ALIEN LEGION #15 Epic Comics, 1990

Alien Legion was a sci-fi military series from the 80’s published by Epic, a marvel imprint. Created by writer/editor Carl Potts, Alien Legion was basically the French Foreign Legion in space, featuring a cast of hardened alien scum who embark on Dirty Dozen type missions. If I’m correct, there were two regular Alien Legion series as well as several mini-series. Alien Legion was drawn by artist Larry Stroman who visually created the look of the Legion universe, and was often written by Chuck Dixon, the Alistair MacLean of comics! I don’t know if that’s accurate; it just sounds right. Anyway, this is issue #15 of the second series, by Dixon and Stroman.

This is part one of a two-part story when the bad mofos of Force Nomad mop up after a civil war between the sexes on the planet Mmrosdia. The soldiers are tasked with removing a group of mercenaries from the losing side from a huge mass driver industrial complex. The Legionnaires infiltrate the complex via the waste discharge tunnels, where they find nothing but trouble. The featured characters in this issue are Gronk, a big alien who talbs like dis all de tibe, the hard-ass human Captain Montroc, a trio of armored raccoon aliens, and Jugger frickin’ Grimrod.

Man, I thought Jugger Grimrod was the coolest. Grimrod was the Wolverine of the team, a superbad, supercynical soldier with a scouser accent and a bad attitude. My favorite Alien Legion comic was issue #5 from the first series, which was an all-Grimrod issue. He gets stranded on an enemy planet and basically just goes into full-on Rambo kill mode, blowing up stuff and strangling people with his molecule-thin “molywire” garrote. I’m distraught because I can’t find that issue anywhere in my boxes. I really need to get this stuff organized…

Anywhere, here’s Jugger griping about something as per usual:



He’s so frickin’ cool. See? I’m not swearing. It’s all part of No Profanity Week here at Dave’s Long Box, where the kids come first!

I do have one pretty big complaint about this issue, which I like otherwise. Normally I really dig Larry Stroman’s stylized art, which is perfectly suited to science fiction. But check out this last page, where Jugger learns that the mercenaries they’re fighting are led by… his father!



That’s a pretty cool picture.

But wait a second...

As a child of the 80’s, that particular image looks awfully familiar…



What the hell? Certainly Stroman is capable of drawing Jugger Grimrod without cribbing the image directly from the fucking movie poster from fucking Commando! I call bullshit on that!

I hate to be the guy to bring this up, but that’s kind of weak. Otherwise, good issue.

Ric Flair, can I get a “wooo?”

"NOOO!!! YOU SWORE!!! NO WOOO FOR YOU!!!"

Shit! I let The Nature Boy down! Please forgive me Ric Flair!

UPDATE: Dave's Long Box reader Zack has helpfully pointed out that it was not Larry Stroman but rather artist Frank Cirocco who actually designed the look of Alien Legion, and did the art on the first few issues. Thank you, good sir.

My short review of Batman Begins

It so totally did not suck.

You know what it was really missing, though? A dance scene like THIS:

DETECTIVE COMICS #617 DC Comics, 1990

Okay, since I’m going to go check out Batman Begins tomorrow I thought I’d check out an old Batman comic. You know, I still can’t get past the name "Batman Begins," but I guess it’s better than Batman Forever or Batman’s Dance Party or whatever that last one was called. Anyway, let’s take a look at Detective Comics #617, and most importantly, let’s do it without any profanity because it is No Profanity Week here at the Long Box.

Of all the regular monthly Batman creative teams, my favorite is the double-threat of writer Alan Grant and artist Norm Breyfogle. Those cork-sucking bastitches made some darn good comic books! They worked together on both Batman and Detective Comics, and I defy anyone to show me a creative team who delivered better work on a monthly basis than those two cats.

Alan Grant’s scripts were street-level sagas of sin and suffering. He never forgot that Batman fights crime. In almost every issue he beats up some muggers, usually while he’s en route to some other more pressing engagement, like a rampaging Hindu demon. In addition to back-alley brawling, Grant’s stories featured a hefty dose of the supernatural and a nice balance between classic Batman villains like The Penguin and The Joker and new adversaries like Scarface and The Ventriloquist, Anarky, and The Corrosive Man. One thing I particularly liked about Grant’s version of Batman was that he was human – he made mistakes, he got captured, and he got beat up a lot. Batman’s a versatile enough character to fit into different storylines and genres, but I like the urban avenger model of Batman the best, as opposed to the hyper-competent JLA version of Batman with the sci-fi closet who takes on aliens and stuff. I understand that he needs to be that way in some comics in order to keep up with the titans of the Justice League, but I can’t reconcile that version of Batman – the one that beats the um, poo out of Martians – with the Batman who works up a sweat taking out a gang of bikers. I think Batman should be the toughest mamajama in Gotham, not the “deadliest man alive.” That’s why I dig Alan Grant’s take on the character. You actually wondered, “Man, how is Batman possibly going to defeat this rampaging Hindu demon?” instead of “Why doesn’t he just bust out his Anti-Demon Mace?”

Norm Breyfogle’s art frickin’ rules! It rules, I say! Sometimes I think the way Breyfogle draws regular characters is a little too stylized and verges on caricature, but when it comes to Batman and the freaks and creeps he fights, he’s solid gold, baby.

Breyfogle’s Batman is lean, powerful, and athletic. You really believe this guy could jump around on batlines and flip around like a freakin’ monkey. Plus, Breyfogle draws a great cape. Based on the dramatic needs of the story, Batman’s cape varies in length from six feet to a full-on Spawn-size thirty foot black shroud. It looks great. Plus, his action scenes are so full of motion and energy. Don’t take my word for it – check it out, here’s Batman cutting across some rooftops trying to catch a fleeing Joker in a car:



See? I’ll take stylized speed lines like that over stiff photo-realism any day of the week.

Detective Comics #617 is a flashback issue to a previous fight between Batman and The Joker that took place three years ago. I figure that’s in comic book time, which is like dog years in reverse, which would place the story in, oh, 1973 or so. Anyway, the framing device for the flashback is a visit Batman makes to a Gotham fortune teller. I know that sounds corny, but bear with me.

In the previous issue Batman learns that The Joker is alive and back in Gotham. I’m not a continuity geek, but I believe that Batman believed Joker died at the end of the Death of Robin storyline and this is the first time he and the readers have seen the Clown Prince of Crime since then. Correct me if I’m wrong (Dan Coyle). Anyway, Batman learns The Joker is back and goes hunting for him. He stops a creep – Alan Grant’s Batman refers to all criminals as “creeps” – from robbing the aforementioned fortune teller, and on a whim, decides to see if she can help him locate The Joker.

This leads into a flashback mini-story and sets up the theme of the comic, which is all about symbolism and how both Batman and The Joker embody certain universal archetypes and symbols that appear in different cultures. That’s right, Alan Grant gets all deep and Jungian on our, um, butts. In the flashback, The Joker and his goons crash a charity exhibition called “Symbols Through the Ages” at a museum that Bruce Wayne is attending and starts phugging stuff up.

Here’s The Joker in action:



As always, Bruce manages to slip into his Batman costume and kick some butt. The Joker traps Batman under a totem pole and lights the museum on fire, making good his escape. Is this the end of Batman? Umm, no. He gets all pumped up in his internal monologue – “I – am – the BAT!!!” and with a feat of almost superhuman strength lifts the totem pole and saves the museum patrons. Then he sets off over the rooftops of Gotham after The Joker, who is fleeing in a car. Batman keeps up his internal monologue about bat symbolism as he pursues his quarry. I guess he has a copy of Hero with a Thousand Faces in the Batmobile’s glove box or something. He does a Chuck Norris move and kicks The Joker in the head through the windshield – end of flashback. (What they don’t show is The Joker going through the turnstile of the justice system, getting committed to Arkham for the 500th time, and escaping for the 501st time, killing several guards in the process, only to be stopped by Batman again, et cetera…)

Although Grant does pound the reader over the head with the symbolism thing, I still like this issue because at least it’s got something subtextual going on besides the usual fisticuffs. And hey, a well-drawn Batman jumping around and beating the snot out of people? That’s never a bad thing.

Now let’s hope the movie is as good as they say it is. If I see any Bat-Ice Skates, I’m asking for my money back.

Hey! I made it through another post with No Profanity! Ric Flair, can I get a “wooo?”

"No profanity! Wooo!!!"

Best. Cover. Ever.

My thanks and praise to reader Dave Carter of Yet Another Comics Blog for pointing out Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #141, which has the best "non-monkey comic book cover ever."

I don't think this needs any further explanation. I mean, it's frickin' Don Rickles! Plus the greatest climax ever seen in comics! Say no more!

Hey, I said "frickin'" instead of using the F-bomb! Ric Flair, can I get a "wooo?"

I frickin' rule!!! No swearing for me! No Profanity Week is off to a great start!

Welcome to No Profanity Week!

I'm excited to announce that this week is No Profanity Week at Dave's Long Box.

That's right, this entire week my posts will be completely devoid of any swearing.

I've come to realize that I have a mouth like a longshoreman and that darn it, I want the kids to be able to read and enjoy Dave's Long Box without any foul language. Plus, a lot of folks read this at work, and although I don't, you know, put swear words in bold type or anything, I want people to feel comfortable reading this at work. For a whole week - seven full days - there will be no cussin'. Who knows, if it goes well, I may even have No Gratuitous Use Of Italics Week.

The unofficial sponsor of No Profanity Week is none other than Nature Boy Ric Flair, the best darn wrestler ever! Every time I make it through a post without any dirty words, Ric Flair will congratulate me as only he can.

Wish me luck everybody!

"No profanity! WOOOO!!!!!"

My portrait!

All right, I finally figured out how to do the damn portrait thing in my Blogger profile! I picked the goofiest picture of myself I could possibly find, because I have no shame.

You probably don't want to know this, but it's a photo I snapped of myself on the toilet. I cropped it so it's just my face. You see? I am a merciful Dave.

MARVEL TWO-IN-ONE Marvel Comics, 1979

If you don’t like The Thing, you are a frickin’ communist, end of story.*

For my money, Marvel Two-In-One is the ultimate Thing series. Sure, he was in Fantastic Four and had his own book, The Thing, but I thought Marvel Two-In-One was the most fun. Each issue featured The Thing and a co-star (hence the Two-In-One title), but really, it was just a Thing solo book. Half the time The Thing would team up with regular heroes like Dr. Strange and Black Panther, and the other half he would “team up” with lame second-stringers like Triton, The Aquarian, and Quasar. That’s right, I just took a shot at Quasar. Regardless of who the co-star was, Marvel Two-In-One always had a lot of clobberin’, and that’s never a bad Thing. Heh-heh.

This particular issue is part of the ongoing “Project Pegasus” saga, in which The Thing defends the top-secret Project Pegasus from attack and skullduggery with the help of Wundarr, Quasar, and the black Giant-Man, who I love. I just think he’s a cool looking character and wish he had stuck around. Anyway, in this issue Thundra, the warrior woman from Femazonia, leads a commando team of super-powered female wrestlers called The Grapplers on a secret mission into Project Pegasus. Seriously, I can’t make shit like that up.

Let’s take a look at The Grapplers:



Yes, that’s the Screaming Mimi, who would go on to become “Songbird” in Kurt Busiek’s awesome Thunderbolts series. And there’s Poundcakes, who would go on to become your junior high gym teacher. I know it’s a comic book, but who would let herself be called “Poundcakes?”

Thundra does battle with The Thing while the rest of the super-powered female wrestlers fight Quasar and Giant-Man. The Thing, who has a hurt arm, gets knocked around by the Femazonian she-wrestler, who has a thing for The Thing. Heh. Man, I am on fire today!

That’s right, Thundra – who, let’s face it, is kind of sexy in a Chyna kind of way – has the hots for The Thing. They are fated to be mates because he’s powerful and he’s good in a fight – traits that Femazonians admire.

I don’t want to get into a discussion about Ben Grimm’s rocky anatomy here, because there’s probably plenty of bad fan-fiction that covers that ground. But surely it must have crossed Thundra’s mind that The Thing might be, you know, rocky all over. I mean, how would that work? There isn’t enough KY jelly in the world to make that an enjoyable experience. So I don’t know where she’s coming from with this “fated to be mates” crap.

Although maybe Femazonians get their kicks in different ways:



Wow, Thundra. Was that good for you?

I should quit while I’m ahead.

This is just a great, goofy old-fashioned comic book slug-fest, written by Mark Gruenwald (that explains Quasar’s presence) and Ralph Macchio with art by Perez and Day. The cover is by John Byrne, who did a lot of work on Marvel Two-In-One back in the day. I think the whole thing is keen.

To me, this issue represents a sense of fun that I think a lot of Marvel books lack these days. Times change, I guess, but sometimes I wish superhero comics had that old four-color whiz-bang quality to them and were actually written for kids instead of thirty-something geeks like me. Don’t get me wrong, I think superheroes can encompass a variety of different genres and themes, but I don’t think they all have to be fucking Greek tragedies. That’s just me, though.

Bonus! This issue has a letter from Young Kurt Busiek, who would go on to write some of my favorite modern comics, like Thunderbolts and the now legendary Busiek/Perez run on The Avengers. Kurt’s one of those guys that remembers why we all liked comics in the first place, and it shows in his work. Young Kurt Busiek (now a mini-series event from NBC!) was a regular letter writer to Marvel Two-In-One. Here’s an excerpt:

“Here’s a suggestion: The time has come for Colonel Nicholas Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. to return to his own book. You’ve finally got the artist for it in Frank Miller. […] Frank Miller would do an excellent Nick Fury. C’mon, you’re gonna be doing a spy book with the Black Widow. If she can swing it, why not Fury?”

As they say on Fanboy Rampage: Busiek wins. Too bad Marvel didn’t heed Young Kurt Busiek’s wise words. If only I could step in my Wayback Machine and make Frank Miller work on a Nick Fury book after he finished Daredevil. Sigh…

UPDATE: Thanks and mad props to reader Jason "Thrillcox" Wilcox for pointing out this dope page re: the Project Pegasus storyline in Marvel Two-In-One. It's a great overview... if you speak French, that is. Fortunately I do, as well as Pushtu and Tagalog.

*This applies to both the comic book character and the John Carpenter movie.

The Birds

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ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN #458 DC Comics, 1989

Oh, man. Just looking at the cover - stretchy Jimmy Olsen -- you know this is going to suck. Which begs the question: why did you buy this, Dave? Even back in 1989, surely you knew this wasn't going to be a good comic. I honestly don't know what I was thinking.

I really am just reviewing this so I can make fun of Jimmy Olsen. Is he anybody's favorite character? I'm sure he's somebody's favorite - even the lamest character has a #1 Fan. I call this "The Night Ranger Factor." To this day, there are people out there in the world who, defying all reason, are HUGE fans of the band Night Ranger. Judging by the results of a quick Google search, there are quite a few people who can claim to be Night Ranger's #1 Fan. My point is, no matter how ridiculous or suck-ass a character, movie, book, or band is, there's always somebody out there who totally digs it. I believe this is a universal truth. Somewhere in our great nation there lurks a guy (come on, you know it's a guy) who can accurately call himself Jimmy Olsen's #1 Fan.

I am not that person.

Jimmy Olsen is the Jar Jar Binks of the comic book world - looking at him just makes me angry. Jimmy Olsen is the Avatar of Uncool. He's just -- just-- GOD, HE IS SUCH A TOOL!!!

Case in point: Adventures of Superman #458, wherein Jimmy Olsen suddenly develops uncontrollable stretching powers similar to the Elongated Man. You see, there's this virus... ah, screw it. I'm not here to explain the plot, I'm just here to mock Jimmy Olsen.

Jimmy is sprung on Daily Planet reporter Cat Grant, and in an effort to convince her he's cool, he joins her aerobics class. Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and half the staff of the Daily Planet also attend this class because... well, because the plot demands that they be there. Jimmy has no hope in hell of ever getting anywhere with Cat, but his complete lack of self-awareness shields him from this brutal truth. It's almost as if Jimmy comes from the alien world, not Clark -- an alien world where the concept of "cool" doesn't exist.

So anyway, Jimmy shows up at this aerobics class to impress Cat, and things go horribly wrong. Check it out (click to enlarge):



Sweet Moses, what is he wearing?! Borrowing the Hulk's color scheme, Jimmy wears a purple leotard with green briefs. That'll get the chicks, Jimmy. Tool. I like the little inset panels of Jimmy's face on this page - it looks like he's trying to pass a kidney stone or something.

Jimmy's weird stretching powers manifest themselves suddenly and painfully in the aerobics class. Some well intentioned gym-goers try to help him while Clark dashes out and changes into Superman. Observe:



Cat Grant's kid sees the elastic chaos and says: "What's all the noise about -- Wow. For cool!" Yeah, I don't know what that means, either. Maybe the kid is an adopted Russian orphan who is charmingly mangling American slang or something.

All right, that's it. The comic goes on, but really, who cares? Jimmy lives to annoy another day and stalk more Daily Planet staff in the future. I just wanted to show everybody Jimmy's neat leotards, which are truly "for cool."

BILL & TED'S EXCELLENT COMIC BOOK Marvel Comics, 1992

This comic book is both totally excellent and utterly non-heinous.

Really.

The penultimate issue in the series, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Comic Book #11 is actually better than the movies that spawned it. I know, we’re talking apples and oranges – film is a different medium, etc. But still – the Bill & Ted comics were better than the movies. I don’t think that’s saying much.

I found the Bill & Ted movies both amusing and stupid at the same time – sort of like Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. You know the scene that really bugged me the most in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure? When Bill & Ted take all of the historical figures to the mall. Sure, Napoleon pigging out in the ice cream parlor was funny, but the Joan of Arc thing – kill me, please. In the movie, Joan of Arc sees an aerobics class and is so overcome with excitement that she shoves the instructor aside and takes over the class, aerobicising with a zealot’s fury. I hated that. That was all they could think to do with her? Just thinking about it makes me want to punch somebody. Wait a second…

…okay, done. I just totally uppercut some guy so hard his dog screamed. I feel better.

You can imagine based on my feelings about the films that I would not enthusiastically purchase a Bill & Ted comic book. But wait! What about a Bill & Ted comic book written and drawn by Evan Dorkin?

Excellent!

Evan Dorkin is one of my favorite cartoonists ever. Ever! If you haven’t been exposed to the raw beauty that is Milk and Cheese or the sinister humor of Dork!, both published by Slave Labor Graphics, then you, my friend, are missing out. Evan Dorkin is one of the most original voices in funny books today, with a track record of solid work that a creator twice his age would be proud of. I am totally “on his dick,” and I mean that in a non-pornographic way.

The Bill & Ted books really are brilliant. I understand they’re being collected…? Yes? I think? If so, check them out. Dorkin was the perfect guy for the project, and Marvel just kind of let him go nuts and do his thing. The result are comics that are unmistakably Dorkin’s work – dense, packed with laffs, slightly subversive - but are faithful to the original material. I loves it.

“Dave, you are high,” you might say. “There is no way anything to do with Bill & Ted is cool.”

“You want some of this?” I might say, cocking my fist threateningly. “You want The Hammer?”

“Okay, take it easy…” you might say, flinching.

That’s right. Nobody wants The Hammer.*

The story is simple enough, but it’s all in the execution. Everyone’s favorite time-traveling stoners visit a Planet of The Apes marathon at their local theater, accompanied by their skeletal buddy Death, who gorges himself on junk food and throws up – or dry heaves anyway. Shortly thereafter Bill & Ted are shocked to find out that their buddy Abe Lincoln gets assassinated! Most heinous!



Naturally, the boys try to come up with a plan, so they lock themselves in a room for a week and brainstorm a solution. After studying the problem by “examining five dollar bills, pennies, watching Lincoln movies, every Twilight Zone treatment of the Lincoln question… everything short of reading about it” they are stumped. Their totally bogus plans include calling out the Army, fully panicking, bombing Washington D.C. to dust, and asking Spider-Man to help. Most lame.

Then they get an idea: go back in time and save Lincoln!



“Let’s do this thing!”

Bill & Ted & Death travel back in time and save Lincoln by kidnapping him in their time machine, but their history meddling plunges the world into a horrific nightmare fascist timeline. They have to take Lincoln back. The bummer thing is, along the way they happen to mention to Lincoln that he gets shot – he freaks out and doesn’t want to go back. Who can blame him?

How totally un-excellent! What will Bill & Ted do?

This book is just packed with funny. Dorkin has got Bill & Ted’s dialogue down cold – he actually makes them cooler than they were in the movies. And like most of Dorkin’s work, the art is packed with tiny little gags and details that make it a pleasure to read. You can really tell the guy was putting a lot into each page, not phoning it in. He’s almost too good for the material – almost.

To all those doubters out there, I say to thee: don’t hate! Bill & Ted’s Excellent Comic totally rules.



Big way.

*Insert MC Hammer joke here.

ADVENTURE COMICS #452 DC Comics, 1977

Remember back in the day when comic book covers regularly depicted scenes which did not happen in the comic itself? Covers were often symbolic or even allegorical. You’d buy an issue of Detective Comics with Batman on the cover getting knocked into a vat of acid by the Grim Reaper – yes, Death himself – but when you got home and read the damn thing, the scene’s not in the comic at all. The closest it gets to the cover scene is a brief fight in a paint factory with some burglars. What a rip-off!

The cover to this issue of Adventure Comics (starring Aquaman) is not that bad; while the exact circumstances depicted on the cover do not transpire in the course of the book, Aquaman and Aqualad are forced to fight in a gladiator pit by Black Manta and there is a trident involved. However, at no point in the book does Aquaman put on a dog leash, at no point does Black Manta give a big thumbs-down, and at no point are Aquaman’s calf muscles drawn larger than his head. By Neptune, look at the size of his legs! No wonder Aquaman’s such a good swimmer – his calves are freakishly huge!

The only other thing I want to say about the cover is that the Aquaman logo is fucking rad.

Man, I sure use italics a lot… I’d better take it easy with that shit.

This comic actually chronicles a big event in the life of Aquaman. Lots of important stuff happens that will have an effect on Aquaman comics for literally decades to come: Black Manta’s identity is revealed, Aquaman’s toddler son gets killed by Black Manta, and Aquaman and Aqualad break up. If this comic were published today the story would be “decompressed” and spread out over six issues but back in 1977 you got it in one issue, baby! For thirty-five cents!

The problem I have with Adventure Comics #452 is that it’s not a very good comic. You’d think that for such a momentous issue – the cover calls it "a novel-length sea-spectacular" -- they’d raise the bar in terms of quality. You’d think that, and you’d be wrong.

I’m going to dispense with the standard catty comments about Aquaman and what a lame superhero he is. It’s too easy, and frankly, I dig Aquaman. He never gets the props he deserves, so no snark for Aquaman. The comic book he’s in, however? That’s fair game.

This comic was written by David Micheline (of Iron Man fame) and penciled by Jim Aparo, workhorse artist of the 70’s-80’s. The basic story is that Aquaman is looking for Aquababy, who has been kidnapped. His search leads him to an undersea community of pacifists who have been taken over by mysterious purple SCUBA thugs. Here, at the beginning of our story we find Aquaman locked in combat with the purple SCUBA thugs (below). Help me out here; what is that one thug doing? I don’t know if you can technically dry-hump somebody underwater, but it looks like he’s giving it a shot:



Aquaman gets captured and the architect of this whole evil plot is revealed: why, it’s his old foe Black Manta! I always loved Black Manta, ever since the Challenge of the Super Friends cartoon. He was like an underwater Darth Vader. I believe – and correct me if I’m wrong – that he was originally just called “Manta.” Frankly, Black Manta looks a lot cooler than he really is.

Case in point:



“You were expecting, perhaps, Peter Benchley?” Forgive me if you know this, but Peter Benchley is the guy who wrote Jaws. That is just lame 70’s aquatic humor. Black Manta loses two Cool Points for that.

But we’re not done yet. While he holds Aquaman prisoner – remember they’re underwater here - Black Manta holds forth about his grand scheme – he’s going to create his own undersea community for his people? His people? What’s he talking about? Manta pulls off his helmet and:



That’s right, he’s not called Black Manta for nothing! In one fell swoop writer David Micheline permanently fucks up Black Manta for all time. Instead of a power-mad undersea criminal, he’s now a hypocritical black militant who wants to enslave an entire community of undersea pacifists to serve their surface-dwelling masters. I don’t know, I always thought that was stupid.

Plus, he takes off his helmet for the big reveal and keeps talking to Aquaman – even though he’s underwater! His purple SCUBA thugs take off their helmets in the next panels, too. What the fuck? Black Manta, do you see the green bubbles floating around your head? That means YOU’RE UNDERWATER!!!!

It doesn’t stop there. Black Manta puts Aquababy in what must be a custom-designed Aquababy Killing Machine and forces Aquaman and Aqualad to fight, gladiator-style, in an arena surrounded by a force field. The Aquababy Killing Machine is a glass bubble filled with water that slowly starts to fill with air – if Aquaman doesn’t kill Aqualad, his baby is done for!

So, after a cursory apology to Aqualad (who he always calls “Minnow”), our hero proceeds to beat the crap out of him. Aquaman catches a lucky break – the force field goes down, allowing him to throw his trident (or “tri-pronged javelin” as Micheline calls it) at the Aquababy Killing Machine, destroying it. Here’s the dramatic panel:



I hate to nit-pick, but this climactic panel is sabotaged by a simple printing error; it's missing a few key words. Check out the red arrow. I think the caption is supposed to read: "With a feeble sputter of homeless energy the force field dies—" Maybe I’m being a dick about this, but damn it, the kids who shelled out thirty-five cents for this deserve excellence. Where was the editor? Where is the justice!?

Despite Aquaman’s best efforts, he’s too late. Aquababy dies. This is a BIG DEAL, an event that is frequently referenced in later issues of Aquaman and is the basis for Aquaman’s personal grudge against Black Manta – but it’s kind of glossed over in two short panels. They’re nicely drawn panels, but man, couldn’t they have slowed down and given Aquaman a whole page to be bummed out? That’s the two-edged sword of “compressed storytelling” right there. You get lots of plot for your money, but page space is so short that they can’t spare the panels to slow the story down for dramatic effect. Again, if this storyline were published today, we’d have an entire issue of Aquaman freaking out. I can’t decide which is worse. Isn’t there a nice middle ground?

Black Manta makes his escape, and as you might imagine, Aquaman is pissed. He gives his son’s body to a friendly octopus (?) and asks Aqualad to come with him and help track Manta down. Aqualad is feeling a little sore that Aquaman tried to kill him, so he petulantly refuses – he doesn’t even say he’s sorry about Aquababy’s death. What a dick. I think he’s just pissed that Aquaman’s been calling him “Minnow” all these years…

So there you have it – “Aquaman Disassembled” all crammed into one novel-length sea spectacular!

Man, I’m thirsty all of a sudden.

THE PUNISHER vol 3 # 4 Marvel Comics, 2000

In a show of restraint, Marvel decided NOT to graphically depict a man getting his head swatted off by a polar bear in the pages of The Punisher (third series) #4.

Instead, the head swatting is done in a tasteful silhouette, with a WHAMFF sound effect. If it were me, I would have gone with a wet SHWOKK sound effect, but that's just my layman's opinion. For those of you who have not had the pleasure or reading The Punisher #4 and have wondered how exactly a guy getting his head swatted off by a polar bear would actually play out in a non-Avatar Press comic book, here it is:



That is comedy. All that is missing is the bear yelling "boo-yah!" I think that would be even funnier. Or if it was a pirate bear.

The plot of The Punisher (third series) #4 is pretty simple: A squad of Mafia gunmen stalks a wounded and unarmed Punisher through a zoo. The Punisher turns the tables on the Mafia guys, killing them all with the help of his zoo animal friends. He dunks one of them head-first into a tank full of piranhas and they eat the guy's upper body down to the bone; he serves another guy to an inexplicably huge and aggressive anaconda or something; and he orchestrates the death-by-polar-bear of the remaining two. Throw in some subplot stuff and bam! You're done. The Punisher #4 has all the subtlety of a simultaneous crotch/throat grab:

This is not to say that I don't like this issue - I do, I think it's a hoot. Why? Because people getting eaten by animals is always funny.

Violent humor was the name of the game for the third Punisher series. The character's popularity had waned since the Dark Age of Comics we call the 1990's, when every single fucking Marvel comic had The Punisher in it (or Wolverine or Ghost Rider or that dick Cable). It was too much - the guy was supposed to be a one-man war against crime, but he was showing up in Quasar and shit. It was too much. The Punisher's career tanked harder than Joe Piscopo's. After the pop cultural radioactivity had faded a little, Marvel decided to publish yet another Punisher series. This third regular series was the twisted brainchild of Irish writer Garth Ennis and artist Steve Dillon and their take on the title character was somewhere between Jason Voorhees and Bugs Bunny. Played for grim laughs, it was all about The Punisher killing people in a variety of exotic ways, with some grotesque supporting characters thrown into the mix. Unlike previous incarnations of the character as an obsessed but professional vigilante, Ennis and Dillon's Punisher really enjoyed what he did for a living - and what he did wasn't very pretty. Basically, he's a psychopathic killer who only kills "bad guys."

But you know what? He's our psychopathic killer, and darn it, we're rooting for him. I mean, setting aside the ethics and larger morality implied but never examined in Ennis's Punisher, you kind of have to take the character for what he is. Nobody expects Conan the Barbarian to sit down with his adversaries and reach a peaceful resolution to a conflict through dialogue -- you shouldn't expect The Punisher not to stalk and kill gangsters. And if he's going to do that, it might as well be funny, I guess.

Here's a goon getting jumped by The Punisher:



The big punchline of the book is when The Punisher lures the last two incredibly stupid gangsters descend into a polar bear habitat in pursuit of our hero - I mean our protagonist. The bears are docile and sleeping, so The Punisher hauls off and punches one of them in the nose, riling them all up. He escapes, leaving the hapless gangsters to face White Death:



"It's bears." That's a great line.

This is one of those stories that requires certain improbable things to happen in order to keep it moving. The goons who chase the wounded and unarmed Punisher have to split up so he can pick them off one by one. The Punisher can't ever get a gun in this book - if he does there's no reason to have his zoo animal friends kill the bad guys. Consequently, the first guy he kills drops his weapon in the piranha tank, while the mutant anaconda inexplicably takes the weapon of the second goon he kills. Then, in order for the big final gag to work, the last two gangsters have to suspend all reason and sense of self-preservation and climb into a polar bear exhibit.

I'm not complaining, because I thought it was funny and all, but I think you can see why I compared this to Bugs Bunny: it's funny, violent, and doesn't necessarily make a lot of sense.

UPDATE: I shamefully forgot to mention that the trippy Punisher-in-repose/piranha/skulls cover to The Punisher #4 was done by artist Tim Bradstreet, who rules.

Lame-ass villain #6 - Vibro

Vibro first appeared in Iron Man #186, during writer Denny O'Neil's run on the book. That's right, Denny O'Neil - the guy who created Batman mega-villain Ra's al Ghul -- also invented Vibro, our sixth lame-ass villain. What can I say? Everybody has an off-day.

It strikes me that I haven't featured any lame-ass DC villains, of which there are many. Too many, really. The Fisherman? Deathwing? Calendar Man? It's like shooting kittens in a barrel. I mean fish. The thing about Marvel is that they always try so hard to be the cool comic book company - it just makes their lame villains so much lamer. Hence, my focus on Marvel goons.

Vibro was a guy named Professor Vibereaux (I shit you not) who invented an incredibly dangerous nuclear-powered vibrational-device. Vibereaux believed the device, which looked like a purple chair, would stop earthquakes if it was lowered into the San Andreas Fault with him in it - so he was clearly insane. Sure enough, Vibereaux gets winched down into some abysmal pit in his purple chair. Then - and I didn't see this coming - there's an earthquake. In the real world, Vibereaux would just be crushed to death and would make the Darwin Awards, but this is Iron Man; he gets turned into a monstrous, Toxic Avenger-looking supervillain named VIBRO! As you might imagine, Vibro can create powerful vibrations. If it was me, and I'm not trying to be crude here, I'd go gigolo with that shit.

Apparently the subtext of Vibro wasn't lost on artist Luke McDonnell, who drew the book and did the cover. I might be reading too much symbolism into the cover, but...



Vibro. I don't know, make up your own jokes.

CAPTAIN AMERICA #367 Marvel Comics, 1990

Does anybody love The Red Skull?

I don’t mean like, physically or anything. That would be gross.* I mean does anybody love The Red Skull the same way I love Dr. Doom? I don’t think so. The guy’s a fucking Nazi, for Chrissakes, he’s one of those villains that you actually want to see get their comeuppance. I don’t know about you, but I’m always rooting for Captain America to sock that creep right in his hideous kisser – pow! Take that, Ratzi!

And that’s why I love this issue so much: as you can see by the cover, it’s all about The Red Skull getting his ass handed to him by Magneto for being a dirty Nazi rat bastard. Simple as that.

I’ll save my diatribe about Magneto for another post – let’s just say that he used to be my favorite villain back in the day, when I thought his name was pronounced the way it’s spelled. Then I found out it’s pronounced “Mag-neat-o!” and my fickle affections drifted towards Victor Von Doom instead. I’m sorry, I just can’t get behind somebody named Mag-neat-o. I have my pride.

This issue (with solid art by Kieron Dwyer) takes place after the Acts of Vengeance! Storyline that ran through the non-mutant Marvel titles. In Acts of Vengeance! (you have to put the exclamation point in there, much like Viva Knieval!) a bunch of arch-villains were drawn together by a mysterious but powerful stranger (Loki) in a plot to destroy Earth’s heroes. The idea was they would switch the foes they normally fought and take the heroes off-guard that way. Great plan, you can guess how it worked out for the villains.

Two of the arch-villains brought together in this scheme were The Red Skull, a WWII era Nazi war criminal and Magneto, the survivor of the German concentration camps that killed his family. The writing was on the wall, a showdown had to happen, and leave it to Marvelous Mark Gruenwald to write the inevitable Butt-Kicking of Titans.

It starts off pretty simply: Magneto busts into The Red Skull’s fortified offices, and demands to know if he’s the real Red Skull – because if he is, the Pain Train’s comin’. Whoo whoo!


Captain America actually appears in Captain America #367, but his role is largely incidental. The real focus of the issue is just Magneto trying to catch The Red Skull and kick his head in. I loved this comic because it totally makes sense – the plot is a direct and inevitable result of the personality and psychology of the two main characters. Plus, you know who’s going to win. Come on, The Mutant Master of Magnetism versus a fascist in a Halloween mask? Magneto regularly takes on entire teams of superheroes – and wins. The Red Skull regularly takes on Captain America – and loses, unless he’s got a Cosmic Cube up his sleeve like the rotten Nazi cheater he is. Is there any doubt who wins here?

Gruenwald, who we’ve previously established as the Best Damn Cap Writer Ever, doesn’t play favorites or employ The Riddler Factor to give The Red Skull an edge. No, pretty much from the beginning the Skull is playing “D” while Magneto presses the offensive. No matter what defenses The Red Skull employs, Magneto keeps coming, until ultimately The Red Skull is just running for his life like a Crystal Lake camper. But before he runs screaming like a girl, The Red Skull throws everything at his pursuer, to no avail:

-Hidden floor gun? Ineffectual.
-Squad of Aryan goons with guns? They get blasted.
-Dust of death hidden in cigarette? Rendered harmless by force field.
-Plastic bubble? Slows Magneto down for like, a second.
-The Controller? Don’t make me laugh.
-Thermal blasting robot? Who sends a robot against Magneto?
-Squad of Red Skull robot look-alikes? Forget about it.

Nothing works.

Finally The Red Skull tries to escape on a subterranean railroad but Magneto catches up with him by magnetically fucking up the railway, warping the tracks. I guess next time you'll be making that shit out of plastic, eh Nazi?

The Red Skull wakes up a little later, and things don’t look too good for him. Check it out (click to enlarge):

That’s cold. Yep, Magneto leaves The Red Skull to rot in a dark tomb with little hope of escape. Notice I didn’t say “no hope of escape,” because of course The Red Skull eventually does escape Magneto’s cell, a few pounds lighter and even meaner than before. And that’s okay, because that just means we as readers get the pleasure of watching Cap beat him up again and again.**

However, if it were me writing and not Gruenwald, I’d have ended the book a little differently:

*Not because he’s a dude, because he’s got a frickin’ red skull for a face. Try some Oil of Olay, Skull.

** Until he gets his ass killed in Ed Brubaker’s current run on Captain America.

Off Topic: Medal of Honor Recipients

Okay, not to get all patriotic on your ass, but since this is Memorial Day Weekend I thought I'd share some stuff from one of my favorite sites, a complete list of all the Congressional Medal of Honor recipients. It's broken down for you by conflict, and then alphabetically by last name. Each recipient has a brief essay on the circumstances in which they received the Medal, written in the vernacular of the day. It makes for fascinating reading. Sadly, most of the soldiers who win this highest honor do so after sacrificing their own lives.

If you appreciate heroism and bravery as much as I do, set the damn X-Men comic down and head on over to the site and check out the exploits of some real-life bad-asses.

Here's an example:

BLEAK, DAVID B.

Rank and organization: Sergeant, U.S. Army, Medical Company 223d Infantry Regiment, 40th Infantry Division. Place and date: Vicinity of Minari-gol, Korea, 14 June 1952.

Citation: ...As a medical aidman, [Sgt. Bleak] volunteered to accompany a reconnaissance patrol committed to engage the enemy and capture a prisoner for interrogation. Forging up the rugged slope of the key terrain, the group was subjected to intense automatic weapons and small arms fire and suffered several casualties. After administering to the wounded, he continued to advance with the patrol. Nearing the military crest of the hill, while attempting to cross the fire-swept area to attend the wounded, he came under hostile fire from a small group of the enemy concealed in a trench. Entering the trench he closed with the enemy, killed 2 with bare hands and a third with his trench knife. Moving from the emplacement, he saw a concussion grenade fall in front of a companion and, quickly shifting his position, shielded the man from the impact of the blast.

Later, while ministering to the wounded, he was struck by a hostile bullet but, despite the wound, he undertook to evacuate a wounded comrade. As he moved down the hill with his heavy burden, he was attacked by 2 enemy soldiers with fixed bayonets. Closing with the aggressors, he grabbed them and smacked their heads together, then carried his helpless comrade down the hill to safety. Sgt. Bleak's dauntless courage and intrepid actions reflect utmost credit upon himself and are in keeping with the honored traditions of the military service.

Did you catch that? He smacked their fucking heads together!

Here's another:

MURRAY, ROBERT C.

Rank and organization: Staff Sergeant, U.S. Army, Company B, 4th Battalion, 31st Infantry, 196th Infantry Brigade, 23d Infantry Division. Place and date: Near the village of Hiep Duc, Republic of Vietnam, 7 June 1970.

Citation: ...S/Sgt. Murray's squad was searching for an enemy mortar that had been threatening friendly positions when a member of the squad tripped an enemy grenade rigged as a booby trap. Realizing that he had activated the enemy booby trap, the soldier shouted for everybody to take cover. Instantly assessing the danger to the men of his squad, S/Sgt. Murray unhesitatingly and with complete disregard for his own safety, threw himself on the grenade absorbing the full and fatal impact of the explosion. By his gallant action and self sacrifice, he prevented the death or injury of the other members of his squad. S/Sgt. Murray's extraordinary courage and gallantry, at the cost of his life above and beyond the call of duty, are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the U.S. Army.

Unfortunately, there's more than a few Medal of Honor recipients who died by jumping on grenades to save their comrades.

Here's one last example:

HOWARD, JAMES H. (Air Mission)

Rank and organization: Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Army Air Corps. Place and date: Over Oschersleben, Germany, 11 January 1944.

Citation: ...Col. Howard was the leader of a group of P51 aircraft providing support for a heavy bomber formation on a long-range mission deep in enemy territory. As Col. Howard's group met the bombers in the target area the bomber force was attacked by numerous enemy fighters. Col. Howard, with his group, and at once engaged the enemy and himself destroyed a German ME. 110. As a result of this attack Col. Howard lost contact with his group, and at once returned to the level of the bomber formation. He then saw that the bombers were being heavily attacked by enemy airplanes and that no other friendly fighters were at hand.

While Col. Howard could have waited to attempt to assemble his group before engaging the enemy, he chose instead to attack single-handed a formation of more than 30 German airplanes. With utter disregard for his own safety he immediately pressed home determined attacks for some 30 minutes, during which time he destroyed 3 enemy airplanes and probably destroyed and damaged others. Toward the end of this engagement 3 of his guns went out of action and his fuel supply was becoming dangerously low. Despite these handicaps and the almost insuperable odds against him, Col. Howard continued his aggressive action in an attempt to protect the bombers from the numerous fighters. His skill, courage, and intrepidity on this occasion set an example of heroism which will be an inspiration to the U.S. Armed Forces.

One guy in a P-51 against 30 German fighters? That's some ice-cold shit right there.

Anyway, hope everybody's enjoying their weekend. We will commence with our regularly scheduled mockery/adulation of comic books shortly.

Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle

Just a lame little post today - I'm just spent from that J.U.D.G.E. thing and I need to take it easy, recharge.

Here's the Evel Knievel stunt cycle, which my friend had. If memory serves, you launched Evel and his stunt cycle out of the "Rev-Booster" and tried to make him jump over shit. We soon escalated to launching Evel into brick walls, then swimming pools, then at piles of dog poo, until finally climaxing in a glorious kerosene-fueled blazing death jump off my friend's garage. Viva Knievel indeed! That little fucker was tough!

Plus, miniature Evel Knievel came with a swagger stick (see above) which was really big in British Colonial India back in the day. I believe those are called "pimp canes" now.

But even miniature Evel Knievel had his limits. For instance:



That's right, it could jump a standard encyclopedia set -- up through the letter "W." Jumping all the way to XYZ? That's insane, it can't be done! Don't do it Knievel! Somebody stop him, he's going to kill himself!

J.U.D.G.E. #1 Image Comics, 2000

Hey, it's about time you grew the balls to tackle Greg Horn's J.U.D.G.E.

I dare you.

-Konstantinos Stamoulis

Challenge answered, my friend!

I think Greg Horn is good at what he does - let's just get that out of the way now. The guy's a talented artist who is mostly known for his cover work. Greg Horn specializes in photorealistic-yet-painted art of hot but curiously emotionless women. I'm sure his covers for Elektra and Emma Frost helped those books sell and were, um, passionately studied by male readers everywhere. Horn also has done covers for game magazines and some commercial art for big clients like Nike. Perhaps this is limiting of me, but I think of Greg Horn as a cover artist, like Alex Ross and Adam Hughes. Greg Horn is good at covers.

Unfortunately, Greg also created his own comic book J.U.D.G.E., published by Image. Horn wrote the book and did the art, which wasn't a great idea. The story is a weird downbeat mess full of shrill, screaming characters. The art is lurid and confusing, doing little to advance the scant plot. In my mind, J.U.D.G.E. is a classic example of a comic made by somebody who is good at creating covers and posters, but not so great when he applies his skills to the tricky world of sequential art. In other words, J.U.D.G.E. blows.

Seriously. It's Uwe Boll bad. That's right; this is the comic book equivalent of House of the Dead.

I felt like THIS when I was done reading it:


The key problems I have with J.U.D.G.E. #1 is that I don't like the story or the art.

I'm not saying that each individual panel of art sucks. Some of them do, but overall it's okay. It's just that the art doesn't visually tell the story well and it's really hard to read. I would bet that if you took a panel from J.U.D.G.E. and a panel of any Matt Wagner art and showed it to Johnny On-The-Street, they would say that Horn's art is better. And that's because people are stupid. It's also because Matt Wagner's art is designed as part of a narrative, existing to serve the story and work as part of a greater whole. (It's also because Matt Wagner fucking rules) That's not the case here.

Horn used models to attain his photo/painting look. I imagine he just took a lot of pictures of his subjects and used them as photoreference or something, I'm not really sure. As a matter of fact, a Dave's Long Box reader named Sam was a model for one of the characters in this issue. Here he is:

"I too look forward to your review, because I am IN J.U.D.G.E.!

Greg used a lot of the guys from his local comic shop as models (he had already killed the owner in Espers)... He does however have a shit load of money and is married to the girl on the cover."

Nice! I say more power to Greg. I still think this particular comic sucks, but more power to him. Sam, you'll have to tell us which character you were!

Or I should say, which mannequin? The characters in this book are as stiff and posed as the pirates at Disneyland. All of the annoying characters in the book are either yelling or wincing, and are often put together awkwardly in a frame in ways that seem to defy perspective. J.U.D.G.E. is like a fumetti - the strangely inert yet always fascinating photo comics that we all loved. Well, not all of us. There are a lot of floating head shots in J.U.D.G.E., too - when there's no room for a character in a panel, they get reduced to a tiny floating head in the background. Plus, the lighting! The characters are always the same vibrant flesh tones, regardless of setting; it's like the lighting in the circus tent is the same as the lighting in the cemetery. Horn also eschews the use of conventional comic book panel borders and gets creative, but the result is that some pages, particularly the ones that feature a lot of characters, turn into this big jumbled mess of colors with little distinction between panels. It's like an optic puzzle or something. Let's take a look. Click on the image if you'd like to enlarge.

The whole thing just blurs to me, until it looks like this:

You see what I mean about floating heads? Well, not literally floating, but there are characters who are kind of just pasted into the background, barely tethered to their surroundings. And where is all this golden sunshine coming from that lights all the characters from every angle in this gloomy cemetery?

Moving on: the story is about a group of young, incredibly bitchy and high strung operatives for a secret organization called J.U.D.G.E. If they worked for a secret organization called J.U.G.G.S. I might have bought the second issue. This gang of petulant assholes receive their orders, visit the circus(wa-huh?), then ambush some bad guys in a cemetery, arguing and whining the entire fucking time. We learn important details like their names at the end of the book, in a little bio section. Why they put it back there, I don't know, but somehow I doubt I would have picked up any extra understanding of the material if I had known the name of the purple-skinned asshole. Anyway, the incompetent and bickering assholes spring their ambush in the aforementioned brightly lit cemetery, and Things Go Horribly Wrong. You guessed it, The Nice Girl dies.

So does my interest.

Horn may have hit his stride in later issues of J.U.D.G.E., but I stopped at number one. Can you blame me? I don't have money to spend on comics that suck.* As LL Cool J says, "you only get one shot at love."

*Obviously, this is not true.

Later, gator

Real-world unpleasantness has intruded on my planned post today, so I ask for your patience. I'll do a proper post later today/tonight, so fear not...

For now, I leave you with a picture of a lucky alligator and an unlucky deer, courtesy of Snopes.com.

Ready Rangers

Cough syrup with codeine is a wicked mistress.

I slipped into a micro-coma last night after a few teaspoons of "Canadian cough syrup" as we call it here in the sunny Northwest, and as a result I was unable to do my planned review/mockery of Greg Horn's J.U.D.G.E., which we'll get to tomorrow.

Today we'll just take a quick look at a dangerously misleading ad from Aurora toys, who want young minds to believe that all their wilderness survival needs will be taken care of by the Ready Ranger Omni-Pack, which has more gadgets than Batman's utility belt. No shark repellant, though.

This comic ad features the Ready Rangers, three stupid white kids who get cut off from civilization by a rock slide when they're off hiking in the wilderness by themselves. They have either forgotten to tell any adults where they were going, or they are neglected latch key kids whose absence won't be noticed by their workaholic or stoned parents - either way, these kids are on their own. Instead of food and water, the kids have their Ready Ranger Mobile Field Pack. One of the stupid fucking kids locates the North Star with the Starfinder -- you know, so they can know which way north is while they freeze to death. I think a compass would have taken up less room than the Starfinder, but what do I know? Another dumb-ass kid yells into a plastic "megaphone" for help - in case any rescue parties are twenty feet away. Finally, the lookout tower spots their Ready Ranger Signal Light and a helicopter is dispatched to winch the kids up to safety, costing tax payers thousands and thousands of dollars.

I say let nature take its course and let the strong and non-stupid survive.

All right, next post: J.U.D.G.E.!