But THEN He'll Only Be Able to Count to EIGHTEEN

I think I've spotted the source of the outbreak, and it's all over the torso of that brunette gal. Listen up, missy: that fungal infection of yours may look kind of like a paisley pattern, but there's no need to flaunt the damn thing. Also, button up your damn shirt! (Kids these days...!)

Meanwhile, in Apartment 3-G...

Well, that doesn't look like a comfortable pose. Was she in the middle of doing jumping jacks when that migraine hit? Or was she about to throw a low inside changeup? Whatever it was, she's been standing in that position for so long, some industrious spider has used her back as the support for a web of Brobdingnagian proportions!

But never mind that now. Just where th' heck is Marianne, anyway? She flew with Tony to Washington because he had been subpoenaed or somethin', so I presume she's staying at a hotel. Of course, the manic manner in which she bolted off that runway suggests she could be anywhere by now. Maybe she even wandered into some stranger's house, Robert Downey Jr.-style! That sounds more likely to me than a hotel. Because if it's a hotel... hoo-boy! A spindly, skeletal brass footboard, the thinnest mattresses available, and dust ruffles that haven't been cleaned since the Garfield Administration--! Is this the Lizzie Borden room at FantaSuites? Jeebus. She'd be safer sleeping on that sprawling, Ditko-esque chair in the back... providing the alarmingly-angled legs don't break off in the middle of the night.

And then there's the fabric they used for the drapes. Look familiar? Run, Marianne! The jumpsuited terrorists are coming from inside the house!

This Is Exactly What It Was Like For the Menendez Brothers

(Having recently gambled away Lana's college fund) Professor Lang is eager to support her entry into the world of law enforcement. Sure, he's suggested she take up other life-threatening hobbies in the past -- skydiving, spelunking, piranha farming, succrology* (admittedly, that last one takes a while) -- but the flightly redhead just flat-out refuses to die.

"I trust something in a muddled, fleshy pink with an enormous zig-zag pattern will suffice--?" Meanwhile, Pa Lang nabs the opportunity to once more nip down to his dungeon -- I mean, "workshop"! Workshop!

*I'll save you trouble of Googling it. It's the collecting of sugar packets. There, isn't that amusing? It's not? And I shouldn't have to explain a joke? Oh.

Ask Mister Greenjeans!

I don't know that I'd trust the cognitive abilities of any man who's buy trousers like that. Although they may have been purchased by Mrs. Professor Lang, if that dress is any indication. (It was originally solid pink, but then she got mowed down by a monster truck.)

It's Curtains, For Sure

"The carpet... it doesn't match the curtains! *sob*"

In this thrilling issue of "Valerie Valance: Drapery Inspector" Valerie encounters intrigue and romance while investigating the window treatments of Barbie's Dream House. It's a dangerous mission, requiring stealth, but with some quick thinking she altered her jacket so she resembles one of those little cinched-up cloth pouches they use for expensive bottles of liquor. But will her ruse be discovered by her arch enemies, Ventriloquisto (and his life-sized Boy Toy) and Orthographica, the Woman of a Thousand Map-Print Dresses (she's sporting one of Krypton for this special occasion)?

(The beauty of the actual cover? The text over the picture, which I trimmed out so as to make the image larger, reads "Kiss me... hold me... but don't ever love me! I'm ruined for any boy! My father saw to that! Read: LIKE FATHER... LIKE DAUGHTER!" Which led me to believe the old guy cautioning and fondling the prospective beau was the girl's father and not the boy's. Which is incorrect, but you have to admit it would make for a more interesting story.)

Amateur Photographer Discovers New Type of Zebra Mussel

(From "The Riverdale Shopper-Democrat", June 1, 2007)

Local teen and self-described "sex magnet" Archibald Andrews has provided the Riverdale Zoological Society with photographic proof of a new strain of zebra mussel. Dubbed Dreissena Veronica, the bivalve can be found in large bodies of water, mostly aboard yachts. Unlike its famous cousins, the Dreissena Veronica mussel has a vaguely humanoid appearance and is capable of walking on land, flirting, scheming, and making catty remarks. As of press time, only one specimen of this new mussel has been spotted. However, some scientists advise citizens to be vigilant. According to Dr. Dilton Doily, a Ph.D. and Hall Monitor, should the Veronica mussel go unchecked, "the town's banks could be sucked dry!"

Batroc The Leaper Only WISHES He Was This Gay

Sometimes it takes a queen to catch a queen.



Yes, the Web is simply drooling over the chance to get his hands on the Flipper's "loot-filled pouch." It's a veritable treasure-trove! Why, the jewels alone...! Er, *ahem.* The above nonsense is presented courtesy of "Archie's Super Hero Special" #1 ("1978 Edition" according to the indicia) and it reprints a story from Archie Comics' frankly desperate attempt to replicate the bombastic writing style of Stan Lee. Sad, really. I mean, it's not as though Stan ever ripped off the Archie Comics style. Oh, wait, he totally did.

Y'know, as much as I enjoy costumes with wide black horizontal stripes, the Flippers' duds just aren't doin' it for me. For one thing, he's a thief, and he's disguised himself with a mask, and yet he's not wearing gloves. That kind of thing only works if you've used battery acid to burn your fingerprints off, and it's really not worth it. Trust me. Then there's the upturned collar. Hell, he might as well sew a little embroidered alligator to the front of his costume, put on some penny loafers, wrap a sweater around his neck, vote Republican, and be done with it. (Say, maybe "the Flipper" is his nickname from private school! Y'know, for his uncanny ability to take a straight classmate under the bleachers for about five minutes and convince them to "change teams" as it were.) My solution for the Flipper's costume? In all seriousness, I'd give him some gloves, get that stupid collar off it it, and exchange the mask for a balaclava. It's far more mysterious that way! Also, maybe he shouldn't, y'know, talk.

The Web, on the other hand, might be beyond even my help. (Kidding! I'm a genius! Wile E. Blockade Boy, that's me!)

Dig that goofy cape! I bet if he walks through a playground he emerges with a bunch of eight-year-olds clinging to it. And then he's like "What the hell?" and he has to shake them off like they're ladybugs. Something similar happens if he strolls though a Marine boot camp. Only then he doesn't shake them off. Then there's the bat-winged Vampira collar and the sad little belt buckle. Ugh. Webs are a tricky motif for super-costumes, because they can look way too busy when used in excess -- although I believe I've come up with a great look for Spider Girl, which I hope to show you later this week. My solution for the Web? Ditch the cape and the collar, incoporate the web pattern on the top part of the costume, like, drape it over the shoulders and the torso, and change the color scheme from yellow and green to black and silver, or maybe black and electric blue. Voila. Oh, and he oughta dye his hair black. No, wait! He oughta bleach it out 'til it's completely white! Yeah, that'd rawk. Oh, and I just thought of this! Maybe he could use the cape as his signature weapon, y'know, like how the gladiators in Ancient Roman Tymes used nets (and tridents) in their matches! Suh-WEET! YEAH!!! *pounds chest, gorilla-style* Man, I'm really pumped about this now! I might have to actually draw it!

That's all for now. Get back to work, you goldbricks!

The Unpalatable X-Men

Yup... I put Jeremy's copy of "The X-Men" #3 (January, 1963) on a flatbed scanner. It was a lot easier to work with once I folded the spine backwards. ...What?! Oh, p'shaw. It says right on the cover it only costs twelve cents.

In this issue, the X-Men (no "Uncanny" in the title... yet!) meet the monstrous Blob... who nowadays looks more svelte than your average Wal-Mart customer. But do you know what I found truly horrifying in this comic? The clothes.



The Angel's pants are cut quite generously in the ass region, aren't they? What's his cover story when some curvacious debutante asks him why his butt looks so big? Bee sting? Unfinished liposuction? Adult diaper? But of course he never gets in that kind of jam. Through the Magic Of Comics, as soon as those voluminous trousers are belted, a good third of that lumpen mass vanishes and he looks like he has no wings at all! As for the Beast, I know what I'm buying him for Christmas 1963: an iron. Also a 9x12 "glamour shot" of myself but that's a whole 'nother story. (There's a panel in this issue showing him wearing only pajama pants, and he's shirtless and furry-chested and he's holding a calculus textbook... with his feet. Heaven. Pure heaven.)



Quick! Choose the most disturbing aspect of this panel:

1. Middle-aged Professor X confessing to the reader via thought-balloon that he's deeply infatuated with the teenage Marvel Girl, a.k.a. his pupil.
2. Professor X's belief that the only things standing between himself and Marvel Girl's hymen are his job (night manager at Taco Bell) and his handicap. (Apparently it's not just the legs that are paralyzed.)
3. Cyclop's suit.

The correct answer is #3, of course. Purple plaid, with pants to match, and a narrow little tie to go with his narrow little pursed-up mouth. You wouldn't think purple plaid could look dowdy but Cyclops manages to pull that off. Kudos, tightass! (I would have rocked that purple plaid suit back when I dyed my hair red, but then I'm just cool that way.)

Gah! I never thought I'd say this about the Blob, but he needs to strip back down to his underwear, pronto! Maybe the problem here is his color combination. He looks like an ambulatory Virginia ham... that does magic tricks. And the scoop neckline of the shirt paired with the high collar on the cape... it elongates his neck in such a weird way, like we're not even seeing his real head. Like it's one of those fakey Mardi Gras papier mache heads, and his own head is even more itty-bitty and hidden inside... like you could peer up one of his nostrils and see a teensy eyeball glaring back at you. The whole thing just gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Hey, bonus scarrage!

In the 30th century we call this position "the asteroid swarm." It's illegal on three planets! I've never seen it done fully-clothed before. (Kinky!) It's tricky for beginners, but I've found it helps if you place a trampoline on both sides.

The Heartbreak Of Starfioriasis

By Doctor Blockade Boy, M.D.

Starfioriasis is a fungal infection of the skin. In its advanced state, it causes the victim's skin to turn green, with darker, fist-sized lesions. Unlike the viral disease "Shingles" a.k.a. "Herpes Zoster", which affects only one side of the sufferer's body, Starfioriasis affects limbs on alternating sides. It will spread to cover the entire trunk of its victim with one odd exception. For reasons as yet unknown to medical science, it leaves a large, oval-shaped patch of unaffected skin in the center of the chest.



Starfioriasis is rampant on many alien worlds where hygienic conditions are not commonplace. The average Starfioriasis victim is female, between eighteen and twenty-four years of age, tall, slim, and has a great rack. Concubines-turned-rebel-warlords are particularly susceptible.

Currently, there is no medical treatment for victims of Starfioriasis. It is not fatal; nor is it permanently scarring. In fact, it will often spontaneously vanish, leaving no trace that it was ever there at all. Until then, infected persons are advised to make themselves comfortable by wearing as little clothing as their modesty will allow. Ideally, they should run around bare-ass naked. Exercise is highly recommended, including running, jumping up and down in place, and chopping one's enemies' heads off with a sword. When sitting, it's best to do so on a fur-strewn castle floor or a massive, ornate bed surrounded by gauzy curtains. For maximum comfort, it's suggested that the Starfioriasis victim spread his or her legs as far apart as humanly possible, or crouch on all fours and glance backwards with a friendly, inquisitive expression. Patients are typically put on a strict diet of bananas and corndogs. They are instructed to eat these very slowly.


(Many thanks to Walaka for pointing out the goofy costume of Starfire's boyfriend Dagan to me, thus giving me the idea to tackle Starfire's awful get-up. Check out his dissection of Dagan's duds on his blog. Two words: stovepipe fez. Haw!)

Nick Fury, Agent Of F.A.B.U.L.O.U.S.

I hope Ammo's almost done beating the everloving crap out of Daredevil, because he only has two minutes to get back on stage for the finale of "The Lion King."

A few notes:

1. It's hard to tell in this scan, but Ammo is wearing those Mister T feather earrings.
2. Also, he has a rat tail. (Of hair! Of hair!)
3. Forget Daredevil, somebody call P.E.T.A. on this guy! Because I'm fairly sure his Danskins are made of endangered white tiger fur.
4. Yeah, he looks goofy to you now. But if Grant Morrison had designed this guy for his Doom Patrol comic (and he's not too far off from Grant's old sketches -- just add a tri-corner hat and a hula skirt) he'd be a fondly remembered character. There might even be a legion of fanboys calling for his return, and they'd operate under the title B.L.A.H. (Bring Loveable Ammo Hereabouts.)

Yes, But Where Do I Put My Quarters?

Y'know, I kinda liked the costume worn by Chronos -- not the Atom villain, but the other one, who's dead now (I think).



Still, it looks like something is missing.

What could it be?

Aha! I have some scraps of colored felt I can use... And where the hell did I put my thread...?

This will take just a moment. Please, bear with me.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Annnndd... done. There we go.



Now, isn't that much better?

Savagery In Pinstripes: The Future Mrs. Atomic Skull

The list of super-villain couples isn't very long. There's the Joker and Harley Quinn, the Sportsmaster and the Huntress, Punch and Jewellee, the Absorbing Man and Titania, and... and, um... there's probably more, but I plead ignorance. I also plead "devastating good looks." (Guilty!) Anyway, for a brief moment back in 1981, in the pages of "DC Comics Presents" #35, there was also the Atomic Skull and Felicia. Felicia was a woman mutated from a panther, which was not at all a rip-off of Barbara Carrera's character in "The Island of Doctor Moreau."

Let's turn things over to Superman for a minute, as he summarizes Dr. Albert "the Atomic Skull" Michaels' diary to guest-star Man-Bat -- all the while giggling like a schoolgirl, no doubt: "Dr. Michaels had developed an evolutionary ray for Heaven knows what evil purpose... and the creature he called Felicia was originally a test animal -- a lab specimen! His ray succeeded in transforming the female panther into a woman! Evidently she was so beautiful... so alluring... that, against all reason, Michaels fell in love with her!"

Oh, Superman, you sweet, naive moron. Here's how I see things going down: Dr. Michaels had a case of atomic blue balls because nobody wants to make love to a guy has a skull for a face (the actor who played "Gareth" in the original version of "The Office" being the sole exception to that rule). Knowing that what he planned to do might still be considered bestiality (and getting a sick thrill from that notion), Michaels invented an evolutionary ray for the express purpose of creating a girlfriend. And since he could keep her penned up on his skull-shaped hovercraft, she might never meet another human male and would therefore have no idea that the typical guy has skin on his face. She might get a glimpse of Harrison Ford on the TV -- before the Skull hastily switched it off -- and remark, "So who's the puffy freak?"

And here's the beauty part: he sewed a coordinating super-villain costume for her. He went to a lot of trouble and thought, considering what alterations a mutated panther woman would want from his own costume. More room in the hip and jug areas, that's a given. The sassy thigh-high boots were keepers, natch. Ditto the fun lemon-yellow helmet. But he added completely unnecessary pinstripes to the main part of the costume, and a fat, candy-stripe motif to the collar (making it look like her head is protruding from a small awning or perhaps from a really tiny circus tent). There's also the green, skull-adorned dickey and the crotch-riding gunbelt. The upshot: he took a somewhat girly, somewhat homely costume design and made it a pinch girlier and profoundly homelier.

Quick personal anecdote: I was at Footlocker a few months ago, returning some running shoes. The guy at the register said he'd have to clear it with his manager. When the manager showed up, she was dressed just like Felicia.

I wound up keeping the shoes.