D-List Monsters of Super-Hero Land: The Mole, Part Two

What I Hate About Roy Thomas' Writing, Exhibit A: a character saying out loud and to nobody at all, everything that is happening in a panel, including his own actions. Just think how much more suspenseful and interesting that first panel would be without any speech balloons. We can see a mound of earth following him from panel one to panel two, so there's no need for him to state that he's being followed by something underground. His clothing, location, and physical attitude indicate somebody who's running in a panic. All that wordiness contributes nothing to Gene Colan's fantastic artwork. Now, if this was drawn by somebody as incompetent as, say, Rob Liefeld, I could understand the need for descriptive speech -- and puh-lenty of it, given that Liefeld probably wouldn't even draw the guy's feet -- but with a master like Colan all those words just get in the way.

But enough of this. You all came to my cowtown sideshow to see the Mole, didn't you? Let's investigate, along with The Dad-Burned Batman!

Journey to the Center of Apache Chief's Sphincter!

Told ya so.

Careful, Bats -- he eats of lot of Moroccan food.

"Good God!"

Y'know what would have been better than Batman saying "Good God"? If he said "Eep!" or "Yowza!" or even "Oy gevalt!" I mean, why half-ass it?

But yeah, that's the Mole. Yes, I know. I'm just as disappointed as you are. From the boring, naked, Clayface-Lite body to the blandly unattractive face (practically swiped from a Sal Buscema human character) and the inexplicable slick-back hairdo (what is he, Alec Baldwin?), the Mole is one lame monster. Almost is bad is his habit of saying "Huh-huh" in every other panel. I can't read this comic nowadays without thinking he sounds like Butthead, of "Beavis and..." fame.

You might think the Mole was created especially for this issue, but you'd be wrong. Because this is a Roy Thomas story, and his hard-on for continuity is rivaled only by (the Marquis de) Geoff Johns.

Oh, its not good when you enter a jail cell and the other inmates are looking at you like that. (From what Storm Boy tells me, anyway.) Retreat, Mole! Retreat!

Next: More Mole! Including a panel where he terrifies a coffee cup.

You heard me.

D-List Monsters of Super-Hero Land: The Mole, Part One

I still have a lot to say about the Spook -- in fact, I just snagged a "Detective Comics" with one of his earlier appearances -- but I figure you all might be anxious to see some different D-List monsters. So I'll get back to the Spook (and his suction-cup shoes) another day. And now, let's all brace ourselves for the pants-wetting terror of... the Mole!

Oh, I can sympathize with Batman. Only last month, I had this Plantar's wart that just would not go away. I tried putting some dry ice on it, and I swear to the Luck Lords, not only did the damn thing actually get bigger, but a squeaky, scoffing voice issued from it, informing me that it "washes [its] balls in ice water," just like that Russian mob guy that Paulie and Christopher tried to kill in the snow, on "The Sopranos." One night, when when the wart was about the size of a bottle cap, it just opened up like a flower, and a handsome, well-hung (proportionately, anyway) little faerie-man (with hummingbird wings!) flitted out of it. He was beautiful. I was moved beyond words. I didn't cry, though. AND I'LL FIGHT ANY MAN WHO SAYS I DID! *looks around, menacingly* Anyway, the tiny fella pretty much immediately slammed into my patio door and knocked himself out.

And then Cootie ate him.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. The Mole. I don't understand why the Batman's minor medical crisis warrants an entire cover, but...

Oh.

Yeah, that'll jack up your prize-winning rose bushes.

And yes, this is a Roy Thomas story. Which means it's chock-full of horribly, wonderfully bloviated caption boxes like these:

"Not quite the Witching Hour"? Then who gives a shit?

And if you ask me, this comic would have been a lot better if they would have added an accent mark to the "e" in "Mole". 'Cause then the story could have followed a mysterious figure, named after a type of delicious Mexican sauce. I'm picturing a cross between "El Mariachi" and "Iron Chef." ("Today's mystery ingredient is... a machine gun!" *cue kick-ass gun battle*)

But wait! What's that intriguing poster I spy on the left side of the frame? Computer, zoom out!

Why, it's an advertisement for Batman's lounge act, "Urban Terrorist", in town for one night only, at the Gotham Cabaret! Thrill as his rendition of "September Song" devolves into a prolonged rant about America's criminal justice system! Then retreat into the lobby and buy one of his cassette tapes from that creepy college kid in the scaly green shorts.

The Mole is so mind-bendingly goofy horrifying, I don't dare fully show him to you, just yet.

But as a consolation, please, enjoy this panel of Doctor Abraham Lincoln, Freudian analyst: