Although I treasure my elaborate grooming rituals, it's been a pleasant break to live aw-hells-yeah-naturale out under the high blue sky, man. Just relaxing my mind and letting my beard and my pelt grow as wild as they darn well please; gorging my belly on berries and cacti juice and tubers and mushrooms and deadly predators; walkin' around all naked and nude (with no clothes on!); communicating only in grunts and howls; leaving my (big) footprints in the soft clay...! Occasionally, some venturesome tourist will snap my picture with their visi-phone -- usually while I'm in mid-shamble and my head is turned towards them -- but I do this trick where I shake my body a little at the last possible second, so the image is all out of focus. And then when my scent hits 'em, they topple over backwards in a faint, and I go over there and SMASH ALL THEIR STUFF! And then I might
So anyway, I'm living off the land right now, as simple as a Luddite. Except for my hand-held interbloggamunicator. I mean, I'm not an animal. So that's how I can relate the news from my friend at the Time Institute that your very favorite super-hero dimension -- the one where all the villains are psychotic mass-murderers; all the heroes are vicious, sniping, self-pitying crybabies; and half the population is lacking one or more of their limbs or eyeballs -- is about to absorb the Mighty (or "Archie") Comics dimension. It's a rare and beautiful timeological event!
(Gloriously huge version found here.)
I'm guessing that means you all can look forward to a painfully-mutilated Shield, a sex-addicted Fly Girl, and a Comet who wets the bed. ("Kee-rect!") ENJOY!