I Suppose This Puts the Kibosh On Our Trip To 'Shoe Carnival'

In "The Fury of Firestorm" #6 (January 1982) an old Flash villain gets his hands around a powerful instrument.

Yes, it's the Pied Piper, Masturbator of the Pan Flute.

Y'know, I don't care if he's a musician; that outfit absolutely kills any sex appeal he might have had. Who'd he swipe the tunic off of? Woozy Winks? Not that he had many choices. I think it's interesting that back in the Olden Days of Comics patterned fabrics were only available in polka dots or in simple, grid-like plaids. No wonder the supporting characters were so square... everything they wore was the graphic equivalent of a cold shower! Only the superfolk knew how to dress for bedroom success: in the most flamboyant manner possible. To put it another way: if you were a guy and you wanted to get laid back then, you had to walk around with a fin on your head (Doctor Light being the obvious exception to that rule).

The Pied Piper was in dire need of a makeover. And he'd get several, eventually Not that I've been terribly fond of any of them. But he also got one in this very issue... kind of! Before I show you the "after," suppose you let me drop the needle on this old Bernard Herrmann record and adjust the neck on that tensor lamp just so. Okay, I'm good. BEHOLD!!!

"Do something!" Er... alrighty. Given my knowledge of Greek mythology, I'd probably jostle the deputy there and shout "Somebody get this man a wineskin, a flask of scented oil, and a slim, hairless teenage boy, quickly! Also, somebody send in a donkey covered in flower garlands! (That one's just for me.)"

Yikes, huh? I think I liked him better in the polka-dot clown costume. Poor Piper. He's got the most literal case of satyriasis in medical history. Yet in a cruelly ironic twist, his penis has completely vanished. On the plus side, this bizarre metamorphosis should keep him away from the pixie boots for awhile.

But wait! It gets worse!

Not only did he get horns and elf ears, but his case has been assigned to a gynecologist! He must have a really crappy HMO.

To be honest, they would have cured him already, but they need the cheese. (No penis! You do the math.)

The Curious Case Of The Crunch-Coated Cop

I think DC missed an amazing opportunity for a spin-off from this Firestorm back-up story in "Flash" #304 (December, 1981).

I bet being involuntarily costumed as an ice cream vendor was a profoundly life-changing experience for that policeman. At the least, it would have driven him stark-raving bonkers. I can just picture him quitting the force to wrestle with his conflicting need to dispense both justice and fudgesicles. He'd be DC's very own peanut buster parfait Punisher! Grimly, he'd patrol the streets of, er, wherever the hell Firestorm was living at the time, in a gloss-black ice cream truck (with all the windows tinted, but of course), death metal music blaring in a garbled, stuttering fashion from the damaged speakers. Besides the usual arsenal of high-tech weaponry, he'd lob scoops of mace-chocolate-chip at his enemies and use jagged waffle cones like ninja throwing stars. He'd burst into a crack den and machine-gun the place, giggling "How 'bout some sprinkles, bitches?!!" Maybe he'd enjoy occasional team-ups with a smaller, more refined vigilante by the name of Haagen-Dasz (a Danish* spy, perhaps?) or a pair of drug-addled underground radicals called Ben and Jerry, or maybe even a sultry, fishnet-hosed karate-chopper codenamed the Blue Bunny. Of course, he'd still wear the ice cream man uniform, only without the jacket and with the sleeves of the shirt ripped off to expose his massive, oiled/grimy biceps. And naturally he'd have a couple of bandoleros draped over his shoulders, and two ice-cream scoopers in leather holsters, like guns. Yeah... that would've been pretty sweet. *sighs wistfully*

*Although Haagen-Dasz is actually an American brand. (I hope I didn't blow your mind.)

Comic Review Roundup

Last Tuesday I bought...

B.P.R.D.: The Dead #1 by Mike Mignola, John Arcudi, and Guy Davis.
After that one B.P.R.D. miniseries with the gnomes or whatever, by Christopher Golden and that one guy who couldn't draw very well, what'shisface, I felt royally ripped off. So I skipped "Plague of Frogs," even though it was by a different creative team. This was evidently a big mistake. I picked up "The Dead" because it was a slow week and I love Guy Davis' artwork. The story this time around is terrific, with some interesting internal shakeups at the B.P.R.D. and a fascinating glimpse into Abe Sapien's previous life -- something that was hinted at in "Plague of Frogs" I've been told. (Note to self: go buy "Plague of Frogs.") There's also a cool new character: Captain Benjamin Daimo, a disfigured gent who cut his way out of a body bag after being dead for three days. And I'm not sure he's a good guy, either. With a story like this, and the artwork of Guy Davis (who, I'm sorry, draws Mignola characters with more warmth and range of expression than Mignola does) I'm looking forward to the next issue.

Last Thursday I bought...

The Flash #215 by Geoff Johns, Howard Porter, and Livesay.
I got sick of what Johns was doing on this title a few years ago, which is when I stopped buying it on a regular basis. I bought last issue and this issue because they tie into "Identity Crisis." Last issue, Wally received a letter from his deceased mentor, Barry Allen. That's pretty much all that happened. Wally got a letter. This issue, he reads the letter! Yes, it's all-out epistolary action in the mighty Geoff Johns manner! It turns out that Barry wants Wally to restore the sanity of the Top, even though it will make the Top evil again -- because this is a Geoff Johns story, and things have to be depressing and horrible all the time. I can't say I care for the plot, but the flashback scenes did make me interested in the Top, of all characters, and that's a pretty impressive feat all by itself. In other news, Howard Porter still hasn't figured out how to draw Green Arrow's hat. For the love of God, man, use some photo reference now and then! It won't kill you, I promise! I got a good laugh out of Howard's version of the "practically the entire JLA dogpiles on Doctor Light" scene from "Identity Crisis." Howard tries to cram everyone into a vertical panel, so instead of the full-contact "You grab an arm, I'll grab a leg" version that Rags Morales created, we get Hawkman choking Doctor Light, Black Canary grabbing onto his cape, three other characters just kind of standing there and Green Lantern floating aimlessly in the background. It looks less like a life-or-death struggle and more like a costume fitting gone horribly awry.

JSA #67 by Geoff Johns, Dave Gibbons, and James Hodgkins.
Guest artist Gibbons' pencils aren't exactly spectacular, but they are anatomically competent and pleasant to look at. Which makes them about a jillion times better than regular artist Don Kramer's amateurish, ugly crap. And here's a bonus: Gibbons is the first artist in a long time to draw Power Girl without cartoonishly oversized bazooms. It's bad enough that Power Girl's costume has a "cleavage porthole" where most other superheroes would have a letter or symbol. Of course, for most fanboys, gargantuan teats are as much a symbol of Power Girl as bats are a symbol of Batman. The bulk of this issue focuses on Doctor Mid-Nite and Mister Terrific. They perform an autopsy on Sue Dibny in costume because really, why take those things off even for a moment? Doctor Mid-Nite declares that he knows who killed Sue. Not that he's going to say who that is. That has to wait for...

Identity Crisis #6 by Brad Meltzer, Rags Morales, and Michael Bair.
And even then he doesn't give a name. Mid-Nite and Batman independently conclude that Sue Dibny's murderer has the ability to shrink to microscopic size, which of course means she was killed by their fellow superhero, the Atom, because-- huh? Never mind that the Atom's internal monologue from a few issues back contradicts this idea. So it's either a case of mind control or another frigging red herring, or this whole series has been a brilliant scheme to resurrect the Silver Age Wonder Woman villain, Mouse Man. (That would ROCK!) Also, in a scene with disturbing undertones and overtones, Robin undresses as he rushes to his father's freshly murdered corpse. I just hope all of this is leading somewhere. I swear, if DC is jerking me around again like they did with "Millennium" and "Genesis" and "Invasion" and "Underworld Unleashed" and... huh. What was I talking about? Oh yeah. If the next issue sucks, I'm never buying another DC "event" series ever, ever again. And this time I really mean it.

Plastic Man #12 by Scott Morse.
HUGE disappointment. I skipped the last Scott Morse fill-in but I thought I'd give this one a try. Well, it sucks. The entire issue is one interminable fight scene that manages to be both frantic and boring, and the dialogue is pun-filled but not funny. Topped off by Morse's signature muddy coloring, the whole package gives me a migraine.

Firestorm #7 by Dan Jolley, Liam Sharp, and Andy Lanning.
I'm no more interested in this version of Firestorm than I was in the original, but I do like this issue's guest star, Bloodhound. So, what makes the new Firestorm different from the old one, besides the refreshing absence of puffy sleeves? For starters, his dad's an abusive bastard! Yeah, not interested in reading more about that, thank you very much. This issue, Firestorm makes the mistake of absorbing a badass criminal who'd just given him a concussion, so the criminal takes over Firestorm's body. The criminal (who sports a wraparound head tattoo, which is perfectly inane) goes after his old enemy, Bloodhound. This continues in...

Bloodhound #5 by Dan Jolley, Leonard Kirk, and Robin Riggs.
Now, this is more like it. I know I should hate this book but I can't help it. It's the comic book version of one of those straight-to-video Deathwish/Diehard ripoffs that star Joe Don Baker or some martial arts nobody, and I hate that kind of thing. Jolley elevates it somehow and turns all this blood-soaked mayhem into an art. What I love about Bloodhound, the character, is that in a fight he'll use anything he can get his hands on, up to and including the kitchen sink. This issue, he gets the best of three armed men, using only a two-by-four. Needless to say, Mister Head-tattoo doesn't stand a chance.