You Are Feeling Very Creepy!

...The white-haired man cried out, his velvety baritone roughening into a hoarse bellow. At last, his tautly-muscled body fell forward onto a mound of pillows. He rolled over onto his back, and sighed. His pale eyes roamed hungrily over the lanky, hairy form of his lover. "Truly, you are magnificent," he purred. "It seems an epoch since last I was loved with such tenderness -- or such savagery!" He chuckled, softly.

The other man was quite tall, with unshorn hair that surrounded his head in a shaggy corona. He swept a few stray curls away from his eyes, and grinned. "Think nothing of it, my good fellow," he said, warmly. "Jellybaby?" He plucked a handful of the candies from a nearby dish.

The white-haired man's smile shrank a bit, became unsure. "Mightn't we--? That is, we do have all the time in the world...!"

The tall man leaned over the white-haired man, and playfully rubbed his stomach. "I'm afraid it just can't be done, old boy! Duty calls, and all that." He poked the white-haired man's chest. "Now, you must promise me to be a 'good lad' until we meet again!" Suddenly, he was on his feet, and donning his trousers. He tossed the white-haired man his clothes, without looking at him. "Ah! Don't fret, you silly sausage! I have a gift for you." He strolled over to where the white-haired man was glumly pulling up his socks.

The tall man took the golden medallion from around his neck, and slipped it onto the white-haired man's broad shoulders. "It's a family heirloom," said the tall man, solemnly. "It's special. Just like you, my love. Swear to me -- you must swear it -- that whenever you look at it, you'll think of us."

The white-haired man's ashen face took on a soft pink glow. "Oh! Always!" He pressed the medallion to his lips, and then -- impulsively -- leaned forward and kissed his curly-haired lover.

"Let me help you dress," said the tall man, with a hint of impatience in his voice.

A minute later, the white-haired man was fully-attired, save for his hat. "I shall never forget this night," he said, sadly. "Would that I could be your constant companion! But alas, the currents of Fate draw this traveler to another place, and another time. We shall meet again; of that I am sure. But until then, I must remain... a stranger." He placed his fedora on his head, and vanished.

Wordlessly, the tall man sauntered over to the nearest wall, and removed a large panel. He retrieved another gold medallion from its storage place, and slipped it about his neck.

Judge, Jewelry, and Executioner

Normally, I'd excoriate Judge Carter Blaire for being so snippy about his daughter's accessories. I mean, the Dazzler is a grown-ass woman; if she wants to tramp it up with glow-in-the-dark plastic crap, that's her prerogative!

But I was once sent into a sulky, weekend-long drinking spree over one of Storm Boy's belts, so I'm not about to throw stones.

If ABC Promises to Stop Airing "Cavemen", Will You Come Down?

...And to top it off, he really has to pee right now.

Damn. Even for an Italian dude in Bedford-Stuy, this'd be a lot of chains! Or maybe he's a rapper, and the giant clock fell off.

Kidding. This is the-not-at-all-clumsily-named Oswald Clum, the "celebrated drama critic." Of Mesmero's one-man spectacular, he wrote, "A disgrace that such garbage should appear in a Broadway theater--!" So, Mesmero put a little whammy on him, and Spider-Man got to have his 7,384th flashback to That Time He Didn't Save Gwen Stacy. He saves Clum, though, with Denny O'Neil crowing, "a perfect catch!" And so Mesmero was left stomping in a huff about his shitty little dressing room, plotting to hyp-mo-tize a whole bunch of critics this time. I imagine he spent the rest of the evening re-blocking his stupid baby bonnet, checking his purple diaper for signs of leakage, and tightening the pointless air hoses on his back, and then... what th'? Somebody's in my apartment! It's... aw, hells, naw!

Hey! Quit it! Gah! Stop! Dillweed! Call 'em off, Mesmero! Don't make me climb into that suit with you and clobber your ass--!

And where'd you get kryptonite, anyhow?

These Are Not the Pendants You're Looking For

"Heavy pewter-like metal!" Wait a minute... so it's not even real pewter?! Isn't that like getting "imitation cubic zirconium" or "margarine substitute" or "cardboard veneer"?

Still, it's "just what you've been waiting for." That's right, little boy. Some fly-by-night company has crapped out a load of C-3PO pendants. You can end your hunger strike now.

Pandering to the Lois Common Denominator

Gratuitous bra-and-pantie sequence: 1980! Although somehow I always imagined Lois would wear those voluminous, droopy "granny panties"... and a chastity belt. Still, I have to give kudos to artist Bob Oskner for depicting her with internal organs and a working spine. And inker Vince "Kirby Killa" Colletta actually managed to not screw it up! I guess there was nothing good on TV that week.

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Star Sapphire to Mandarin Garnet

In the gender reversal challenge, I take a very ladylike superheroine costume and redesign it for the male figure, keeping as many of the original elements as possible without making the guy version look like he's in drag. This time, I decided to tackle a supervillainess instead: the notorious Star Sapphire. The Star Sapphire most folks are familiar with is the Silver Age version, who first appeared in a very tasteful outfit designed by Gil Kane.

The girly elements: the color scheme, exposed thighs, and a freakin' tiara.

She's had a goofy assymetrical space-amazon get-up in the 80's and 90's. We shan't speak of it again. But her latest ensemble certainly got tongues wagging!

Yipes. Dominatrix whore much, Star Sapphire? I don't know who's precisely to blame for this. But I'll wag my thick, hairy finger at Ethan VanSciver because to be honest, his art always bugged me. It's basically Brian Bolland minus several years of "life drawing" classes. (And the floating GL insignia he always draws in front of Hal Jordan's chest looks ridiculous.)

The new version's girly elements: big dangly earrings, high heels, and copious boobery (both anatomical and otherwise).

For my male version of Star Sapphire, I first decided I'd have to change the name. "Star Sapphire" is too feminine. I knew I wanted to stick with a gemstone, and something both evocative and plausible for a Silver Age comic. (That's why my first idea -- "Blood Diamond" -- went by the wayside. Too "Image" and also it's a relatively new term, and a politcal term instead of a gemological one. After a little research on gemology, I came up with "Red Emerald." That's one of the names for bixbite, a rare, violet-red stone. I wasn't completely taken with it. It's clumsy and fakey-sounding, and it doesn't scream "supervillain" so much as it does "male stripper." Or a really gay fishing guide! But then I discovered the mandarin garnet! Now, "mandarin" is a great villain name! And "garnet" sounds marginally manlier than "sapphire." Although I recall in "Return to Oz" that Auntie Em's sister is named "Garnet." And before you get all huffy and lecturing, science nerds, I know there is such a thing as a mandarin sapphire. The problem is (according to all the images I've found) the color is washed-out in comparison to the magnificent mandarin garnet. And since the garnet's color is still reddish, it's not too great a change from the pink/magenta of Star Sapphire.

So here's my idea for the Silver Age and modern "Mandarin Garnet":

Er, that's the modern one on the left. And yeah, I kind of over-inked him. Oops.

For the Silver Age version (Carl Ferris!) I changed the tiara into a circlet. To allude to the "bare thighs" thing, I altered the boots, so there's a space between the red on his tights and the red on his calves. And to match the boots, I changed the gloves a little. Since Mandarin Garnet is a guy (no, really!) he can get away with more exposure on the chest. It's very "ballroom dance champion" but I think it works.

Since the current Star Sapphire's costume is already so skimpy, I felt like I could get away with bare thighs on the male version without it looking too girly. To balance out the exposed skin on the thighs, I exposed even more skin on the torso. And yet I covered the nipples, for the more sensitive among my readers. I brought the "tiara" down on his forehead (like I did with the Scarlet Warlock) and I extruded the upper edges into kick-ass devil horns. And since it's modern, he can get away with long hair. And chest fur! RAWK 'N' ROLL!!!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

• Saturn Girl
• Scarlet Witch
• Looker (and a slight revision)
• Storm
• Marvel Girl
• Black Canary
• Phantom Lady

Next week: Moral Realignment Challenge: Nightwing and Gizmo!

Jewel Live To Regret This

Don't you just hate it when an accessory overpowers the rest of your ensemble? I know I sure do. In fact, this very thing happened to me when I was a Junior in High School! Allow me to set the scene for you: it's the thirtieth century and my buddies and I are in the quad, standing in line to order our class rings. I'm in my Space-Goth phase, rocking a figure-hugging black vinyl number, alternately black-and-white streaked hair that came down to about the middle of my back, and an immaculately trimmed black tailback beard, with heavily-kohled eyes and red contact lenses. I'm feeling fantastic after having just made the most kick-ass handbag in shop class. It's a good day. Little did I know what trials lay ahead...

Polecat: Black and white? Puh-lease. I originated that look, you know.

Me [looking behind me at Polecat]: And I perfected it, Polecrap. The way you do it is so tired, anyway. I don't even know why -- ugh. You know what? Just don't talk to me. And would it kill you to wear some deodorant?

Polecat [sputtering]: I'll have you know this musk is a potent symbol of male sexual power among my proud yet downtrodden people! Don't make me call the Sensitivity Police on your skanky ass!

Me: And don't make me call the Fashion Police! You've got legs like two tubes of extruded space-polenta and you're wearing short-shorts? Honey, 'round these parts that's punishable by lethal injection.

Polecat: "Lethal injection"? Is that what you called it when you gave Fire Lad the space-clap?

Me [fists clenching]: Oh, it is on now, Motherfu--

Ring Salesman: Next!

Polecat [nervously fans himself with his hands, inadvertently wafting more of his stench onto me]: Oh thank God.

Ring Salesman: Have you had a chance to look at the brochure?

Me: Yes, and I know exactly what I want.

Ring Salesman: Which is...?

Me: A dazzle gem.

Ring Salesman: We don't sell rings with dazzle gems in them.

Me: I still want one.

Ring Salesman: Sir, dazzle gems are extremely rare and terribly expensive.

Me: Well, why do you think I want one? Duh! You're not the most powerful laser in the space-drawer, are you?

Ring Salesman: Just choose something else.

Me: Inertron?

Ring Salesman: Again, we don't offer that.

Me: How 'bout Zuunium?

Ring Salesman: No! Did you read the brochure at all?

Me: Yes! But now I don't know what to go with since you don't have anything cool.

Ring Salesman: Here's an idea... what's your birthstone?

Me: Sigellian.

Ring Salesman: Fine. And what sort of metal would you like for the setting?

Me: Duralim.

Ring Salesman: Oh, for--! We don't offer that metal because wearing it pretty much guarantees you'll be struck by lighting. Look, you can have gold, silver, platinum, lurium, spectrasite or ultrasite.

Me: Fine, fine. I'll have the lurium with that setting. [points to holo-photo floating over the ring salesman's table]

Ring Salesman [tallying price on refrigerator-sized calculating machine]: Okay! Your total with tax comes to Three thousand, six hundred and ninety-three space-dollars.

Me: What--?! That's insane! Are all your stones priced like that?

Ring Salesman: Most of 'em, yeah.

Me: Let's start over. What's your cheapest stone?

Ring Salesman: That'd be Green Kryptonite. On Earth there's so much of it they use it to cover their driveways.

Me: So how much would that run me?

Ring Salesman: Roughly? About two thousand five. Sorry, there's an import tax.

Me: Shit. That's ten times the amount in my savings.

Ring Salesman [incredulous]: All you kids were told about the class rings last year. Are you telling me you didn't put away anything for today?

Me [sheepish]: I did but then I blew most of it on these hair extensions.

Polecat: I believe that's what's known as "throwing money down an A-hole." [titters annoyingly]

Me [to ring salesman]: Pardon me one second. [whips around and punches Polecat square in the face. He drops like a sack of space-potatoes. Then I address the salesman again.] C'mon, pal. Do me a solid. Don't you have anything I could use in a class ring?

Ring Salesman [digs in pocket]: Well, there is this weird stone I found on the sidewalk this morning.

Me: Lay it on me. [examines stone] Say, it has a spooky monster face inside it! Sweet! Tell you what, I'll have this stone with an ultrasite setting and GREAT PLANETS I'M BEING DRAWN INTO THE JEWEL!!!

[I float in a bizarre Ditko-esque skyscape within the gem. The monster face hovers over me and addresses me in a booming, echoing voice.]

Jewel: Yes! Your petty greed has trapped you behind the facets of my prismatic power! Submit, mortal! Your destiny is no longer your own! I am the master and you are the humble instrument of my dreaded will! BECOME ONE WITH THE STYGIAN STONE!

Me: Yeah, no thanks.

Jewel: Silence, wretched one! You desired infinite power and it shall indeed be yours but at a terrible price: YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL!

Me: I think you have me confused with somebody else. I just wanted an affordable class ring. 'Kay? Bye.

Jewel: THERE IS NO ESCAPING THE STYGIAN STONE! Many have dared to try and all have failed! Feel your willpower DRAIN AWAY as my thoughts become your own!

Me: Nope. Not happening. Tell you what. I'm in a good mood today so you just let me out of here and we'll call it square.

Jewel: Cease your senseless prattle! ALL WHO LIVE WILL BEND TO THE WILL OF THE STYGIAN STONE!

Me: Screw you, asswipe. You don't wanna cooperate? Fine! I'll figure some other way to bust out of this creepy dump.

Jewel: ODD! Mayhap your alien physiognamy has a natural immunity to my thought-warping rays!

Me: Or maybe I'm just that cool, dickweed.

Jewel: NO MATTER! Until the end of days, your fragile form shall remain trapped within my crystalline walls!

Me: Whatever. Talk to the wall. [I turn into a steel wall, which somehow causes the gem to shatter and eject me back into the physical plane. Still in wall-form, I teeter for a moment and then tip over onto the already-prone Polecat who was just then regaining consciousness. I turn back into humanoid form and scramble to my feet.]

Polecat: YEEOW! Uncle already! I don't know what crawled up your ass today, Blockade Boy, but you are acting like a major bitch.

Ring Salesman [digging a sliver of the destroyed jewel out of his eye]: You know, we do offer low-interest financing.

Me [a bit shaken]: Yeah, let's go with that.

Captain Comet's Very Fashionable Day

In "Strange Adventures" #22 (July 1952) Adam "Captain Comet" Blake attempts to enliven his dull civilian job as an information clerk by dishing out wholly spurious information to gullible young nerds. And if that doesn't work, there's always the completely edible suit he's wearing. The jacket and trousers? A delicate black truffle mousse. The shirt? Stitched together from only the finest cuts of veal. And the tie? A salmon. Blocked by Captain Comet's knee (um, that is a knee, right? I know he's a mutant and all, but GODDAMN!): the salmon's head, which still has the skin on it, and which gazes balefully out at the knickers-wearing preteen loser before it, knowing full-well that the moment the kid sets foot outside the library, a bottlecap beanie-wearing ruffian will punch him in the gut and steal his milk money.

Despite his best efforts, Captain Comet allows his futuristic mind to drift away from the situation at hand, and reminisce about the exciting events of the previous day, when he was summoned by a bunch of wizened old extraterrestrial men in floor-length blue robes.



Screw jeans and Hawaiian shirts! This is a what I call "Casual Fridays", my friend! Plus, they've installed a small roller derby rink in the middle of the room. Too cool! And do those desk chairs look comfy or what? I bet they recline.

I understand they've already instituted the robe policy at the headquarters of American Express. Floor-length robes for everybody! Whoo-hoo! The only downside? If a guy chooses to "go commando," it leaves a funny smell on the chair. Check out the orange guy's hat. Nope, he's not wearing a backwards baseball cap. Although I admit that would be kind of awesome. Let's look at another one of those charming chapeaus, in more detail.



Remember that hip-hop trend of wearing a sun visor backwards and upside-down? This is kind of like that. (Side note: is this still a trend in your time period? I can't always keep the fashion trends straight, what with me being a time traveler and all. Say, have, tall, pointy wizard hats become popular for men yet, in your era? No? Oh, right, that's next year. Something for you to look forward to!)



On the icy world of Lukan, the only natives we ever see are fully grown, male, and shirtless. Yay! And they're all made out of some crystalline substance. Boo! In a grand old sci-fi tradition, there seems to be a planet-wide uniform, and it's black underpants. The guards wear the tighty-blackie numbers you see here, while the leaders wear longer, baggier versions. I guess instead of asking for your rank, a Lukanian crystal man might demand, "Boxers or briefs?!"

Side note: I can understand that if you were a crystal man and you saw a fleshy pink alien creature rushing towards you, that you'd feel a mite anxious. But really, dude, did you have to pee your pants like that? I mean, that puddle is freaking huge! How many cups of coffee did you drink this morning?



Belly shirt sighting! In 1952, yet! Okay, so it's not quite the same thing, but still. This is a little closer to the get-up Lana Turner wore in "The Postman Always Rings Twice." Check out the high-water panties. Don't want to expose the belly button, now do we? That would be utterly pornographic. Just imagine if Jim Balent had designed this outfit. It would look like about three strands of mint-flavored dental floss.

In the exciting climax of the story, Captain Comet takes one look at the metal circlet on Radea's head and says, "Oh, honey... no. Just... no. You look like a Renaissance disco nightmare in that thing. Here, allow me...!"



See, there's bad jewelry, and then there's really bad jewelry. But you scoff. Who ever heard of a piece of jewelry that could control someone's behavior? *rolls eyes* Such a thing exists in your own time! It's called a wedding ring, people! Gah! (Not that it's foolproof, I'll admit.) Okay, now that Captain Comet got that circlet off Radea's head, I really want to do something about her hair. Oh, well.



Back at the library, Captain Comet has to deal with an antagonistic blonde. Lucy Lane's cousin, perhaps? As you can see, the haughty hottie has been engaging in the ancient Chinese practice of hand binding. Her right paw is now utterly useless, but I'll be darned if it isn't a tantalizingly delicate little thing. Do you think these two might secretly have a thing for each other? I mean, they did decide to coordinate their wardrobes that day. (Just like Weight Wizard and I used to do. *bittersweet sigh*) On the other hand, check out Captain Comet's expression. His words may be casual, Hugh Grant-style dithering, but his face says, "I don't care how many flowers you stick in that bleached-blonde rats' nest you call your hair, it still ain't gonna distract people from the mustache, bitch."