Beauty School Freak-Out

Man, she is really upset about her new hairstyle!

Relax, sweetheart. Okay, so it's a little on the puffy side.

...Scratch that; it's huge. And misshapen. It's the Rondo Hatton of hair! It looks like a big white hairy butt, and I cannot lie. It's so big, Night Girl's hair has just issued a public challenge. There's to be a hair fight, like with those two gals in "Uzumaki." And Night Girl's hair can kick any other hairstyle to the curb. If I were you, I'd disguise that bloated abomination with a Pucci scarf and some "Jackie O." sunglasses, and I'd hop the next freighter to Helsinki. Taking refuge beneath the midnight sun is your only hope now.

Wigged Out

...So I had Weight Wizard organize my collection of ancient romance comics the other day while I steered the ship around a pesky asteroid belt. (When is the United Planets gonna finish cleaning that shit up?! Sure, a spaceway crew was on the scene in their orange spacesuits but there was maybe one guy working while six other people were just floating there, drinking coffee.) Suddenly I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet and sure enough it's Weight Wizard all out of breath and clutching my copy of "Heart Throbs" #130 (DC, February-March, 1971).

"Here's the dealio," he panted. "I really think you oughta buy one of these!" He presented the back cover, which had a full-page ad for...

"Give me that!" I growled. He meekly handed me the crumbling periodical and I swatted him in the nose with it. "I don't wear wigs," I thundered. "I tell other people to wear wigs!"

Weight Wizard turned pale, but with an eager smile plucking at the corners of his mouth. "But--!" he ventured.

"But what?!"

"Well... I figured maybe you could wear it on top of your cowl. Like the original Captain Marvel! ...Marvel Universe version, of course."

"...That's actually not a bad idea." I have to confess I always liked that look, with the big blond sideburns on the outside of his mask. What? Of course he wore a wig! His real hair is dark brown and curly, and it's massive. Kind of a 'fro, to be honest.

I held onto the comic and after I'd steered us all to safety I studied the ad some more.

Let's see... I already am "bewitching" and "daring". Admittedly, "winsome" and "demure" would be new ones for me but I'd just as soon not, thank you very much. And I often make a "split-second change to a new personality." Just ask Weight Wizard! ...Although now that I think about it, I'd be more accurately described as "bi-polar." Let's see... blah, blah, blah, "surprising new adventures"... "life of the party"... yeah, been there, done that. And I've never heard of this "Sarnel" fiber before. Is it any good?

Oh, it's not. You've failed to impress me, wigmaker! Still, you may show me your wares, for my own amusement. BEGIN! *imperiously snaps fingers* (I just made a split-second change to a new personality!)

Ah, the "I'm incubating a nest of possum babies in my hair and I don't care who knows it" wig.

The "OMG Carol Burnett is teh sexy" wig.

Wow. So they let Steve Ditko design a wig!

I didn't know they still had flappers in 1971. I'm guessing a grandma ordered this one and she jitterbugged in front of her mirror until she broke a hip and collapsed onto the floor, yards away from a telephone. When her family came around to check up on her weeks later, they found the granny dead on the floor with her cats lapping at her corpse and her dog wearing the wig. ...Cripes. That was morbid, wasn't it? My apologies. Let's forget this ever happened. Next!

The "Melted Beehive!" She thought she could rival the height of Night Girl's hair! Little did she suspect that Night Girl's hair has heat vision.

And finally...

Party out back, business up front. Unfortunately, the "party" is an Antebellum cotillion circa 1855, with slaves and everything. Gross.

It's Kind of Like "Vertigo," Only With More Robots

And he has a humongous chess piece in his lab because...? (What, is he subletting the joint from Windom Earle?)

Creepy? Hell yeah, it's creepy. Because he designed her, which means he selected the towering hair-do, the (even more) false eyelashes, and most of all that sexed-up get-up, which features a Vampira collar, a stained-glass wrestling belt, hotpants and go-go boots.

Yeah, you don't want the lipstick too dark. That would look cheap.

Ugh. I feel a little queasy. I think I'm going to have to lie down for a bit. *claps hands* Weight Wizard, attend me!

You're Next, Audrey Hepburn

Night Girl's hair found out somebody was imitating it, so it ordered a preemptive strike! Night Girl's hair doesn't shit around. And it's extremely sensitive. For example, you wouldn't want to tease Night Girl's hair. *rimshot* Thank you, Weight Wizard. At ease.

I suppose I should mention all my rimshots (that's what the kids are calling them nowadays) are provided by Weight Wizard, whose current task is to follow me around naked save for a military-type side drum. You don't want to know what he did with the fife.

Special footnote: the above image is by Jim Aparo, from his All My People Look Like Butter Sculptures period.

The Many Loves of Jim Shooter

(My "Rescue Me" for the Blue Streak is humming along, albeit slowly, and it's all drawn up and I think my take on him is NEW and SHOCKING and UNLIKE ANYTHING THAT'S EVER BEEN DONE BEFORE... with Blue Streak anyhow, but I won't be able to get around to the watercolor-and-ink stage until tonight. Dagnabbit. No, wait, this latest outrage really requires my cyber-throat to be in pirate mode. *click* ACCURSED BE THE LIFE O' A SPACE PIRATE CAPTAIN!!! BY THE GASEOUS SEAS OF NEPTUNE ITSELF DO I MAKE THIS VOW... ONE DARK DAY THE MOTLEY ROGUES WHO PLAGUE THIS DEMON SHIP'LL DRIVE OL' BRIGADIER BLOCKADE TO THE DEPTHS O' MADNESS, AND THERE'LL COME SUCH A ROUND O' FIRINGS AND LAYOFFS THE H.M.S. EXQUISITE WILL MAKE THE MARIE CELESTE LOOK LIKE A BLOODY CARNIVAL CRUISE VACATION!!! *click* Well, I'd better hurry this along, huh? I've got another human resources meeting in five minutes.)

In this panel from the all-Jim Shooter romance comic, "Downsize My Heart," the gruff yet noble Jim (he's a modern-day Jane Austin hero!) consoles his sensitive X-Men editor, Louise Jones. Oh, why did she have to marry the flashy Walt Simonson instead? Why?! Is it Jim's shiny, immobile motorcycle helmet of hair? Probably.

Now let's see an excerpt from another story in which Jim speaks with his sultry assistant about setting up a lunch meeting with all-star Brit penciler, Alan Davis...

Not unluckily, she thinks Jim wants her to arrange a three-way.

In the background, Al Milgrom seethes with jealousy.

Artificial Hair Transplant

"Honey, a huge envelope filled with hair just arrived for you! Do we know anyone who's being held for ransom?"

For some reason, I'm picturing horses on a conveyor belt, being fed into a machine that snips their tails off. (Then it's off to the rendering plant!) And I love that the long, blonde braid ends in a handlebar mustache. But the little 'stache really ought to have an equally dainty Meerschaum pipe dangling from beneath it. Or perhaps an adorably miniature frothy stein of German lager (or a micro-brew)! Huh. I'm getting kind of pissed about their negligence, now I think about it. The fuckers! Honestly, they just should have turned over the entire ad campaign to me.

Archie Andrews: Origin

Strange... the poor deranged fellow has been scampering about the Canadian woods for months now and there's still nary a wisp of hair 'pon his apple cheeks. Even creepier? He has no nipples. (Where do I put the alligator clamps?)

Ah,well. Sooner or later, Mister Weatherbee's goons will throw a net over him and drag his ass screaming back to Weapon X Memorial High School.

Archie Andrews, Son of Satan

Either Archie's hair is a symbiotic organism that reacts to emotional stimuli, or Daimon Hellstrom's dad got himself some hot action in Riverdale about eighteen years back. (In my imaginary next panel Archie psychically materializes a flaming pitchfork and eviscerates Reggie Mantle.)

Moral Realignment Challenge: Nightwing and Gizmo

In the moral realignment challenge, I imagine how a hero would dress if he were a villain, and vice-versa. Way, way back on July 10th, Big Head Boy suggested I morally realign the Teen Titans and the Fearsome Five, "80s STYLE!!!" It took me over seven months, but I'm finally ready to meet him halfway! How's that for commitment? I'll do entries for every member of the Fearsome Five -- which is way more than five, by the way -- and an equal number of opposing Titans. I just would rather not do them in a 1980's style -- and especially not like the 80's era George Perez. I mean, the man is a storytelling genius and a true craftsman, but back in the 80's his costume designs were a bit... much.

So, here's an index entry from the "Fearless Fortress" website on Earth-AAA:

Best of DC (Gold Star Digest) #18 [1981]: This DC Digest contained mostly reprints of Fearless Five comics from the 60's and 70's. It also offered a full-length Gizmo solo story called "Breakup!" Written by Marv Wolfman with art by Carmine Infantino. Gizmo's romantic troubles continue as his on-again, off-again girlfriend Komand'r dumps him for Dick Grayson, a dashing aerialist. Meanwhile, Gizmo is frustrated by his inability to stop Nightwing, an owlish burlgar, from pulling off a series of highrise art thefts. Gizmo finally learns more than he bargained for about the criminal. Not only is Nightwing in reality Dick Grayson, but Dick Grayson is Gizmo's old nemesis from the Teen Tyrants: the Robin. First appearance of the Robin as Nightwing. Origin of the Robin/Nightwing. Reprinted stories: "The Fearless Five!" from "The Good & the Gallant" #54 [1964] by Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani [the team's debut], "A Royal Pain" from "Fearless Five" #17 [1968] by Bob Haney, and Nick Cardy [second appearance of the Reasonable Rocker], "Men Call Her... Eve!" from "Fearless Five" #25 (1970) by Bob Haney, Gil Kane, and Nick Cardy [first appearances of Eve Cloud and Mister Zeus], and "Wrongs Over Europe" from "Fearless Five" #46 [1977] by Bob Rozakis, Irv Novick, and Joe Giella [second appearance of the Flops, first appearance of Batman's Daughter].

...Yes, the "evil" version of Nightwing looks kind of like Batman. I already knew I wanted to go with an owl theme for him, and it worked out nicely that the horned owl's silhouette was similar to a bat's. The hard part for me was devising something that didn't look exactly like Batman's costume, and didn't look too much like Owlman's or even Nighthawk's. It probably looks most like Nightowl (from "Watchmen"). I covered the entirety of Nightwing's face to make him more menacing and ninja-like. The feather-like appendages on the sleeves are an homage to Batman's stylized gloves, but I ran Nightwing's all the way up the arms. This is partly in lieu of a cape. I've done bird-themed costumes with capes before, and I didn't want to repeat myself. Plus, I liked the way this costume looked without one.

Gizmo has traditionally been very covered up -- even his head didn't have much flesh exposed, what with the hood and the goggles and the big bushy beard. (His "Outsiders" appearances, with the goofball fu-manchu and braided goatee and the shaved head was not an improvement.) The Bizarro version of Gizmo had to be more accessible for a young audience, so I made him look more youthful. I kept the beard but I lightened it and trimmed it quite a bit. I figured he still needed goggles, but I swapped out his old ones for a style that exposes his eyes. And I adorned his formerly bald pate with a thick mop of hair. I also got rid of the character's pot belly -- which I only noticed in the recent version with the switch from a baggy jumpsuit to skintight Lycra. Honestly, Gizmo, do you know nothing about hiding your figure flaws? (If I had my 'druthers, I'd put Colossal Boy in a tasteful kurta and some genie pants. You heard me, Gim -- if I want to see a flabby man in a cowboy costume, I'll travel back to 21st-century Wichita, a-thank you very much.)

Insane Crown Bossy

Yesterday I gave you all a glimpse of the King, the crimeboss who employed the Queen Bee.

All the other men in the room were totally grooving on the curvy young woman in the bee costume yet "somehow" it didn't affect him. "Somehow"...! Whatever! It's because you're gay, King. Just like I knew I was gay when the sight of Teri Hatcher in a restored holo-recording of "Soapdish" had no effect on me, and also because of all the guys I was boning.

Viewed from a distance, the King's hairstyle might be mistaken for a merely wind-blown coif, or perhaps one with a modest set of hair-horns, like Cain's or Damon Hellstrom's. Ah, but it's so much more extravagant!

Now that, my friends, is a supervillain hair-do. Bravo, King! His henchmen are lined up outside his one bathroom doing the pee-pee dance for hours every morning while their liege primps and preens. The King probably measures each spike to ensure that they're all the exact same height. I bet he fantasizes about somehow weaving actual jewels into his hair to carry the illusion of a crown even further, and then he dismisses the idea because it would look too queer even for him and then he sits down on the edge of the tub and just feels depressed for a while. No doubt he's in a supervillain baseball league, and his batting helmet has holes drilled in it so his hair won't get ruined. And when he dozes off at strategy meetings in his crappy rented throne, the henchmen all take turns using his hair to skewer various items, like inter-mob memos and slices of processed cheese.

The good guys in the "Missing Man" story all have normal haircuts, with the exception of the title character.

"Syd Mane"?! Oh, it's his stylist.

That's not an artfully-arranged forelock. That peculiar curl is sprouting from the very top of what passes for the Missing Man's head. An unfortuate choice, since it makes his mostly-theoretical noggin resemble a tomato, or perhaps a "do not disturb" sign. I will give the Missing Man credit for the cleanliness of its shape. Not a hair out of place! Assuming the Missing Man even has hair. I'd love to know his secret (so I can steal it!) but since he's a Steve Ditko character I can only assume it involves a clunky belt or other high-tech device, a mysterious unnamed energy source, and the sound effect "FWAASSHH!" In which case, forget it. Because that is so not my style.

Putting The "Oof!" In "Bouffant"

My pal Scipio has often written about the most terrifying beehive hair-do in all the known universe... Night Girl's. I believe I have discovered its gentler, yet no less powerful counterpart. The Venus to its Mars. (Or the Mumm-Rana to its Mumm-Ra if you're a spaztastic dorkatron.) Behold... the bouffant of the Queen Bee! (From the "Missing Man" feature in "Pacific Presents" #1, October 1982.) It hums!

Sure, people may try to convince you that it's actually the Queen Bee herself who is humming, but I have it on good authority that the intoxicating humming sounds emit from the immaculately-arranged strands of her bouffant. And how are you going to prove me wrong? Her lips never move! But I digress. Here's how it works: the heavenly melody is teased from the individual follicles by the slightest air current, just like the wind whistling through high-tension wires. Only the King can resist the bouffant's charms, and that's because his own spiky hair creates a counter-frequency. (Duh. It's science.)

But the Queen Bee's bouffant isn't just a musician. It can also act! Let's look at some of its many moods.

The Queen Bee's bouffant is pensive and mysterious.

The Queen Bee's bouffant is high-strung and easily startled. Especially when someone mentions honey.

The Queen Bee's bouffant weeps openly and it doesn't care who sees it.

The Queen Bee's bouffant is capable of delivering a soliloquy from a Lifetime Original Movie.

In short, the Queen Bee's bouffant doesn't demand your respect. But then, it doesn't have to. It beckons you to your destruction with its siren song, and like Odysseus, you have to lash yourself to a mast or be smashed against the rocks.

Long live the Queen Bee's bouffant!

A Battle Of Gastronomical Proportions!

On "Top Chef" most of the drama comes from the clash of contenders Betty and Marcel. Marcel is a boyish twenty-six-year-old with elaborate supervillain hair. Betty is an ostensibly perky forty-something gal with slathered-on makeup that looks fine indoors but transforms her into Baby Jane Hudson when exposed to direct sunlight. Marcel came onto the show with the self-fulfilling attitude that the other contestants were out to get him because he was so much more talented than they were -- his arrogance did indeed alienate him from almost everybody there (with the exception of one chef who had known him before the show) but in terms of talent he's firmly in the middle. The lower middle. Betty immediately charmed most of the chefs when she arrived. ("We're like sisters!" she chirped to the hapless first-eliminatee Suyai, who was at least twenty years her junior.) But soon enough she revealed herself to be prone to unwarranted, shrieky freak-outs... directed mainly at Marcel.

I started out liking Betty and hating Marcel. Now I think Betty is an unstable, paranoid, phony-ass bitch, while Marcel didn't turn out to be much of a villain. In fact, he helped Betty with her crappy desserts in the last episode, and when the judges criticized the desserts Betty pretty much accused Marcel of sabotage and called him "selfish." Whuh--?! However, Marcel is still far from a hero in my eyes. For one thing, he is far less mature, emotionally, than an educated, well-traveled twenty-six-year-old should be, as witnessed by his pathetic attempt to "stare down" Betty after her initial freak-out. And here's what I really despise about him: he tends to respond to any kind of confrontation with a goggle-eyed, smirking, infantile "Who, me?" look. That shit? Makes me want to punch him in the balls. So right now I can't stand either one of them. On the Television Without Pity boards, however, most people loooove Marcel. They've keyed into his self-imposed victimhood with the force of a thousand overprotective moms. They love his "adorkableness" (ew) and his wounded-puppydog eyes and his spindly, hairy body. "More shirtlessness, please!" they cry. I thank you, no. (Like I should talk--! But still.)

Thanks to his three-part bouffant hair-do and his convoluted facial hair, Marcel often draws comparisons to Wolverine. If you ask me, he's more like the Destructor, from "Ms. Marvel" #2 (February, 1977).

"Hat head" ahoy! Now, this is a more accurate representation of Marcel's hair than I've seen in any panel featuring Wolverine that was ever drawn. Or painted!

Arrogance? Check! Even though Wolverine often claims to be "the best he is at what he does" he never really comes off as arrogant about it. And unlike Marcel, Wolverine can actually back that statement up. Marcel consistently makes mediocre or even downright terrible food but he acts like he's the most talented chef in the competition. I guess that explains the hair. He's never encountered a reflective surface in his life!

Never jeer; the underdog is here! This is the kind of background detail a Marcel booster would pounce on in a nanosecond. "WHY do those jerks at L.A.M.E. always have to show up the Destructor? D. just wanted to relax in his comfy green chair and then that one guy plops his ass down in a freakin' THRONE! HATE!! I hope that L.A.M.E. scientist guy's kid reads this comic book and then he stabs his dad in the leg with a butcher knife." ...And I wish I was exaggerating. I once read a TWoP posting about Project Runway's resident jerk Jeffrey Sebelia (after he made Angela's mom cry) wishing for his own child to "claw that ugly tattoo off his neck." That's not "bombastically stating an opinion for humorous effect." That's psychotic. And please, let's leave the children out of this, okay? Christ almighty.

Inappropriate cuteness! Huge gaping mouth plus happy eyes minus nose equals "anime face." Marcel also looks like an anime character, what with his huge, pretty eyes and his goofball hair. And he has the exact same bodily proportions as Cloud Strife.

Conflict with a duplicitous blonde lady with a split-personality? Bingo.

And just like Ms. Marvel and the Destructor at the end of "Ms. Marvel" #2, Betty and Marcel are still hanging in there, their respective awfulness colliding like matter and anti-matter, leaving neither one as the victor. Of course, Ms. Marvel is sure to win the day. It's her book, after all! But Betty and Marcel? Which one of them will be sent home first? It's anybody's guess at this point. ( I can only say: TO BE CONTINUED!)

*Updated 12:17 PM with links to pictures of Marcel and Betty. Thy will be done, cozmic!

Handi-CAPE-able

How do you know your supervillain costume is over-the-top?

When even your midget henchman is laughing at you. (Why do you think Doctor Doom prefers to employ robots?)

The tool in the metal underpants is named Kogar (from "Master of Kung Fu" #68, September 1978). Kogar has his own army and his own city and he doubtless fancies himself master of all he surveys. But he dresses more like a "Masters of the Universe" action figure. That goofy prosthesis even has different interchangeable bits he sticks on the end. I wonder if it has an electric toothbrush attachment. That'd be kinda cool.

Let's break this shit down into its component parts:

1. Eyepatch, which only partially conceals a long, curving scar with clumsy Frankensteinian stitching. Feh. I would have at least gone with a Phantom Of The Opera mask. Or if I had Kogar's ugly mug? A cloth sack thingie with one eyehole -- the Elephant Man made that thing rock.
2. Off-the-shoulder Captain Marvel cape. How very Viennese operetta of him. Hell, why not go with a lovely knitted shawl, or a gauzy chiffon wrap, or a stylish mink stole? Seriously, I would have just scrapped the damn thing entirely. Kogar's got a great body (aside from the head part... and the "missing one hand" part) so he might as well show it off.
3. Big honkin' orange harness with conspicuous rivets. What's the point of this? Is he going to pull a locomotive on ESPN2?
4. Segmented crotch armor. Look, Kogar, if you want your midget henchman to stop punching you in the nads, all you have to do is ask.
5. Clunky toy-like prosthesis. I know it has James Bond appeal, since it's motorized and you have a drill-bit attachment which you can hold against the temples of brawny, handlebar-moustachioed sailors, forcing two martial artists to fight to the death. But honestly... how practical can it be? All that machinery is resting against a busted stump of an arm. Isn't it kind of sensitive? How much force can you really apply with it? My guess is "not very much before you start wincing and screaming for Mommy."
6. The boots are unremarkable. But at least they match, Gareth.

And of course, there's the little matter of his hair. Let's take a gander at it from the back, shall we?

Hairstyle by Krispy Kreme! Say, what if it really is a donut? That damn midget henchman! Can't you just see Kogar stomping around at the daily Motivational Morning Meeting Of Evil, demanding to know who took the last chocolate-covered donut, and meanwhile the other henchpersons are laughing their asses off because Sklar the wiley midget henchman had just stuck it to the back of Kogar's bald pate?

About Sklar: okay, so he's not really a midget. But he is rather petite. And in this issue he has an inexplicably prolonged giggle fit, which only ends when a brawny, handlebar-moustachioed sailor nails him in the face with a beer bottle. Ouch. Nice hat, though.

Turtleneck Of Righteousness

Simon "Wonder Man" Williams was way ahead of the non-costume trend for superheroes. Sure, the original Mister Terrific wore a jacket, but did he pair it with a comfy sweater? I think not. After debuting in a hopelessly complicated red-yellow-green Jack Kirby number, he switched to this tasteful ensemble -- seen here on the cover of "Avengers" #203 (January, 1981). When I was younger, I absolutely hated this costume. I think part of it was that the jacket seemed dated, and I also wasn't ready for the concept of superheroes in casual wear. As a grown-up Blockade Boy, though, I think it's boss as hell.



(Above panels from "Avengers" #207, May, 1981.) It holds up from all angles, doesn't it? The safari jacket and the boots say "I'm off for a dangerous advenure in the great outdoors" while the turtleneck and the tight black pants say "But meet me in my tent for martinis later -- and come alone!" Comic fans liked Simon because he was shy and self-effacing, and his fear of death was a very human flaw that others could relate to. These qualities, combined with his movie-star good looks and his sheer physical power, made for an irresistable combination.

In a two-year story arc in "West Coast Avengers," Steve Engelhart had Simon overcome his insecurities and "blossom" into a raging asswipe. No longer ashamed of his goopy energy eyeballs, he ditched his trademark sunglasses and traded in his Banana Republic duds for a new costume. Which sucked donkey balls.



God DAMN but it's an eyesore. Note the "old school" zig-zag edges on the boots and gloves. Just because Kirby did it doesn't make it right, people. And the massive, wrap-around logo, with the pointless yellow diamond in the middle? Very nasty. Maybe if the letters were thinner, and if they didn't touch, it could work. But as it is, it's too bulky and clumsily proportioned. But in any event, the costume would still be sunk by its color scheme. It makes Simon look like a Christmas elf on steroids. Thankfully, my opinion was shared by legions of comic book fans, who inundated the letters pages with complaints. And so, at the end of "West Coast Avengers" #24 (September, 1987) we were treated to this little scene:



I love how that tacky little creep is giving somebody else directions on how to dress. (Nice sunglasses, jerk. What did those things cost you, three bucks at Spencer's Gifts?) And so on the very first page of the very next issue, Wonder Man appears in a new costume!



It's a leather bar pile-up in the Mighty Marvel Manner! This outfit isn't terribly interesting but at least it doesn't give me a headache. Red and black are always a good combo for a superhero -- it's one of the things I like about the new Batwoman costume. But I'm not thrilled about the overly blow-dried hair. Didn't it used to be naturally curly? Don't tell me Simon has taken to getting it chemically straightened. Like Ryan Seacrest. (Ew.) Well, let's get a side view of his new look.



It's the Abomination! Oh, and there's some kind of scaly green monster as well. What? "The Abomination" is my nickname for Simon's mullet. I think he kept this look for quite a while, until he died the second time. And then he came back. And the last I remember, his superhero look was kind of a bubbly lavender coating of ionic energy with a red "W" on the chest. *sigh*

I miss the safari jacket.

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!

Losers of Mass Destruction

Yesterday, we looked in on a meeting of the Zodiac, undoubtedly one of the worst-dressed groups in supervillain history. Cancer, a.k.a. Baron Crabclaw Von Shortshorts, was doing a piss-poor job of chairing, and most of the other members were either anxious or about to nod off. Fortunately, Scorpio made an announcement that really livened up the proceedings:




Yes, as that famed 22nd century cyber-clone Hank Williams 8.5 once sang, "All my android friends are coming over tonight." If you're wondering what the holy bejeebus an "LMD" is, it stands for "Life Model Decoy." If I recall correctly, SHIELD would use them to throw would-be spies and assassins off the trails of their secret agents. So that's where the "decoy" part comes in. It's still a stupid name, though.

It turns out Jake Fury (Nick's brother!) was resurrected by the magical talking Zodiac Key as a BLT -- er, I mean, "LMD." I'm sorry, but does that make the least bit of sense to anyone? Highly classified government technology being used by talking magic keys? That's a hell of a security leak. Next thing you know, the Wand of Watoom will have its own Helicarrier.

And now Android Jake has made eleven other androids to replace his criminal teammates. And all because they laughed at Jake's idea to raise money with a bake sale. (An evil bake sale!) You could have just resigned, Jake, but no! Seriously, dude, sometimes you just have to let that kind of shit go.

One thing in Jake's favor is that the all-new, all-robot Zodiac has better costumes (mostly) than their fleshy predecessors. Not all of them, mind you. The very idea of a female Taurus "the bull" is kind of alarming to me, but on the other hand she'd make a good girlfriend for the Serpent Society's equally chunky and mannish Anaconda. The new Capricorn is a furry, goat-like female, so again, big aesthetic turn-off for yours truly. Talk to me after you've had a thorough waxing, dear. The new Virgo bores me to sobs with her plain pink jumpsuit, and the new Aquarius looks just like this one guy who tried to sell me a hand-knitted poncho in the parking lot outside a Phish concert. He even had a gun! (He really wanted me to buy that poncho.) I like the new Aries, though, with his sleek, red-and-silver Kirbyish armor. Nicely done, Aries! The new Leo is only middling for me, but I do appreciate how all his teeth had been filed down to razor-sharp points. Not that we ever saw him bite anybody. It wasn't the 90's yet!



Hey, it's Taylor Hicks as Wolverine as the Phantom of the Opera! As an android! Soulless Patrol! You all know how much I dig prematurely silver hair, but not when it's styled to resemble a hang-glider. Fun fact: after he died, Sagittarius willed his gold-plated shoulder pad to Aquaman, his mini-crossbow to the Huntress, and his hair to the Fadeaway Man.

The next panel describes one of the weirder and least necessary features of Jake's STD's. I mean LMD's! LMD's! What is wrong with me today? Where was I? Oh, yeah. To quote:

"They know it's a Life Model Decoy, but it moves like a man-- moans like a man-- dies like a man!"

Whoa, back up there. It... moans... like a man? Huh. So, just hypothetically, if a fella wanted to buy one of these android guys, would he have to pay up front, or is there some kind of installment plan? And does it arrive fully-assembled, or is it like a kit or something? I'm not asking for myself; there's this friend of mine, see...! *sweats profusely*



One annoying habit of the Zodiac androids was their incessant chatter about their individual star-signs. Even in the middle of a battle, they just babble on and on about why they're performing a particular move and how it relates to the symbolism of the Zodiac, and blah, blah, blah. (Special dialogue by Chris Claremont!) Imagine spotting some sexy guy or gal in a bar, and you say "Hey, beautiful, what's your sign?" and suddenly their reply ends up being a five-day filibuster and the doors are all locked from the outside and the restrooms are closed and there's no AC and the juke box is stuck on "A Moment Like This" and after the first day all the beer is gone and the only thing left to drink is creme de menthe. That's what it's like fighting the Zodiac. And Libra? I know it's the 80's, honey, but not everything needs flared shoulders. Especially not a robe. Unless you're on Orando, and then it's required under penalty of death. I really dig Gemini's outfit, though. Too cute! It's the pointy skirt that really sells it for me. Very Ditko-esque. Thumbs up, Gemini! Thumbs up.



The other problem with the Zodiac MMORPG's -- sorry, LMD's -- is that their personalities were designed to match the supposedly standard personalities of everyone born under their particular sign. And not all of those personalities were predisposed to fighting. Like with ol' Pisces here. (Looks like somebody exposed Pamela Anderson to the Terrigen mists, huh?) And seriously, hon, you need to tone down all the dorsal finnery a tad. One strong gust of wind and you'll wind up on a rooftop next to some kid's frisbee. New Improved Cancer gets my vote of approval by evoking a crab with -- gasp! -- armor, and purple-and-orange armor at that. (Bonus points!) He looks a little clunky, though. His boots could be beer kegs. And if they were, that would be just awesomely cool but somehow I doubt it. Also? I'd love to see how he runs in that get-up. I'm guessing it would be like when I was Blockade Tot, playing with my action figures, and I'd make the stiff plastic bodies "run" by rocking them back and forth while sliding them forward.

As for Scorpio, I appreciate that he's trying to improve the overall look of the Zodiac cartel, but "Physician, heal thyself." You've got a cowl over a red facemask, plus the most convoluted underpants I've seen since Lightning Lad. Not to mention the bug on your head. Not even Zatanna could pull that look off.

Okay, I'm done with you. Everybody dance now!