Farrah Fawcett Grampa

In the Marvel Universe, there is a family of timeless, god-like beings called the Elders of the Universe. Among these is the Gardener. The Gardener dresses simply, in a robe and sandals. Ostensibly it's because he's a deeply spiritual man who is One With Nature... but if you ask me, he's just trying to put even more visual emphasis on his spectacularly feathered hair. I mean, look at that glorious mop! Sure, he pulls the old "humble hermit" act when he's around other people, but you just know the moment he's alone, out comes the hairspray, a brush, and a hairdryer that runs on the Power Cosmic. Better yet, he accessorizes with Adam Warlock's soul gem and a bird with an identical hairstyle! (Lookalike pets... what is this, a Marvel comic or a Hanna-Barbara cartoon?)

And now, a completely imaginary romance between the Gardener and the Incredible Hulk, hastily cobbled out of random panels from "The Incredible Hulk" #248 (June, 1980).



Angry sex! Yes, Gardener, the Hulk really knows how to work over a guy's "staff." The Hulk and the Gardener were quite the couple after that. They went everywhere together -- quarreling constantly but just as often stealing away for more furious lovemaking. The Hulk moved into the Gardener's ashram and took to wearing (tattered) hemp pants and restricting himself to a macrobiotic diet. He'd only eat whole, live deer and yaks and manatees and such. For his part, the Gardener started going around shirtless, and he learned to appreciate the simple pleasures of leaping over the Grand Canyon in a single bound, pounding military vehicles into unrecognizable lumps of steel, and referring to himself in the third person. But such volatile romances rarely last. Annoyed by the Hulk's absolute refusal to either do his share of the housekeeping or to go out and find a damn job, the Gardener accepted Xemnu the Living Titan's invitation to join him in a glamorous ski vacation, and summarily kicked the Hulk out on his ass. The Hulk was devastated, and even contemplated suicide.



The Hulk couldn't go through with it, however. Because he weighs 1040 pounds and has skin like rhino hide, so the rope just snapped in two. Still, he was mopey for a long while. Love had died in his heart.



Aw! A happy ending! Turned out Xemnu had also invited Quasar and the Living Tribunal on that ski trip, and was apparently expecting some kind of "four-way" to occur. The Gardener was humiliated. Finally, he returned to the Hulk, because he knew their love was meant to be. Also because he's an enabler, and in some dark corner of his mind he gets off on taking care of someone who doesn't appreciate him.

(Okay, so maybe the ending's not that happy.)

The Heartbreak Of Starfioriasis

By Doctor Blockade Boy, M.D.

Starfioriasis is a fungal infection of the skin. In its advanced state, it causes the victim's skin to turn green, with darker, fist-sized lesions. Unlike the viral disease "Shingles" a.k.a. "Herpes Zoster", which affects only one side of the sufferer's body, Starfioriasis affects limbs on alternating sides. It will spread to cover the entire trunk of its victim with one odd exception. For reasons as yet unknown to medical science, it leaves a large, oval-shaped patch of unaffected skin in the center of the chest.



Starfioriasis is rampant on many alien worlds where hygienic conditions are not commonplace. The average Starfioriasis victim is female, between eighteen and twenty-four years of age, tall, slim, and has a great rack. Concubines-turned-rebel-warlords are particularly susceptible.

Currently, there is no medical treatment for victims of Starfioriasis. It is not fatal; nor is it permanently scarring. In fact, it will often spontaneously vanish, leaving no trace that it was ever there at all. Until then, infected persons are advised to make themselves comfortable by wearing as little clothing as their modesty will allow. Ideally, they should run around bare-ass naked. Exercise is highly recommended, including running, jumping up and down in place, and chopping one's enemies' heads off with a sword. When sitting, it's best to do so on a fur-strewn castle floor or a massive, ornate bed surrounded by gauzy curtains. For maximum comfort, it's suggested that the Starfioriasis victim spread his or her legs as far apart as humanly possible, or crouch on all fours and glance backwards with a friendly, inquisitive expression. Patients are typically put on a strict diet of bananas and corndogs. They are instructed to eat these very slowly.


(Many thanks to Walaka for pointing out the goofy costume of Starfire's boyfriend Dagan to me, thus giving me the idea to tackle Starfire's awful get-up. Check out his dissection of Dagan's duds on his blog. Two words: stovepipe fez. Haw!)

Post-Traumatic Banner Disorder

I'm not kidding. That's me, right behind him, there! I think I look very handsome and rugged, in a "Moose" from Archie Comics kinda way. I know... you're wondering, "What happened to your sweet-ass goatee and muttonchops?" *sigh* Long story.

Cool cat Tom Foss has links to even more Civil War parody banners on his blog.

Pimp My Briefcase

When Denny O'Neil wrote this book, they could have used this same cover but replaced the gauntlet with a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Must... save... booooozzze...!"

The one thing about Iron Man that really strained my suspension of disbelief was that darn briefcase. I just couldn't buy that Iron Man could cram his entire suit of armor inside the thing! Powerful rockets and pop-out roller skates on the bottom of the boots? Sure, why not? A device on the palm of the glove that can blast through a brick wall and yet doesn't tear Iron Man's arm off with the recoil? If you say so, man... whatever. Just don't try to tell me that a man-size suit of armor that's able to withstand the impact of a bazooka shell is collapsible and can fit inside a briefcase. His name is Tony Stark, not George Jetson. Yeah, yeah, I know there've been countless nerdy schematics drawn up to try and support this crazy idea. "But the armor is really flexible!" the nerds squeak, pathetically. "It's like chainmail!" Yeah, not buyin' it.

On the cover to "Iron Man" #118 (January 1979), artist Bob Layton makes it appear that Tony Stark was already wearing the chest plate under his clothes, like he used to do in the Olden Times when he needed it to keep his heart from going kablooey. I like that idea... because it frees up more space in the briefcase! Not sure what that would do to the fit of his crisp designer suits, though. He'd have to wear big baggy shirts and jackets all the time. Like the Beyonder! (Ew.) And inside the comic, where Layton is finishing John Byrne's layouts, the actual scene is a bit different:



Do you believe that his entire suit of armor fit inside that dinky little briefcase? Well, good for you, because I sure as hell don't. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.

So let's forget about the armor. What else do you think he managed to stuff in that briefcase? I'll start!

1. Fully-stocked sushi bar
2. Pint-sized homunculus valet, packed in dry ice
3. Hot tub!
4. Go-kart
5. Crystal chandelier
6. Pipe organ
7. Wig, mink coat, and one-of-a-kind Bob Mackie gown, for special "undercover" missions
8. A complete Sentinel robot. Just because he can.
9. One of the islands in the West Indies; I forget which one
10. His soul

Your turn!

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."

Gown Syndrome

In "The Incredible Hulk" #262 (August, 1981) Bruce Banner washes up on a Malibu beach, clad only in his trademark tattered purple slacks. He's resuscitated by a gorgeous, pigment-free woman in an evening gown, mink stole, and opera gloves. Then he passes out again. When he returns to consciousness...



So basically, it's implied that the mysterious woman took Bruce Banner's measurements while he was passed out! "Dang it, I'll have to measure that tricky inseam again! Well, the eleventh time should be the charm! Tee hee!"

Do you think Bruce was disappointed that the pants weren't purple? I can just see him having a flop-sweating, forearm-scratching, junkie-like reaction to all that white. "Um, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you saved my life 'n' all, but... are you sure you don't have any "Rit" dye around here anywhere? Or even some food coloring?" And then he'd wind up hunched over in a corner of the house, rocking himself back and forth, muttering, "No purple, no purple...!"



Glazier is my favorite Hulk villain because she wears a gown and opera gloves -- and she does it pretty much all the time. I think all the best Hulk villains wear gowns. The Leader, the Abomination, General "Thunderbolt" Ross... what?! Well, I didn't say they wore gowns on panel. Anyway, Glazier's homelife is like my daydreams. She lives in a beautiful home on the beach, she's always attired in expensive garments, and she's surrounded 24/7 by men, men, men! She also has a big white dog named "Snowstar" -- a moniker that makes me suspect the canine is either a frequenter of internet bulletin boards or a tertiary X-Men character. Or a coke dealer.

Now, about those "lifelike" statues of men... have you guessed what the "big twist" climax of the story will be? (I guess I kinda halfway spoiled it by saying she was a villain.) If you haven't figured it out yet, consult your Big Book Of Fantasy Plot Cliches. Or any book on Greek mythology. But I digress. Bruce shacks up with this woman for a whole month, until this happens:



Oh, dear. Well, now we know why she wears the opera gloves all the time. Bitch needs to moisturize! In a roundabout way, that also explains why she wears the evening gowns. I mean, what else goes with opera gloves? Opera gloves minus evening gown plus any other type of clothing equals? Miss Piggy.

By The Way, You're Welcome

I'm baaa-aack! (Whee! I'm a hacker!) I just wanted to stop by and rub some of my incredible success in Blockade Boy's sullen, slab-like face. Time for a fun fact! We all know that Blockade Boy is a lumbering, musclebound drama queen with a vicious tongue and no discernable talent at fashion design. But! Did you also realize that he has never seen one of his superhero costume redesigns all the way through? Even on the rare occasions when he sells one, like he did to that nutjob, the Black Condor, he manages to throw a tantrum and quit at the last minute before he's even done sewing it! Hee! What a loser!

Now, I, on the other hand? I've redesigned simply scads of superhero costumes -- ones you've seen in comics for, oh, years, now! You just didn't know it yet! Say, let's look at one that should be fresh in all your minds! Here's the original:



Bleh. Boring. I selected this panel because it was drawn by Scott Kolins. Don't you just adore Scott Kolins? I know I do! He makes everything he draws look like it came off the box to an Intellivision cartridge. And that is, like, my whole aesthetic! Anyway? You can see how simple and unadorned everything is. I think I just fell asleep just thinking about it! In fact, I'm sure I did, because there's suddenly a really rank taste in my mouth, and one of my eyes is crusted shut. Now! Let's take a look at how I improved it!



See what I did there? That was the main problem with the old Nova costume... it wasn't pointy enough! Now everything on it is pointy! I even made the little four-pointed star thingamajig on the mask pointier! And that took some creativity because it was plenty pointy enough already, believe you me! I like how it makes him look like he has a bird beak now. Also? I instructed him to scream a lot. I wanted to make sure that even if somebody just saw him in their peripheral vision, they could tell he was pissed. 'Cause he's a badass! 'Cause he's pointy! The other thing I did was to install those little disc-shaped "Tap Lights" all over his costume. You know the ones I mean. They have commercials for them all the time, and they're only like $2.99 each. It's a real cheap way to spruce up any costume! The only bad part is you have to keep tapping them to keep them activated, so if you have a lot of them it makes it look like you're doing the Macarena.

Well, I'm off! For now! (Hee!) I understand the Blackhawks could use some new costumes. Not to worry, fellas! Storm Boy is on the case!

Doomstruck

Okay, forget the dumb ol' patches. There's just so much more fashion fun to be had within the pages of "The Doom Patrol." For example, the colorist sometimes liked to "mistakenly" make the white portion of Elasti-Girl's costume flesh-toned instead of white. Which made her look like Vampirella's perky cheerleader sister.



Doom Patrol also had what I think was the most irritating case of artistic license ever: Negative Man's bandages.



I chose that panel expecially for Dorian. Anyway, the way they drew him has always bugged the living bejeebus out of me and I guess it'll continue to do so, since they've gone back to drawing him like this.

You can see his face in excruciating detail through the gauze. I defy anybody to fanwank this into anything even close to being logical. "Really thin gauze," you say? Well, for one thing, the gauze is meant to contain Negative Man's awesomely deadly radiation, so I have trouble believing it would let light pass through it. And anyway, why can't you see his ears? Are they like, really really really radioactive, so they have extra layers or sumpin'? And for Pete's sake, you can even see the inside of his mouth!



Must... not make... Cialis joke...

Aw, look at this! Major Matt Mason is dressed as a salt shaker for the school play!



Y'know, if my choices were either missing out on the transcendent wonder of exploring the moon or looking like that? I'd stay inside the space capsule and hope somebody brought along an InStyle Magazine I could read.

I'll leave you with your ultimate Doom Patrol masturbation nightmare. Ta!

What The World Needs Now Is Embroidered Cloth Patches

From "Doom Patrol" #123 (March/April 1973):


I presume this is the sort of thing the average comics fan of 1973 would wear... on his or her bongwater-soaked jean jacket, of course. A few random points:

1. The advertiser certainly tried to cover a wide demographic base, by including both a "Black Is Beautiful" emblem and the Confederate battle flag. They're the Switzerland of embroidered cloth patch distributors!
2. Does the "Help! I need lovin'" patch actually work? Yes, but only if the other person is "Budweiser Powered."
3. I count no less than five peace symbols and one specifically anti-war slogan among the patches. And yet the world is still wracked by military conflict. Obviously, the damn patches are defective. I want my money back.
4. It was 1973 and they were still selling Woodstock patches. What, had they run out of patches commemorating the 1893 Chicago World's Fair? Also, where's my Altamont patch?
5. I'm tickled by the notion that somebody wearing the "pollution" skull-and-crossbones patch would probably get their heads dunked in the High School boy's room toilets by somebody wearing the regular skull-and-crossbones patch.

The Country Louse And The City Louse

"Ghost Riders Crossroads" #1 (of one, thank God -- November, 1995) pits the wheelie-poppin' duo against a pair of lame 90's style bad guys. Here's the first one:



Who knew the inner monologue of a serial killer with a potato sack on his head could be so boring? Not to mention, cloyingly cute? And precisely how "moist" can wet metal be, anyway? And which credited writer can I track down and punch in the nads over this? Howard Mackie for "story" or Ivan Velez, Jr. for "script"?

Ah, but I'm supposed to be talking about fashion! The Scarecrow's costume has one "hook" for me, and that's the jack o'lantern mouth on the cowl. It's fairly unique and I'd even go so far as to say it's the one iconic thing about him. The rope around the neck? Boring and impractical. Why walk around wearing something that could be used to instantly kill you? He might as well wear a huge guillotine that he has to drag around everywhere. Or a poncho made of a drift net entangled with jellyfish and medical waste. Hey, Scarecrow, I've designed some shoes where your toes fit between sharp spikes that have been coated with cobra venom; maybe you'd like to wear those.

The rest of his outfit? Instantly forgettable. The color scheme is ugly and bland. It could have been perked up by some patches in a brighter color or a more interesting pattern, but nope. Failing that, the costume could have been saved by making the overall silhouette more eye-catching. Again, no. Hell, at least Jonathan Crane had the good sense to wear a hat.

Here's some dialog from the next page: "His voice... like ground glass against tender skin... making me afraid. No. That's not right. He should be the frightened one. I'm the Scarecrow. I eat fear."

No, you suck balls.

The other villain in "Ghost Riders Crossroads" is Mephisto's son, Blackheart. (And boy, does he ever get some ripe Kelsey Grammaresque dialog! It's like the baby from "Family Guy" minus the intentional stabs at humor.)



Lookin' good, Blackheart! Been workin' out? It suits you! It helps to make up for the fact that you barely have a face to speak of, are completely lacking genitalia, and have a long, prehensile tail. (Like a lot of the guys I meet at the gym!) Still, I wonder what you'd look like with a makeover. Trim up the spines a little bit, get you in a tailored suit with some nice Italian shoes...



Oh, for--! That's a twelve hundred dollar Baroni Uomo suit and you just put your quills right through it! Didn't we talk about getting those things waxed? And where is the tie I bought you? And your hair--! That is not the length I requested. What do you mean, "second thoughts?" You know what? Forget you. I don't need this. You don't want to take my advice? Fine. You look like a licorice Johnny Depp. Congratulations.



Um. Heh. Kidding! You know me and my wacky sense of humor! You look great, honest!

Please, don't kill me.

My Most Daring Fashion Intervention Yet

"New barber?" "Short?" Who on God's green earth could that sniper be referring to?

This is from "Wolverine and the Punisher" #2 (November 1993). Way-out artistic interpretation of Wolverine by Gary Erskine.

So the mutant healing factor provides no defense against bad hair days, huh? If Wolverine was a real person -- and haven't we all masturbated about that? -- I suppose this is how his hair would be. Greasy, tangled, and reeking of cigar smoke. None of those achingly dated "animal ear" points. (Wolverine won a Timberwolf Scholarship to the Cain And Abel School of Cosmetology!)

But seriously... Wolvie! Er, may I call you Wolvie? No? Fine. And please move your claws away from my jugular vein. Many thanks. Seriously, Mister Wolverine, you're a mess. Run a brush through that rat's nest and apply some product. Or at least tie it back in a ponytail -- I'm pretty sure I've seen you do that before. And stop slouching! It looks like you have a hump. And about your clothes -- when you're short and stocky, loose-fitting clothes are a huge no-no. They make you look a good fifty pounds heavier. Look at yourself here. You look fat! You're not fat. You've got washboard abs, for Pete's sake! Not that you can tell in this little ensemble. And the whole "civilian clothes over superhero costume" thing just ain't workin'. Not when you can see the costume poking out. You don't see painters wearing tanktops over their coveralls, do ya? Or Marines wearing cut-off jeans over their crisply pressed dress trousers. I know you know this. It's like you're just stumbling around in a daze here. SNAP OUT OF IT!

Yeah, that and the hair.

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.)

One Size Fits Small

Ah, the X-Men school uniform: the Yugo of superhero costumes! Plain, ill-fitting, and offered with your choice of alarmingly pointy mask or skull-pinching cowl, the standard X-Men uniform can instantly frumpify any hero! Even fruit-striped babe Marionette, noseless faux-Klingon Acroyear, pistachio-skinned Tourette's sufferer Bug, fairyland hottie Fireflyte, ass-kicking lump o' carrotcake dough Huntarr, and... well, Commander Rann was kind of a pill to start with, so he doesn't really count.

The above panel can be found in "The X-Men And The Micronauts" #2 (February, 1984), written by Chris Claremont and Bill Mantlo with pencils by Butch Guice and inks by Bob Wiacek and Kelley Jones. Remember when Guice used to draw like that? Kinda chunkier, with a lot more bounce and verve, and not so stiffly realistic and dependant on photo reference? *sigh* I miss Chunk-style Guice. I mean, I can understand if he doesn't want to draw like that anymore, but I don't find his current style to be an improvement. The characters look rigid and awkward and a bit splintery, like they're constructed out of something that at any second could snap apart and embed itself in my eye. And the faces are usually dour and glum and lifeless, like the people are all posing for a passport photo that never gets taken. Bleh. Come back to us, Chunk-style!

Anyway, this comic has a crazy amount of mental/spiritual possession going on -- even for a Claremont book! The Micronauts are mentally enslaved by that Entity guy, and the Entity guy has taken over Professor X, plus the issue starts with one of Claremont's patented nightmare sequences, in which Bug gets transformed against his will into an actual bug and Marionette is made to dance around like an actual marionette. It's so obvious; why didn't anybody think of that before? Oh yeah. Because it's obvious. Effing Claremont. (Get well soon! My thoughts and prayers go out to you! Just don't ever write any more comics, ever, ever again, okay? Thanks.) But here's the cherry on Claremont's Infinitely Rehashed Plot Sundae:



Baron Karza in Kitty Pryde's body. I know what you're thinkin'. And it means you're going straight to Hell. See you there!

This is from Kitty's "Ariel" phase, between her "Sprite" and "Shadowcat" identities. I remembered it as being somewhat unattractive. Imagine my astonishment to reread this comic after twenty-odd years and to discover that it is, in fact, a complete eyesore. The fit: baggy. The color scheme: lime and cantaloupe. And the facepaint! Ye gods! Thank God Kitty was on a team that went out on missions instead of doing on-the-spot emergency work like Spider-Man. ("Somebody help! The 1st National Bank is being robbed!" "This sounds like a job for... Ariel! In about half an hour, which should allow me to find a women's bathroom that doesn't have a huge line in front of the door and to get my face made up just exactly right... y'know what, better make that forty-five minutes... everybody just stay where they are, alrighty? I'll see you again in about forty-five minutes... or maybe an hour. Just to be safe.")

And now, a Valentine's Day message from Hannibal Lecter.

I Wear Green And Purple And A Punctuation Mark. Who Am I?

Guess who that guy is. Yup! It's the Riddler! Believe it or not. This image is from "Detective Comics Annual" #8 (1995) by Chuck Dixon and Kieron Dwyer. It's the story that made me love the Riddler. Which was a feat tantamount to sending a manned spacecraft to Pluto, since before I'd always hated the guy. Dixon and Dwyer managed to make the querying l'il irritant sympathetic with this origin story, which chronicles the Riddler's arduous journey from the small time to the big leagues. And it's reflected perfectly in his costumes.

That was his first attempt at a costume, up there. I love the stocking cap. So low-rent, it's kinda charming. And the question mark was painted on. Beautiful. It puts me in mind of the DIY badguys in Bob Burden's comics. It looks like any second now, Bondo-Man or Jumpin' Jehosaphat is going to plow into him and beat him senseless.

The Riddler tried a little harder for his next job.



Here we have the introduction of purple into the Riddler's costume. And how 'bout those accessories? He's bolstered his confidence with not one, but two phallic symbols! (And he then touches the tips of them together. I don't think Freud had a chapter on that one.) But white for the question mark? Oh, honey, no.

And now a little sumpin' for the breeders!



The Riddler's costume here -- *ahem!* Eyes to the center of the panel, buster! I'll get to the Skanks of Prey in just a sec. Anyhow, this is the first version of the costume that most folks associate with the Riddler. Thanks to the old TV show, natch. Although I'm pretty sure that one didn't have a big leather belt holding up the tights. Not seen in this panel: black boots with really thick soles. And you just know those gloves are Playtex. Like I said, first attempt. But the crudity of it all is almost sweet. If you're wondering about why the Riddler's nose looks so odd in this panel, it's because it's bandaged. Because it keeps getting broken, because the Riddler keeps mouthing off to brawny thugs and they keep punching him in the face. Example dialog from the previous page:

Denglar (brawny thug): The police will be on to us like stink on fish.
Riddler: Well, Denglar, I've got a riddle for you. How do you keep an idiot waiting?
Denglar: I dunno.
Riddler: I'll tell you later.

And then Denglar punches the Riddler in the face.

Still, I never cared much for this outfit, especially in its refined, unitard version. Maybe because it was almost too theatrical -- and I know it appeared in comics first, but it really seems to me like the product of somebody who never read comics, and it was their idea of a SUPER! (in a Big Gay Al voice) costume.

Oooohhhkay. How 'bout those floozies, fellas? The one on the left needs to unbuckle a couple of things, because they're cutting off the blood supply to her head. Nice heart-shaped earrings, by the way. This is what the Care Bears cartoon would have been like, if it had been produced by Vince McMahon. Also, check out the spiked thigh-band or whatever that thing's supposed to be. She'll puncture a vital artery if she puts her thighs too close together -- like that's ever going to happen! Nice Devo sunglasses on the other gal. Either that, or somebody pulled an "X-23" with Cyclops' DNA.

I tried to picture what these ladies would look like if they'd been drawn by Dick Sprang. It gave me a tummy ache.



YEAH, BOY! There's the Riddler I love! Finally, a dapper, dandyish look to go with the cocky attitude! And so generous! When he was at the haberdashers and they gave him his bowler hat, he said, "Y'know what? I'd like to buy a round of bowler hats for the house! Bowler hats for everybody!" And then the place went apeshit.

It's a great look for the guy. Very crisp, very polished, and it's all about creating an impression -- right down to the painstakingly pomaded hair with a single loose forelock for a bit of boyish charm. (It worked for Superman and it works for the Riddler.)

His hench-gals still look like whores, but hey, whatever works for them.

Moral Realignment Challenge: The Elongated Man And Doctor Light

The above image and the following "next issue" blurb can be found on the letters page of "Doctor Light" #128 (April, 1981) which was published on Earth 3.1:

NEXT MONTH: Why is DOCTOR LIGHT'S glamorous girlfriend, SUE DEARBON: GIRL P.I. being shadowed by that gruesome sideshow performer-turned-criminal, the eerie ELONGATED MAN? The Knight of Light and the Socialite Sleuth have only 24 hours to find the answer, and their only clue is... a horoscope? Don't miss "Identity: Pisces" by Paul Kupperberg, Jose Delbo, and Frank Chiaramonte!

If you're wondering just what the hell is going on, this is the first of my "moral realignment" costume design challenges, in which I reinterpret a comic book hero's costume for a villainous role, and vice-versa. Initially I was going to do just one costume at a time, but I decided it would be more fun to do them in opposing pairs. Let's look at the originals:



For the heroic version of Doctor Light, I ditched the fin on his head and recut the cowl so it could expose a youthful head of hair. And though it pained me, I shaved off his dapper goatee. I mean, I'm partial to facial hair but I know that for a classically styled superhero, it's almost never done. The classic comic book cliche is that beard=evil. So it had to go. I redesigned his costume to show more white and I replaced the black with a friendly Supermannish sky blue. I simplified the starburst logo, which incidentally made it look like the Marvel "Captain Marvel" logo -- not on purpose but I thought it was a cool tie-in so I kept it. And I got rid of the cape in favor of those shoulder patches I like so much.

For the villainous version of the Elongated Man, I almost gave him Doctor Light's old fin, but it made him look too much like one of those lame Golden Age Marvel heroes. They were always fighting crime with their faces completely exposed and a big dorky fin on their heads. So I went the Lex Luthor route and made him bald. And I gave him a goatee! Because facial hair is comic book shorthand for menace. (Pfft. Whatever.) Leaving the head bare, I was inspired to go with the 70's variation on his costume, which had a bare chest. For the rest of the costume, I reversed the red and black, made the yellow trim zig-zag (kinda like Silver Age Marvel, I have to admit) and raised the border on the plunging neckline into a jagged, flared collar. Very 70's Dave Cockrum, very Nightcrawleresque. Finally, I replaced the blank oval on his belt with the Mask of Tragedy to reflect my vision of him as a shape-changing former sideshow act.

And true to comic book form, the good Doctor Light is handsome and the bad Elongated Man is... not.

I'll have another one of these in a week or so: the Flash and Murmur (of all people! But I think I found an interesting take on him).

What reversed hero/villain pairs would you like to see?

I Always Suspected As Much

Two of my greatest suspicions have been confirmed.
1. I couldn't possibly be the only person who wears undergarments with his own face on them.
2. Wolverine is smoother than a Ken doll!

Jeebus, dude, who talked you into getting your chest waxed? Because that person was not your friend.

Anyway, the weird shapelessness of Wolverine's crotchal region inspired me to pen this one-act play:

Horny Ninja Alien Princesses 38

Cast:
Wolverine: Himself
Princess Nil'ja'dri'mor: Dame Judi Dench

Setting: the sumptuously appointed stateroom of Princess Nil'ja'dri'mor, aboard her living space-yacht, the Aetherrunner. The Princess and Wolverine enter, passionately kissing, and make their way towards her bed, slamming into walls and knocking things off tables as they go.

Princess: Tomorrow we fight what may well be our final battle against the Sl'wev'ghr in the heart of the B'mil'hov'nor Galaxy! But tonight... we love!

Wolverine: Daddy needs some candy, baby! Let's do this thang!

Princess (uses her fantastic alien strength to rip Wolverine's belt off, and then starts to pull down his tights): Let's get you out of these dumb ol' clothes! Tee hee!

Wolverine (pulls back): Whoa! Whoa! Er, doesn't it seem kind of bright in here? It's kinda ruining the mood.

Princess: Oh, you want the lights out?

Wolverine (grins devilishly): The Wolverine only comes out at night, baby! Grrrowff!

Princess: Anything for you, my regal warrior.

(She claps her hands twice and the lights go out. The pair are illuminated only by the faint glow of swiftly passing stars.)

Wolverine: Phew! (nervously fans self with his hands) Omigod that was so scary!

Princess: What?

Wolverine: Just talking to myself. Because I'm crazy! I slice men into ribbons with my sweet-ass claws 'cause I'm mean-mad with the bloodlust! I'M WOLVERINE, BABY!!! AAAARRROOOOOO!!!

Princess: Take me, you hairy alien lunatic! Take me now! The Princess commands you! (She pulls down his tights, and finds a pair of Hanes boxers underneath with Wolverine's image on them.) Okay. Weird. Well, off they go, too!

Wolverine (grabs her arms): Not so fast there, slick. That porthole over there... don't you have some draperies or something we can cover that up with? I really need for it to be totally dark in here. I can't explain why but it's just very important to me.

Princess: No, no draperies. Quit stalling! Your Princess wants some of that strange Earth lovin'!

Wolverine: Hey, look! There's an armoire right next to it! If we each took one side, we could move it in front of the porthole and voila! Problem solved! Or maybe we could use that extra sheet over there as a sort of impromptu window treatment... (he begins to flop-sweat)

Princess: Relax, lover! Nobody can see us here! (she yanks down the boxers) Now, I'm going to show you pleasure like you've -- huh. Ha! HAW HAW HAW! You have got to be freaking kidding me! It's like a little Vienna sausage! Oh, lordy! Wait'll I tell my handmaidens about-- (Wolverine disembowels her)

(curtain falls)