Basically, these comics rule.

A little background: Turok is a character that’s been around since the mid-fifties, appearing as Turok: Son of Stone in Dell Comics and then in Gold Key comics. The big concept of Turok is both simple and high-concept, at once stupid yet brilliant:

Indians versus dinosaurs.

How can you go wrong with an idea like that? It practically writes itself.

In the original comics, Turok and his sidekick Andar were two resourceful stone age tribesmen who get trapped in Lost Valley, which is just crawling with dinosaurs and cavemen. Comedy ensues. Valiant Comics picked up the rights to Turok and updated the idea a little. Now he’s Turok, Dinosaur Hunter, and he’s as likely to use an Uzi as a bow.

I think Turok is best known to the world at large as a shooter video game, but whenever anybody says “Turok,” I think of Turok, Dinosaur Hunter #31-33, “Radio Men of Lost Land.” Granted, people don’t say “Turok” around me a lot – maybe if they stub their toe or smash their thumb with a hammer or something. “Turok! My fucking thumb!”

This retro-pulp-sci-fi extravaganza from writer Tim Truman and penciller Paul Gulacy glories in its B-movie cheesiness, reveling in violence and gratuitous cheesecake. Plus, it is macho as hell.

Check out that cover, (below). You cannot go wrong with that cover. Burly shirtless sweaty Turok choking some alien with an M-16 while a formless monstrosity looms in the background? That’s what comics are all about, man.

Man, is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?

In the story, Turok, his sidekick Andy, and his woman Regan are traveling to Lost Land on an archaeological expedition with a documentary film crew when their plane gets sucked into an interdimensional vortex. They crash-land in the Lost Land, naturally. There the survivors are attacked by dinosaurs, kidnapped by telepathic aliens with sharp sticks, and menaced by a huge shapeshifting monster made of flesh-melting goo. It is awesome.

The documentary film crew turn out to be a band of crass film makers who are using the expedition to film footage for a schlocky T&A dinosaur movie.

Turok himself is a stoic, ultra-competent bad-ass who remains inscrutable behind pimpin’ mirrored shades. He quickly establishes alpha status within the group of survivors. This is Turok’s ‘hood, so to speak, so it’s only natural he leads.

When a herd of triceratops starts to stampede, the film crew try to get their actresses in the shot, with predictable results.

Turok has to bust a move to save that ass:

Oh, hell yes. That’s some manly shit right there.

Turok scoops up Miss Charlotte, but the herd of three-horns is thundering their way. How will they escape?

By being a total bad-ass, that’s how. Turok shoots one triceratops with his M-16 – one-handed BTW – and the thing drops. He knows just where to shoot the massive, armored creature, apparently. Anyway, take a look:

Cooper, the sleazy producer of the film, is impressed by Turok’s mad skillz, and wants to put the laconic warrior in his movie. While all of the characters in “Radio Men of Lost Land” are broadly sketched, the Cooper character is a particularly over the top caricature:

Artist Paul Gulacey’s work is well-suited to the subject matter, and it looks like he had fun drawing it. Gulacy’s well-constructed sequences are very cinematic, like this first reveal of the mysterious Radio Men:

Plus, the guy knows how to draw fight scenes. I’ve heard criticisms of Paul Gulacy’s work as stiff or inconsistent, but I disagree. He delivers dynamic, dramatic art that is always in service to the story. I think he’s the cat’s ass.

My only complaint is that sometimes Gulacy draws people with huge, flaring nostrils and bulging crackhead eyes. That's not a plus, usually, unless you're drawing a comic about pig crack addicts.

Anyway, the Radio Men attack the crash site and kidnap Regan and the actresses. They march them through dinosaur-infested jungle in their bikinis to meet their fate as sacrifices to the flesh-eating acid goo monster. The art and story are full of affectionate references to pulp sci-fi of times past, and although the material is played fairly straight, there’s always a wink in its eye.

Wait. That doesn’t make sense – comics can’t wink. But you know what I’m saying, I mean the comics don’t take themselves too seriously.

After braving numerous hazards of the dinosaur variety, Turok and the other survivors attack the Temple of the Radio Men in an effort to save the bikini’d womenfolk from being thrown in flesh-eating goo monster pit. Cooper films the entire battle, delighted by the great footage he’s getting.

Turok and Co. kill many many aliens. Cooper gets too engrossed in filming the battle and falls into the pit of the flesh-eating acid goo monster. Finally Turok and his woman are reunited in this brilliant panel:

One of the special effects guys on the film crew figures out how to overload the telepathic frequencies of the Radio Men and the flesh-eating goo monster. The formless monster turns into a big tidal wave of acid and destroys the High Priestess of the Radio Men.

The rest of the Radio Men get their heads blown up, Cronenberg-style!

BOO-YAH! Head bursting! I really like how the eyeballs are popping out of their heads – that’s a little bit of extra love Gulacy just threw in there for us.

Turok watches stone-faced as the entire evil Temple collapses. His work here is done. His bikini-clad woman holds him tight. All he needs is a beer and he would be set.

Damn, who’s got a cold one for Turok?

Who has got a fucking beer for my man Turok?!

Ferret Press/Panel Blog 3rd Anniversary

Belated congrats to Dara and Co. over at the Ferret Press/Panel blog on their 3rd Anniversary!

They said they were going to play "guess the artist" all week... More "guess the artist" please, or I will FedEx my albino attack ferret Miguel to you, and nobody wants that. The first three people Miguel sees when the box is opened -- they die.

Anyway, congratulations guys!

MILK AND CHEESE'S OTHER NUMBER ONE Slave Labor Graphics, 1992

God, how I love Milk and Cheese.

The misanthropic spawn of cartoonist extraordinaire Evan Dorkin, Milk and Cheese are a pair of violent, gin-swilling dairy products gone bad who first appeared in short strips in various magazines.

This comic, Milk and Cheese’s Other Number One, is the second collection of strips published by Slave Labor Graphics. I’m unclear as to whether there’s any original material in this book or if it’s all reprint stuff – and by “unclear” I mean “too lazy to research.” Whatever – it was all new to me!

Basically, Milk and Cheese is a series of fairly short strips that allow Dorkin to channel his disgust/contempt for the banalities of Western culture through the title characters. Milk and Cheese rage and (often literally) attack against any target that presents itself, ranging from Star Wars geeks to political correctness to Renaissance Fairs to insipid TV programs to Evan Dorkin himself – all in their inimitable style.

Here the two tiny terrors lash out against idiots who have “funny” suggestions for the strip:

That’s pretty mild stuff, by Milk and Cheese standards. The strips usually end in orgies of violence wherein they stab people with broken gin bottles or push flaming baby carriages into traffic. And they’re so cute! Look at the cute little milk carton stabbing that hippy in the eyes! Awww…

One of the great things about these collected volumes of strips is that you can see how Dorkin evolves as a cartoonist. Milk and Cheese is incredibly dense – perhaps I should say “jam-packed.” Dorkin uses every inch of the page to maximum effect, jamming little jokes in the periphery of the page, often in tiny writing. You really feel like you’re getting your money’s worth. As time goes on, the strips become more graphically interesting – Dorkin incorporates different hand-written fonts, backgrounds, visual effects, and unconventional page design. There’s a reason Dorkin won an Eisner for humor comics – he’s got mad skillz, as the kids say.

Plus, Milk and Cheese is funny as hell. It’s a refreshingly mean-spirited yet playful departure from… from hell, just about any comic or cartoon out there. These strips have literally reduced me to tears.

I think you can still order these from Slave Labor, or you can buy the Fun with Milk and Cheese trade via Amazon or your local comic shop.

Do it now, thank me later.

Thor: Smack Talker

Even when I'm braggin' I'm bein' sincere
- “I’m Bad,” LL Cool J

Thor is the consummate smack-talker of the Marvel Universe.*

Nobody talks a line of shit like Thor. He rarely fails to tell an opponent how powerful he is, or what a big mistake said opponent has made crossing his path, or how bad of a beat-down he’s about to deliver, or brag about the various features of his enchanted mallet Mjolnir. Plus, he's got a natural flair for drama. I'll bet he had to attend Oration class as a young golding at Asgard Prep.

Thor uses the laws of nature unique to comic books to full effect. He goes on at great length about how cool he is between punches. Seriously, the guy could work a Shakespearean sonnet into the time it takes for lightning to strike. This is something all heroes can do, of course, but Thor takes it to another level.

But you know, braggadaccio works for Thor – he comes from an ancient culture where it was acceptable to engage in a little self-promotion.

For some reason, the fact that he’s one of the most powerful beings ever to walk the Earth yet still talks shit does not make Thor a dick. He just gets away with it, pure and simple. Nobody wants to hear Superman brag about how cool he is – he would just come across as a bully – but for Thor, it works.

Why?

Thor really uses cultural relativism to his advantage. Yes, he might go on and on about how great he is, but give him a break, he’s a Viking – that’s the way of his people. Don’t judge, man. What do you have against Vikings anyway? Way to be insensitive to other cultures, dick.

You know another area where Thor gets a free pass just because he comes from a traditional culture? That hammer of his, mjolnir. He’s up there with The Frickin’ Hulk in terms of strength, and yet he still carries a huge stone hammer around.

Again, if this were Superman we were talking about, packing a weapon would seem unsporting and cruel. It would be like, “Why does Superman carry that machete around? It’s not enough that he can shoot heat-beams from his eyes, he has to fly around beheading people with a fucking machete, too? Not cool!”

But hey, Thor’s a Norseman, it wouldn’t be PC to call him on his hammer. I think mjolnir is the Norse word for “overkill.”

Anyway, getting off-topic. Back to Thor and his shit-talking.

Thor’s got that Olde English style of speech that makes practically anything he says sound cool. But when you break it down, Thor just sounds like professional wrestler Hulk Hogan as written by William Sakespeare. Let's indulge in some cheap humor and compare the two:

Hulk Hogan says: "You're going down, brother!"

Thor says: "I bid thee fall!"

Hulk Hogan says: "Hercules Hernandez, you may have the power of the cosmos. But what are you going to do, brother, when I wrap these 23-inch pythons around you? What are you going to do?!"

Thor says: "Thanos! Thy time draws nigh! Though you possess the Power Cosmic, Thor, as ever, shall reign supreme! Face me, villain!"

Hulk Hogan says: "I've been training, I've been eating my vitamins, I've been saying my prayers. Let me tell you something, Mean Gene - I wanna hurt somebody in Jacksonville this Saturday night real bad!"

Thor says: "The power of Asgard itself is the power of Thor! Behold, Recorder, as the Thunderer invades yon Land of the Dead - and woe betide those who seek to stop me!"

I could go on, but I think you get the picture.

One of the little perks that comes with being an Asgardian god is that you get to swear by your own name, or by that of your immediate family. Thor is always saying, "Odin's beard!" or something to that effect.

I think it would be cool to take your own name in vain, or to swear by your various body parts or character traits. When the printer at work jams I could bust out with, "By the balding pate of Dave!" or "Dave's blood! This accursed printer shalt vex me no longer - so sayeth David Campbell, son of Gary!!!"

I am totally going to do that.

Perhaps my favorite example of Asgardian trash-talking is in Thor vol 2. #25, a jumbo-size smackdown with Thanos and Mangog by writer Dan Jurgens and John Romita, Jr. Those guys understood Thor, and Jurgens penned some fantastically florid dialogue.

At the climax of this storyline, Thor repeatedly gets his ass handed to him by the supercharged cosmic villain Thanos, the Marvel answer to DC's Darkseid. (Or is it the other way around?) Fortunately, Thor powers up with a magic shield, belt, and gauntlet that enable him to take on the invincible Thanos.

Here are the final atomic-strength blows and the climactic bit of smack-talking:

The best part is that after Thor drops Thanos, he stands over his fallen foe and delivers this kick-ass line (clicketh to enlarge):

F*#% YEAH!!!**

That is quality.

In closing, if you're looking to read about a hero who talks shit and can back it up, look no farther than The Mighty Thor. Verily, he doth reign supreme.

I'm the pinnacle that means I reign supreme
And I'm notorious I'll crush you like a jelly bean

- “I’m Bad,” LL Cool J

*Hercules is a close second, but as a B-list character he doesn’t have as extensive a history of shit-talking as Thor does. His body of work just can’t compare to the God of Thunder’s.

**I have decided to change the spelling of "F*#% Yeah!" That damn ampersand was screwing my formating up; Blogger kept thinking I was typing an email address.

Senator Calls For "Sentinel Bra"

(AP) SIOUX FALLS, SD: Sen. G. Godfrey, R-South Dakota, is shifting the focus of his “cultural crusade for decency” from publicly funded arts programs to a surprising target: The Department of Homeland Security’s Project: Wideawake. In a news conference outside of Shaw Industries Robotics Plant in Sioux Falls, Godfrey criticized what he described as the “intentionally indecent design” of the mutant-hunting Sentinel robots created at the plant.

“I think it is a great shame that the Mark V [Sentinels] have been designed in such a titillating way, and I’m here to say ‘no more,’” said Godfrey, a member of the Senate Committee on Homeland Security.

Godfrey specifically objects to the distinctive pair of sensor nodes mounted on the chests of the giant robots, which he describes as “nipples.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that a weapons system like the Sentinels, which was paid for by the American taxpayer, reflect the sensibilities of decent folk,” Godfrey said, standing in front of a large schematic of the Mark V robot. “The Sentinel program is intended to hunt down and inter or kill unregistered mutants, not to make people uncomfortable. These nipples have to go.”

Lawrence Bolivar, a spokesperson for Shaw Industries, disagrees. “First of all, they’re not nipples, they are chest nodes that contain sensors designed to locate mutant and superhuman targets,” Bolivar said. “Second, the senator was on the Subcommittee on Mutant Management seven years ago when the Mark Vs were designed. He had every opportunity to object to the so-called nipples back then.”

Godfrey, who is running for reelection in 2006, insists that he is responding to the concerns of his constituents.

He cited a letter of complaint he received months ago from a Sioux Falls resident who was offended when she saw a Mark V demonstration at the 2005 Dakota Thunder Airshow at Ellsworth Air Force Base. “This mother described to me the Sentinel demonstration, in which two Mark Vs hunted down and neutralized a mutant on the airfield for the amusement of the crowd. She had to cover her son’s eyes when she realized that the Mark V’s were not properly covered up.”

“She wrote to me, ‘Is it too much to ask, Senator, that my son and I can watch a Sentinel hunt down a kangaroo-man at the Airshow without having to look at giant robot nipples?’”

“My answer to her is, ‘No, ma’am. It’s not too much to ask. The hardworking, non-mutant everyday citizens of America deserve better. We want to be safe from hideous, non-licensed illegal mutants, but not at the cost of surrendering our values.’”

Godfrey is introducing a spending bill that will provide funds for retrofitting that would hide the chest node/nipples on the Mark Vs, but acknowledges that a permanent solution is years away.

“Which is why I propose an interim solution that will allow the Sentinels to hunt down mutants in a decent way: the Sentinel Bra,” Godfrey said.

Godfrey proposes fitting each Mark V robot with a top that covers the chest nodes but doesn’t impair functionality. The Sentinel Bra is made of sturdy, stretchable material similar to a sports bra.

At a fraction of the cost it would take to retrofit the entire line of robots, Godfrey’s proposal would allow Project: Wideawake to continue, but without alienating social conservatives.

“With the Sentinel Bra, these giant robots will be free to hunt mutants in the towns and fields of this great nation without exposing young children to robotic nudity,” Godfrey said.

Shaw Industries’ Bolivar was dismissive of the senator’s proposal. “If Sen. Godfrey has nothing better to do than worry about Sentinel nipples, I feel sad for him. What’s next? Is he going to decide that our gamma missiles are too phallic?”

This is not the first Congressional criticism of the Sentinel program.

In 1998, Sen. Conrad Byrdy, R-Nebraska, unsuccessfully tried to have the “shorts” on the Mark V robots painted a metallic color to match the robots’ “vests.” Public Decency groups had complained that the paint scheme made it look as if the robots were not wearing any pants at all.

The Dave’s Long Box First Anniversary Spectacular!

Hey, right on, I’m glad you could make it.

Come on in. You can throw your coat on the bed in there if you like. Hey, look at you! Somebody’s been working out. You look good; very together, very 2006. You’ve kind of got a Tony Robbins thing going on. I like that sweater.

Listen, get yourself some chicken wings and a drink in the kitchen – try the rum punch, it’s killer. I have to start this thing.

Welcome to The Dave’s Long Box 1st Anniversary Spectacular, wherein we take a wacky walk together down memory lane… and I’m holding your hand the entire time and breathing heavily.

I know, it’s a little creepy. I’m not saying it won’t be uncomfortable, but join me on this psychedelic journey into narcissistic nostalgia, won’t you?

Dave’s Long Box launched a year ago today with a few modest, awkwardly written posts, evolving into the arrogant, awkwardly written blog you see before you. Prior to March 2005 I had just been lurking in the comics blogosphere, phantom-like, always reading and never participating, interacting. I felt like Patrick Swayze in Ghost. I had been working on a fiction blog called The Velvet Marauder – “It’s like Bridget Jones’ Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante” – but had yet to wade into the big scary world of blogging for reals.

But wade I did, and I kind of liked it. It was good writing exercise, and it was fun. People seemed to be digging my shit, which always helps. Then I got mentioned in Newsweek magazine and BAM! I had to kick it up a notch, Emeril-style, baby! Or something, I don’t know.

I was inspired by two of my favorite blogs: Graeme MacMillan’s late Fanboy Rampage and Neilalien, which happily is still going strong. I appreciated the sheer amount of content and the “audience participation” in Fanboy Rampage, and the fact that Neilalien’s site had a unique theme and focus: all things Dr. Strange. Dave’s Long Box is nothing like either blog, but I like to think that I have adopted lessons learned from both. I knew that I wanted my blog to have a theme (I review my old comics, you laugh and cry), to encourage reader input and discussion, and that it would be updated regularly.

The other overriding theme or mission or whatever of Dave’s Long Box is that I wanted to set a certain tone of civility and accountability. I decided I would put my full name out there and that I would at least make an effort to be respectful of my readers and of the people who make the comic books that I love and/or hate. I even wrote a little mission statement – more of a memo, really - On Being Mean, which outlines my blogging philosophy. I have violated the principles outlined in that post several times, so I just go back and edit the original mission statement so I don’t look like a complete asshole.

Kidding.

Starting out, one of the things I decided I would do was have theme weeks and recurring features to help give Dave’s Long Box some sense of structure and identity. I started off with No Profanity Week, which was sponsored by wrestling superstar Ric Flair.

That seemed to go over well, so I kept going. Boob War Week was a big hit and still pulls in the Google traffic to this day. Everybody likes boobs, apparently. Who knew? I was kind of fond of Kobra Week myself, which focused on the DC super-villain Kobra and how damn cool he is.

The most popular theme week seemed to be the F*@% Yeah Files, which explore some of the most kick-ass, moving, and flat-out awesome scenes in comic book history – stuff that is so cool it literally compels you to exclaim, “FUCK YEAH!” You know, like when Flash rescues the flight attendant who gets sucked out of an airliner at 10,000 feet.

The F*@% Yeah Files even spawned a movie version. I veered off course for a week and explored some of my favorite F*@% Yeah moments in film. “Khaaaan!”

Some posts are more popular than others. I kind of figured that my post Everybody Loves Power Girl would go over well – I believe I modestly referred to it beforehand as “the best post you have ever read on any blog – ever!” This look at the phenomenon of Power Girl’s breasts pulled in a lot of hits, and to this day is probably my most frequently visited post. I attribute its popularity more to masturbating geeks on Google than to quality writing - as of now I am the #1 search result on Google for “power girl boobs.” I can live with that.

Another popular post was Airwolf: The Adjective. I can’t remember who and I’m too lazy too search for it, but a DLB reader mentioned the concept of the word “Airwolf” as a universally positive adjective, and I just ran with it. I’ve been credited elsewhere for the Airwolf idea, but I didn’t think it up – that distinction goes to the very funny Ernie Cline, who did a spoken-word piece called “Airwolf” back in 2000. I’m just happy to do my part in helping to seed the pop cultural landscape with Airwolf: The Adjective.

It’s funny the shit that brings in traffic.

Second to Power Girl and Airwolf, I probably got the most hits for this picture of a spunky little cat with a “can-do” attitude:

People love cats; go figure.

I have some personal favorite posts, of course, as well as posts that just make me wince and tempt me to delete them. Nobody would notice if I just got rid of that horrible piece about Hawkman, would they?

One of my favorite and/or most enjoyable posts was a two-part dissection of Thor #499, a comic so horrible that one post could not contain its suckitude. This comic is a classic and hilarious example of poor quality control and mis-communication between writer and artist, and spotlights the phenomenon known as “the de-nudifying effect” or “editorial swimwear,” when racy art is clumsily covered up by the editors.

I was also fond of the post Workforce Management the Kobra Way, which explores Kobra’s techniques for effectively leading an army of henchmen. It involves lots of strangling.

A personal favorite of mine is the S.H.I.E.L.D. Career Power Seminar, which was an honest-to-God real presentation I did at work on Halloween.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Career Power was basically a recruiting pitch for potential S.H.I.E.L.D. agents conducted by Col. Nick Fury (me), complete with PowerPoint slides. I worked very hard on the whole thing and it went over really well with my co-workers, even if most people thought I was supposed to be Snake Plissken. The shit I have to put up with...

Another post that I think turned out OK was Street Fighter: The Musical, a take-down of the wretched comic book adaptation of the equally wretched Street Fighter movie. The post has the lines, “This comic book is so awful that writing (...) about it merely prolongs its existence... Talking about it is like watering an ugly, ugly flower” and “… so bad that I want to burn it, but I’m afraid that the toxic smoke from the fire will ruin a sunset or poison something beautiful, like a butterfly.” Man, I crack myself up.

I may be funny infrequently, but I am often DEAD WRONG.

I have made more than my share of mistakes over the past year. If there’s one thing I’ve learned while writing about comic books, it’s that you have to get your shit straight or somebody is going to call you on it. There’s always some wise-ass out there who will let me know if I spelled Neal Adams’ name wrong, or that I totally got the name of Mantra’s alter-ego wrong. Usually I just silently fix the mistake so the wise-ass looks like an idiot complaining about errors that don’t exist, but sometimes I screw up in such a profound way that it can’t be concealed.

Take this entry about Karkas in my recurring feature, Lame-ass Villains.

I built the entire post around the fact that Karkas has no opposable thumbs. He doesn’t, really! Look it up if you don’t believe me! Be that as it may, the humor of the whole piece is sort of undermined by the picture of Karkas with an opposable thumb.

That’s the Ol’ Dave Campbell Eye for Detail in action right there.

Another cock-up was my review for Alpha Flight #121, in which I incorrectly said that artist Craig Brasfield was responsible for this blatant swipe of some John Byrne art. I learned that it was the book’s editor who slapped the Byrne art into the comic, not Brasfield, so I had to go back and set the record straight. My bad.

OK, I shouldn’t have had that last gin and tonic. Daddy’s starting to get a headache, kids, so I better wrap this up. Did you like the chicken wings?

I want to thank everybody who has visited Dave’s Long Box over the past year, and in particular everyone who took the time to comment or send me an email shout-out. I really appreciate everyone’s support and hope that we can all continue to hang out together over the next 365 days.

A big what-up goes out to my fellow comic bloggers as well – there are a lot of people blogging out there who are doing really great work; funny, thoughtful, inspiring, challenging writing that helps Move Comics Forward. Except for that one asshole.*

Not to get all corny and shit, but I’m proud to be even indirectly associated with a lot of the fine folks out there behind their keyboards. I tip my proverbial 40-ouncer in your honor.

So, onwards and upwards! Let’s join hands once again in a non-sexual way and march together into a Golden Future of Online Comic Book Commentary.

As my man Casey Kasem says, “Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars!”



*Kidding.