Punch Him in the Ink Sac!

I guess the (busty!) Octoid Men of Luvan are fond of wearing matronly one-piece swim suits, with their terminal spermatophoric ducts tucked between their legs.

MTV Cribs: The Mighty Samson

Some happy day I'll create a holovision channel devoted exclusively to the faux-fur-wearing barbarian and the faux-fur-wearing barbarian lifestyle. And my first subject will be "the Mighty Samson."

Oh yeah. That's a totally fake pelt he's sporting. He tells everybody he skinned it off a "liobear" but I know for a scientific fact those things ain't magenta and their fur is impervious to dye. My guess: "the Mighty Samson" salvaged his "skins" from the floors, walls and ceiling of an old van. (It wasn't a-rockin', so "the Mighty Samson" came a-knockin'.)

Show us around your pad, "the Mighty Samson!"

And it doubles as a toilet!

Say--! What's that on the wall? How quaint, a flat-screen plasma TV! What're you watchin'? The History Channel or some-- oh.

Dang, we are a "modern stone-age fam-i-ly", aren't we? Boring! Please, tell me you at least hiding a jewelry safe or a peephole into your bath area or a cage containing the trussed and gagged body of the real "the Mighty Samson" behind that thing.

Hang on, the Mad Thinker's even lamer cousin wants to show off. Preach it, Poindexter!

Christ. He says the word "cannons" and his eyes automatically land on her chest. Which wouldn't be half as creepy if he wasn't her father.

And honey? Could you stop thrusting? Seriously. Just turn that shit off for half-a-minute. And the next time you buy a sweater, consider going a size up. Also, we need to sit down sometime and have a nice long talk about the way you've been eating popsicles and corndogs.

Well, at least the positively asexual "the Mighty Samson" isn't suckered in by such obvious ploys! Isn't that right, "the Mighty Samson?"

"...Because I just happen to own a 'French maid' costume..." *thrust, jiggle*

TURN IT OFF, I said!

(See? Auto seats! I told you he raided a van!)

Spiritually Uplifted (and Separated)

Hey, quit ogling her! Can't you see she's a nun? What the hell is wrong with you?! Christ almighty!

Okay, so according to the dialog (in "Rebirth" #1 from Tokyopop) she's technically a monk, but I'm having enough trouble accepting the idea that she'd wear that inane get-up under her (conveniently destroyed) robes without trying to factor in the notion of a co-ed monastery. Huh. I wonder if all the monks have to dress like that, or just her? ("Brother Matthew, the Abbot is concerned you're spending too much time studying the scriptures and not enough time grooming your bikini area.")

But mainly it's the tonal discrepancy that bothers me. "Rebirth" is a serious, if melodramatic, action-horror manwha and then you have Our Lady of Perpetual Hotness here looking like she just stepped out of a David Lee Roth video. I dunno. Maybe I don't get it because I'm from a different culture (i.e. the FUTURE!).

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Star Sapphire to Mandarin Garnet

In the gender reversal challenge, I take a very ladylike superheroine costume and redesign it for the male figure, keeping as many of the original elements as possible without making the guy version look like he's in drag. This time, I decided to tackle a supervillainess instead: the notorious Star Sapphire. The Star Sapphire most folks are familiar with is the Silver Age version, who first appeared in a very tasteful outfit designed by Gil Kane.

The girly elements: the color scheme, exposed thighs, and a freakin' tiara.

She's had a goofy assymetrical space-amazon get-up in the 80's and 90's. We shan't speak of it again. But her latest ensemble certainly got tongues wagging!

Yipes. Dominatrix whore much, Star Sapphire? I don't know who's precisely to blame for this. But I'll wag my thick, hairy finger at Ethan VanSciver because to be honest, his art always bugged me. It's basically Brian Bolland minus several years of "life drawing" classes. (And the floating GL insignia he always draws in front of Hal Jordan's chest looks ridiculous.)

The new version's girly elements: big dangly earrings, high heels, and copious boobery (both anatomical and otherwise).

For my male version of Star Sapphire, I first decided I'd have to change the name. "Star Sapphire" is too feminine. I knew I wanted to stick with a gemstone, and something both evocative and plausible for a Silver Age comic. (That's why my first idea -- "Blood Diamond" -- went by the wayside. Too "Image" and also it's a relatively new term, and a politcal term instead of a gemological one. After a little research on gemology, I came up with "Red Emerald." That's one of the names for bixbite, a rare, violet-red stone. I wasn't completely taken with it. It's clumsy and fakey-sounding, and it doesn't scream "supervillain" so much as it does "male stripper." Or a really gay fishing guide! But then I discovered the mandarin garnet! Now, "mandarin" is a great villain name! And "garnet" sounds marginally manlier than "sapphire." Although I recall in "Return to Oz" that Auntie Em's sister is named "Garnet." And before you get all huffy and lecturing, science nerds, I know there is such a thing as a mandarin sapphire. The problem is (according to all the images I've found) the color is washed-out in comparison to the magnificent mandarin garnet. And since the garnet's color is still reddish, it's not too great a change from the pink/magenta of Star Sapphire.

So here's my idea for the Silver Age and modern "Mandarin Garnet":

Er, that's the modern one on the left. And yeah, I kind of over-inked him. Oops.

For the Silver Age version (Carl Ferris!) I changed the tiara into a circlet. To allude to the "bare thighs" thing, I altered the boots, so there's a space between the red on his tights and the red on his calves. And to match the boots, I changed the gloves a little. Since Mandarin Garnet is a guy (no, really!) he can get away with more exposure on the chest. It's very "ballroom dance champion" but I think it works.

Since the current Star Sapphire's costume is already so skimpy, I felt like I could get away with bare thighs on the male version without it looking too girly. To balance out the exposed skin on the thighs, I exposed even more skin on the torso. And yet I covered the nipples, for the more sensitive among my readers. I brought the "tiara" down on his forehead (like I did with the Scarlet Warlock) and I extruded the upper edges into kick-ass devil horns. And since it's modern, he can get away with long hair. And chest fur! RAWK 'N' ROLL!!!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

• Saturn Girl
• Scarlet Witch
• Looker (and a slight revision)
• Storm
• Marvel Girl
• Black Canary
• Phantom Lady

Next week: Moral Realignment Challenge: Nightwing and Gizmo!

Double D for "Danger!"

Since Marvel's "Agents of Atlas' miniseries just wrapped up, I thought it was a good time to interview a personality who knew many of the protagonists intimately: the breasts of Suyan, granddaughter of the man known by certain white racists as "The Yellow Claw." Suyan's breasts were limited mainly to non-speaking parts, but Roy Thomas gave them their own thought balloon in "What If?" #9 (June 1978). Suyan's breasts retired from the world of shadowy intrigue in 1985, whereupon they immediately moved south. They now reside in The Shadow's Nose Memorial Home for Detective Story Body Parts in Boca Raton, Florida. I spoke with Suyan's breasts over tea on her graciously appointed lanai.

Blockade Boy: Thank you again for agreeing to this interview, Suyan's breasts. And might I say, you both look gorgeous. You've obviously been taking good care of yourselves.

Suyan's breasts: Oh! Well, thank you, young man! And we're sure that you're only saying that to be polite. As a gay man, you probably never looked at a pair of breasts in your life.

BB: It helps if they're not attached to anything. Now, I'm sure my readers are eager to know... how did you get along with your "co-star" Suyan?

SB: Suyan was a great gal. We've know so many breasts in my life whose companions smothered them under layers of polyester or cashmere. Suyan almost always wore silk, which was very comfortable for us, and she often wore dresses with a "keyhole" cut-out that allowed us to see what was going on.

BB: What led the three of you to part ways?

SB: It was just time, y'know? We'd kept her company since she was twelve years old. And once she hit her fifties, it just became impractical for her to be lugging us around all the time. We think she felt that we were getting in her way. She was always fiddling with us, moving us around like we were bothering her. If you ask us, the problem was that she was starting to put on some weight. Those silk dresses began to get awfully constricting. we could tell it was time for us to part when she put on her first muumuu. Don't get us wrong -- it was nice to be able to breathe again, but we'd always sworn we wouldn't be caught dead in one of those things. Plus? We couldn't see a damn thing! We sat her down for a heart-to-heart talk and we agreed that it would be best if we went our own ways.

BB: What's your life like now?

SB: It's not as exciting as when we were dodging ray gun fire or bobbing atop exotic seas, but we try to stay active. We volunteer at the local suicide hotline, we sign autographs at comic book conventions, and... what else? Oh! Every Thursday we play Mahjong with Nancy Drew's hair, Sue Dibny's brain, and Pussy Galore's clitoris. Oh, hey! Here's a fun fact: according to Pussy Galore's clitoris, James Bond was actually a total gentleman. He never once laid a hand on it.

BB: Speaking of romance, would you care to comment on any of your old boyfriends?

SB: Goodness, you don't hold back, do you? I suppose enough time has passed it couldn't do any harm. The great loves of our lives were Jimmy Woo's hands. They were so sensitive and warm. If we were sad, those hands could make us sit up and say "Wow! It's a great day!"

BB: It's been rumored you had a fling with Marvel Boy's left hand. Is that true?

SB: Not exactly. I was just his thumb and his index finger.

BB: Any others you'd like to mention?

SB: Gosh... I suppose Gorilla-Man's muttonchops... and his tongue. President Eisenhower's forehead. Oh, and we had a platonic thing going on with the Great Video's eyeballs. Boy, I haven't thought about those times in forever! Golly. I-- I don't think I can continue right now. I'm feeling very emotional.

BB: So I see! In that case, I'll let you off the hook, Suyan's breasts. I've had a great time talking with you. On behalf of my readers, thank you very much.

SB: Thank you.

Die Wieblichen Nippel des Jager sind Kalt

(Thank you, Babel Fish! Even with your dubious accuracy!) Dorian wrote a terrific post last week about the porn-star posing of the original Huntress. The poor lass just couldn't cinch up her robe! And then I remembered that Jeremy has a comic featuring that version of the Huntress. Only it's in German.

Let's all enjoy the thrills, mystery, and cleavage of the Huntress backup in "WunderGirl" Heft 6/1981, a reprint of "Wonder Woman" #277, May 1981.

On the splash page, the Huntress is under attack by Japanese throwing stars but she's too busy trying to decide what to order for lunch to really notice them. Okay, so it's really Joe Staton's idea of snowflakes. But they sure look like they'd do some damage. Imagine these babies in the Peanuts Christmas special. Especially when they land on some kid's tongue.

Looks like she's having a panic attack. "Trapped! Trapped! Must... remove... blouse!" What? Don't ladies always pull shirts taut against their bosoms just prior to removing them? Seriously, I have no idea. Help me out here.

Of course, it's never a Joe Staton Huntress story without some robe action! Perverts, you may want to close the curtains or blinds or at least make sure there's nobody in an adjacent cubicle. And don't forget to wash your hands afterwards.

Oh yeah, baby, work it like-- what th'? She's wearing a robe because she's actually cold?! Well, that's kind of a rip-off. There's not even any cleavage! Except... that center "crease" looks a little suspicious. Eureka! Oh, Coloring Error, you're the FCC of the comics world!

Still, the robe is covering more of her than it usually does. It must be awfully cold outside. (The ninjas refrigerated their thowing stars beforehand, I guess.) How cold is it, you ask?

It's so cold that her nipples are creating the "ears" on that Bat-shadow.

And that is freakin' cold, my friends.

The Hundred Acre Would-Have-Been

Alex Ross recenly cracked the internet in half (or at least dented it) with a comment about Geoff Johns putting Obsidian in the JSA to keep other writers from "molesting" him. Since the only writer to do anything of note to Obsidian in the last few years was Marc Andreyko, and since Marc made Obsidian a gay man in a healthy relationship with his boyfriend, Ross' use of the word "molesting" makes him come off as a complete tool. Not as much of a tool as other comic book artist loudmouths like John Byrne or Ethan Van Sciver, but still--! What irks me about his comment almost as much as the barely-concealed homophobia is the very notion that Geoff Johns doesn't molest characters! In his last JSA run, Johns made Obsidian a crazy supervillain, and after having his dad put him in his place, made him a pathetic, anemic character who only ever appeared on panel to look contrite. Among Johns' other accomplishments: making Nuklon/Atom Smasher an angst-ridden murderer.

Admittedly, Nuklon and Obsidian weren't great characters to start out with. But there was a writer between their creator Roy Thomas and their ruiner Geoff Johns who found a great angle on both of them. And that was Gerard Jones in the pages of "Justice League America" circa 1994-1995. And his angle was to write the duo as Tigger and Eyore. Er, Nuklon being "Tigger" of course.

Ignoring for a moment Fire, who is quite literally "horning" in on the couple with a scheme to seduce Nuklon, this is a great capsule look at the two heroes. This is in "Justice League America" #0 (October 1994) and it was my first real exposure to Nuklon and Obsidian. And I loved them. You can see here that Nuklon's costume has been cleaned up and streamlined. It's no longer covered with that weird black bubbly trim that was all over the place. His stupid Rambo headband is gone, and the laughable mohawk has been grown out and tied into a ponytail. Hey, it was the 90's. Alright, so the hair is still a bit goofy but at least he doesn't look like some middle-aged man's idea of a punk rocker. (Nuklon as a "punk" was about on-the-money as Ernie Bushmiller's idea of a hippie.) But I can buy this as a hairstyle the cornfed young Nuklon might wear. I've seen it on plenty of teenagers in the Midwest, especially back around that time. So it's plausible for a guy who wants to be kind-of hip. But isn't. Still better than that goofball wrestler mask, Alex Ross. Note also the posture. Hands on the hips, good old-fashioned happy hero stuff. (Which is probably punishable by death under the current Dan Didio regime.) By contrast, there's Obsidian... with a tummy ache. Aw! Sadly, Obisidian is right about there being a punchline in his future, and the joke's author would be Geoff Johns. Grrr....

Here's the duo in action, bantering like a classic comedy team. (From "Justice League America" #94, December 1994.) Obsidian is a pessimist, sure, but he's a witty pessimist, which is what makes it tolerable. And while Nuklon's relentless optimism might be grating to some, he's also a true pal and a constant booster for his friend. Now, let's see how they work with other characters in the book.

Holy shit... Nuklon is the Tick! Just imagine... Ben Edlund on a Nuklon/Obsidian series. What a missed opportunity! Nuklon, who can't even bring himself to cuss, spends a lot of time fighting off Fire's advances in "Justice League America" #95 (January 1995). As she presses her boobalicious form against his slab-like body, Nuklon asks Fire to do a favor for him: "Could you please zip up your clothes?" Heh.

Also in that issue, Obsidian's sad-sack routine works equally as well with a different foil. The foil in this case is the Crimson Fox. Which might be a clue as to why the book tanked and was replaced with the Grant Morrison all-star version. Ah, well. The only real shame here is that Nuklon and Obsidian were split up and put in the hands of writers whose personalities (for the most part) were more like Obsidian's and less like Nuklon's.

Booblivion

The other day I asked Jeremy just what the hell he was thinking when he bought "Oblivion" #1 (Comico, August 1995). He just shrugged and said, "Art Adams cover." I thwacked him on his forehead with my thumb and forefinger and asked him if he'd even glanced at the interior before he'd bought it. He said "No." So of then course I had to punch him in the arm really hard. But he didn't even flinch, the l'il trooper!

Well, it doesn't surprise me that Jeremy didn't look through "Oblivion" before he bought it. "Oblivion" is a comic about perfectly awful people doing perfectly awful things to one another, and Jeremy only likes that on reality TV. Okay, so he used to enjoy Warren Ellis but he got sick of that guy about five years ago. And "Oblivion" author Jack Herman is no Warren Ellis.

But of course, what I find most offensive about this comic is the costuming.

While I applaud the idea of a gold-plated handgun to go with gold satin boots, I'm just not buying this as a military uniform. Winged knees do not authority confer. (I think Sun Tzu said that.) Then there's the busty chest plate, which lifts and separates the holy hell out of her breasts. Doesn't look comfortable. And I'm pretty sure she stole the facemask thingie from 90's-era Jean Grey. Do you think the collar is a mite wide? The guys in this comic get even wider collars. Their heads are practically swimming in the damn things. I bet penciller Andrew Dimitt had a problem with people touching him on the neck.



Oh, come freakin' on. How long does it take these women to get suited up for battle? Three hours? I remember an old "Project Runway" episode where some guy had designed a swimsuit with less straps than this and neither he nor his model could remember how to even get into it the second time. Plus, you have to love how after all that strappy foofarah there's still several square yards of skin exposed. Well, at least their knees are well protected, huh?



Of course she's the commander. Isn't fishnet the universal symbol of leadership? You can't see it in these panels, but the fishnet is also the only thing covering her ass. Aaaannnd the whole get-up is backless! Jibbidy. You know what I'd like to see? A remake of "Gettysburg" where all the combatants are clad only in leather jockstraps. And their preparation for the big battle would involve a lot of scented oils.

But wait! "Oblivion" finds other ways to objectify the female body!



If they'd only stay little 'til their Carters wore out, huh? Osh-Kosh B'HOLY SHIT! And what precisely is keeping her breasts inside that thing? Is it just exceptionally cold in there or what? And the even stupider part is, she's still in the same dress in a battle scene at another location later on in the comic. Yipes.

I want to personally bitchslap every single person involved with this comic. Even Bill Willingham, who created some of the characters but had absolutely nothing to do with the actual production of this particular issue. Just because I like to be thorough. I might have to bitchslap all the people who worked at the printing plant and the distributor and the UPS drivers who delivered the comics. And then the people who worked at the comic book stores that sold it.

Sure, it could take a while, but it will be totally worth it.

Not Your Friend, But An Incredible Simulation

One of the weirder things in Roy Thomas' most recent run on "Thor" was the "Godpack." And I'm not just talking about the crazy sub-Liefeld costumes and hair (although I'll get to those momentarily). I mean the whole concept is kind of batshit insane. Because the Godpack consists of apparently random shmoes who were transformed by the High Evolutionary into super-beings with no memory of their old names or, I suspect, anything else. Which is just creepy. And here's the kicker: their new super-powered bodies were designed to emulate various Norse gods. And Thor became the leader of the group. Which means Thor spent a lot of time bossing around artificial versions of his close, personal friends.

Of course, Thor is used to bizarre crap like that. Just imagine what it must have been like in the Wundagore Gift Shoppe!

High Evolutionary: Janice? I've decided to promote you to manager.

Janice: Oh--! Well, thank you, Mister Evolutionary! So did Laurie quit, or did you promote her too, or--

High Evolutionary (darkly): Laurie's services were no longer needed.

Janice: I... see. Well, I'd better put in a classified ad for a new sales clerk!

High Evolutionary: No need! Behold, Janice O'Malley, for I now present to you... FUR RED!

Janice: The hell--?! He looks just like my friend Fred, only...

High Evolutionary: Only much, much BETTER! The creature you see before you is indeed based on the Fred you know, but is a wholly separate being with a myriad of genetic improvements! I trust you don't mind.

Janice: I just want to make sure the registers are covered. Still, it'll be kind of weird working with a guy who has Fred's face --

High Evolutionary: And his habit of whistling snippets of music from "Candide."

Janice: Really? Yikes. The main thing is... it'll be weird for me to, say, see Fred in the laundry room of our apartment building and then see his face again on a seven-foot-tall creature with a bright red lion's mane.

High Evolutionary: And tail.

Janice: Ew. Well, "Fur Red," let's find a company polo shirt that will fit you.

Fur Red: FUR RED NEEDS NO SHIRT! GRRRARRGGHH!

Janice (warily eyeing the broad, triangular thatch of red fur on the creature's chest): Trust me. You do.

[The two of them head for the storeroom, with Fur Red huskily whistling the opening bars of "Glitter And Be Gay."]

OKAY! Time for individual evaluations!



Back row:

"Anak." Son Of Thunder! (Kidding. And boy, is that ever a joke for comic book nerds!) Ridiculously gigantic and strong bald Black guy. Because that's not a sad, demeaning cliche, honest and for true. His outfit is actually the most demure of the bunch, except for the daring use of Seafoam Green, a color normally found on vacationing grandmas.

And that's it for the back row. Because he's big!

Front row, left to right (we'll skip Thor):

"Bellam." You know what I love about comic book ponytails? I love that they can grow to four, five feet long and still bounce around in complicated snaking patterns without a single strand out of place. I wonder what Bellam's hairdressing secret is. Some kind of xtreme-hold gel? Or Crisco, maybe? Also note that the High Evolutionary spent most of his shoe budget on everyone else so when he got to Bellam he only had about five bucks left and had to buy a pair of flimsy sandals from some hippie out on the street. Also, the poor dope has an axe for a hand. Not that he lost his hand in an accident, mind you. Nope, the High Evolutionary designed Bellam's current body to lack one hand. It cannot be said enough: the High Evolutionary is a creepy bastard.

"Luminor, Lord of Light." Which is funny, since I would have guessed from his breastplate that he was Lord of Corrugated Cardboard. Got enough kneepads, Luminor? You do? Then could I borrow a couple? No? Yeah, I didn't think so.

"Blitziana." Nothing screams "ready for battle" like a chrome-plated sports bra, huh? Check out the gloves. I'm thinking Blitziana is dressed to go to the opera. Providing that opera is being performed by the Celestials. (I've heard that Exitar is simply smashing as Madame Butterfly.) Bonus Creepy Points: the Norse god that Blitziana is based on? Is Thor. I guess the High Evolutionary was thinking, "Yeah, I like Thor and all, but you know what he needs? A fabulous rack. And maybe Wolverine's hair." News flash, honey! Nobody needs Wolverine's hair. Not even Wolverine needs Wolverine's hair.

"Loga." What a clever way to reuse those old red curtains in the sitting room! Bravo, High Evolutionary! And those tights look like they'd pinch. Just a bit. Just a teensy bit.

"Zefra." I don't think my eyes can take this much magenta. Notice how if she poses just so it looks like she's nude below the waist! Which is totally not on purpose, I'm sure. And there's more segmentation on the accessories, which, I'm sorry, is just stupid. Once Weight Wizard got his foot stuck inside a Slinky. (Yes, they'll still be manufactured one thousand years from now. Hey, stock tip!) If those arm-deals are anything like that Slinky, Zefra should be bawling like a baby and accusing Thor of taking her for granted. Oh wait, I guess he wasn't really blaming the Slinky for that second thing. Also, check out her hair. At this size, I can't tell if she's wearing a really goofy Zatanna hat or if it's a dye job. But one thing I do know is that her Medusa Lite mane would have been sexier if somebody hadn't snipped off the last two inches of it. I'm guessing Bellam got tired of being shown up in the hair department and took a little revenge. Bellam, you little bitch!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Looker to ????

Sometimes I like to challenge myself to redesign an existing costume for a different purpose or gender. In the "gender reassignment" challenges, I take a very feminine superheroine costume and butch it up for a male hero, while still trying to retain as many design elements as possible from the female version. In other words, it has to obviously look like the "brother" of the original costume.

Probably one of the most infamously unattractive costumes in the last three decades belongs to the psionic-powered superheroine, Looker. Let's take a gander at her, shall we? (You may wish to don welding goggles or perhaps view the image through one of those pinhole boxes folks use to look at solar eclipses, as the sight of Looker's costume has been known to cause retinal damage.) Okay, is everyone prepared? Here we go.



How about that, huh? A bow and a chain. Give to me your leather; take from me my lace. Plus there's the massive collar, the huge white nipple pads or whatever the heck those things are, and the asymmetry, MY GOD, the asymmetry. It's also unabashedly, almost ridiculously girly. So I wondered if I could find a way of doing that same type of costume for a man. I think I figured out a way to do it. I was even able to retain the color scheme, believe it or not.



Looker, from her name onward, was meant to be a devastatingly beautiful woman. I tried to imagine what the male version might look like. I decided to make him look like something off the cover of a romance novel. The pink tights made me think of old-timey circus performers so I designed the look around what a trapeze artist in the early 19th century might wear. The cloak is of a type favored by some military men (like Napoleon), where the arms go through slits beneath the top layer. And because my guy is supposed to be from a romance novel, he's barechested. (Notice how I made sure he's covering his nipples this time. You're welcome.) That's why I gave him long gloves that cover most of his arms. When he's wearing the cloak, it gives it the feel of a complete coat, with sleeves. Looker's bow is echoed in the guy's sash. I had no use for the chain, so I didn't use it. I simplified the boots, as you can see, but they're soft-soled, like a circus acrobat might wear. And for the most part I ditched the asymmetry, because that shit had to go.

I'm just having trouble deciding what to call this guy. "Looker" sounds too girly. I was thinking of "Dreamboat" maybe. But I'm still not sure. What do you guys think I should call him? Lookie-Lou? The Crotchinator? Baron Hunkmeyer Von Prettypants? I'm up for suggestions!

Take Your (Grand)Daughter To Work (It) Day

You know what the great thing is about being a bent, wizened sorceror who belongs to an Atlantean cult? The great thing is, you can convince the teenage granddaughter of the cult leader that she is vital to the destiny of all mankind and that she should drop whatever the hell she's doing and become your "apprentice." And you can also tell her that oh, just by the way, she needs to dress at all times in a metal bikini top and low-riding powder blue panties with a chrome-plated Ouija board pointer on them.

That's what Dakihm the Enchanter did to Jennifer Kale in some old "Man-Thing" and "Howard the Duck" stories back in the 70's. And sure, she fetched a magic tome from some otherdimensional netherworld and helped repel an invasion from the demon-realm of Sominus. But I think Dakihm mainly wanted to see Jennifer parade around in that outfit. There's something patently creepy about the whole set-up, if you ask me. And that's why I say God bless June Brigman for drawing Jennifer in "The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe" #6 (May, 1985) like this:



Compare this image with the one of the voluptuous, big-bottomed gal posing on the edge of a table for Dakihm's decrepid amusement. ("Reading this scroll is hard!" *giggle, blush, coquettish head tilt*) Brigman's depiction of Jennifer is really kind of startling in its honesty. She doesn't look much like a stereotypical pulp novel character to me. Instead, it's like a candid shot of a confused, emotionally screwed-up teenage runaway who just happens to be wearing a way-too-revealing costume. It's not so much Frank Frazetta as it is Diane Arbus. Now, I have no idea if Brigman did this on purpose, since everyone she draws tends to look somewhat like a teenage girl. But still, my hat's off to her.