Bonus Post: My New Swim Trunks are No Merry Marvel

Next week's post will be on Tuesday instead of Monday, so I'm giving you all an extra, early post this week. After all, it's the polite thing to do.

Don't you just hate it when this sort of thing happens?

Still confused? It's a long story, but here goes. Remember when I said Weight Wizard had faked his death again? Well, I tracked him down to the space spa on the light side of the moon, where he'd finagled a job operating the cellular trim ray. His name tag said "Lorenzo LaFontaine" but I could tell it was him, even behind the eyepatch and the cheesy fake mustache. Well, the first thing I did was to rip that mustache right off his face, and that's when I saw that it wasn't fake, and after he stopped screaming and we got most of the blood sopped up, I hustled his sorry ass out of there and we had a man-on-top-of-man talk. Weight Wizard confessed that he'd faked his death this time not because he had fallen out of love with me, but because he'd developed a hopeless shopping addiction and he was up to his eyeballs in debt. (I'd wondered how he'd been able to afford all the crap he was always hauling back to our swing-a-delic pad, like the fossilized brain-globe and the radio-controlled saucer made of real spectrium and the kangobronc-skin pants and the android replica of Noel Coward. Turns out he couldn't!)

Since the sweet l'il degenerate couldn't help himself, I forcibly enrolled him into a five-step program. I suppose I should explain here that the decisive disproval of the existance of God back in 2737 (Haw! Eat it, Immanuel Kant! Also, I suppose I should have prefaced this with a "spoiler alert.") knocked seven steps out of most addiction-recovery programs. It's a real time-saver! The only downside is that when you die, you're swallowed by a black nothingness. I hope you're all okay with that. Aaannyway, on one of my conjugal visits to the treatment center, Weight Wizard gave me these really cool-looking swimtrunks he'd made for me in metal shop. They're based on a costume I had designed for Lightning Lad (but which he was too chickenshit to wear) and they had this nifty gold-plated codpiece deal. They were pretty snazzy, and they fit like a glove.

So I decided to show off my new togs down at ritzy California Island (located some ways off the coast of Nevada) and I don't mind telling you I was getting a lot of envious looks! Sure, I had to wear a shirt because I'm prohibited by Presidential decree from entering the water with a bare torso -- all the back hair I shed when I swim forms this Sargasso-Sea-like mass and it traps dolphins and sea turtles, not to mention the occasional Olympic swimmer -- but I still cut a fine figure if I do say so myself. I was having a space whale of a time flirting with this brutally handsome lifeguard when suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, a ginormous lightning bolt zapped me right in the crotch! YEEOW!!! Not only did it sting like a mo-fo, but it seared my junk clean off!

You heard me.

Luckily, like all the men of my home planet of Amadus, testosterone is generated by pretty much every cell of my body. So I'm as manly and hairy as ever. More so, actually, since my body's overcompensating for the loss of my "stuff." Anyhow, at the hospital they fitted me with a hydraulic prosthesis. It's cutting-edge technology, studded with vacuum tubes, and you can program its action with a punch card, and to get it started you just pull a little lever on the side, like on a slot machine. Oh, and I can't forget to replenish the oil reservoir every three hours or so, or else it starts smoking like a son of a bitch. Still, I'm a little bummed about having a robotic dingus. I mean, first my pinky toe and now this! Sizzling comets, at this rate I'll wind up looking like Tharok before I'm thirty!

Now, where was I--? Ah, yes. My hospital visit. While the brawny physician's assistant was spending a suspiciously long amount of time adjusting my prosthesis, the doctor held up a still-smoldering scrap of metal from the trunks' codpiece and said, "Why in space would a smart young man like you go to the beach with duralim swim trunks?"

I believe my exact reply was something along the lines of "You have got to f***ing kidding me."

I don't know why Weight Wizard acts out like this. It's like he wants me to be filled with rage. Or maybe he's still harboring some resentment about my putting him in that program, or maybe he's bitter because he'll never be able to grow another mustache, ever, ever again. Yeah, probably that last thing. Well, the two of us are going to have another "talk" when I see him again -- a good, long, painful, debilitating "talk." (I'll let you all know if there's anything left of him.)

Next Tuesday: Gender Reassignment Challenge: Mantis!

Moral Realignment Challenge: Wonder Girl and Mammoth

The Moral Realignment Challenge has me imagining how good characters might look if they were evil and vice-versa. Right now I'm working with the Teen Titans and the Fearful Five. This time around it's Wonder Girl's and Mammoth's turns.

So here's another glimpse into the topsy-turvy world of Earth-AAA, where the valiant Fearless Five is locked in a never-ending struggle against the perfidious Teen Tyrants!


From previews of DC comics shipping November 8, 2005, on the "Newsapalooza" website:

The Wonder Girl Loves Mammoth Sadie Hawkins Day Special #1

Written by Bob Kane, Bob Haney, Marv Wolfman, Mike Barr and John Ostrnader.
Art by Dick Sprang, Win Mortimer, Nick Cardy, George Perez, Romeo Tanghal and Jim Aparo, Luke McDonnell and Karl Kesel.
Cover by John Romita Sr.

From the DC archives comes this collection of stories featuring everyone's favorite Fiver and the Tyrant who loves him! Features their first meeting in the now-classic "The Amazon Outlaws of Paradise Ranch!" from Blockbuster #97 (1956). Plus many important turning points in their lengthy (if one-sided) relationship, including "The Day Mammoth Betrayed Blockbuster" from Explosive Comics #325 (1964), "The Way-Out Wedding Crimes of Wonder Girl" from Fearless Five #16 (1968), the two-part "Love Hunt" from New Fearless Five #37 and Blockbuster & the Insiders #5 (1983) and "Tender Trap" from Homicide Squad #32 (1989).

On sale November 8 * 120 pg, FC, $7.99 US

Good Mammoth looks younger and handsomer than his villainous counterpart. An elephantine gray replaces the black in his color scheme, and the vaguely S&M straps and studs are gone. After all, what right-minded individual would put a superhero in a gimp suit, Mister Bendis? I designed a stylized "M" symbol for him that looks like a mammoth's head, and put tusk-like curlicues on his mask. His great shock of strawberry blonde hair is meant to evoke the fur atop a mammoth's head, and I think it just begs to be tousled. The long gray boots and gloves are remeniscent of an elephant's legs. He's relatively hairless because that's just how it was done in those days. And yes, good Mammoth is indeed the kid sidekick to a good version of the old Batman villain, Blockbuster. Also? Mammoth and Wonder Girl = Moose and Big Ethel from Archie Comics.

I gave Evil Wonder Girl a cowgirl theme for a couple of reasons. For one, I wanted to avoid the Greek-armored, militaristic bad-ass cliche. For another, I just thought it would be fun. And finally, the lasso suggested it. Since she's bad, I replaced the white-starred blue in her original costume with plain old black. And her "W" symbol is meant to suggest a cattle brand. Not that I pulled it off at all, but I tried to make the evil Wonder Girl beefier than the good one -- not because sturdier, curvier gals are evil, but because I thought it would make her a better physical counterpart for the cartoonishly muscular Mammoth (and all his oversized... appendages.)

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Dazzler to Sundog

With the Gender Reassignment Challenge, I take a reasonably feminine costume and reimagine it for a male version of the character. This week I chose everyone's favorite 80's Disco Queen... the Dazzler! The Dazzler's comic outlived Disco -- by quite a few years, actually -- and her formerly fabulous sequined togs had to be dropped in favor of something more "rad." In between the two costumes was a long stretch where she just wore plain clothes... assuming you consider ankle warmers and off-the-shoulder sweatshirt-dresses "plain."

My He-Dazzler (and no, Scipio, I refuse to call him that) is no Disco King. As amusing as that might be, I figure Marvel would have positioned a male Dazzler (Ellison Blaire!) as a rocker. Sure, he'd be one of those ill-defined fictional rockers favored by out-of-touch, aging Baby Boomers in the early 80's. You know the type I mean -- he'd front an allegedly "Punk Rock" band, but his attire would be mostly Glam, Funk, and Alice Cooper/KISS face-paintin' metal. But he'd wear bracelets with spikes on them! Certainly that would be "Punk," right, you granola-chugging, social-security-gobbling dinosaurs?

Here's Dazzler in her original outfit:

And here's the "edgy" "hard core" "bad-ass" version... Sundog!

Why "Sundog?" Because "Dazzler" just isn't ROCK 'N' ROLL!!! Also, it gives me the excuse to change Dazzler's goofy facepaint butterfly into something more like Peter Criss (or Eric Carr) might wear. I changed the one-piece into a tailored vest and slacks with no shirt. It's very Glam Rock. And/or Chippendales. The disco ball pendant is now a sun pendant, and the rollerskate boots are now stylized boots with teeth on the bottom. And he has Ozzy Osbourne's hair. Now, this is a guy who might debut in a gender-reversed "X-Men" comic, at a rock concert attended by She-clops, Wolverina, and Colossess.

Six issues before her book's cancellation, Dazzler got a snappier, more superhero-y costume, with assymetry gone berserk and, apparently, Supergirl's old headband.

Sundog's version would reflect, and maybe even foretell, metal trends of the 80's... and 90's!

The headband is a bandana, worn low over the eyes, a la Male Pattern Baldness-Era Axel Rose. Not that Sundog has any such problem, natch. The Aztec-style sun symbol from his pendant is now writ large on his chest. And on one of his calves, for reasons unknown even to myself. Except Dazzler did it. Most importantly, the assymetrically exposed skin is now hankerchiefs, and plenty of 'em! That's a very 80's rock thing to do. Hey, it was either that or Swatches. And Swatches were waning in popularity at that point. I think. Aw, what the hell do I know, I live in a glorious future paradise that you primitive losers can't even begin to comprehend! Oh, I'm sorry. I'm lashing out again. It's just that Weight Wizard and I had another fight, and I think he's broken up with me because he faked his own death again. That's always a warning sign, right? Anyway, enjoy the costumes!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

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

Next week: Moral Realignment Challenge: Wonder Girl and Mammoth!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Snowbird to Snowbeast

I was going to tackle this challenge last year (your time) but I put it off. Not because it was too hard, but because it seemed too easy! After all, Snowbird's costume is barely more feminine than, say, Dove's -- er, the first Dove's, I mean. The only girly elements are the color scheme and the ubiquitous Marvel Tiara. That damned tiara! Who knew the Scarlet Witch would be such a trendsetter? And of course it has a freaking cameo or some shit set smack-dab in the center of it. That meaningless little piece of bling is the element Storm added to the template. So yes, I suppose it's a challenge to try and incorporate the Marvel Tiara into a masculine design without repeating myself. But the rest of the costume is strictly generic superhero. I finally realized I could up the challenge factor by trying to hew more closely to my chosen name for Snowbirdboy: Snowbeast. How could I change the theme from birds to beasts and still keep the basic lines of the costume? Well, I think I came up with a happy solution.

Here's the Snowbird everybody knows and loves:

And here's Snowbeast, rough-and-tumble Canuck drinking buddy and all-around flamboyant dresser:

See what I did with the tiara? I turned it into hair! I initially had Snowbeast's chin and upper lip totally hairless, but then he really looked like Lion-O. I changed the oval jewel/cameo/lozenge/thingie into a rocky crystal. No wonder he's grimacing! You try maintaining a sunny disposition with a freaking New Age crystal embedded in your skull. Also, he just realized he's standing in a puddle of Kool-Aid and now his socks are all squishy. Back to the crystal... I moved it further down on his head, Adam Warlock-style. It's butcher that way. No, I can't explain why. Just trust me on this, okay? Sheesh! I pushed the sky blue of the original costume towards a grayer, storm-cloud blue, and I roughed up the feathery, scalloped edges of the cape, gloves, and boots into Marvel-esque Byrne Tatters. But then I screwed that up with an ill-advised inking job. D'oh! And I did a Timber Wolf thing with the chest. Not bad... eh? (See what I just did there?)

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

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

Next week: another Gender Reassignment Challenge, this time with Dazzler! (Her first two costumes!)

Moral Realignment Challenge: Nightwing and Gizmo

In the moral realignment challenge, I imagine how a hero would dress if he were a villain, and vice-versa. Way, way back on July 10th, Big Head Boy suggested I morally realign the Teen Titans and the Fearsome Five, "80s STYLE!!!" It took me over seven months, but I'm finally ready to meet him halfway! How's that for commitment? I'll do entries for every member of the Fearsome Five -- which is way more than five, by the way -- and an equal number of opposing Titans. I just would rather not do them in a 1980's style -- and especially not like the 80's era George Perez. I mean, the man is a storytelling genius and a true craftsman, but back in the 80's his costume designs were a bit... much.

So, here's an index entry from the "Fearless Fortress" website on Earth-AAA:

Best of DC (Gold Star Digest) #18 [1981]: This DC Digest contained mostly reprints of Fearless Five comics from the 60's and 70's. It also offered a full-length Gizmo solo story called "Breakup!" Written by Marv Wolfman with art by Carmine Infantino. Gizmo's romantic troubles continue as his on-again, off-again girlfriend Komand'r dumps him for Dick Grayson, a dashing aerialist. Meanwhile, Gizmo is frustrated by his inability to stop Nightwing, an owlish burlgar, from pulling off a series of highrise art thefts. Gizmo finally learns more than he bargained for about the criminal. Not only is Nightwing in reality Dick Grayson, but Dick Grayson is Gizmo's old nemesis from the Teen Tyrants: the Robin. First appearance of the Robin as Nightwing. Origin of the Robin/Nightwing. Reprinted stories: "The Fearless Five!" from "The Good & the Gallant" #54 [1964] by Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani [the team's debut], "A Royal Pain" from "Fearless Five" #17 [1968] by Bob Haney, and Nick Cardy [second appearance of the Reasonable Rocker], "Men Call Her... Eve!" from "Fearless Five" #25 (1970) by Bob Haney, Gil Kane, and Nick Cardy [first appearances of Eve Cloud and Mister Zeus], and "Wrongs Over Europe" from "Fearless Five" #46 [1977] by Bob Rozakis, Irv Novick, and Joe Giella [second appearance of the Flops, first appearance of Batman's Daughter].

...Yes, the "evil" version of Nightwing looks kind of like Batman. I already knew I wanted to go with an owl theme for him, and it worked out nicely that the horned owl's silhouette was similar to a bat's. The hard part for me was devising something that didn't look exactly like Batman's costume, and didn't look too much like Owlman's or even Nighthawk's. It probably looks most like Nightowl (from "Watchmen"). I covered the entirety of Nightwing's face to make him more menacing and ninja-like. The feather-like appendages on the sleeves are an homage to Batman's stylized gloves, but I ran Nightwing's all the way up the arms. This is partly in lieu of a cape. I've done bird-themed costumes with capes before, and I didn't want to repeat myself. Plus, I liked the way this costume looked without one.

Gizmo has traditionally been very covered up -- even his head didn't have much flesh exposed, what with the hood and the goggles and the big bushy beard. (His "Outsiders" appearances, with the goofball fu-manchu and braided goatee and the shaved head was not an improvement.) The Bizarro version of Gizmo had to be more accessible for a young audience, so I made him look more youthful. I kept the beard but I lightened it and trimmed it quite a bit. I figured he still needed goggles, but I swapped out his old ones for a style that exposes his eyes. And I adorned his formerly bald pate with a thick mop of hair. I also got rid of the character's pot belly -- which I only noticed in the recent version with the switch from a baggy jumpsuit to skintight Lycra. Honestly, Gizmo, do you know nothing about hiding your figure flaws? (If I had my 'druthers, I'd put Colossal Boy in a tasteful kurta and some genie pants. You heard me, Gim -- if I want to see a flabby man in a cowboy costume, I'll travel back to 21st-century Wichita, a-thank you very much.)

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!

Rescue Me: Commander Kraken

Greetings from the 30th century! I have good news and I have bad news. What's that? You want the bad news first? Man, are you a downer! Alrighty then. The bad news: due to time constraints (i.e. my old/new boyfriend Weight Wizard is insatiable) I have to reduce my posting to once-a-week. The good news: every post will feature a new costume redesign. I have a huge backlog but I'll get to every one I promised I would.

By the way, how do you like the new muttonchops? They're even bigger and muttonchoppier than the old ones! And the hair? It's eminently mussable. And Weight Wizard loves to muss it, believe you me! And I love the red. I decided to splurge and get myself a professional coloring job -- from Color Kid, natch. The man is an artist.

Okay, okay, enough about me. For now! Let's get down to business. Last summer (your time) I started redesigning the costumes of every supervillain ever killed by Scourge, based on my theory that they would have been spared by the vigilante and gone on to live rich, fulfilling lives, if only they'd dressed better. This week, I solve a problem called "Commander Kraken."

Kraken was a modern-day (your time) pirate. Just by definition he should have been cool and boss and rad as heck, but no dice. He was just a goober with complicated facial hair (quiet, you!) and a pathetic little three-pronged prosthetic hand. On the plus side, he also had a squid and said things like "Squeeze, my beauty -- squeeze!!" But take away the squid, and what do you get? A big, hairy, three-pronged zero.

So here's how I would have spruced him up.

You all know how much I adore historic costume -- waistcoats and thigh-length boots and tricorner hats and trapeze dresses and hoodies and such -- but that solution would have been too easy. So instead I went high-tech. The modest li'l prosthesis is gone, replaced by a way-cool robotic squid-arm with lashing tentacle action! (Insert lascivious comment from Scipio here.) Instead of pirate garb I have an ocean-themed wetsuit. I added a few traditional outlaw elements, like the Zorro mask-scarf-thing and the hair. When the Commander reappeared, in an issue of "The Cat," he had a squid-like beard, but I trimmed that down to a long, dangly biker 'stache so it wouldn't distract from the suit. Or the squid!

Looking For Love In All the Wrong Epochs

I was planning on just handing over the entire blog -- lock, stock, and password -- to Blockade Boy, but I just had to get in one last post. Because something important happened. Just a few days after I'd managed to kick one obscure thirtieth-century superhero out of my apartment, two more showed up. Their names are Weight Wizard and Plant Lad, and they're looking for Blockade Boy.

I tried to take a photo of the duo but they didn't register on my digital camera. Probably because they're from the future. Or maybe I left the lens cap on. That happens sometimes. But they were nice enough to pose for a sketch. In case you can't tell from their costumes, Weight Wizard is the scrappy little guy on the right and Plant Lad is the gangly doofus on the left.

I didn't have time to do any colors, but you can get a general idea from how they looked in the comic books. Weight Wizard is blonde, with darker facial hair -- his coloring is kind of Nordic, I guess. And Plant Lad has grass-green hair and skin the exact same color and texture as a yellow bell pepper. Weight Wizard is the cheerfully intense type -- he shook my hand way too long and he was always nodding his head and he almost never blinked. Plant Lad didn't say much and generally seemed pretty out of it. ("Never mind Plant Lad," Weight Wizard explained. "He just went through a growth cycle and now he's in a dormant period.") I made everyone coffee and we had a good long discussion about Blockade Boy and about how their still being alive jibed with what I'd read in "Adventure Comics" #344 and #345 (May and June, 1966). It was eerily like the first time I ever sat down and talkd with Blockade Boy. Here's a transcript of our conversation:

Weight Wizard: First of all, I want your readers to know -- and Blockade Boy, too -- that I'm not proud of my actions in the Super-Stalag of Space -- well, except for that last one where I was a huge hero -- remember that? I rocked, pretty much! Noble and self-sacrificing as all get-out! But the other shit -- pranking Blockade Boy into shaving off his sweet-ass muttonchops and goatee, and letting Nardo use me as a mole (among other things!)... well, I just regret that stuff like there's no tomorrow! For realsies!

[Meanwhile, Plant Lad has found my television remote and is turning the TV on and off, on and off, on and off...! Weight Wizard finally grabs the control out of Plant Lad's hand and gives it to me.]

Plant Lad [slurring his words]: I was using that...!

Weight Wizard: What did we talk about on the way here? Huh? Buddy?

Plant Lad: *mumbles*

Weight Wizard [sharply]: Louder?

Plant Lad [reciting quickly and with a sudden anger]: "That I am to be on my best behavior and to do everything you tell me to do because when I am in this state I am for all intents and purposes a crazy person and cannot be trusted with the simplest of tasks!" Phht. Whatever! Suck my stamen, dickweed. [crosses arms and slumps down on the couch.]

Weight Wizard: Aw, don't -- great, now he's sulking. Jeremy, I don't suppose you have anything for him to read...? Like a book on soil cultivation, or maybe just a seed catalog or something with a guy sticking a rhubarb up his ass?

Me: Um. Nope. Oh, how about "ESPN the Magazine"? It's gigantic, and there are a lot of pictures.

Weight Wizard: Sweet! Let's rock 'n' roll!

Me: And by "rock 'n' roll" you mean, "fetch a magazine for a mentally-unbalanced plant/human hybrid to read?"

Weight Wizard: Hell yeah!

Me: Just checking.

[While Plant Lad busied himself with systematically tearing pages out of the newest issue of "ESPN the Magazine", Weight Wizard and I continued to talk.]

Weight Wizard: Here's the dealio: after Plant Lad and I--

Me: "Dealio?" People are still saying that one thousand years from now?

Weight Wizard: Aw, hells yeah. 'Matter of fact, that's how the revised U.S. constitution reads starting around 2170: "We the people, in order to keep it real, think this is the dealio..."

Me: Yikes.

Weight Wizard: Aaaaannnyyyywwwwaaaaaaayyyyyyyy.... this is the dealio: Plant Lad and I lammed it out of the Super-Stalag of Space! But as far as we knew, Blockade Boy had been killed! Then we got lost in the Galactic Frontier for a couple of months, and by the time we made it back to civilization, we learned that Blockade Boy had survived, but was missing! I was boggled! And how'd he escape the Stalag, anyhow?

Me: Well, he just tagged along with Matter-Eater Lad when Matter-Eater Lad escaped. Matter-Eater Lad tunnelled them both out by chomping through solid rock. But then Nardo and his androids surrounded them. Nardo was gonna kill Matter-Eater Lad, but Blockade Boy jumped in front of him.

Me: Since he had turned into a steel wall, the Nardo's powers didn't harm him. But he knew nobody else there knew that, so he played dead.

Me: They just left his body there. Blockade Boy waited 'til the coast was clear and then he took off.

Weight Wizard: Heh! Blockade Boy and me, we were always on the same wavelength! I faked my death, too! Well, Plant Lad helped! And he faked his death before I did!

Plant Lad [stares at a picture of a University of Tennessee fan who is slathered in orange bodypaint]: Grampa?

Weight Wizard [loudly clears throat]: As I was saying, during one of those times when Plant Lad actually had a functioning brain, he decided the only way out of that damn camp was in a body bag! And believe you me, he put on a real show!

Plant Lad: Jose Reyes is hot. [proudly shows us a picture of the Mets shortstop, then begins tongueing it]

Weight Wizard: That's nice, buddy. [pats Plant Lad's hand]

Me: Check out Adam Timmerman on page thirty-one.

Weight Wizard: Since Plant Lad is more vegetable than man, he can regenerate damaged tissue! But Nardo wasn't aware of that! So all Plant Lad had to do was pretend he was a goner and then let Nardo's androids dump his body outside the prison walls!

Me: Well, that explains how Plant Lad faked his death. How did you fake yours?

Weight Wizard: I just told you that Plant Lad, who can turn into any plant, faked his death and escaped. That was before I went over the fence and supposedly died! Put two-and-two together, man!

Me: Oh, no freakin' way. The giant flower!

Weight Wizard [grins]: That was Plant Lad! Lucky for me, I stumbled into that swamp where he was hiding out! He dragged me inside and whispered for me to let my body go limp! Once again, the bad guys just took off and left us there!

Me: Wait a minute. So three different prisoners on three separate occasions escaped that prison camp by faking their own deaths?

Weight Wizard: Yeah... now that I think about it, it wasn't a terribly well-run prison camp. Huh.

[Just then I hear a hissing sound.]

Me: Wait a minute! Where did Plant Lad go?

Weight Wizard: I'm on it!

[He produces a small whistle from behind his ear and blows into it. No sound comes out, but we hear Plant Lad say "OW!" from the direction of the kitchenette. We run over there and find Plant Lad trying to stick one of my cat Pepper's head in his mouth. I snatch the cat away from him.]

Plant Lad [rubbing his ears]: Gah! Don't do that!

Weight Wizard [slaps Plant Lad on the forehead]: Then don't do that! [jerks his thumb in the direction of the cowering feline]

Plant Lad: I just wanted to see if it would fit.

Weight Wizard: Go back outside and sit in the time bubble. Go! And don't touch anything!

[As Plant Lad flounces out the door, Weight Wizard notices my dubious expression.]

Weight Wizard: Naw, he can't take it anywhere! I got "the Club!"

Me: Wow. The things that are going to last one thousand years--! So, how did you two know to come looking for Blockade Boy here?

Weight Wizard: I overheard that fat fuck Storm Boy bragging to Eyeful Ethel -- his government-designated "fag hag" -- about how he'd found out that Blockade Boy was doing some time-travelling and costume designing, and how he was going to do the exact same thing, "only better," quote-unquote! I did some research and soon enough I found out that Storm Boy wasn't full of hot air! For once! Blockade Boy's face and name are all over the history books. It's nuts! I found traces of this blog on a server that archeologists had recently unearthed, and that's how I knew he was spending a lot of time here!

Me: Yup.

Weight Wizard: But the two of you weren't, er, "shacking up", was he?

Me: Nope.

Weight Wizard: Because you knew we were an item. Right?

Me: Yeah. I gathered that.

Weight Wizard: And the two of you never... did anything?

Me: Uh! No. He did a lot of other people, though. But the only guy he ever talked about was you. He mentioned you a lot.

Weight Wizard: He did? Aw, man, that is-- that's great! That's really fantastic!

Me: I think he misses you.

Weight Wizard: [grunts] Yes! Yes! You just made my freakin' day, my friend! So where's he at? When's he coming back here?

Me: I don't think he is coming back here.

Weight Wizard: I don't follow...

Me: I... kind of. Um. Kicked him out.

Weight Wizard: MOTHERFUCKER!

{Weight Wizard takes a swing at me but I easily duck it because he has like these little T-Rex arms.]

Me: Screw you, Tiny! I kicked his ass out of here, I can kick your ass out of here!

Weight Wizard [a little mortified with himself]: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's just... you gotta understand, man, I just need to see him again so bad...!

Me: Right. I'm sorry, too. Anyway, I get it. You two were like "this." [I cross my index and middle fingers]

Weight Wizard: And sometimes we were like this! [He makes a different gesture with his fingers that I don't think I can properly describe]

Me: I... did not need to see that. Look. Why don't we just see if he updated the blog? ...He can do that, right? From the future?

Weight Wizard: Only one way to find out, I guess! Let's rock 'n' roll!

Me: And by "rock 'n' roll" you mean "sit in front of a computer and read a blog?"

Weight Wizard: You know it, dog!

Me: Just checking.

(...And indeed, he had. Weight Wizard and Plant Lad are headed back to the 30th century, where they're going to give a very miserable Blockade Boy a very happy surprise. And he deserves it, the big sweet lug.

This is officially the last post for me, Jeremy Rizza. But if I know Blockade Boy, he'll have a new post for you right here, on Monday.)

Boy Meets Boy, Boy Loses Interest In Boy

A funny thing happened to me on the way to ValXan's worldship. No... make that two funny things. The first thing is, the time bubble's robot navigation system suddenly piped up and droned, "HOMING FUNCTION IS ONCE AGAIN AVAILABLE." Which is great, but see, here's why it's funny: the first time I ever tried out the time bubble, the computer informed me I couldn't take it home (i.e. to my own timeline) because that specific era had been destroyed and replaced. And then that replacement timeline got destroyed and replaced, and so on, and so on. It was a real mess. So when I heard that message, my immediate thought was "Great, now the damn time bubble's going on the fritz."

The other funny thing is, while I was moving forward in time, I nearly got sideswiped by another time bubble moving backwards in time. They were going so fast I couldn't tell who was driving, except there were two of them and one had green hair. And I'm wondering who the hell in the Legion of Super-Heroes has green hair. That'd be nobody, right? Unless Princess Projectra's latest dye job went south on her. ...What, you thought that white-blonde stuff was her natural color? Bitch, puh-lease. The other possibility: Storm Boy has gone punk! (God save the queen!)

The whole ValXan deal was a bust, by the way. By the time I got there, he'd been married to that RatBat with the tattered Wonder Woman costume for like five or six years and they had a whole litter of human/RatBat hybrids scampering around, and I couldn't even interest him in a little hanky-panky on the down-low and to tell you the truth, he'd gotten kind of flabby so I wasn't even that into him anymore. So there. (I did get an offer from a male RatBat in a tattered Vibe costume and while it was tempting, at that point I was just feeling worn out. Time bubble lag, you know.)

When I climbed back into the bubble, the homing button was still lit up. So as a lark, I dialed up my own era on the tele-screen, y'know, just to take a gander at it. (That channel's been gray and murky for a couple years now.) And sure enough, there was an image of the Legion, getting their asses handed to them by a hypnotist. (Haw! Good thing he didn't have a mime and a juggler with him or else they'd be totally screwed.)

I was glad to be able to go home, finally. But at the same time, I felt like I'd been jerked around. Finding out my era was destroyed was pretty devastating. I was finally making peace with the idea. And now suddenly with no explanation my continuity is valid again? What's up with that shit?

And it turned out there were scads of Legion continuities I could choose from. There was a future one where Mon-El was called "Valor" for no good goddamn reason and everybody was dressed either like an 18th century fop or like a janitor. And there was one where all the people had these weird, taut, vaguely English faces with teensy-tiny eyes and noses and mouths, and the costumes and hair styles were atrocious. Remind me never to visit that one.

So in the end I just went home to my regular continuity in 2966, to my "swingin' bachelor pad"... which I used to share with Weight Wizard. *sigh* I've lost the will to screw! I'm just staying inside, puttering about in my crotch-hugging orange pajama bottoms and my (unbelted) purple silk robe, drinking too much space wine and growing my hair and my muttonchops back out and trying to decide what to do next.

At least I have Jeremy's copy of "Star Spangled Comics" #36 (September 1944). Maybe that will cheer me up.

Yes, there's nothing kids love more than a gun-toting Parkinson's victim. Bang! Step lively, boys! Bang! Now yer doin' a little step I likes ta call the Pecos Polka! Bang! Oops! Well, yer young. I'm sure yer "adult toe" will grow in soon enough.

Sheriff Hawkins looks kinda familiar, somehow. Where'd he say he was from?

Holy--! I know this guy! From when I was vacationing in the DC Universe's "Old West." He was the sheriff but I'm the one who "deputized" him, if you know what I mean and I think you do. Kee-rist. He used to be hot. A little on the small side, but he had a real "Gary Sinise" thing going on. Damn. Now I feel old. Maybe the "Robotman" feature will cheer me up.

*whistles* That is one of the most downright beautiful splash pages I have ever freaking seen. Not only does it make me want to read the story, it makes me want to strip naked and rub myself all over the story, and cook a seven-course gourmet dinner for the story, and maybe nominate the story for President. A cyborg, a herd of dinosaurs, and a giant disembodied green guy? How could it go wrong?

Um, villain guy? Nobody's there. Maybe you should write all this stuff down, and then you can tell your therapy group. Also, aren't you supposed to be green? I call "shenanigans."

Serendipitously, the animal trainer happens upon a freshly thawed herd of mammoths, mixed generously with other prehistoric mammals. Nobody communicated this to the artist, however, because he drew them as dinosaurs. So the human characters point at and gape over and flee from fancifully depicted T-Rexes and Tricerotops and such. Meanwhile, the captions and word balloons clearly refer to them as "mammoths" and "elephant ancestors" and -- my personal favorite -- "queer elephants" (a.k.a. "Log Cabin Republicans").

But it's hard to complain about a comic book story with panels like this:

That, my friend, is the dictionary definition of "panache": riding atop a yellow tyrannosaurus with a safe in its maw. Wish I'd thought of it. Actually, there's a lot of dino-riding going on in this story.

But that's a drawing of -- that's not a -- aw, I give up.

And finally, your obligatory out-of-context panel of gay subtext. (Because this is a blog, and that is what we do.)

Yes, Robotman. Let's test your hard body.

From behind.

The Breakup

Last night I met with Jeremy at the nicest restaurant in Wichita (the Pizza Hut Italian Bistro on south Ridge Road) and we had a good long talk. Jeremy's not mad at me anymore, and we both agreed that I'd overstayed my welcome. With me underfoot all the time, it was hard for Jeremy to get anything done. For instance, he'd just been able to afford to buy Quark Express 7 for his computer, and with me monopolizing it all the time he would never have time to teach himself how to use it (and eventually parlay that into some extra income). Plus there are a lot of other things he needs to do to get out of this rut he's in, and I was "cramping his style" (such as it is). And the feeling was mutual, believe you me. Jeremy's not exactly a party animal. So we both decided it was time I was on my way. At the end of our talk, I grabbed his hand from across the table, looked directly into his eyes, and whispered, "Become who you are."

Yeah, I don't know what that was supposed to mean either.

But enough about Jeremy. What about my needs? I'm going to go look for my future boyfriend, ValXan, and that goofball worldship of his. And I think I'll grow out my muttonchops again, and ditch the 'stache. And dye my hair red. I just can't decide what style I want to wear it in. If you have any suggestions for a hairstyle that looks good with muttonchops, I'm all ears. Like Antennae Lad! The dumb jug-eared bastard...

Oh, and as a gesture of goodwill, Jeremy loaned me the oldest comic book he owns: "Star Spangled Comics" #36 (September, 1944). Yeah... he's never getting that back. Say, let's take a look!

Nobody could rock lemon-yellow jodphurs like Liberty Belle. She was tall enough that it didn't make her ass look big. And her hair was always gorgeous. It's just a shame about her face, huh? She was often mistaken for a thoroughbred Creamello filly, which explains the time I saw a policeman mounting her in Central Park.

You'll notice she doesn't wear a mask. Which makes zero sense, considering she doesn't wear a wig or glasses or nothing in her civilian identity. I think we can thank Roy Thomas for the mask idea. (Finally, something I can thank Thomas for.)

Golly, but her face sure looks familiar. Where have I seen it before? That harsh, bony face, that mane of blonde hair...

Holy shit! It's Super Ann Coulter!

Gah! Let's move on. And quickly!

The Star Spangled Kid's "manservant"* (WINK!) Stripesy also never bothered to wear a mask. I guess his secret identity depended upon there being a surplus of Frankenstein-skulled, slab-like, redheaded goons with bad haircuts in his hometown. (I'm guessing he lived somewhere in Minnesota. Saint Paul, maybe.)

*Yeah, yeah, comic nerds. Technically he was the Kid's chauffeur. So he really knew how to handle a stick... shift. Ye Gads, I am in a positively filthy mood today.)

Case in point:

Here, private detective and closet pervert Penniless Palmer uses a stakeout at a taxidermist's to indulge in some Furry fun. I love how his assistant is all like, "Why do I have to be the walrus? (Again?)"

And now for a snack. *reaches into glove compartment of time bubble*

Aw, yeah! Nothin' like a candy bar from World War 2, I tells ya. They're good and good for you. Just check out the label! In fact, that's the problem with you kids today -- or I guess I should say "back then" since I'm currently speeding through the 2480's -- anyway, that's the problem with you twenty-first century folks.

Not enough dextrose.

Tomorrow: more Star Spangled goodness, and I'll let you know how it goes with ValXan!

Jettison My Heart From the Airlock At Wounded Knee

Jeremy still won't let me in his apartment. I tried to reason with him, helpfully pointing out that he'd acted like a hysterical sissy-mary but for some bizarre, unknown reason this actually made him angrier. He said the problem was I was "inconsiderate" and had "a vicious tongue" and that I "never pay anything towards rent" and that I "eat all [his] food." At that last accusation I stuck my finger through the narrowly open door and poked him in the belly and with my most charming smile, said "We both know that one's a baldfaced lie, Bouncing Boy!" But Jeremy wasn't having any and maybe I shouldn't have used the word "baldfaced" on account of Jeremy's hairline. Then Jeremy said I should give him "some kind of warning" when I'm "going at some guy on [his] bed" so he doesn't just walk in on us after "a hard day at work" and that maybe I should try covering the bed with "towels." And I said, "What, am I living in Iran all of a sudden?" and that's when he started to close the door in my face. "Wait, wait!" I pleaded. "Can I have my shaving kit?" (which is technically a steamer trunk filled with various moisturizers and exfoliants) and he said he'd already thrown it out! Holy balls! The door closed. "Can I at least borrow some more comic books?" I shouted. From behind the door I could hear him say, wearily, "I'll think about it."

Sweet!

For now, I still have his copy of "Wonder Woman Annual" #5 (1996). It'll do. Let's take a gander at the book's heroine: a futuristic, noncommitally Native American-esque lass living on one of those ancient spaceship worlds that use to be all the rage. You know the kind -- the original passengers are long dead, and their descendants have no idea they're on a spaceship anymore? Blech. That nonsense is so 2660's.

Her name is AlyXa, and she dresses like a slut. But her hair and jewelry are to die for.

Spinabifidalicious! I guess her people have evolved past the need for an intestinal tract.

Anatomical abnormalities aside, isn't she the cutest thing? I wish I'd seen this ensemble back when I was in my Space Goth phase. I would have been simply dripping with handmade bangles and clasps and clusters of dangly earrings and shit. Oh well.

It's just too bad about her outfit. Slutty? Oh, just a tad. But the bigger crime in my eyes is that it's so damned impractical. There's so little material, and it's all fastened together so tenuously, it's not worth the trouble of putting it on. One strong gust from an air duct and WHAM! It gets knocked right off. And the cut of that skirt... yikes. It makes the current Supergirl look positively Victorian.

The guys on the ship don't wear much either but at least they have an excuse: they're hot! Well, besides that, they're warriors. So they dress kind of like gladiators in a "Mad Max" kind of way, with copious doses of "New York art student" and just a dash of Glam Rock.

And the winner for "Most Ridiculously Convoluted Spear" goes to--! (And now I play The Waiting Game. Sooner or later I'll get a pissy e-mail from some martial arts nerd informing me about exactly what kind of ancient Thai weapon or whatever this "spear" is based on. Ah, the internet!)

By the way, have you guessed who the penciler is? No? Here's a helpful clue:

Nobody else draws muttonchops like that. They're so pert! So full-bodied! This can only be the work of... Dave Cockrum! *thoughtfully strokes killer biker 'stache* Man, I miss my sweet-ass muttonchops. And my red hair. *sighs*

But never mind all that now. I've found a new boyfriend! Not that he knows it yet. Check him out, yo.

His name is ValXan. Which I've decided to pronounce like "Valjean" (from "Les Miserables"). Because it's French. Ooh-la-la! God damn but he's gorgeous! And he's sensitive! I can tell. Because he's wearing mascara -- oodles of it, in fact. He has a lot on his mind. Poor fella. Let me relieve you of your burden, ValXan.

Not that he spends all his time brooding, mind you.

Slap fight! So ValXan's voice is "a roaring bellow" and he prefers to resolve conflicts through violence? Gosh, but we have a lot in common!

Okay, now let's skip through all the blah-blah-blah in the middle of the comic and get to the end, where AlyXa mediates a conflict between ValXan's rugged band and the grotesquely-mutated humans who also live on that ginormous spaceship.

Yikes. That is the homeliest chick I've seen wearing a Wonder Woman costume since Cathy Lee Crosby. But back to my future boyfriend...

Aw, ValXan! Even humiliated, you're a cutie-pie! (And that's an important qualification in my boyfriends, believe you me.)

This Is Why I Don't Use the Changing Rooms at Old Navy

When I found this comic, I showed it to Jeremy and asked him, "Can you believe you bought this over ten years ago?" He didn't give me an answer. He just stood there, looking quietly destroyed. So I asked him why he wasn't saying anything. When he still didn't reply, I asked him if he wasn't talking because he's thirty-eight and his crappy, neglected body is just kind of slowly falling apart while I am so youthful, I haven't even been born yet. Still no answer. So I asked him if he was being so quiet because he was living in the same sad one-bedroom apartment he'd moved into in 1996, around the same time he'd bought this comic, and how it really got him to thinking about how his life hadn't moved forward one inch since then. And then started screaming some kind of gibberish that I couldn't really make out and he was pounding on my mighty chest with his puny, wizened fists, and the gist of it is he kicked me out of his apartment. But I managed to take one of his credit cards with me! And this comic! So now I'm writing this post at a Fed Ex Kinko's. Also, I hear Jeremy contacted a realtor and is looking for a house. Thank God. Because I could really use more room for all my stuff.

Shoplifters will be eaten to the fullest extent of the law!

Miss Gypsy Trampy Thief there is really rocking the Buckskin Chic look. Haven't heard of it? Oh, that's right. It's due for popularity in 2011 when President Russell Means divides the former United States into two nations: New England, and Turtle Island (which is everything west of New England). It's certainly a more flattering look for her than that tacky Wonder Woman costume. And we're talkin' the even uglier John Byrne version of the costume, with the two big lazy-ass stars on the trunks (because Byrne-boy couldn't be bothered). Feh! We'll get a better look at her costume tomorrow. And wait 'til you see how the guys dress! Rrowr!

Shams From a Marriage

In "Marvel Spotlight" #10, the Unipower imposes itself on twin sisters, who must track down both the masked crime boss "Nemesis" and one sister's kidnapped husband. Clare is a detective and your basic no-nonsense brawler, while Ann invests her superheroics with a decidedly domestic touch.

Hey, wait a minute! It's 1981 and somebody's exhaling on a fine, powdery substance? What is this, Bizarro World?

The last time I saw a man getting wheeled around on a dinner cart it was Element Lad's birthday supper. ("May I tempt you with a little dessert?" purred Invisible Kid. He was nude save for a big dollop of whipped cream covering his privates. But I said no, because my eyes were on Star Boy, who was digging beneath his collar to scratch at his ever-increasing thatch of chest hair. Mark my words, that fellow will be magnificently furry some day. I've often recommended he grow a beard. So far he's declined but I can tell he's considering it.)

Wow, an ass-vacuum! Who would opt for one of those messy enemas when they had one of these babies on hand? I could make a mint selling this device. Thanks for the idea, Mister Mantlo!

And now for the tear-soaked conclusion! On page three of this comic, Ann's hubby (District Attorney Edward Stanford) was pushed into a car by some wiseguys. When Edward demanded to know who was responsible for his kidnapping, one of the gangsters replied "...Our boss! He left instructions for us to pick you up if the trial went the wrong way!"

So you can imagine my surprise and consternation when the twins captured Nemesis and this happened:

"My Husband, My Enemy!" (Told you it was like a Lifetime movie!) And I love Edward's use of the word "snooping." Not exactly bad-ass lingo. Next he'll be bitching about "those meddling kids -- and that dog!"

Nice, clean dreams, dragged through the mud? How very Geoff Johnsian! Except the heroes don't feel personally defiled afterwards. On the last page, Clare tells Ann, "It can be a dirty world out there. I know, I wade through the filth every day. But I've learned one thing -- if you stay strong, you can keep yourself clean." The story ends with an empowering message.

Appropriately, the thought balloon about female strength seems to be emanating from Clare's crotch. It's the original Vagina Monologue!

And the very last panel? Pure Ditko.

"It could be you!" Yeah, just keep telling yourself that. And keep shouting "Shazam!" whenever you're alone.

You never know.