Legion of Substitute Costumes Bonus: Weight Wizard

The crew of the H.M.S. Exquisite has the distinction of including five individuals who were rejected for membership by the Legion of Super-Heroes and one bad-ass Brigadier who could give a space-rat's ass about those stuck-up phonies. Although the Legionnaires have purchased costumes from me and as such are valued customers. What's that, you say? Weight Wizard and Plant Lad aren't on the official list of Legion rejects? Apparently their try-outs were so embarrassing that the Legion didn't even bother to record them! I wasn't there for Weight Wizard's. I found out about the whole deal one day when I came home to find him splayed out on the divan, crying his eyes out. He still refuses to divulge all the details. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he didn't actually try out for the Legion, he came on to someone in the Legion and got "rejected." Timber Wolf, maybe. Huh. Now I'm kinda pissed.

As I explained in my very first post, Weight Wizard wasn't wearing his costume at the Super-Stalag of Space. That was just a nice t-shirt and cargo pant combo I'd found for him at Old Space Navy. My old 21st Century buddy Jeremy sketched Weight Wizard (and Plant Lad) in some older costumes I'd designed for them.

But that was years ago (my time) and I thought you all might like to see how I'm gussying up Weight Wizard's short, stumpy frame nowadays.

"Weight" + "Wizard" = THIS. I designed it all, including the hairstyle and the nifty scales tattoo. I wanted to make him look a little like a sorceror, ergo the "Doctor Strange" by way of "Iron Fist" feel of it. ("Karate Kid" who?!) The robe hugs his torso via the latest in Colorforms Technology. Cover up the nipples? Not on your life, buddy! I need 24-hour access to those babies! The sleeves are voluminous to support the wizard theme, but the rest of the costume is tight because what little there is of Weight Wizard's body is in fine shape, and also you can't put baggy clothes on a short dude without them looking like a Jawa. And although Weight Wizard is a natural blond, I thought he looked more "mystical" and grown-up with black hair... that had a huge spiked-up purple forelock smack-dab in the middle of it. And yes, although I loves me some hairy chest, it was worth it to get rid of Weight Wizard's chest hair to make room for that tattoo. And the rest of him is still kinda hairy, so, y'know. It's a win-win for me.

I'll get to the rest of the crew over the next week. And I'm allowing Storm Boy to write his own post, which should be... fun. *rubs temples, hoping to stave off incipient migraine*

I've added the "Legion of Substitute Costumes" tag to all my old posts in this category. So instead of having to click on each item in a list, you should be able to hit the tag and pull up every "Substitute" post, including this one. I'll be working on getting every post I've done tagged up, so the tags are actually useful. (A radical idea, I know.)

Spiritually Uplifted (and Separated)

Hey, quit ogling her! Can't you see she's a nun? What the hell is wrong with you?! Christ almighty!

Okay, so according to the dialog (in "Rebirth" #1 from Tokyopop) she's technically a monk, but I'm having enough trouble accepting the idea that she'd wear that inane get-up under her (conveniently destroyed) robes without trying to factor in the notion of a co-ed monastery. Huh. I wonder if all the monks have to dress like that, or just her? ("Brother Matthew, the Abbot is concerned you're spending too much time studying the scriptures and not enough time grooming your bikini area.")

But mainly it's the tonal discrepancy that bothers me. "Rebirth" is a serious, if melodramatic, action-horror manwha and then you have Our Lady of Perpetual Hotness here looking like she just stepped out of a David Lee Roth video. I dunno. Maybe I don't get it because I'm from a different culture (i.e. the FUTURE!).

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!)

Saddle Eyesore

In "Marvel Team-Up" #97 (September 1980) Spider-Woman blows into New Mexico, all gussied-up in her tightest slacks and her loosest sleeves.

Yes, she'd sincerely wishes she could help stop the Hulk's destructive rampage. If only she was some sort of superhero! Ah, well. Maybe Paladin or Devil-Slayer is available.

I know, I know. I'm being unfair to Spider-Woman (and Paladin and Devil-Slayer). Why should she drop everything to chase after the unstoppable Hulk? She is technically on vacation. And she's not going to let anything ruin her one opportunity to visit the grave of the world's first astronaut chimp, in Alomogordo! She bought some candles and silk flowers just for the occasion, and she's going to make the daring simian's tomb look grander than Jim Morrison's!

Kidding. She's actually there to track down a criminal in her job as a bounty hunter. So of course she's not going to waste her time with the Hulk. That nonsense doesn't pay jack. Also, she'd have to pry herself out of those pants, and that takes a good three-and-a-half hours (and two economy-sized jars of Miracle Whip). Say, let's get a better look at her duds.

Ouch. It's not exactly Dale Evans, is it? It's not even Katherine Hepburn. Kate Jackson? Maybe. In other words, it's a mite mannish.

Yes, she's turning heads. Oh my yes. Sadly, they're the heads of potbellied gun nuts who are startled to realize they have those very same buckskin pants in their closets. And the matching vest! Maybe their eyes linger on the hot pink satchel, and they realize how fetching it looks with the tan leather and the cranberry plaid, and they wish they had the cajones to pull that kind of thing off. And they know in their heart of hearts they don't... not in public.

And then they run to the local Woolworths to search for a pink satchel.

!emutsoc ykcus a em eviG

I have to admit I'm not really thrilled with how my Night Girl costume design turned out. I might have to try again. With something skimpier. And maybe a poncho or something for when she's surprised by sudden sunrises or whatever. Oh, and while we're on the subject of superheroines with butt-ugly costumes, how 'bout that Zatanna? "Secret Origins" #27 (June 1988) showcased all of 'em! And more! Let's start with what she likes to wear for investigating spooky French castles in the rain.

It's an interesting look for her: the top half is suitable for the local Christmas pageant, while the bottom half is perfect for servicing a muff-diving crack addict. Although the fumes would indicate some serious douching is in order.

And here's Zatanna in action, sort of, wearing her "classic" costume with the top hat and the fishnets. Because nothing screams "superheroics" like dressing as a cocktail waitress. It's not bad, I suppose, but I think it looks better without the top hat. Top hat + long hair = Gary Oldman in "Bram Stoker's Dracula." In other words, it looks ridiculous. Next!

Zatanna is all smiles after getting the Justice League's mandatory breast augmentation and lobotomy. My problem with this one is the ponytail. It's too youthful. I hate it when grown women put their hair up like that with the intent of looking sexy. I'm aware I'm not exactly their target audience, but still. I suppose she had to do something with her hair to keep it out of that monstrous collar she's wearing but really, anything would have been better that that. Hey, why not a beehive? (Kidding.) I wonder if this costume change came about because Black Canary was on the team back then, and they were afraid of having two women on a superteam dressed like hookers. These days that kind of thing isn't so much of a concern, is it, Chuck Austen?

Ah, the Cootie Hat Era. You know a costume is hideous when your body would rather self-destruct than be seen wearing it. (It happens. I once bought a pair of zip-up ostrich skin boots dyed cornflower blue, and they caused me to lose a toe. True story. Although it may have been due to poor circulation.) But enough of the past! This story introduced what was intended to be Zatanna's new, permanent costume, for ever and ever and ever. Ready? *plays opening chords of "The Final Countdown" on a synthesizer*

Ya duhn da duhn-da-dah! Slacks! Didn't last too long, did it? The fanboy fetish for superheroine skin torpedoed this modest little number. Of course, the fact that it made her look like a vampiric theater usher may also have had something to do with it. Personally, I love the cape, but that's about it. And that yellow vest is ridiculous. Bah! Bah, I say to you now.

Hey, bonus panel!

Rrrowr! You wouldn't think anybody could look like a badass in a jinglebell hat (with a feather!) but I'll be darned if Cagliostro didn't pull it off. Hell, he's rocking that jinglebell hat! I mean, I always figured Cagliostro was a pimp, but goddamn. He can read my palm, anytime!

Tweed Christmas!

Yesterday, we looked at some of the gorgeous gowns from "Power Man & Iron Fist." Today it's the men's turn. Sure, we all know that the title characters' costumes look like finale outfits from "Dancing With The Stars." But what else do they like to wear?

Magnum, T.M.I.! Why, I'm enjoying watching you enjoying listening to Iron Fist enjoying himself, Power Man! I suppose the Hawaiian shirt looks okay, but to be honest I'm having trouble tearing my eyes away from his forearms. *Rrrowr!* The glasses add a hint of vulnerability. Although he'd look even more vulnerable if they were hornrims with tape on the bridge. And maybe the Hawaiian shirt should have a pocket protector. Still, well played, Power Man.

Uh-oh! Looks like some of these hooligans might have a little trouble Stayin' Alive! Iron Fist was just trying to drink A Fifth Of Beethoven but then some Jive Talkin' troublemaker had to go and ruin his good time. So Iron Fist put on his Boogie Shoes and Open Sesame! He goes all Calypso Breakdown on their asses.

...Sorry about that, but I didn't know any good Fantasy Island references.

Here, actor Bob "Dustin" Diamond gets his red-spandexed tail kicked by Colleen "Sometimes I Worry My Sleeves Aren't Voluminous Enough" Wing. Y'know, I want to like Bob, what with the sweet jade "tiger's foot" pendant and the lucious blonde VanDyke. The latter being kind of daring for 1981 -- I mean, who still wore a VanDyke back then? French Ambassadors and NASA technicians, that's who! In other words, LOSERS! So kudos for still rockin' it, Bob! Sadly, when those little touches are combined with the score from your hideous scarlet karate costume, you still end up with a negative total. My solution? Shirtlessness! (Of course, my solution is usually shirtlessness.)

As we've seen, the clothing budget for "Power Man & Iron Fist" is quite extravagant. In fact, they spent so much time and money on the fashions, the supporting cast was kind of hastily cobbled together. Case in point: these two guys. Toby is blind "but he sees more than most people." Oh, so he's like Daredevil. Got it. Toby also appears to be a shabbily-dressed jazz musician. Apparently his playing sucks. Honestly, why couldn't he have been a successful, well-dressed jazz musician? Would that have killed anybody? And then there's the weasel-faced hippie on the right, David Griffith. Nickname: "D.W." (Really? You want to go there, writers? Yikes.) Looks like Kamandi is all growed up! His clothes aren't worth my attention but I did notice something interesting. David is insanely muscular for a hippie film student from 1981. I presume that's because it's a comic book. Check out any TV show or movie from back then. Muscular guys were few and far between, and they were usually athletes or hired goons. Your typical 1981 protagonist had spindly little arms, sloped shoulders, and a belly like a pregnant lady in her second trimester. And a perm! But I digress. In real life, almost nobody from 1981 was in shape! Not even in the fantasy worlds created by Hollywood. But look in any comic book and every background character is built like Captain America. It is a puzzlement.

Excellent three-piece suit, D.A. Hao! Those things always make a man look like a million bucks. The only thing that would make him look better? Shirtlessness! (You knew that one was coming, right? No? C'mon, keep up!) Lieutenant Scarfe, however... wow. What is that outfit, a salute to the Mexican flag? Was this picture taken at the precinct Christmas party? Does the Lieutenant suffer from red-green color blindness and it all looked gray to him? And what's with the half-melted happy face button? What's that, you say? It's a badge? Yeah, I'm not buyin' it. And why is his hair bright blue? What is he smoking? What kind of crazy freaked-out universe did I wind up in? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!

Marvel Super Hero Uncomfortable Cocktail Party Of Champions, Part Five

June, 1982! Before the days of the company-wide crossover series, the closest you could get to that kind of encyclopedic grandeur was "Marvel Super Hero Contest Of Champions." That's the one where every Marvel hero (and I!) was crammed into a floating, cosmic soccer stadium (or whatever) and... stood around, chatting. Yeah, they hadn't really gotten all the kinks worked out yet. Also, the Marvel heroes turned out to be stuck-up bitches who wouldn't pay me no nevermind, so my only option was to walk around by myself, gathering top-notch gossip material. For you!

Additional dialog by Dwight Schrute! "Somebody put us here! But who? And to what purpose?" Really, the dialog here is very Silver Age DC, where heroes would dutifully line up and take turns speaking aloud various segments of a single train of thought. (See also: Donald Duck's nephews.) The spoil sport here is Wolverine, but of course, who's just aching to go buckwild in the most Comics Code-straining manner imaginable. Cyclops laughably attempts to assert some authority, little realizing that back in their own comic he was soon to be written as the Daffy Duck to Wolverine's Bugs Bunny.

So, left-to-right, kind of, we start with Iron Fist. Fun fact: the thing on his chest is the gay cousin of the thing on Doctor Strange's tunic. They only see each other when their family gathers for pagan holidays. Things were a bit tense when Iron Fist's tattoo first "came out" but the thing on Doctor Strange's tunic has finally come around and it's just like old times!

As a great woman of your era once said, "Romper stomper bomper boo!" I see Iron Man, who could be flying around, doing recon, but is too wasted and ridden with STD's to keep from crashing into shit. I see Hawkeye, who smells like grape Robitussin twenty-four hours a day and whose costume I've always thought was stupid (and I always will). I see Power Man, who won a bar bet back in '72 by twisting a hunk of steel around his head and now he can't get the damn thing off but figures what the hell. I see the Black Panther, who is secretly plotting your downfall even as we speak and looks great doing it. I can only see the back of the Falcon's head, which makes him the Nichelle Nichols of Marvel. I see Talisman, who in later years would get sick of people asking if he was "Gateway" from the X-Men comic. I see Brother Voodoo, who was already sick of people helpfully pointing out that he "seems to have something on [his] forehead." I see Sunfire, who is indulging one of his weird Japanese fetishes by sniffing the Beast's underpants. I see Black Bolt the Boring, who has a kick-ass costume but a blah personality, and who is wondering how he can get in on some of that Beast's-underpants-sniffing action. I see Hercules, the ultimate drinking buddy, about to express his moral outrage over Sunfire's behavior, and who is also miffed at the severe dearth of scantily-clad young women and/or bare-chested, hairless young men in the arena. (Leaves me out!) I see Werewolf-By-Night, who -- I shit you not -- was once popular enough to star in forty-three issues of his own comic! I know, I can't believe it either. He's just so damned boring! Especially visually! I mean, get yourself some extensions or some highlights or sumpin'. ...Hang on. Jeremy's jabbing me in the ribs. What now, kid? Oh, Jeremy says that in the 80's, Werewolf-By-Night would sometimes get more wolf-like, with a big wolf-head and everything. Well, let's see it! Oh, he's scurried off to get some of his old "West Coast Avengers" comics. *hums selections from "Wonderful Town" while I'm waiting* Okay, he's back. Huh. I dunno, he still looks pretty dorky to me. He's no Man-Wolf, that's for sure. Okay, where were we? Oh, yes. I see Doc Samson, whose costume was pretty cool, except it didn't go with that lime green mop of his at all. Would it have killed you to change up the color scheme to something more pleasing? Like yellow, black, and green? Or failing that, to dye your hair? (Red's a good choice. I mean, just for an example.) I see Wolverine, looking oddly Munchkin-faced here. Heh. He's like the world's deadliest Campbell's Soup Kid. I see Nighthawk, whose costume I kind of liked, except for the big, stiff wings with the air nozzles or whatever on them. Carter Hall never would have settled for that nonsense. I see Cyclops, whose costume is so boring it defies all attempts at embellishment. Even when you slap a stupendously enormous wraparound "X" on it, it still looks boring. I think he needs to start over from square one. In fact, I think I ought to come up with some costume designs for him! Only not right now. Maybe in a week or two. Daddy's tired.

Shanna the She-Devil? Well, there's someone for Hercules to ogle! She's turned away from you right now because you're a gross nerd and she wants nothing to do with you, and also somebody from PETA has just sloshed red paint all over her. Let's see, I've covered everybody else in this panel before, except... Mockingbird! She was way cuter with the longer hair, wasn't she? And without the "rat tail." Fun fact: in your year of 2006, the Thoroughly Eighties "rat tail" can still be seen, on rednecks and lesbians. Another fun fact: it only looks good on actual rats. Mockingbird's costume hasn't aged well. Especially the huge, weapon-concealing sleeves. Although they do impart an avian flair to the ensemble. My biggest problem is the wide stripe of white, which ends just below her bosom. Mockingbird is tall and well-proportioned, but it makes her look like she has a stumpy torso and ridiculously long legs. Like Judy Garland. And MGM's costume designers struggled with ways to make Garland's waist look like it was sitting a good fifteen inches lower on her body -- y'know, like on a normal person. They finally found a solution, but it involved a quantum math that opened a portal to a nightmarish Lovecraftian dimension. Drove half the department stark raving bonkers. The other half vanished without a trace. There were reports of cannibalism. And you don't even want to know what Hair and Makeup went through!

Nothing much to say about that final panel, except... "What awesome power is this at work??" Jeebus, Doctor Strange, you're the freaking Sorceror Supreme! Why don't you tell us? Actually from what I hear, that's all he's good for, lately. Explaining things.

Next week: even more Contest of Champions crap!

Out In Space

In his "Starman" series, James Robinson made it his business to somehow include every single DC character who had that name -- even this guy right here. And up 'til then, this was the only comic book appearance he'd ever made! ("First Issue Special" #12, March 1976.) He's an alien, with the isn't-that-convenient name of "Mikaal Tomas" and he's the rebel outcast of a warmongering culture that's established a secret base on Earth's moon. I wonder if they brought a covered dish to the Inhumans when they moved next door. Oops! Wrong universe! Annnyway, over in Robinson's "Starman" it turned out Mikaal was gay or at least bi or something, and he even got himself a boyfriend. Good for him! Mind you, I'm always a bit wary when a comic book character suddenly turns out to be gay, because it can feel phony and tacked-on if it's not done right. With Mikaal, he'd only had one appearance that was written by somebody else before Robinson decided to use him, so it wasn't nearly as jarring. And if I remember right, Robinson had Mikaal explain to his boyfriend that his people don't have strict definitions of sexuality. Although Robinson's actual dialog was undoubtedly more florid and pretentious. (Like I should talk--!) But to get to the matter at hand, having just perused "First Issue Special" I now understand that the gay subtext was there in Mikaal's world all along. Observe!

Here's the standard guard uniform on the alien moonbase:



Our model, An'twon, is wearing the latest see-through chapeau from the Space Ranger line of haberdashery for whisper-thin young space rangers. The sleeves of his pistachio blouse are fetchingly puffed, while his coordinating cigarette pants hug every contour of his spindly legs. A hand-tooled skull belt completes the ensemble. I'm pretty sure he's not holding that gun right, but oh well.

Now, let's take a look at what the elite guardsmen get to wear:



I'd like to dedicate this panel to everyone who complains I draw my superheroes with "packages" that are too big. 'Cause I think Mike Vosburg and Mike Royer here have me beat in that competition by a country mile. Jeebus. What's Turran Kha got stashed away in that thing? Two of 'em? Y'know, if my stuff was that prodigious, I sure as hell wouldn't have a skull mounted over it. A "happy face" maybe, but not a skull. Now, if you can be bothered to tear your eyes away from Turran Kha's manhood for a few moments, get a load of the boots. This must be the earliest example of superfluous straps in a superhero comic, predating Rob Liefeld's fashion grotesqueries by at least twelve years. Are the boots going to fall off if Turran Kha doesn't strap them to his knees? And get a load of the dainty little spikes on his jogging shoes. Simply adorable.

How gay is Mikaal Tomas' culture? Well, as soon as "First Guardsman of the Worldstone, Turran Kha" shows up, his boss orders him to... redecorate.



Turran Kha's thinking, "I'm pretty sure this is a table but whatever floats your boat..."

Also, I had no idea that wood was so flexible. I think I'll mold Jeremy's buffet table into a sculpture of an elk.

Near the end of the comic, Mikaal Tomas is sentenced to death by a tribunal that features a sexy lady (why couldn't Ruth Bader Ginsburg dress like that?), the Ming the Merciless rip-off bad guy, and... I'm not exactly sure who or what the third person is.



Death to the man who made this hat! I don't know what "Uncle May's" problem is, but he/she/it looks pissed. I bet they're the "Janice Dickinson" of the panel. And they look like a cross between Christopher Lee and my gramma. Kinda disturbing, to be honest.

So in light of all this, I'd say writing Mikaal Tomas as gay or bi or whatever makes total sense to me now!

Haunted Hos!

"The Warlord" # 45 (May, 1981) is all about scantily-clad women being grabbed by scary monsters, but I'm the one who had to deal with the horror of their outfits. In the main story, elaborately VanDyked "man of action" Travis Morgan must stop a trio of giant cyclopes from abducting the womenfolk of a race of tree-dwelling dwarves. I've only glimpsed the tree-dwelling dwarf society and I've never visited them, so I guess I'm pulling a "Lars Van Trier" when I say that they're undoubtedly the worst people ever to have existed on or under the planet.



All the dwarf women we see in this issue -- and it's a lot! -- are busty skanks clad only in skimpy rags, while the only two dwarf men we see are dumpy, pot-bellied, and covered in layer upon layer of garish Elizabethan/Victorian clothing. Apparently tree-dweeling dwarf society is divided into two unequal strata: the pimps and the hos. Look at that diminutive, big-headed tramp, desperately angling for the attention of beefy hunk. (And succeeding, I guess! Ew.) It's like the Skartaris version of "American Idol." Any moment now she's going to slowly clap her hands with her fingers splayed apart and tell the hunky guy he has "a beautiful spirit." And then she'll invite him back to her dressing-tree and deny the whole thing later.

Later, the Warlord -- who is all about delegation -- arranges for the captive tree-dwelling prostitutes to be rescued by a woman who could really use a Brazilian wax.



Yeah, yeah, it's a furry bikini. Still, when the fur is an exact match for your own hair, is it really a good idea to wear something like that? And again, look at the tree-dwelling dwarf women and their ripped clothing. The cyclopes didn't do that to them when they kidnapped them -- that's just how the dwarf ladies happened to be dressed at the time. Creepy!



Aaaannnd creepier.

In the "Omac" backup story, penciller Greg LaRoque hopes nobody who sees this has ever read an X-Men comic and will therefore think that the carnival barker's hairdo is kooky and original! Ah, youth! But the lady in the lime green is the scariest part of the story. Radioactive earrings, boots that are literally painted on and puffy-yet-ventilated sleeves. And the hair! All that hair, and the monster, sight unseen, somehow manages to bypass it and grab her by her waist. Well, it was probably all sticky with Alberto VO5, anyway.

Hey, want to see something really scary?



Cool your jets, Poindexter. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you're a hyena-faced spaz and nobody likes you. (There, better.) Also, I'm going to have to revoke your muttonchops. You're just not cool enough to carry them off. *RRRRIIIP!!* Yes, I know it stings. Stop crying and take it like a man. What am I going to do with them? Not that it matters to you, but I'm going to preserve them in brine and keep them on a shelf. Next to Cliff Carmichael's.

(I can't 100% guarantee a post tomorrow -- 95% but not 100%. I'm helping someone install laminate flooring in their house and computer access is an unknown quantity. Everything will be back to normal for Monday, though.)

Bland Sabbath

From "Defenders" #96 (Marvel, June 1981), this is Asmodeus Jones, whose real name is "Ozzie Palmer." I wonder who he's based on. No, don't tell me. Jackson Brown, maybe? Kidding! I know it's really Christopher Cross. Anyway, nothing oozes "Satanic" like a billowing, scale-spangled blouse with attached hotpants. And lots of shiny gold bracelets! Nice gams, though.

The comic book gets more deeply mired in fashion stupidity later on with this scene:



Nameless Satanic Handmaiden #3's use of the word "kinky" makes it abundantly clear that an orgy had just taken place, and that it was quite the depraved social affair. But look more closely at Asmodeus. Sure, the robe opens at the front for easy access, but underneath he's still wearing a shirt and pants. Still doubting me? Check out the next panel:



And the other guy was wearing a business suit! Anyhow, like all rock 'n' roll sex gods, Asmodeus Jones likes to cavort with groupies while wearing sensible slacks and a dress shirt -- buttoned almost to the neck and with the sleeves rolled down, of course. What kind of "kinky" activities took place at this orgy, anyway? "Spin the bottle?" Did they play four-letter Scrabble? Or have a very sensual taffy pull? C'mon, Asmodeus, you can tell me. Spill it, brother!



Er... yeah. Okay. You can stop staring into my very soul now, thank you very much. Gah! I feel like I need to take a shower now. In Lysol. And then dry myself off with a Swiffer.

A couple of notes, before I go and do that:
1. I'd love it if Marvel brought this guy back, older and more rickety with a wife and a couple of rowdy teenage kids, like that guy on that cable reality show... Hulk Hogan.
2. This issue was drawn by Don Perlin, who was like the Curt Swan of Marvel in terms of artistic sensibility and hell, age too, for all I know. Asking Don Perlin to depict the daily life of a heavy metal singer is like asking Jim Balent to draw a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt. You're just not going to get the desired results.
3. Yup, Doctor Strange was there, in invisible astral form. He just likes to watch.

Stupid Moments In Fashion: Avengers #222 (Part One)

Can anybody explain the Wasp's line of thinking here? The She-Hulk is around six-foot-six. How is her figure flattered by putting her in genie pants and puffy sleeves? Is it really imperative that she look bulkier? And if so, why bother with all that fancy sewing? Why not stick her in a burqa, topped with a big, floppy sun hat? Or a beekeeper's uniform?

The She-Hulk obviously hates this costume, and I respect the hell out of her for tempering her response. 'Cause God knows I wouldn't have. The Wasp defends her sorry creation in the next panel: "You're an unusual woman, Jennifer! Your clothes should say that!" (The green hair and skin not doing it for you, honey?) "We want a complete image that'll drive men wild at the sight of you!" (And that means concealing as much of your body as humanly possible!)

The Wasp shows the She-Hulk exactly where she fits on her list of priorities (i.e. down at #732, between "Look in the Yellow Pages for a good chimney sweep" and "Get that Plantar's wart looked at") when the Masters of Evil attack. The She-Hulk rushes off to battle but the Wasp flies in front of her just as she's about to rip her way out of the puffy-yet-restrictive garment. "That outfit is an original!" snaps the Wasp. "Tear it -- and I'll never speak to you again!" So while Moonstone and the Scorpion are pulverizing The Mighty Thor, the She-Hulk has to carefully get out of her ensemble...



...and join the fray in her lacy unmentionables.



Think about it: some poor Korean gal had to wax a full square yard of bikini area. I hope she got a decent tip.

Tomorrow: more fashion-related fun from Avengers #222!

Ladies, Are You Embarrassed By Unsightly Arm Flab?

Well, you could always try wearing Captain Marvel's costume.

I don't know what is going on with those goofy-ass sleeves, but they're ruining what is otherwise a classic costume design. Kudos, 1983 staff of Marvel Comics! Fun fact for those of you who are only familiar with Captain Marvel/Photon/Whatever The Hell The Poor Woman Is Being Forced To Call Herself These Days from 1984 onward: her costume is not miscolored on this Avengers cover. For her first few appearances, the silver part of her outfit was tinted pink, not blue. Thank God they changed it. But they kept the voluminous sleeves. And then they gave her a jheri curl. And then they depowered her. And then they changed her name. So it was like "one step forward, twenty gazillion steps back." Which, if I understand the nice folks at Television Without Pity correctly, basically makes Captain Marvel an honorary member of the family on "Good Times."

Nation's Capitol Unprepared For Latest Outbreak Of Bird Floozy

'Cause she lives in Washington DC, y'see, and she's dressed like... well, hell YES, it was a long, convoluted set-up for a lame pun. So? You wanna fight about it?

I think we just found the Black Condor a girlfriend! Not that he's into that. But let's move on. In your time period, when sexless nerds want to gape at statuesque, lingerie-clad females with feathers on their backs, they just Google images from the Victoria's Secret "Angel" collection. In 1982, they had to read "Wonder Woman" #288. The gal with the loquacious brain and the vivacious everything else is the Pre-Crisis Silver Swan, or as I like to think of her, "the good one." Whereas the two Post-Crisis versions were, respectively, a victim of domestic abuse with zero personality, and a mindless assassin (with bad hair), this Silver Swan knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. What she wanted was to stay beautiful forever. And to get it, all she had to do was fulfill her deal with the god Mars and kill Wonder Woman. Like Poison Ivy, she was irresistible to men, and like Killer Frost, she was a vicious man-hater. And she had a great costume. The paradox is that individually, none of the parts really work -- the Scarlet Witch-style headdress, the puffy sleeves with attached cape, the lacy collar -- but dad-blast it if it doesn't look swell all put together! Well played, Swan. Well played.

The Sweatsuit Competition: Miss America

What's her deal:
In 1943, Madeline Joyce's uncle sponsored a research scientist who kept a laboratory in an old lighthouse. A lightning bolt struck the tower while Madeline was inside it. Instead of electrocuting the intrepid lass, the massive voltage sent her into a coma. The scientist was consumed with guilt. He destroyed all of his machinery and himself along with it. A week later, Madeline recovered. Awesome timing, doc.

The accident, as it happened, had endowed Madeline with a veritable cornucopia of superpowers, such as flight, super-strength, super-intelligence (which one presumes would prevent her from doing any more snooping about in tall structures during electrical storms), x-ray vision and invulnerability. She designed a baggy, figure-concealing but mightily patriotic costume. Her alias: Miss America. Madeline at one point joined a super-team calling itself "The All-Winners Squad" -- a supremely ironic moniker considering the number of losers on the roster. Later she married one of those losers, Bob Frank, a.k.a. "The Whizzer." (He had super-speed. Why, what did you think it meant?) After the war, she lost most of her powers, due mainly to the fact she was being written by sexist male dickweeds. Her firstborn child was a radioactive supervillain named "Nuklo." Madeline died giving birth to a second child, who was stillborn. The end! Cheery, huh? First appearance: Marvel Mystery Comics #49 (Timely, October 1943).


Crimes against fashion:
Nearly the entire outfit. It looked like a track suit more than anything else, and it shouldn't have surprised me to learn it was made of terrycloth. The superhero emblem on her bosom looks like it should say "Phillips 66." And the teeny red cap! That misshapen yarmulke crept steadily forward over the years until it was practically over her eyes. Like most superheroes in her dimension, she had a secret identity but no mask. (Jeebus! C'MON!) She occasionally added harlequin glasses, which made her look less like a superhero and more like a really flamboyant librarian. Her hair ranged from blonde to black to brown, finally settling on brown. I think.

Our meeting:
It's a long, complicated story, so kindly bear with me. I was in the Timely/Marvel dimension circa 1944 when I approached Captain America with some great ideas for improving his dorky costume. Cappy barely let me get a word out before turning me down flat (and calling me "son" in the process, which really ticked me off). His parting shot? Telling me to shave off my sweet-ass goatee and muttonchops, which he termed "ridiculous." It was on. Not in the physical sense, mind you, because Captain America could clean my clock nine ways to Sunday. No, my plan was to hightail it to California and the studios of Republic Pictures so I could surreptitiously redesign the costume for the Captain America serial they were planning to shoot. Then he'd see how right I was! Mwuh-hah-hah-hah!

Well, yes, it's a terribly passive kind of revenge. What's your point?

I donned one of my superhero outfits. Then I snuck onto the lot, posing as an extra in a science fiction film. I quickly located the costume department, seized the Captain America designs, and set to work. I had only got as far as erasing those goofy wings from his cowl and penciling in a handgun when I heard a mob of people hollering about something or other. The huddled masses helpfully exposited that...
1. A director who craved realism had wrangled a genuine mummy for his latest picture.
2. Some sort of chemical mishap had brought the mummy to horrifying life!
3. The mummy had slung starlet Vera Hruba Ralston over its shoulder like a shapely sack of potatoes and taken off running, and...
4. It was headed this way!

With a loud sigh, I dropped everything and ran outside to face the menace head-on. I planted myself firmly in the path of the bandaged bandito and shouted my catchphrase, "Stop, in the name of Blockade Boy!" And then I turned into a steel wall. And then, as per usual, my foe ran around me and kept right on going. Have I mentioned that I don't turn into a very big steel wall?

To her credit, Miss Ralston was a champion ice skater and quite strong; at that point she had pounded on the mummy so hard that a good-sized hole had appeared in its lower back. Suddenly, a crimson meteor smashed down upon the mummy, reducing it to smithereens, and sweeping Miss Ralston away to safety. The red blur resolved itself into a dowdy lady in a stupid hat. It was Miss America! Seeing that I was a fellow super-powered adventurer, Miss America took me into her confidence. From there it was a simple matter to convice her to let me redesign her costume.

My presentation:
For your first option, I've merely tweaked your original outfit into something that's actually flattering.

Red is a strong color. It can be overwhelming when used in large quantities. So, I've eliminated your leggings. To compensate, I've lengthened the tunic into a short, pleated dress, just like ice skaters wear. It's practical yet feminine. To match your blue cape, I've added blue boots and blue gloves. You may have noticed that the boots are not high-heeled. That's because high-heeled boots are an absurd thing for a superheroine to wear. I remember getting into an argument with Princess Projectra about why she shouldn't wear heels, and she was all, "But my power is illusion-casting, I don't have to move around when I fight, and anyway I look really sexy in heels, blah blah blah, I'm a princess!" And then while we were just standing there talking, one of her ankles snapped in two. Heh! Um, anyway, I've trimmed the dress and the gloves in gold. I've also altered the symbol on your chest somewhat. The heart shape is more becoming to the female bosom. Plus, it represents how you love America, and this way it no longer resembles a highway marker. Finally, I've added a mask, because believe it or not, you need to conceal at least part of your face if you want to maintain a secret identity. No, really. No, REALLY. I'm not kidding. Well, I don't care what the Whizzer told you. Or the Thin Man. Or Red Raven. Or Dynamic Man OR the Human Top. Or-- look, these people are idiots, okay? Just trust me on this! Jeez! Okay then. Next!


Your second option is so fashion-forward it doesn't even exist yet! Or something like that. I wanted to give you the look a fighter plane, since your fabulous powers allow you to rain death upon all who oppose you. I've even borrowed the star from a Navy fighter for your new symbol! Well, yeah, I know they changed it last year. Well, it looks better this way. Moving on... in lieu of a mask, I thought we could put a bold, blue stripe of makeup right across your eyes, the way the Aztecs did! It matches your blue lipstick. It's all very intimidating! For the costume itself, we have a silver body suit with red-and-blue body armor on the shoulders, calves, and hips -- not that you need armor, being indestructible and all, but it's important for the look. Your waist is so thick it makes this outfit something of a gamble, but I think we can get away with it provided you lay off the fatty foods. Now, I'd like to draw your attention to the thick red lines over the crotch and across the thighs, which subtly frame your "lady business" -- OW! Hey, knock it off!

Miss America's response:
... was to slap me, which fractured my jaw and caused a couple of teeth to fly out of my mouth. "You are the rudest, most vulgar young man I have ever met in all my life!" she fumed. She stomped out the door, but before she disappeared from my life forever, she spun around and snapped, "And lose the sideburns and the nanny goat beard. You look like an idiot."

Oh, it's on NOW, honey.