"This Is Mad, Mad, Mad!"

My one-man corporate retreat is really helping me to relax! I decided to "kick it" (as Karate Kid likes to say) on the Planetoid of Peril. It features a five-star luxury hotel (the Citadel of Doom) but other than that shocking pink abomination? No other buildings. Anywhere. No, sir... it's nothin' but trees and deadly predators, as far as the eye can see!

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 pee on 'em a little leave them a strongly-worded note. (Heh.)

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!

Pinky and the Brainless

"I-it's frightening! My little girl... doing these amazing things!" God help Ma Lang if her daughter ever changes a tire or gets a college degree... she'll be overcome by a full-blown case of the fan-tods. (Fun fact: Mrs. Lang once petitioned the city council to rescind her personal right to vote. They agreed. Unanimously.)

And Lana... why would it even occur to you to try lifting that STEINWAY (product placement!) piano with your pinky in the first goddamn place? (I'm picturing a Geoff Johns rewrite of this scene where the piano's weight tears her finger right off her hand while Clark Kent peeps through the window, a single tear running down his noble cheek.)

Shams From a Marriage

In "Marvel Spotlight" #10, the Unipower imposes itself on twin sisters, who must track down both the masked crime boss "Nemesis" and one sister's kidnapped husband. Clare is a detective and your basic no-nonsense brawler, while Ann invests her superheroics with a decidedly domestic touch.

Hey, wait a minute! It's 1981 and somebody's exhaling on a fine, powdery substance? What is this, Bizarro World?

The last time I saw a man getting wheeled around on a dinner cart it was Element Lad's birthday supper. ("May I tempt you with a little dessert?" purred Invisible Kid. He was nude save for a big dollop of whipped cream covering his privates. But I said no, because my eyes were on Star Boy, who was digging beneath his collar to scratch at his ever-increasing thatch of chest hair. Mark my words, that fellow will be magnificently furry some day. I've often recommended he grow a beard. So far he's declined but I can tell he's considering it.)

Wow, an ass-vacuum! Who would opt for one of those messy enemas when they had one of these babies on hand? I could make a mint selling this device. Thanks for the idea, Mister Mantlo!

And now for the tear-soaked conclusion! On page three of this comic, Ann's hubby (District Attorney Edward Stanford) was pushed into a car by some wiseguys. When Edward demanded to know who was responsible for his kidnapping, one of the gangsters replied "...Our boss! He left instructions for us to pick you up if the trial went the wrong way!"

So you can imagine my surprise and consternation when the twins captured Nemesis and this happened:

"My Husband, My Enemy!" (Told you it was like a Lifetime movie!) And I love Edward's use of the word "snooping." Not exactly bad-ass lingo. Next he'll be bitching about "those meddling kids -- and that dog!"

Nice, clean dreams, dragged through the mud? How very Geoff Johnsian! Except the heroes don't feel personally defiled afterwards. On the last page, Clare tells Ann, "It can be a dirty world out there. I know, I wade through the filth every day. But I've learned one thing -- if you stay strong, you can keep yourself clean." The story ends with an empowering message.

Appropriately, the thought balloon about female strength seems to be emanating from Clare's crotch. It's the original Vagina Monologue!

And the very last panel? Pure Ditko.

"It could be you!" Yeah, just keep telling yourself that. And keep shouting "Shazam!" whenever you're alone.

You never know.

Moral Realignment Challenge: The Flash And Murmur

How might Wally "The Flash" West look if he was a villain? And how might Murmur look if he was a hero? Let's see!



Excerpt from "DC Nation" in the back of all DC comics with a cover date of August 2006, on Earth-Bajillion:

"With the Trickster's heroic sacrifice in the pages of CRITICAL INFINITY, his legacy is in the hands of his mute former sidekick, MURMUR. But the grim, daring acrobat is about to find out that for every legacy hero, there's a legacy villain! And there's none deadlier than the new Flash! Bigger -- and faster -- than his late namesake, this Flash is a brutal drug lord who's determined to rule Peripheral City. Is Murmur agile enough to defeat the fastest thug alive? Or will he end up as a stain on Flash's boots? Geoff Johns and Cully Hamner provide the answer in the pages of MURMUR.

...Fun fact: I almost gave Evil Flash a beer belly. Thank God I came to my senses.

I already knew I wanted to make Good Murmur a motley-clad hero, because Evil Murmur wears a jester outfit already (only it's black leather bondage *yawn* gear). I got rid of the stupid facemask because I've always freaking hated it. It just bugs the shit out of me. Simple as that. So instead I carried the clown motif through with a pale face and with dyed hair that is arranged to looks a bit like a jester's cap -- not completely, since I didn't want him to look like Sideshow Bob, but enough to convey the idea. When he's still, it would be lank and a few locks would hang over his face. I also figure that as part of his gimmick, Murmur would have a morose demeanor and never smile. Which makes total sense since he's a Geoff Johns character, and therefore has nothing to smile about.

I designed Evil Flash to be a stark visual contrast with Good Murmur. Good Murmur wears a costume, so Evil Flash wears street clothes. Good Murmur is kinda slim, so Evil Flash is brawny. And (although you can't really see it here) Good Murmur never smiles, so Evil Flash always smiles. Which is kinda creepy.

And again, no, that's not me as "Evil Flash."

Questions? Comments?

Secret Society Of Snappy Separates

You'd think after "Twilight" that I wouldn't want to read another Howard Chaykin miniseries. And yet, "JLA: The Secret Society Of Super-Heroes" sucked me in on the strength of its artwork and some interesting takes on some very old costumes.



I presume these "Elseworlds" versions of the Justice Leaguers were all designed by the artist, Mike McKone. He's one of my favorites. But remember when he sucked? Way back in the late 1980's, when Giffin and DeMatteis were still on "Justice League"? McKone had just started out and had no business getting hired by one of the big publishers. His faces, always a bit on the horsey side, covered most of his characters' heads, which were about three-and-a-half times taller than they were wide. And he mainly drew people looking straight ahead or in profile. (Because three-quarter views are scary!) He sure as hell improved, though, huh? He's one of the best in the biz now!

Going left to right...
Metamorpho: is putty gray all over, which I much prefer to his "Ultra the Multi-Alien" crazy quilt look. His costume is mainly purple, which of course is the color of his chest in his standard design. And it's sleeveless, which works for his baldheaded, "tough guy" vibe.
Hawkgirl: a real mess. I'll get to her in detail in a minute.
Wonder Woman: Putting Wonder Woman in pants is always a dicey proposition. If you match the color of her classic "satin tights" they end up looking like jeans. If you put the stars on them, they end up looking like really tacky jeans. I think this costume avoids those pitfalls because not only are there no stars, but there are no boots. I'm not thrilled with the "Xena: Warrior Princess" bangs on her hairdo but other than that I think it's great.
Superman: excellent. This is one of my all-time favorite Superman costumes. The nice thing is, even though there's no cape and no yellow and nothing even approaching the well-known Superman logo, it's still obviously Superman to me. And the design of the huge "S" along with the muted color scheme, makes it look very Golden Age as well as modern.
Impulse: I'll show you his costume from the front in just a sec. Anyway, it's the same as the Flash's, only in gold.
Plastic Man: not bad, but boring. Which is why I'm not going to bother showing it to you.
Green Lantern: pretty good! Sleek and not too busy. And this was back during Kyle's "crabclaw mask" period, so I have to hand it to McKone for ditching it in favor of something attractive. My only beef is with the flared-out kneepads or whatever the heck those things are supposed to be. It looks like his knees are wearing bishops' miters. I wonder if they got to elect the Pope.
The Atom: nice. I'll show him close-up in a bit. One thing you can't see in this or the other panel: there's an antenna on his cowl. Which I think looks kinda cool.

I'm ready for my close-ups!



Geoff "I Need A Hug" Johns is probably kicking himself right now that he didn't think of this first. But he got to make up for it by having Deathstroke shatter Impulse's kneecaps. In a scene that was also drawn by Mike McKone. Weird.

The common denominator in these costumes is that they are all two-piece instead of onesies. It's more practical and flattering -- for an example, compare the two-piece uniforms on the later seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation to the uncomfortable-looking zip-up bodysuits in the first seasons. Sure, Captain Picard had to yank down his shirt every time he got up from a chair, but at least there weren't all those weird wrinkles and folds. (Not in his uniform, anyway.)

My problem with the Flash and Impulse costumes here is that they could really have used something to break up all the monotony. Red and yellow (or "gold") are such bright colors that in big quantities they become overwhelming. And with no boots or gloves or anything, Wally and Bart look like they're wearing footy pajamas.

Let's see what the Atom and Hawkgirl are up to!



Oh, did I come at a bad time?

The Atom's costume is nice. Generic, but nice. Just like his "classic" costume, which is one I've never been all that enthused about. But Hawkgirl--! There have been scads of awful Hawkgirl costumes but I think this is one of the worst. The dominant color scheme: white and brown. Thrilling. And if you take away the helmet and the wings, what have you got? A muscle shirt over a loincloth over chainmail bicycle shorts. With pirate boots. The Atom getting squashed? Meh. It's Hawkgirl's costume that makes me sick to my stomach.

Grating Scott!

You may have picked up the few subtle hints I've scattered, here and there, that maybe, just maybe, I HATE SCOTT KOLINS' COSTUME DESIGNS!

(Ow! I think I just wrecked my voice -- and I was only typing that!)

I think Kolins as an artist is technically competent but otherwise overrated. Yes, fanboys, he draws "realistic" which God knows is a plus for readers with slim-to-no imaginations. But his characters are -- almost to a man! -- ugly. He refuses to use spot blacks, leaving that up to the colorist in even the most obvious situations -- which means that when Kolins draws a villain with eyes that are meant to be little dots of light in a pool of darkness (Grodd, Zoom) the colorist has to fill in the black part. But colorists can't do that, so they usually try to compensate with a muddy purple-gray. Which looks horrible. And here's the thing -- I've seen enough pencilled comic book pages to know that all the penciller has to do to indicate that a shape must be colored in a solid black is to draw a little "X" on it. That's it. Two short pencil strokes. Having read an interview with the guy, it seems to me that Kolins is confusing laziness with artistic flair. Sure, Kolins, there are great comic artists who don't use spot blacks. Moebius, for example. Or Geoff Darrow. Trust me. You're no Moebius or Geoff Darrow.

And Kolins' costume designs are fugly with a captial FUG. Let's take a look at some of his handiwork.



There's Magenta in the purple and silver outfit. A simple, boring, but pleasant enough outfit that's marred by the ridiculous gauntlets. Besides looking goofy, they're utterly impractical. Sure, she's a show-off with the magnetic powers, so she can float a lot of things around instead of handling them. Fine. Now let's see her eat a hoagie.

There's Murmur, with the leather fetish (yawn) costume and the hokey mask and the bad haircut -- because he's CRAZY! -- and he doesn't belong in a Flash comic at all but that's really Geoff Johns' fault. Anyway, I give Kolins points for the pointy-tipped jester clown collar, but that's it.

There's the new Trickster, who dresses like a jackass, but then he is a jackass. So good job, I suppose. That said, his costume is one of those trendy numbers that is not going to age well. Not to mention, it looked tired and out-of-date even when it first appeared.

Girder I have no problem with. And Mirror Master's costume is ugly, but that's not Kolins' fault. Aw, hell! Y'know what? I think I'll blame him for that one, too. (Fucking Kolins.)

Weather Wizard had a pretty stupid costume to start out with but Kolins' redesign is no better. The wide yellow stripes in a stunningly vague tornado shape make him look like a turtle. And check out the treads on the bottom of his jumpsuit. It looks like he's wearing ballet slippers.

But I reserve my deepest hatred for his design of Blacksmith. The costume is overdone and it's in a hideous shade of purple-gray because Kolins can't be bothered to SPOT HIS FREAKING BLACKS! (...Ow! My throat is really sore now!) Check out the huge rings on her upper arms. What are those, napkin holders? Look closely and you'll see completely unnecessary cut-outs that reveal her inner calves. It doesn't look good from a design standpoint, and it sure as heck ain't sexy, unless you're living in Iran and such a scandalous display is forbidden by the Morality Police. And then there's her face. Her ugly, ugly face.



I don't know what on God's green earth Kolins was going for here, but I'm pretty sure he failed. Miserably. In the storyline, Blacksmith has melded metal with her own flesh. And that's what she came up with for herself. Like a typical Kolins design, it's unattractive and riddled with embellishments that do nothing for the character. Sure, she's "evil." And no, I don't think all female comic characters need to be beauties. But Blacksmith's face looks cheesy cartoon evil, and as such it's not really effective. And it looked really familiar to me. For the longest time I racked my brain, trying to recall where I'd seen that kind of goofy ugliness before. It finally hit me.



It was in the Dick Tracy comics.

And it didn't look any better back then.

STUPID FUCKING GODDAMN SCOTT KOLINS!

Ow.

The Wonderful Neapolitan Ice Cream Suit

You know you're grasping for straws when you have to reference a Ray Bradbury story in the title of your post, and you're not even sure you remembered it right. I dunno, it's just that some days... *weeps openly* Okay, Blockade Boy, shake it off, shake it off. Put yourself in the "zone." *exhales deeply* Let's go!

This is the costume Nightcrawler wishes he had worn! But it's too late for regrets, because the suit got snapped up by one of my favorite Flash villains, the Rainbow Raider. The Raider, a.k.a. Roy G. Bivolo -- ha ha ha! shut up! -- was color blind. Bivolo's pop tried to invent a device that could compensate for that, but the closest thing he created was a pair of goggles that gave the wearer the power to drain the color and vitality from people's bodies, create solid rainbow bridges and prisons, and alter the emotions of anyone he looked at. What a rip-off! This one time, Lenscrafters tinted my prescription sunglasses the wrong shade of smoky gray, so I think I can relate.

Our Mister Bivolo ended up another victim of the violent typing fingers of Geoff "I Need A Hug" Johns. In an act perfectly symbolic of Johns' tenure on the Flash title, he had the Rainbow Raider -- a blatantly goofy but also fun, clever, and well-designed villain -- get murdered by "Blacksmith," a serious, one-note hateful villain of Johns' own creation, who had an eyesocket-scoopingly ugly character design (by Scott Kolins. OF COURSE.) The irony being that Blacksmith herself was also goofy, albeit in a completely unintentional and unpleasant fashion. And then he introduced, years later and seemingly out of nowhere, a seven-person team of color-themed villains calling themselves "The Rainbow Raiders." And to this day, I have no idea if they've ever carried a story on their own. I think they mainly just show up at funerals. Like the Vice-President. What the fuck ever, Johns.

In theory, the Rainbow Raider's outfit shouldn't appeal to me at all. I mean, the man wore a freakin' rainbow. However, the Raider did several things to balance that out. He wore enough black to compensate for all the color. He also varied the width of the stripes, to keep it from becoming boring. And he flared the shoulders, which created an interesting silhouette. So I'd say, "Lookin' sharp, Rainbow Raider! Also? Sorry you're dead now." What do you say, Mister Bivolo?



Atta boy!

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.

Hey, Nerds! Comics!

I meant for this blog to focus mainly on comics, hence the name. And yet, this is only the first post about them. Go figure. I buy comics every week or two -- it's mostly DC stuff, with some manga. I'll review my purchases here. My other comics posts will most likely deal with some of the treasures I've acquired during my thirty years of collecting. (I have a complete run of "Dazzler." Jealous?)

Last Friday, I bought...

Teen Titans #17 by Geoff Johns, Mike McKone, and Marlo Alquiza.
So... bloody, amputated limbs are "approved by the Comics Code Authority" now? Of course, the teeny-tiny stamp on this issue's cover consists of white lettering on a black background, which is the reverse of its usual look. Maybe this is the Bizarro Comics Code Authority. ("Bloody, amputated limbs am REQUIRED!") This book also contains a scene with a character getting shot in the face. Thank goodness for that code stamp, or else I'd think this was unsuitable for children. Now, that said, I'm not a kid, and if all superhero comics still read like they did in the 70's, well, I wouldn't be reading superhero comics anymore. No, sir. I'd be much, much happier. In this issue, the Titans wind up ten years in the future, and find that the junior members -- Wonder Girl, Superboy, Robin, and Kid Flash -- have all become grim, possibly villainous versions of their adult counterparts. There's also a buck-nekkid, feral version of Beast Boy, who has amped-up powers -- he can become two separate animals at the same time. (I thought he was actually cooler than the current version.) The future Raven -- well, I don't know what's up with this Raven, but it clearly ain't good. Johns throws in a future version of the new Aquagirl, just for good measure. The young Titans enter into an uneasy truce with their future selves, and wonder how things could have gone so wrong. But then Superboy sees something they didn't want him to see... (Hint: bloody, amputated limb.) It's good, violent, soapy fun.

Identity Crisis #5 by Brad Meltzer, Rags Morales, and Mike Bair.
Atom fans will probably be pleased as punch about what transpires this issue. Firestorm fans, not so much. Meltzer's script offers up another possible suspect in the murder of Sue Dibny, even as it suggests that the person who sent Lois Lane that note in a previous issue wasn't threatening her, but warning her. As always, the dialogue and characterization is spot-on. Morales' stunning artwork really sells the story, particularly in the final sequence, as two young men listen to what may be their fathers' final words. The faults and merits of "Identity Crisis" have been discussed to death on the web, so I'll restrict myself to this: I think that superhero storytelling is diverse enough to allow for something like this book as well as more lighthearted fare such as "She-Hulk" or even the Cartoon Network stuff. And I think that DC (and Marvel) superhero continuity is fluid enough to accomodate radically different tones in storytelling about the same characters. I have umpteen versions of the Legion of Superheroes in my collection. For me, dealing with the events of "Identity Crisis" is a freaking cakewalk.

H.E.R.O. #21 by Will Pfeifer, Dale Eaglesham, and Wade von Grawbadger.
This is the next-to-last issue of "H.E.R.O." I've followed this book since issue number one, and I have to say that I enjoyed it a lot more when it functioned as an anthology title. Pfeifer is certainly wrapping things up in an explosive fashion, with most of the former users of the H.E.R.O. device dying at the hands of a super-powered... serial... killer...ZZZZZ. *snort* Sorry, nodded off there for a second. Luckily, I'm still interested in the character of Robby Reed, so I'll buy the final issue just to see what happens to him. Eaglesham handles the pencilling chores with his typical aplomb, meaning that it's quite dynamic, as well as anatomically shaky and just unbelievably ugly. It's probably for the best that "H.E.R.O." is ending. I would've dropped it soon enough anyway.

Plastic Man #11 by Kyle Baker.
Baker's standard approach with this book is to throw a bunch of jokes at you and see which ones stick. As per usual, this issue consists of more "hits" than "misses." The bulk of the plot gives us a "brain swapping ray" that redistributes the pysches of Plastic Man, President Lex Luthor, an FBI agent, a mad scientist, a cat, a frog, a fly, and (wait for it) Bizarro. According to the internet (so it must be true) Woozy Winks' surreal speech at the end consists of actual George W. Bush quotes. I find this sadly plausible. Baker also throws in some meta-textural jokes that don't work at all. And in a move meant to bolster one of those failed jokes, he gives us a Vice-President Pete Ross who is Black. The funny part for me was thinking about all the hard-core fanboys going out of their minds with rage when they saw that. Haw! Losers.