Another Lady of "So Super Duper"

It's time for another So Super Duper costume redesign! Here's Fly-Girl, who I managed to really screw-up last time. I even got her name wrong! Because I'm a doofus! But at least I can draw pretty. If you give me enough time.

So here she is in all her Jennifer Lopez-inspired glory. Now I think about it, Jennifer Lopez was a "Fly Girl", on that old TV show "In Living Color." But that's just a weird coincidence. See, I like to design female super-costumes around real-world fashion elements, because it makes for more varied and flattering results. In Fly-Girl's case I was inspired by a picture of Jennifer Lopez in a long-sleeved top with her hair completely hidden by a scarf. I don't remember the color of it, but I'm pretty sure it was light. Fly-Girl has wind powers, so I made her costume an airy silver and sky blue, with a red hurricane symbol on her chest to focus the eye. And before any of you wiseapples tries to tell me it's a "target" I'd like to point out that she's going to be fighting in the out-of-doors, with the bright sun reflecting off all that silver, so anybody who tries to look directly at her will be blinded. There. Problem solved. Although her teammates might be screwed. Also, I decided to let Fly-Girl's hair stick out of the back of the scarf, to soften up her look and keep her from looking so formal/old/like some woman trapped in a creepy cult.

Update: Here's the photo that inspired the costume design. I found it on "Go Fug Yourself."

I guess it made more of an impression on me than I thought, because I even emulated Lopez's pose -- albeit from a different angle. And while I did use photo reference for the pose, it was from Buddy Scalera's "Comic Artist's Photo Reference People and Poses" (with guest author Greg Land, I shit you not). Only in the original photo, both of the model's arms were hanging at her sides, so I put one hand on her hip to make it more interesting. And now I know why!

Weird. That's what it is. Weird.

Blockade Boy Presents!

Brian "So Super Duper" Andersen likes my drawings of his characters so much, he's going to publish them in his next comic! Sweet! He even wanted a drawing of me introducing them! So here's a new pic of me in my Silvercat Designer Original, in Genial Presenter Mode. I'm suitable for any holovision documentary or awards spacecast! And I only had to redraw the head about thirty times! Also, my right thumb was supposed to be hooked over my belt but I completely forgot about that when it came time to ink th' dang thing! Because I'm a doofus! Unless...! *desperately tries to think of a way to blame this on Storm Boy, fails*

Nope, I'm a doofus, alright.

I'm also providing Brian with this lovely assortment of Blockade Boy heads, in which I display the full gamut of emotions (from "A" to "D").

Let's see... clockwise from upper left the emotions are:

• Trying to charm a clerk at Old Space Navy into ringing up my purchase without sales tax
• Enjoying a pleasant daydream and/or blowjob
• Fielding yet another request by some old rich lady to tell her where I bought "those fetching fur-covered opera gloves" (i.e. my arms and hands)
• Catching Storm Boy dancing to "Papa Loves Mambo"

At least, I think that's what I'm trying to convey. What do these Blockade Boy heads symbolize for you?

Portrait of the Author as a Young Crabclaw-Tentacled Terrorist

And here, Young Gerry Conway puts his personal artistic travails right on the comics page, raw and steaming, ripped from his tear-stained diary, with Demitrius and Slasher serving as mere finger puppets for his outrage. (Note: Finger Puppets of Outrage will be opening for my new band, Jagged Edge Explosion Balloon.)

In place of Conway's uncredited editor (or "uncreditor" if you prefer and I know you do) we have "the Slasher." (Get it? GET IT?) Slasher is an abusive control freak -- wait a minute--! I'm an abusive control freak! But I'm not nearly as bad as Slasher. Right, guys? Storm Boy, tell all this nice people I'm not as bad as Slasher. Do it! Don't make me smack you again. There, see? Storm Boy agrees with me. Aaaannnyway, Slasher calls Demitrius a "blathering fool" and tells him "I am the power in this team -- you're mere deadwood."

In place of Young Conway, we have "Demitrius", a put-upon, talkative, sensitive type with crazy shit literally coming out of his head. Demitrius is shaggier-looking than the Slasher and he loves to dance! Clearly he's a member of the younger generation... the Demitrius Generation.

I gather from this panel a power struggle had recently taken place within the Marvel Bullpen, with Young Conway gaining the upper hand over his nameless editor. Perhaps Conway had gone over the editor's goggled, leather-helmeted head and charmed the Marvel bigwigs -- maybe even Stan the Man himself! -- and he was at last free to fill the pages of Iron Man with as many over-written word balloons and thought bubbles as he wished! Stan would understand. ("Editors--!" Stan thought, his toupee quivering with contempt. "Bah! As long as the writers are emulating my mighty melodramatic manner, why should I need editors! Except maybe to write cover copy, and to mow my lawn on Sundays! Although none of them do it as well as Kirby did. The crazy li'l troll even edged my sidewalk! With scissors! And sure, he muttered to himself the whole time but when he finished for the day and I flipped that shiny new nickel at him you could see the gratitude in his eyes. And then I'd shout "DANCE!" and he'd do this mutant Charleston with a couple of Ann Miller tapdance spins thrown in, until he'd grab his chest and collapse into the begonias. And as they loaded him into the ambulance we'd just laugh and laugh--! By the hammer of Thor, I wish I had Kirby back! It's like when you're almost done with a tube of toothpaste and suddenly it's gone and it turns out the wife threw it out... you miss it, because you wanted to squeeze out whatever was still left inside! ...Good ol' Kirby...!")

Honey Do

Dimitrius?

Sweetums?

Could you be a dear and pick up my dry cleaning while you're on that side of town? And there's this sandwich place right next door -- they make the best turkey on sourdough with provolone and guacamole -- grab me one of those, if you could... I can't pay you right now, so you'll just have to put it on my "tab", heh-heh! Oh! And there's a news stand just down the street, get me a copy of The Sporting News and an InStyle and maybe a Cottage Living if they have it, and if they don't, could you ask them why not, because it's a really great magazine and I just know I'm not the only one who enjoys their home decorating articles, and also, swing by that coffee place across the street from the news stand and buy me large toffee-soymilk frappuccino, only not in the plastic cup because you know how concerned I am about the environment.

Okay?

Payback's a Vaguely European, Crabclaw-Tentacled Bitch

The Golden Age simplicity of George Tuska's layouts is simultaneously annoying and charming. In this panel, for instance, Gerry Conway's word-a-day antagonists are scuffling in an abstract arrangement of plain brick walls atop a smooth, continuous plane. In other words, they've been somehow transported into the 1992 PC shooter, "Wolfenstein 3D." Blech. Well, at least they all have shadows now.

Demitirius missed a golden opportunity by not pimp-slapping Slasher with one of his crabclaws. That would've been sweet. "Talk to my crabclaw hand, 'cause the boobs on my forehead don't understand!" But no. And it's that sort of mediocrity that kept Demitrius out of the big leagues. They're all laughing at you, Demitrius. All the super-villain freaks are laughing at you. Even Arnim Zola! Even the Headmen!

Regrets, He's Had a Few

So... what size bra do you think Demitrius' forehead wears? Granted, the bra would have tantalizing cut-outs for his "golden pincers of pure power." ...GAH! Dang it, George Tuska, did you bother to read Young Gerry Conway's script at all? Uncredited colorist, you're also due for a savage knuckle-rapping. Get in line behind Young Conway and Tuska. Jim Mooney, because I like you so much, you get to watch! No, thank you. (...Storm Boy wants to know who I'm talking to. SILENCE, FOOL!!!)

And I have to ask... does Iron Man even need a villain at this point? Because he's already paralyzed by his own whining.

Really, Really Remote Control

"...yOu wiLL NoT wAtcH thE tYRa BaNKs shoW wHILe yOu ArE on tHE iNtERCoM wITh mE, miStER KLinE...!" *CLICK!*

Okay, so this operation's mastermind -- hey! Is it Mastermind? ...Sorry, I don't know why I'm even getting worked up about this dumb story. Stockholm Syndrome, maybe? Or maybe I just like puzzles. Anyway, the bad guy whose voice sounds like warbled green smoke, apparently, has now implied to Mister Kline that if he knew the "overplan" (Gah! Freakin' Young Gerry Conway!) he might not be so cooperative. I know he's evil and all, but it seems like he's not a very effective manager. I'm pretty sure this kind of thing doesn't go on at FedEx, is what I'm saying. ("So what's in that human-sized crate you want me to move?" "You don't wanna know.")

He Loves Only "Old Gold"

Another shocking twist! Or a shocking twist, anyhow... it turns out the criminal mastermind who controls Mister Kline's every move is... his cigarette! ("Your next assignment: go to the corner drugstore and pick up a pack of me!") Now the comic can end with Iron Man grinding the villain into an ashtray. And in the 90's, the arch-fiend can be resurrected as a piece of nicotine gum.

That hideous, lined face on the TV screen? Never mind that now. Mister Kline was just watching one of his soaps, from back in the days when they employed people over the age of forty.

On the Town

My closeout sale was a huge success! We managed to sell everything except for the boat-sized Orandoan jockstrap, which was studded with dazzle gems, ornamented by some gorgeous spectrium filigree and, for some reason, powered by hydrogen. So it probably was intended for a "niche market." I sure as hell wasn't going to haul the bastard back to my pirate ship, and I didn't want to just turn it over to the U.P. I was stuck... until I remembered that we were on Rimbor, the shadiest planet in the galaxy. So we put a little sign on it that said "Do Not Steal". The last I saw it, a dozen young Rimborian gang members were hauling it off, their vertebrae noisily collapsing as they went.

I raked in a ton of space-cheddah with this sale, that's for damn sure. So -- with my typical generosity -- I treated everybody to a night on the town. Just left to our own devices, Rainbow Girl and I would have just gone our separate ways for some jolly, pirate-style, property-destroying, ass-kicking debauchery. Sadly, we had a recovering alcoholic (Storm Boy) and a naive simpleton (Tusker) in tow... so that slowed us down somewhat. We started out with a big dinner. I had ten of the thickest, juiciest kanga-bronc steaks I've ever tasted at a famous Rimborian joint, "Extinction" E Sau's Eatery. At E Sau's, every animal on the menu is personally hunted down and mercilessly slaughtered for you by E Sau himself, while-u-wait, for guaranteed freshness! Afterwards, we strolled through Rimbor's historical Moonshiner's District, taking in the sights.

At one point, a beautiful girl waved at Tusker and gestured for him to come talk to her. This made Tusker dejected for some reason, and he quickly put his head down and tried to ignore her. We all cajoled him to go over there and flirt. He said, "Nothin' good ever happens to me whenever somebody says 'come over here.' Usually they're tryin' to sell me somethin' or they wanna pick a fight with me, or maybe they just kick me in the 'nads and take my wallet."

"You dumb jerk," I said, warmly. "You've got to wake up to the fact that you're an interesting, well-dressed guy who the ladies (and a lot of men) are going to be attracted to! Stop hating on yourself, you idiot! Go over there and chat her up!" So Tusker went to talk with her. I spotted a tavern where, years ago, I beat the crap out of and then made love to an entire hover-bike gang and while I was telling the story to Rainbow Girl and Storm Boy I glanced back over at Tusker and saw him laid out on the sidewalk, howling with pain and grasping his privates, while the beautiful girl made off with his wallet.

Rainbow Girl and Storm Boy helped Tusker up while I nabbed the thief. I confiscated the wallet and carted her back over to Tusker.

"Told you," pouted Tusker.

I asked the beautiful girl if she only asked Tusker to talk to her so she could rob him. As I could have predicted, she answered, "Well, actually I thought he looked kind of sexy and dangerous and cool and I was thinking maybe we might go somewhere and make out. But when he started talking to me, he came off like this self-pitying whiner, y'know, just a total jerk-off, so I figured I'd just kick him in the 'nads and take his wallet."

I thumped Tusker in the nose with his wallet. "See, you dope? Self-fulfilling prophecy." I think I saw a glint of recognition in his big sad eyes. Maybe my words are finally starting to sink in.

Rainbow Girl really wanted to do some bar-hopping. Since Storm Boy was looking a little shaken in the midst of so much cheap booze, we decided to split up. Rainbow Girl took Tusker with her while I squired Storm Boy. To distract Storm Boy from the temptations of Demon Rum, I took him to a show. There were a lot of good plays and pageants to choose from! We finally wound up seeing the all-android revival of Leroy Anderson's "Goldilocks."

It was a heckuva spectacle, made all-the-more thrilling by the fact that they used two android replicas of Elaine Stritch -- one as the sexy, sassy young ingenue, which is the role Stritch originated, and an older version for the part of the duplicitous landlady. I'd hoped the show would cheer Storm Boy up a little. And for the most part I think it did, but I noticed him silently crying during the poignant ballad "I Never Know When to Say When." Also, he glanced longingly over at me for much of the song "Who's Been Sitting in My Chair?" -- especially the part where Android Stritch sings "I'd like a two-fisted biped for my budoir." Still, we left the show laughing and singing little bits of the songs and just having a grand old time, and I deposited him back at the ship in good spirits. And then I hit Rimbor's famed Man-Whore District like a tsunami and pretty much leveled the place. I woke up the next morning, all sore and groggy, to hear Storm Boy singing "The Pussyfoot" from "Goldilocks":

Tiger cats
Tip their hats
Flip their whiskers and purr,
Pekingese
Tell their fleas
Fellas, fellas, it's her!
It don't behoove a lady to lie.
There is no other pussy like I...

And then I clamped my pillow over my ears and went back to sleep.

Call Me Madman

Because I based my clearance event salespitch on "Can You Use Any Money Today" from the Irving Berlin musical "Call Me Madam" and then let Storm Boy deliver it... as a rap.

Well, THERE'S That Uncluttered Desk--!

Although it still looks a little messy to me... hang on. *sweeps back of hairy arm into telephone, knocking it onto floor* There. Now it's perfect. *sighs contentedly*

What, me have issues?

Anyway, not only can we finally see the top of that desk, but the whole room no longer has the spooky "Night Gallery" lighting going on... now that the Abominable Mister Kline is no longer in it! Nope, Mister Kline is like a Bizarro version of my dad, making sure that any time somebody leaves a room that they turn the lights on. ("Me am made of money, you don't know!") Because if there's anything that impresses people more than handling the delay causation of a personage, it's making sure that nobody can ever see your face, or your delicate, bird-like... ankles... holy shit.

I just figured out who Mister Kline really is! (And what he does in his "off hours", heh-heh...)

The Ladies of So Super Duper (Well, Two of Them, Anyway)

Brian Andersen's "So Super Duper" has some solid costume designs, but I think some of the female characters could dress a little more... professionally. So with Brian Blessed -- er, I mean Brian's blessing -- I tried my hand at redesigning a few of the ladies' costumes! I worked on three of them but my "Sky Girl" picture turned out pretty effed-up looking, to be honest, and just as a good chef won't serve a meal that's sub-par, I'm not going to post it. (Seriously, she looked like Quasimodo, as played by Jennifer Lopez. It was a nightmare.)

But at least I can show you my designs for Sass and Tink!

Here's Sass, the team's super-tough strong lady. I gave her a semi-relaxed afro like Beyonce wore in that Austin Powers movie she did. The collar on the one-piece is based on real-world fashions. I wanted to make sure the bottom was cut low enough to be practical (i.e. it wouldn't ride up or require a bikini wax). Ladies, you'll have to let me know if I succeeded or not. There's a clasp/brooch on the waist where a belt buckle would be (one of my trademarks) and I added a short cape for the nostalgia factor and to give the eye a rest from all that purple. The clasps on the shoulders mirror the design of the "buckle."

I still have a lot of practicing before I can draw women as easily as men, so maybe Tink was easier for me because she's a fairy and I wasn't trying to make her face or bodily proportions as realistic-looking as I did with Sass.

I replaced Tink's cheerleader duds with a straight-up superhero costume because I liked the visual/conceptual contrast it made with her fairy body, wings and all. I gave her longer hair, styled how some of the retro pin-up gals like to wear it -- pinned back with two flowers in it. I continued the flower theme by putting a stylized lily on the bodice. And although Tink looks like a total ditz in "So Super Duper" I liked the idea that she might have a dark side, and that the airhead thing was all an act. That's why I drew the "mean" face in the lower left-hand corner. You don't want this thing angry with you. Trust me.

Oh, and about Sky Girl... you can find my idea of her new costume amongst my other scribblings right here... she's the gal in the J-Lo/Rhoda Morgenstern headwrap, with the hurricane symbol on her bosom.

Extreme Blockadeover: This is the Champion, My Friends

Congratulations, Lydean "Silvercat" Kind!

After much anguished, heart-rending, beard-tugging deliberation, I've chosen your submission to be my new costume! Yours came out on top because I liked the pure superhero vibe of it, combined with the castle-shaped cutout to show off my intimidating crop of chest hair. It's genius, and something your standard (i.e. "straight") male superhero would never wear in a million years. (Power Boy doesn't count, because he waxes his chest, and also because he's not exactly a good guy.) Also, I've been thinking about getting more into the superhero/adventurer side of things in some capacity, so this will be a perfect look for me. And it helps that when I was scouting locations for my tent sale in the Rimbor Black Mega-Market this morning, I bought these KEWL bracers that shoot brick-wall-shaped forcefields that can knock my foes on their asses!

(Hey, Storm Boy... think fast! *SHPA-PAANNNGGG!!!* Aw, too slow, buddy! ...Heh, heh...)

So anyway, there's the offensive capability I need to be a proper superhero, and it fits my name and my personality! I mean, as most of my former lovers will tell you, I'm all about the blunt-force trauma.

For your prize, I'd be happy to send you the original artwork for the action shot I posted up there. Or I can do something else if you like. It's no trouble at all! Just e-mail me with your request. If you'd rather not give out your mailing address, I can send the art to a P.O. box or even another person on your behalf. Just let me know!

Extreme Blockadeover: the Contenders

CLANG!

That's the sound of the deadline crashing down on my contest to discover my next great costume! Thank you, everybody who sent me an entry... even the obvious joke ones, which were uniformly hilarious. Now I have to sort through my "maybe" pile. Let's see...

Going in chronological order, there's Jonathan Munroe's 'stache-tastic steampunk aviator design...

...Chawunky's design is sophisticated-sexy with the briefest bolero jacket I've ever laid eyes on...

...Philip Rice's gold-trimmed leather suit takes me from business casual to a night on the prowl by just zipping down the jacket and giving every guy an eyeful of my fantastic fur...

...After one of my trademark tongue-lashings, MaGnUs roared into the "maybe" pile with this smart, unpretentious Musketeer look... okay, so maybe the facial hair is pretentious, but that's the way I likes it!...

...Justin Garrett Blum rocked my world with this Ditko-esque fantasy barbarian look (even if I've got about 150 pounds more muscle than the model he used)...

...MaGnUs reworked a gimpy "no thanks" into a take-charge "maybe" with this design that's like a John Romita, Jr. X-Men costume, only tasteful...

...Lydean "Silvercat" Kind devised this classically bad-ass fortress-themed look...

...Here's Nicolas M.'s sleek, prismatic suit with appropriately close-cropped hair and beard...

...And finally, we have Dr. Tectonic's dashing "rainbow warrior"... he's proud and out -- to kick your ass!

They're all great designs, in different ways. I'm going to have a tough time deciding on one! I'd better do it quick, though, because I want to look cool for my Brigadier Blockade Blowout Event on Rimbor today! (Everything must go! All sales are final! No "window shopping" allowed! I'm serious! Don't make me mess you up!)

How I dress is especially important now that I have to look for a new job. And I don't even know what I want to apply for! Say, maybe the costume I choose will inspire me! Well, no matter what I decide to do, at least I know I'll look cool doin' it...

Extreme Blockadeover: Phillip Ginder, Part Two

Phillip sent me a late entry, but since I'm not a total hard-ass I'm considering it anyway.

Phillip writes:

It's late, and I can't draw with a mouse (or a pencil, or a pen...) but here you go. The gloves might be a little too floppy, maybe. This is pretty much what I was thinking of, but now that I see it it looks... well, gay. In my mind it was butcher, somehow. I think I might have to re-evaluate my own wardrobe, now...

Aw...! I'm the one who might be wearing it, so I'll decide if it's not butch enough, Phillip.

Yeah, that's not butch enough.

I think the problem might be that there's too much crenelation. (Isn't that always the way--?) And maybe it's the scale of it, but it looks delicate, like a bric-a-brac trim from some grandma-infested fabric store.

I'll take, oh, around 30% of the responsibility for it not looking butch enough, though, because of the way I drew that blank form... I mean, the cocked hip, the eye-rolling... I might as well have drawn in a big speech balloon that said "HEL-LOOOO!!!" That's what I get for having Storm Boy model for me!