Pale Rider

Oh, Eastern Cowgirl Fern, you saucy, spangled temptress...!

Luring wine-soaked businessmen to their dooms as you writhe onstage to ZZ Top; stretching your lanky legs into configurations few thought possible; ruthlessly abrading the metal pole with the scales on your stretchpants; insouciantly tossing your collar tips to select "rough-riders" whom you'll meet later, and secretly; dazzling the crowds with the strobe-light concealed within the ludicrously-tall crown of your cowgirl hat; smiling only seldom, because of your embarrassing overbite; ignoring the numbness in your feet after cinching your "ankle bandana" too tightly; doggedly removing all alcohol and bodily fluids from your tiny daughter's pageant vest before placing it back in her closet right before she awakens (for she must never know how the two of you can afford to live in this respectable brownstone -- that is your solemn vow)...!

Oh, Eastern Cowgirl Fern... why do you fascinate me so?

UPDATE: Holy shit. She's an actual person. Real Eastern Cowgirl Fern, I offer you my sincerest apologies.

Damn Viking Hippies!

"...Specifically, from my pubes. Also, I made earrings for you. Carved 'em from some of my denser stools! ...Hey, where are you going--?"

(Meanwhile, Kristen's trampy friend Hilde is traipsing about with that jewel-encrusted gold crown that her boyfriend Erik pillaged for her.)

The Omega Knees

Ah, a typical New Yorker, dressed for the subway.

I have so many questions.

How did he get past the front desk, dressed like that? Does he have a key card? What is the guy watching the security monitors doing right now? Eating a hoagie? And masturbating to this very scene? Why couldn't "To Catch a Predator" be like this? Is that a gun, or a video camera from 1982? And was it really necessary to put his super-logo on his knees? Is that where he expects his clients and victims to focus their eyes? His knees? Does he have big knees, and is he kind of sensitive about it? Like in the middle of a conversation, he'll get all offended, and huff, "I'm up here"?

The Sneerness of You

See, this is why "Moose" from Archie Comics should never be allowed to dress himself.

...Okay, so the mesh t-shirt was my idea. But then that big dumb dope had to accessorize it with a three-sizes-too-small fedora, a woolen suit coat (Who does he think he is? Sonny Crockett?) and his mom's scarf. GAH.

Meanwhile, the three points of the Universe's Most Boring Love Triangle don't realize that they're sitting in the mouth of a giant parasitic plant, which will soon snap shut and dissolve their stupid, quarreling bodies.

So, Who Brought the Pig's Blood...?

That's what all the closet-cases say, Brown.

Chapeau by Jiffy Pop

The last time I saw a hat like that, it adorned a "hillbilly" teddy bear at the Cracker Barrel.

So THAT'S What Happened to My Throw Pillows

Dig those crazy shoulder pads! From her outfit, I gather she's a stripper by day, and a linebacker for the Pittsburgh Steelers by night. Also, she may moonlight as a hair model.

Isn't she being a bit much? (Yes. Yes, she is.) I think if you presented Joan Crawford or Krystal Carrington or even Typhoid Mary with this shoulder pad design, they'd ask you to "tone it down a tad." But just think of the storage capacity! She could pack a whole 'nother outfit in one of those puppies. (Might I suggest a tasteful pant suit?) And maybe she could use the other one for her toiletries -- including the scads of hair-care products she obviously requires. Also, a couple of spare tampons. And maybe some "Armor All."

Duke of Hurl

That's why I avoid eating spicy foods (or getting drunk) before a fist-fight. Poor "El Grando!" Not only is his Mardi Gras mask busted, but he's gotten chipotle-scented vomit all over his fancy mariachi costume.

Also, I'm pretty sure they stole the whole idea of a "red self, slipping up from behind" from a film I once saw. ("Superman Red, Superman Blue-Balls." I give it four-and-a-half stars. Out of ten. The sex scenes were hot, but the sound design was atrocious.)

The Spilt Man

This sentiment crops up frequently on the "comment cards" I have my boyfriends fill out at the end of a date.

Speaking of which... I'm going out with that friend of Flev's this weekend!

I visi-phoned him just now, and set the whole thing up. His name is "Glub Tortu", or something equally stupid. But who cares about the name? Dude is hot. His "friendly muttonchops" are large and (begging for somebody to be) in charge (of them). He's also pierced to high heaven, which is normally a turn-off for me, but on him, it somehow works. I asked him what kind of art he does. After about five minutes of him explaining it to me, I still don't know. All I can say for sure is that he's a blacksmith, and he produces mammoth "installations" of some sort. Whatever. He seems like a cool guy, anyway. Bonus points: he didn't mind when I ordered politely asked him to remove his shirt and dance around for me. That's always a good start.

I'm taking him to see the touring android revival of the classic musical adaptation of Ben-Hur, "Sweet Chariot." I'll let you guys know how it goes. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Mayday! Slope-Shouldered, Mouth-Breathing, Racist "Bandito" Character at 3:00!

That "head-band" is many things, but "legendary" isn't one of them. (By the way, I caught "Winston and the Diggers" back in '66. They opened for the Beach Boys at the Coco Beach Surf-a-Go-Go Festival. And they sucked.)

So, what wondrous abilities do you think that zany Aztec-Kirby helmet will bestow?

Oh. Gesundheit, I guess.

The Manic-Depressive Man!

It's Dante's "Divine Comedy": the kick-ass version! Produced by Jerry Bruckheimer! Directed by Michael Bay! Starring Matthew McConaughey as "Splits" Dante, rugged, occasionally-shirtless man of adventure! Thrill as he battles CGI devil-dogs! Co-starring "the Rock" as Virgil and Jessica Alba as Beatrice! Special appearance by Vince Vaughn as Satan!

Ugh. I'm "growing blue" just looking at the shitty artwork. I'm pretty sure this is the same hack responsible for that "Tom Morrow" crap.

Duo Dumbass

The pudgy, baby-headed loser up there is the Split-Man: a recurring hero in the DC stable.

No, seriously.

Explorer/helicopter pilot Cliff Battles first used an ancient artifact called "Zantac's Golden Belt" to twin himself, way back in "Strange Adventures" #166. I don't know if I would have worn it. With my body type, it would make me resemble a humongous "D" battery. Besides, I've already "twinned" myself, by creating this preposterous Mike Murdock-styled identity of mine.

In "Strange Adventures" #203, the Split-Man fights "El Grando", an offensively-drawn "bandido" who sports a "legendary headband" that grants him fantastic powers. It's the Battle of the Accessories! (Note to editor: have a nice, long talk with your artist about what a "headband" looks like.) I'll delve further into the story next week, interspersed with more commentary on that Detective Comics tale.

Now, as holiday time draws near, might I suggest the perfect gift for the li'l future mafia thug (or terrorist) on your shopping list:

I haven't visited your era for a while, so refresh my memory: do M-16 rifles make fart noises?

That's a fantastic selling point! For the kids. For the parents? Not so much.

D-List Monsters of Super-Hero Land: Poison Ivy's Chauffeur

"THE STORY YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!"

Oh, so it's written by Kevin Smith?

No? Good. It's another Gerry Conway story, though. Just give me a sec to pound down an entire bottle of antacid (with a vodka chaser) and we'll dive right in.

Okay, that is one of the goofiest, most pathetic-looking tree monsters I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of goofy, pathetic-looking tree monsters. I own the entire run of DC's "Millennium", for Pete's sake! Remember that one? Where the Floronic Man looked way too much like that big-haired kid from "High School Musical", and he insisted that everybody refer to him as "Floro", like he was that weird, "kind-of" friend from college who showed up for his sophomore year with a tie-dyed dashiki and a scraggly beard, and he wanted you to call him "Moon Sphinx" or some stupid shit, and you laughed right in his face, and the next time you saw him, you called him "Moon Sphincter" and then you and your friends pelted him with beer cans until he went away? Yeah, it was kind of like that. But this guy--! With the hang-dog expression, and the walrus mustache made out of twigs--! He's the ultimate in lameness technology. Batman just needs to shove his sorry ass into a wood chipper and be done with him.

Now, this story is penciled by the magnificent Gene Colan, so the monster's sorry appearance might be his fault. But I doubt that, because the inker is Klaus Janson. I have no idea how Janson got assigned to this job. (Or any other, for that matter.) I guess editor Dick Giordano thought the delicacy and richness of Colan's pencils could best be highlighted via Janson's muddy, blobby, black patches and veiny scribbles. Honestly, I don't know what the hell Janson dips in his ink bottle to achieve such unremitting hideousness, but I suspect his main tools are a blunt push-pin (for fine lines), a mascara brush (medium weight) and a whisk broom (spot blacks).

See how he scarred up Poison Ivy's face, up there? You can't expect me to believe she looked that bad in Colan's pencils.

Oh, brother! Get a load of this doofus! Who really created this monster? Poison Ivy, or Sid and Marty Croft? It looks like an overgrown Muppet! I could buy this jerk-off as the mascot for some obscure community college's volleyball team, like, "The Fresno Fighting Ficus" or something, but not as an opponent for Batman.

Tree monsters are too stupid for reverse psychology, so Batman uses plain ol' forward psychology, instead, and points out the obvious. And because we're on the third-to-last page of a Gerry Conway story, the tree monster totally has an Afterschool Special Moment. Apparently, he never realized he was a tree monster until Batman mentioned it. I would have loved to have seen the tree monster face the panel on "America's Next Top Model", especially back when Janice Dickinson was still on the show. "Tree Monster, your hands are like bundles of sticks, you've got no waist, your hair needs to be raked, and I'm sorry, but in this photo, it looks like you have no penis."

Jeebus. Was the tree monster this simple-minded when he was a chauffeur? Because it's a wonder Ivy's car ever made it out of the parking garage.

So who's the real monster in this story?

Steel yourselves, gentle readers, for the Giant Sun Hat of Doom!

That's Ivor standing in the back, in his pre-arboreal period. You remember Ivor, don't you? Ivor, her chauffeur? And yes, that is Bruce Wayne on the left side of the panel, although Janson's inks have altered his hairstyle and face into those of some vaguely Mediterranean stranger. And I'm pretty sure that happy balding guy on the far left is supposed to be Barbara Gordon. (Kidding.)

Ivy looks awfully cocky for a gal with a humongous potato chip atop her head. It's frightening! It's immense! It could blot out the sun, if it so desired. Only it doesn't want to. Not yet.

And you know what? I don't think Ivy even knows she's wearing it. I think it just drifted through space (from God knows where) and just... settled... on her noggin. And she hasn't even figured out it's perched there.

At least, not until... now.

Tomorrow: Origami paper monster! Need I say more?

All Glory to the Hypno-Toad

From "The Amazing Spider-Man" #207 (August, 1980) comes this panel, with a caption box featuring what will surely be a quote in some theater critic's review of Julie Taymor's upcoming (and currently venue-free) production of the Spider-Man rock 'n' roll musical:

Yes, here's Mesmero, described by scripter Denny O'Neil as "formerly a well-regarded X-Men nemesis", reduced to working as a performer in a cheap theater. I did about five seconds of research on Mesmero, thoroughly expecting to find out he'd been exterminated in some gruesome manner in a Civil War crossover. I was surprised to learn he lost his powers on M-Day and has since reformed. Really, Joe Quesada? REALLY? You ruthlessly wipe out minority heroes left and right, but this doofus in a combination bowler/Holly Hobby bonnet is still alive and kicking? C'mon! He was a shoo-in for a quick-yet-spectacular death! Old-school villain nobody was using anymore, with a stupid costume and a stupid name? And he was a hypnotist? What were you waiting for? Remember the Bug-Eyed Bandit!* Remember the Miracle Man!**

Now, I'm not saying I personally want Mesmero dead. Remember, my motto is that there are no bad characters; just bad writers... like for instance, Denny O'Neil. And I love it when criminals actually reform, and I hate it when some writer comes along and undoes a reformation. *ahemGEOFFJOHNSahem* It's just that letting Mesmero "off the hook" seems out-of-character for Quesada's Marvel, and that disturbs me. My world, it is turned upside-down! Oh well, I'm sure Quesada will get around to kacking him eventually.

*Iced by a Shadow Demon in "Crisis on Infinite Earths"
**One of a couple dozen D-list villains offed by Scourge operatives

I Say Thee Neigh

Mother o' mercy! Demitrius, your teeth are quite simply horrific. Who were your parents, anyway? Did the English guy from "The Jeffersons" get it on with an Appaloosa? Or Liberty Belle?

But those hands... those delicate, fine-boned fingers, the sinuous movements they make... I believe Demitrius here is was born to be a hand model. (And he's instinctively protecting those lovelies with a pair of x-tra soft kid gloves.) It's just a shame he lived in the Time Before QVC* or else he could have gone legit instead of trying to hack it as a terrorist/psychic/party clown or whatever the hell he's supposed to be.

*Admittedly, the home shopping joints prefer people with beautiful miniature appendages, to make their rings and bracelets appear ginormous.

This Looks Like a Job for an STD-Riddled Bottle Jockey!

Wow, it has a coin acceptor! Little-known fact: Tony's last high-tech pacemaker conked out on him in the middle of a spectacular three-way with Pepper Potts and Jarvis, and he had to construct a brand new one on the spot out of the "magic fingers" vibrating bed in their filthy little motel room. The only downside is that he has to keep feeding it nickels.

By the way, you know what all the upper-class business magnates like to wear?

Monogrammed belt buckles!

...Oops. My bad. That's actually what pimps like to wear. (Tony still qualifies!)

S*A*S*H

Let's say it's 1968 and you're a spazzed-out, dork-a-tronic teenage nerdmeister. What's the one thing you could wear that would guarantee a savage beating at the hands of a total stranger?

Yeah, that ought to do it.

Lanarexic

Lana Lang is offered a classic strand of pearls to wear but she opts instead for a garish, glowing, red-and-yellow belt. This proves to me something I've always suspected: if there had been magenta halter tops emblazoned with rhinestones spelling out the word "WHORE" in 1961 Smallville? Lana would have bought three.

"...A race of very small, slender people who lived in outer space!" Ah, the Kucinich people of Rossperot 9. Nice folks, if a bit talkative, plus you have to try and ignore the "crazy eyes". There's a legend that some of them tried (unsuccessfully) to take over the United States in the late 20th/early 21st century. But of course, such an idea is preposterous.

And of course the belt fits Lana. She's been subsisting on nothing but coffee and soda crackers since 1958! Because she's sure that if she can only get skinny enough, Superboy will finally commit to a relationship! (Sorry, hon, but you'll have to get past Pete Ross first.)

You're not flying, Lana. It's just that you've lost so much bodily mass that Earth's gravity no longer has any effect on you. (You're going to be doing a lot more of that "*gasp* YEEOOOOWW!" crap once you hit the ionosphere.)

When You're a Valet, You're a Valet All the Way

Nobody can press a velour jogging suit like the gentlemen's gentlemen of the New Jersey mob!

And what's under those coats? I'm guessing it's a spare wifebeater, some pinky ring polish, and a little jar of cement shoe remover.

(Sorry about the delay. When I called my internet provider OF EVIL! last night about my connection problems, they told me it was a neighborhood-wide service blackout. When I called them tonight about the same problem, it was just me and had nothing to do with that localized outage at all. I'm guessing "neighborhood-wide service blackout" is internet tech guy code for "Your phone call is keeping me from enjoying my caramel latte and I really don't feel like dealing with you right now." Feh!)

Tomorrow: a "Rescue Me" design for the Wrench!

She Got Tired of People Asking, "Who Are You Wearing?"

At least, I assume she's the one who scribbled all that crap on the front of her own desk. Of course, the people I feel sorry for are Donna Elam and Marlene Baron. Because I'm pretty sure they intended for their designs to be worn by Millie, her rival Chili or (less likely) Millie's less glamorous friend and doglike one-woman support team Toni, and not some stuck-up scam artist who appears in only one story. Of course, I have other questions... like, how does the rest of Donna's outfit look? Is it just a blouse? Or does it connect to a skirt, or culottes or maybe some huge flared trousers? Or the bottom half of a pantomime horse costume? Or is the model agency lady connected below the waist to some kind of blocky machinery, like Captain Pike or Korvac the Machine God? (Certainly, I could relate.)

Also of interest: Millie's handbag by Hefty! (What's she got in that thing? A severed head? Or the model agency lady's lower half?)