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.

So THAT'S What Happened to My Throw Pillows

Dig those crazy shoulder pads! From her outfit, I gather she's a stripper by day, and a linebacker for the Pittsburgh Steelers by night. Also, she may moonlight as a hair model.

Isn't she being a bit much? (Yes. Yes, she is.) I think if you presented Joan Crawford or Krystal Carrington or even Typhoid Mary with this shoulder pad design, they'd ask you to "tone it down a tad." But just think of the storage capacity! She could pack a whole 'nother outfit in one of those puppies. (Might I suggest a tasteful pant suit?) And maybe she could use the other one for her toiletries -- including the scads of hair-care products she obviously requires. Also, a couple of spare tampons. And maybe some "Armor All."

Blockade Boy: the Michael Moore of Comic Book Bloggers

And now, two unfairly out-of-context panels from "Daredevil" #154 (September, 1978):

FIRE MAN-BOOB MISSILES!

Best. Sound effect. EVER.

Stop reading now, if you don't want the context explained.

Seriously, stop.

Okay, you've been warned!

In the first panel, the Paladin's chest-armor is absorbing the impact of missiles fired at him by the Cobra.

In the second, the Purple Man's last word of dialog gets lettered as a BIG SCREAM! So big, it's popped the word balloon!

...I like my versions better.

Mackinaw the Knife

DUDE. Go easy on the starch next time! I'm pretty sure you could use your lapel to slice a potato.

J'onn J'onzz, Playa From Mars

The Martian Manhunter's "bachelor capsule" is in a geosynchronous orbit, and is equipped with all the latest alien-babe-snagging devices. There's the Living Loveseat, which contracts into a tulip shape when triggered by certain pheremones; the chlorine-fog machine (an aphrodisiac for many species; pure poison for others, so choose wisely); and, of course, the vibrating pillow with blinking hypno-light button.

The belly-baring gal hopes to get J'onn to play "policeman" with her, since she wants him to yell "Hands up!" and she's not wearing a bra. (Also note how the arrow on her belt buckle subtly points to the location of her unearthly genitalia.)