Gunsleeves

I'm super-busy this week. That means my in-depth examination of "Marvel Spotlight" #10 (January 1981) is going to be more stretched-out than the Blob's favorite jammies. This is one of my favorite comics, like, ever, by the way. It's basically Captain Universe as adapted for a Lifetime Original movie ("Love's Deadly Masquerade: the Captain Universe Story.")

Well, that's a smart idea. In theory. But if Clare sneezes while she's shaking hands with someone, she's looking at an involuntary manslaughter charge.

Maybe Marvel could do a miniseries called "Sleeves" starring Ultimate Universe Clare and Ultimate Universe Mockingbird (so she's still, y'know, alive) and they could battle it out for three issues or so, producing deadlier and deadlier weapons from their voluminous sleeves. On the very last page they each fire an ICBM (er, do you guys still have those?) from their sleeves and obliterate Tulsa. (Why Tulsa? Because I've never much cared for it. It's a personal thing. Don't ask me to go into details. Oh, alright. It's because a clerk there once called me "doughy." Damn Tulsa. Raze the whole city, I say!)

Corpulent Identity

I'm all better! The only lingering side-effect is a powerful urge to lick my own balls. ...Only now that I think about it, I had that before. So, not too long ago I showed you all Firestorm's quick-change fashion show nightmare from the back-up story in "Flash" #304 (December, 1981). The main story in that issue introduced probably the least-appealing villain design of that year (which is really saying something). It's the one-man Royal Flush Gang of Tomorrow, Colonel Computron!

I'm surprised Marvel didn't swipe this design and call it Kingpin 2099! This is how I imagine the president of Jeremy's cable provider to look, by the way. In this issue, Computron makes trouble for one Mister Willard Walter Wiggins, who previously had the genius idea of hiring his shady illegitimate son to promote his company's line of boomerangs. Writer Cary Bates is very cagey about Computron's identity, but a Len Strazewski story in the (mulleted version of) Starman comic would confirm that the villain was, indeed, a Wiggins employee, nebbishy Basil Nurblin. A few pages before this scene, Wiggins had insulted Nurblin with a measley $99.95 bonus despite his creating their company's most profitable item. And then Nurblin had to hear about it from his shewish, Agnes Moorhead-like wife. So you can't blame him for snapping. I should also add that both Nurblin is thin as a rail, so I can't account for how fleshy his face looks in that suit.

Now, about that suit: I know that computer graphics circa 1981 were pretty blocky and the "in thing" for sci-fi at the time was to make everything look like a Star Destroyer and artist Carmine Infantino had entered his Etch A Sketch Period by then but goddamn. That is one ungainly, clunky looking pile of crap. My Lord, just the beady little eyes--! It's hideous! Hey, let's see him in (flabby, lard-assed, grunting, phlegm-gurgling) action!

Don't underestimate him. Computron's fat like a sumo wrestler, but he's also strong, like a... sumo wrestler. Huh. Not my best simile. Oh, and that smudge on one of Computron's word balloons is from a Snickers bar Jeremy ate about twenty-five years ago. You know, if he was famous, that would have made the comic book more valuable, not less. Hurry up and get famous, Jeremy! Anyway, Computron must be aware of his serious figure flaw because he does what all unattractive people like to do: he surrounds himself with people (or in his case, robots) who are even uglier!

This is like the worst budoir photo I've ever seen. Also, check out the sad, forced smiles on the faces of Blip-One and Blip-Two. Look familiar? I'll give you a hint. Imagine Blip-Two on the red carpet at a movie premiere with Tom Cruise's arm around it.

Evil Was Doughier Back Then

The Royal Flush Gang Daily Regimen... Of EVIL!

10:00 AM: Wake up and have your first cigarette. While smoking, shave face and/or legs. Splash on some Aqua Velva and/or Jean Nate.

10:10 AM: Breakfast! 32-ounce T-bone steak, six poached eggs, one whole coffee cake, two baked potatoes with all the trimmings, one of those big wooden salad bowls (filled with meringue), and three fingers of bourbon.

10:45 AM: Nap time.

11:00 AM: Have a cigarette. Use "stellaration" machine to irradiate some more playing cards and see if it can maybe beam last night's Dodgers game into the television set.

12:00 PM: Lunch. (Finally!) One entire roasted chicken, swordfish steak, two loaves of sourdough bread drenched with melted butter, Boston cream pie, a punch bowl (full of pork gravy), two gallons of clam chowder, a fudgey bunt cake filled with Miracle Whip, and a vodka tonic.

12:50 PM: Smoke break.

1:00 PM: Throw Royal Flush costume into the washing machine. Discover washing machine is broken, then remove costume and in lieu of cleaning it, spritz it with Hi Karate. Attempt to remove wrinkles by flattening the costume beneath a pile of Playboy and/or Glamour magazines.

1:05 PM: And now for some "me time!" In floor length mirror, admire self. Primp bouffant hair-do or false beard. After about half a minute of this, realize you're feeling a bit faint from standing and do the rest of your primping while reclining in bed.

1:45 PM: Another cigarette. No, make that two.

2:00 PM: Briefly wonder about what's causing the numbness in your left arm. Then forget all about it.

2:01 PM: Notice amateur film footage of Superman on TV. Make cutting remark to teammates about the Man of Steel's barrel chest and burgeoning double-chin. And then it's fondue all around!

2:15 PM: Strategy meeting. (You may smoke.)

2:42 PM: Awaken to the stench of melting polyester and discover that everybody at the table has dozed off and someone's cigarette has started a fire in the shag carpeting.

4:00 PM (or whenever the firemen say it's okay to re-enter your headquarters): Exercise! Three jumping-jacks, four push-ups, then jog in place for one minute. Reward yourself with a cigarette.

4:05 PM: Nap time.

5:00 PM: Dinner. Rack of lamb (deep-fried), two ham hocks, garlic mashed potatoes served in a reclaimed oil drum, a small salad (kidding!), cherry pie, strawberry milkshake garnished with a candy cane, raw cookie dough, and a boilermaker. Do your best to ignore the stabbing pains in your chest.

5:55 PM: Smoke break!

6:05 PM: Conference call with Felix Faust. Suspect he's trying to work some kind of hex on you and abruptly hang up the phone. When he tries to call you back just let it ring.

6:20 PM: Play that Monopoly-themed drinking game Amos came up with. Accuse Jack of hiding advantageous "Community Chest" cards in his wig. Have a cigarette. Or three.

8:37 PM: Pass out.