How Do You Solve a Problem Like My Bikini Area?

In France, nuns are much sexier!

They just can't see a damn thing, is all.

Interfere Factor

Here's a panel from a promotional comic that was given away with every kids' meal at "Extinction" E Saw's Eatery. It tells the heartwarming story of the first (and only) social worker to set foot on Rimbor. The succeeding panels show how she was immediately beaten senseless with her own hat, shoved into the garbage chamber of a rocket-barge, and shot back into space. I believe the moral of the story is, "Don't meddle." (And might I add, screw that noise! I'll meddle all I wanna meddle! I'm the goddamn Blockade Boy!)

Mnemonsemble

Late last night, a flying robo-messenger crashed through my bedroom window. Without a word, it dropped a bulky envelope onto my furry chest. And then, in typical Lallorian (i.e. crappy) fashion, it spun into the wall and exploded into its component parts. A small oil fire broke out. Cootie, bless her, doused the flames by urinating on them.

Turns out, the missive was from my old nemeses, the Blockade Boy Revenge Squad (or as I like to call them, "The Nancy Street Gang"). They had indeed slipped some kono juice inside my jello salad, as Bill S. and I had hypothesized. Not only that, but a Nancy Street Ganger had trailed after me with a camera, to make a journalistic record of any asinine behavior on my part. They claimed to have taken a whole passel of photos! As proof, they had enclosed a couple of samples. Including this one:

(I'd show you the ones taken from the front, but they're obscene.)

So, I'm giving a hearty, back-slapping "congratulations" to DOCTOR TECTONIC! The clever Doc rightly guessed that my juice-warped brain would gussy up my rude, hairy form in a Storm Boy original gown (the shoes were mine) and make a bee-line for the most conservative pub in the city.

The Revenge Squad wants me to wire them an entire wheel of space-cheddah, or else they'll upload all their photos to the Intergalactic Intraweb. As though I would be embarrassed by any of this. Screw that shit! I've always said, it's one sorry-ass Bear who's so insecure about his own masculinity that he's afraid to "get pretty" once in a while. And you know what? I think I worked that tulle gown! I'm like Ruby Keeler, only hot! And sure, the edges of the gown are razor-sharp, which is admittedly quelle butch, but you wouldn't know that until I got you in a sloppy-drunk Bear hug. That's why I'm uploading all the photos they sent me to the Intergalactic Intraweb, myself! Hell, here's a larger version of the above photo, just for you guys! I WIN, MOTHERFUCKERS! AGAIN! HAW! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA *inadvertently hiccups, then belches* HA HA HA HA HA HA HA...

Like A Thing Unto Cashmere

Do you know the best part of any issue of "Power Man & Iron Fist"? It's not the non-stop action or the playful banter or the complex characterization. It's the gowns. The pretty, pretty gowns.

Here's Colleen Wing, enjoying a formal dress freakout in "Power Man & Iron Fist" #70 (June 1981). Colleen's gown has the elegance required for an evening at the opera, with just a hint of wanton sluttiness that's just perfect for an intimate night at the local sex dungeon. Everyone who's anyone wants this gown! Top-knotted immortal sorcerors, tattooed male ballerinas, dirty hippies (with utterly gorgeous biker 'staches... er, but I digress) and of course, Angela Bassett. In fact, the only one who isn't interested is Captain Kangaroo, and that's only because Colleen just put a stiletto heel in his left eye. Yeeeowwch! But it was too late for him anyway, because Clint Eastwood just used his lasso skills to rope hisself a prize filly! Thar'll be some tender cuts o' veal fer his vittles tonight! Yeeee-haw!

Baubles, bangles, and BAZOOMBAS!!! Here's busty Harmony Young, who's so enchanted with her gown that she doesn't mind at all that the giant disembodied head of her lover's old girlfriend floats above her noggin at all times. (Although why the old girlfriend is wearing little packets of allergy medicine for earrings is beyond me.) Harmony's gown has a generous slit (just like Harmony!) that gives her an unprecedented freedom of movement and 24- hour E-Z access to her cooter. Harmony has accessorized the look with a selection of rubber bands, Lance Armstrong "Live Strong" bracelets, the beaded chain from a pen at the bank, and some of those little zippy plastic deals that come off the lids to milk cartons.

Tomorrow: menswear!

Gown Syndrome

In "The Incredible Hulk" #262 (August, 1981) Bruce Banner washes up on a Malibu beach, clad only in his trademark tattered purple slacks. He's resuscitated by a gorgeous, pigment-free woman in an evening gown, mink stole, and opera gloves. Then he passes out again. When he returns to consciousness...



So basically, it's implied that the mysterious woman took Bruce Banner's measurements while he was passed out! "Dang it, I'll have to measure that tricky inseam again! Well, the eleventh time should be the charm! Tee hee!"

Do you think Bruce was disappointed that the pants weren't purple? I can just see him having a flop-sweating, forearm-scratching, junkie-like reaction to all that white. "Um, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you saved my life 'n' all, but... are you sure you don't have any "Rit" dye around here anywhere? Or even some food coloring?" And then he'd wind up hunched over in a corner of the house, rocking himself back and forth, muttering, "No purple, no purple...!"



Glazier is my favorite Hulk villain because she wears a gown and opera gloves -- and she does it pretty much all the time. I think all the best Hulk villains wear gowns. The Leader, the Abomination, General "Thunderbolt" Ross... what?! Well, I didn't say they wore gowns on panel. Anyway, Glazier's homelife is like my daydreams. She lives in a beautiful home on the beach, she's always attired in expensive garments, and she's surrounded 24/7 by men, men, men! She also has a big white dog named "Snowstar" -- a moniker that makes me suspect the canine is either a frequenter of internet bulletin boards or a tertiary X-Men character. Or a coke dealer.

Now, about those "lifelike" statues of men... have you guessed what the "big twist" climax of the story will be? (I guess I kinda halfway spoiled it by saying she was a villain.) If you haven't figured it out yet, consult your Big Book Of Fantasy Plot Cliches. Or any book on Greek mythology. But I digress. Bruce shacks up with this woman for a whole month, until this happens:



Oh, dear. Well, now we know why she wears the opera gloves all the time. Bitch needs to moisturize! In a roundabout way, that also explains why she wears the evening gowns. I mean, what else goes with opera gloves? Opera gloves minus evening gown plus any other type of clothing equals? Miss Piggy.