Pandering to the Lois Common Denominator

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

Artificial Hair Transplant

"Honey, a huge envelope filled with hair just arrived for you! Do we know anyone who's being held for ransom?"

For some reason, I'm picturing horses on a conveyor belt, being fed into a machine that snips their tails off. (Then it's off to the rendering plant!) And I love that the long, blonde braid ends in a handlebar mustache. But the little 'stache really ought to have an equally dainty Meerschaum pipe dangling from beneath it. Or perhaps an adorably miniature frothy stein of German lager (or a micro-brew)! Huh. I'm getting kind of pissed about their negligence, now I think about it. The fuckers! Honestly, they just should have turned over the entire ad campaign to me.

Right Track, Wrong Tranny

"Nonsense! Why, there are vagina marks all over the body!"

Fresh From the Coven

"Why so depressed, Pamela? Is the weight of your gigantic medallion making it hard for you to stand up? We all wear them, Pamela! It's traditional! And you can use it to open bottles and change tires! No, Pamela, I don't care if you're a size 0 and can't wear any fabric heavier than organza for fear of bone fracture... you're not allowed to wear a daintier medallion! Hmm? There's something else? What-- your shoes? Well, of course they're orthopedic! Why wouldn't they be? They symbolize our great demon lord Azazazazel's fallen arches! Now put on your neckbrace and stovepipe hat so we can start the ceremony!"

Archie Andrews: Origin

Strange... the poor deranged fellow has been scampering about the Canadian woods for months now and there's still nary a wisp of hair 'pon his apple cheeks. Even creepier? He has no nipples. (Where do I put the alligator clamps?)

Ah,well. Sooner or later, Mister Weatherbee's goons will throw a net over him and drag his ass screaming back to Weapon X Memorial High School.

Archie Andrews, Son of Satan

Either Archie's hair is a symbiotic organism that reacts to emotional stimuli, or Daimon Hellstrom's dad got himself some hot action in Riverdale about eighteen years back. (In my imaginary next panel Archie psychically materializes a flaming pitchfork and eviscerates Reggie Mantle.)

The Posting Rate Has Just Increased

Weekday posting is back! So besides my costume redesign posts every Monday, I'll be posting a fashion-themed comic panel (or two) per day, with brief snarky commentary. I am positively inspired by (i.e. ripping off) the genius of Adam Barnett at Comics Make No Sense. (I wish I had the time for my old long-winded style of posting but y'know... I'm all busy being a space pirate. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of x-tra strength lavender beard dye, mateys!)

Nineteen Years Later...

Ahoy from the year 2987! This be yer ol' brother-in-bloggin', Blockade Boy... or as I'm called now, Brigadier Blockade, the most fashionable space pirate in all the Seven Galaxies! But perhaps ye know me by one o' me other aliases, such as Blockade Brigand, Purplebeard, the Closet Raider, or Three-Legged Phyl. YAARRRGH!

Ah, but me starsalt-crusted ears can hear ye askin', "By Satan's compass, boyo, how did ye come to such a pass?" Then gather 'round, lads and lassies, for I've a tale to chill the very marrow in yer bones! But first, allow me to adjust the dial on me accursed cybernetic throat from "Pirate" to "Drinking Buddy." *click* Yeah, that's better.

Sorry about all that yo-ho-ho crap, but it's all part of the job. Hoo-boy! I've got a lot to explain, don't I? For starters, I'd like to point out that even though it's been nineteen years since my last post, I'm still in my early twenties. My secret? No, it's not a miracle anti-aging cream. It's this era's kooky sliding timeline! Remember how dorky all the Legionnaire's costumes looked, way back in 2068? Lightning lad with the big orange diapers and Colossal Boy's "Some People Call Me a Space Cowboy" get-up? That now occurred in 2084. Thanks to all my time travel and dimension-hopping, I'm the only one here who notices that the years keep hurtling forward at an alarming rate while everybody and everything stays pretty much the same. Oh! Also? I spied on some other Legion-era timelines and it looks like my dimension dodged a real bullet! I guess back in 1986 the whole multiverse was threatened with destruction and in one of those timelines it actually got all blowed up, leaving just one version of Earth! Not in my dimension, though. For instance, Superboy's still around! And Supergirl! We can't seem to get rid of them, actually! They're like the sexless squares you invite to a party just to be nice and then it's 4 AM and they're the last two guests at your pad and even though you're busy cleaning up they're just sitting on their asses talking about some boring nerd shit and then they wanna play Spaceopoly for Chrissakes and you really have no choice but to hoist them up by their scrawny nerd necks and boot their asses out the door.

Oh, and just the other day the Legion teamed up with both Earth-2 and Earth-S versions of themselves against Earth-3's Crime Legion. Fun fact: my Earth-S counterpart is a two-fisted crime buster who can turn into a moderately-sized ambulatory steel wall! And for some reason he just won't stop smiling which is a little creepy. He's still damn good lookin', though. Anyhow, to bottom-line it, a whole ton of depressing nonsense won't happen in my dimension! And thank God! 'Cause really, I'd rather not have to see:

• Mordru take over the universe
• Earth's moon get blown to bits
• the Earth itself get blown to bits (Jesus! Enough already!)
• Timber Wolf's nose vanish without a trace
• Dawnstar's gorgeous wings get amputated
• Shrinking Violet -- well, actually, I never gave a flying fuck about Shrinking Violet
• the typical Legion mission consisting mainly of wearing puffy jackets and standing around in a pile of rubble, looking depressed

The only downside? I'm a space pirate.

Woo! Check me out! I ain't wearin' no pants, y'all! But shhh! That'll be just between us. For modesty's sake, I've covered my robo-dingus with a magnetic codpiece. I mean, I'm not a pervert.

It wasn't my first choice, I'll tell you that. But my clothing line went belly-up. (Apparently most men don't want shirts with cut-outs for their nipples.) I was looking at bankruptcy! Then I heard about this United Planets program that was giving out grants to aspiring space pirates, and the only requirement was to be missing a certain percentage of body parts. And everything below my waistline is cybernetic, so I was a shoo-in. What's that--? You look shocked and appalled. Feh! Whatever. Get used to it. And I wish I had some kind of heroic, self-sacrificing tale about how it happened but to be perfectly honest I caught a techno-organic virus from a toilet seat at a rest stop. The pernicious germ latched onto my robo-dingus and really went to town! The cybernetic voicebox implant was a mandatory surgery I had for the job. And here I am, sailing the solar winds in my ship, the H.M.S. Exquisite. I raid fabric warehouses and shoe stores, and I track down unfashionable people and forcibly make them over. It's kind of like that show "What Not to Wear", only with more gunfire. And if I happen to destroy the occasional Khundian trading vessel, well, the U.P. gives me a bonus check!

I've got a terrific crew! Weight Wizard is my cabin boy, of course, and might I add that it's nice having him trapped on a spaceship where I can keep my eyes on him. Rainbow Girl is my gun-toting sexpot second-in-command. Tusker is the big stupid muscle who doesn't talk -- mainly because I told him "shut up" so many times he's afraid to even open his mouth -- for anything... for reals, he takes all his meals intravenously. And of course, my dear friend Storm Boy is here. Ol' Stormy's been kind of a downward spiral since his nervous breakdown back in '85... or was it '77? Or '71? Damn sliding timeline! But my point is, he's in an even worse financial state than I am. And it doesn't help that he's been hitting the space-wine pretty hard lately. That's why I mainly keep him down in the ship's cargo hold, guarding all the crates of buttons, notions and assorted frippery. Still, a job's a job, right?

And for those of you who are just completely losing your shit at these developments, might I respectfully suggest you calm the fuck down. This too shall pass. Trust me. Since the last time we talked, I've been turned into a Balinese shadow puppet, the abominable snowman, a voodoo doll, a merman (fish part on top), a living butter sculpture, a locomotive, and a caterpillar with my head on it. Oh, and once I was split into two different beings, Blockade Boy Orange and Blockade Boy Purple. And if you'll recall, even before I returned to the 30th Century I was turned into a packet of artificially flavored drink mix, a baboon and a wolfman. It never lasts. So cool it. Now if you'll excuse me... *click*

Batten yer hatches, me hearties, for I've a timber-shiverin' tale to tell ye! 'Tis all about me sartorial victory o'er the pernicious Starfinger!

(He be not near that size, by the by.) *clears robotic throat, which produces the sound of static* Me intrepid band infiltrated Starfinger's lair under cover of a cosmic storm and surprised the tacky mongrel whilst he was takin' a bubble bath. Afore he could call upon his she-devils, Starlight and Starbright, we yanked the rings from his soapy fingers and shanghaied his arse back to our ship. Into the irons he went! "Do with me what ye will," he spat. "I'll never cede ye control o' me empire o' crime!"

Me recently glossed lips parted in a smile. "'Tis not yer empire I'm lookin' to control, young feller me lad. 'Tis yer wardrobe!" I whistled, and Tusker's mighty form appeared in the doorway, brandishing a measuring tape. I placed me manicured hands 'pon Starfinger's throat. For the first time in me imposing presence, Starfinger's imperious face registered true fear. "Tusker!" I growled. "Start with his inseam."

I'll spare ye the grisly details of what occurred in the brig that grim night. I'd sooner talk o' why ol' Brigadier Blockade and his stylish band chose Starfinger for a makeover. 'Tis but a simple matter! His powers and the basic idea o' his costume intrigue me fevered brain with their potential. But to this weary seadog, in execution Starfinger is a "hot mess" (as we space pirates say). The pointy cape, the pointy loincloth, the yellow-and-red star theme that uncannily mimics the flag o' the People's Republic o' Mexico (er, has that happened yet, back in yer backwards era? No, ye say? Er, oops.) -- the whole lot o' it we pitched off the starboard bow. A new costume was in the cards for Starfinger!

Seein' as how Starfinger is a crimelord and all, I decided to attire him along the lines o' an ancient Oriental Earth Potentate. This called fer voluminous trousers, pointed slippers, and a heavy robe -- open at the front, as that's me signature style! But 'twas to be no turban, mind ye. That would've made the whole thing "camp." And this spacefarin', purple-bearded, half-mechanical pirate fashion designer will darn socks in hell afore he goes camp! A turban--! Bah! The very idea of it--! Starfinger's energy bubble helmet dealie be his turban, do ye not see, ye blasted idjit?! To give Starfinger's head a more interestin' silhouette, I forced 'im to grow out his hair and beard, and to gel it up into pointed, star-like shapes. Fer jewelry, I gave 'im a king-sized waterfall necklace just drippin' with bling, and a forehead piercin' with a mammoth star. After untold months (durin' which the crew o' the Exquisite and meself had countless adventures and isolated incidents o' daring-do) the project was at last complete! I led Starfinger in front o' me finest full-length mirror, slapped 'im on the back, and said, "Now then, boyo, ain't that better than the way ye used to look?"

Still confounded by the fact I'd not killed 'im yet, Starfinger shrugged and replied, "'Tis okay, one supposes."

"Alrighty then!" I cried. And while I roared with a pirate's savage laughter, Tusker and Weight Wizard whisked Starfinger away, into an escape pod programmed to rocket him right back to where we'd found 'im.

Ah, 'tis a fine thing to be a pirate! YAARRRGH!

Rescue Me: Black Abbott

In the early 1960's, stylish women wore pillbox hats. In the early 1980's, pretentious supervillains were pills with boxes for hats. Case in point:

Ah, so that's where they got idea for the ending to "Se7en." Backstage at the CMA's, a dickhead in a box! I suppose the vet put that thing on him to keep him from licking himself. Y'know, I have this really strong urge to fill it with packing peanuts. ...What? You want me to get on with it? Alrighty then, you killjoys!

This idiot is "Black Abbott", one of many D-list supervillains who done got themselves kacked by the Scourge Organization. Yes, the Scourge Organization, dedicated to ridding the Marvel Universe of pretty much every supervillain who first appeared in either "Marvel Two-In-One" or "Marvel Team-Up." Which is actually kind of a shame, since a lot of these dumb shmoes actually had a lot of potential! Like Black Abbott, just for an instance.

Black Abbott had the kind of mental mojo one can acquire under the tutelage of bald, pseudo-Buddhist monks... sort of a pulp novel/David "Kung Fu" Carradine deal, drained of all genuine spirituality. And for some reason he dressed in a big, box-like hood, like a circus clown version of Anne Boleyn. Oh, and one time "psychic feedback" caused him to burn his own hand off. Er, oops.

That's right! Get pissed, you stupid bastard! Oh, he's positively livid! Look at 'im, clenching his teeny, impotent little fists! And who can blame him? He sucks! No wonder he got offed by Scourge! And off-panel at that! But here's the part that fired my imagination: Black Abbott's wonky, ill-defined ESP allows him to basically possess several people at once, and even speak through them. I'm sorry, that's just completely bad-ass. Ever see "Slither"? Then you know what I mean.

And y'know what? Black Abbott has used his "disciples" to impersonate him in the past, so he could still be around. Bring Black Abbott back, I say! But if I might make a few suggestions...

*he-hem*

He needs a new costume, of course. That's a given, and I'll get to it in just a moment. But more importantly, he needs a bit of a tune-up in the villainy department. I was going to quibble about the extra "t" on the end of his name but it looks like that's an accepted British spelling, so what the hell. (Still, I'm guessing most American comic book readers -- and most Americans in general -- read the word "Abbott" and think of the skinnier, more taciturn half of a certain old-time comedy team instead of the head of a monastery.) But--! How's about we add a "The" to the front of his name? That way he's the Black Abbott which sounds way more mysterious and hard-core. Not to mention it carries more historical weight. It sounds like a character from a Gothic novel, or at least a Sherlock Holmes story. And yes, readers, it's kind of like the early Batman villain, the Mad Monk. Nerds. Aannyway, I think "the" Black Abbott would have imparted more menace if he'd ditched the goofball duds and just dressed more like a monk. Specifically, a Satanic monk. Behold!

Now we're thinkin' outside the box hat! My early sketches had "the" Black Abbott all dolled up in everything from just a basic monk's robe to a gaudy Satanic ceremonial affair (with goat-head themed mask and shoulderpads, and even one of those Hellraiser skirts like Pinhead likes to wear). This, I think, is the happy medium. We have the monk theme with the hood, and the stylized cape evokes a monk's robe while still allowing him to run and fight hand-to-hand. Meanwhile, the body suit with the inverted cross gives him some standard supervillain flavor so he doesn't look too out of place while he's getting his ass handed to him by Power Man and Iron Fist. The gloves are fingerless, the better for him to gesture evilly, and to coordinate with the gloves I gave him my patented calf spats. And yes, I drew him with two hands. Why not? It could be prosthetic. Or hell, he's got magic mental powers, maybe he regrew the damn thing. I know, I know... it's obvious wish fulfillment on my part. *gazes sadly down at robotic dingus*

Note: stylistically, I wanted to try drawing in the style of Korean artist Min-Woo Hyung, as seen in his manwha series, "Priest."

Next Monday: a post nineteen years in the making!

Previous "Rescue Me" challenges:

• Turner D. Century
• Shellshock
• Mirage
• The Vamp
• The Basilisk
• Megatak
• Hellrazor
• The Melter
• Cyclone
• The Hijacker
• The Fly
• The Cheetah
• Lionfang
• The Miracle Man
• Bird-Man 2
• Steeplejack 2
• Commander Kraken
• Titania
• Bonus: Annihilator and Son
• Red Skull 3

Rescue Me: Red Skull III

I know assassinations of characters who have appeared in "Captain America" are all the rage nowadays (your time) but I believe my current subject was the first. And unlike a certain chemically-enhanced blonde muscleboy freak I could name, Red Skull III managed to get unexpectedly assassinated without a lot of soft news stories or needless tie-in books. It wasn't one of those queeny, hand-fluttering, melodramatic "oh, look at me!" type of assassinations.

Red Skull III was just one of dozens of second-tier -- oh, alright, make that fifth- or eighth-tier villains who got themselves whacked by Scourge in the 1980's. I've argued before that these deaths were needless, that all these poor bad guys needed were better writers and better costumes, but I can (sort of) understand the reasoning behind whacking Red Skull III. He was a duplicate of a more famous and iconic villain: Red Skull II! Or Red Skull I, if you want to be an annoying entitled retcon-happy fanboy doofus. (Have I mentioned that I didn't really die in "Adventure Comics" #345? ...Oh, I have? Er... um...oh.) See, Red Skull I, the first one to appear in print, was an American businessman. The second and more famous Red Skull was a Nazi, and he was such a smash that it got decided later on that he was actually the first one and that businessman Red Skull was just an employee of Nazi Red skull. Phht! Whatever. The third Red Skull (or second, according to the aforementioned retcon-happy fanboy doofuses) was a Communist phoney (like Michael Moore!) and wound up in the interesting position of fighting one of the fake Captain Americas. Two fakes battling each other... sounds like your typical Presidential debate! Er, anyway, I don't see the problem with having two coexisting villains with the same name. Maybe that's 'cause I'm from the DC Universe, where we have two heroes with the same name all the time. Like the Tornado Twins! Okay, so maybe that's not a great example.

But here's my theory: Red Skull III was already a little different from Red Skull II by dint of political affiliation. All they had to do was give him a different visual theme. And maybe use the Russian version of his code name, whatever that is. Unless it sounds stupid, in which case never mind. So here's how I'd have gussied up Red Skull III:

It's Sci-Fi, see? Sweet! The "skull" part is a gas mask, patterned after this Soviet-era model. To rationalize the gas mask, I figure the Commie Skull's modus operandi could be one of the Nazi Red Skull's tricks: hit folks with a face-deforming gas and Red Skullerize 'em. Which he admittedly ripped off from the Joker, but hey! It's a good theme. I initially was just going to pair the gas mask with a Soviet military uniform, but that didn't differentiate him enough from the Nazi Red Skull. But I really liked the combo of the gas mask and the hat -- so much so, in fact, that I was tempted to keep the hat when I changed the outfit to a body suit. But of course, that would have caused the whole ensemble to veer into S&M Territory (a bleak, rubbery wilderness occupying much of what you folks currently call "Massachusetts").

The suit has a big honkin' Soviet star on the front, surrounded by a ribcage design. So it's like the star is his heart... if he'd gotten in a car wreck and the impact had forced it from the left side of his chest to the center of it. Again, bad example.

Style-wise, I tried to emulate Soviet posters, with their simplistic forms, solid blocks of color and charcoal shading.

Next week? Rescue Me: Black Abbott! And the first thing I'm doing is getting rid of the extraneous "t".

Previous "Rescue Me" challenges:

• Turner D. Century
• Shellshock
• Mirage
• The Vamp
• The Basilisk
• Megatak
• Hellrazor
• The Melter
• Cyclone
• The Hijacker
• The Fly
• The Cheetah
• Lionfang
• The Miracle Man
• Bird-Man 2
• Steeplejack 2
• Commander Kraken
• Titania
• Bonus: Annihilator and Son

Bonus Post: the Long, Long Trail

In a comment to my previous post, Jonathan expressed disappointment that I didn't go with my original plan of depicting the gender-reversed Starfire with a giant beard and no hair. "I'm just a-fixated on that giant flying beard," he wrote.

Me too, Jonathan. Which is why I thought I'd show everybody exactly why I didn't draw him that way. Here's Starfire Dude flyin' around, his gargantuan beard leaving a visible trail in his wake:

How do I feel when I see a beard like that? Like my heart has been touched by Christ... and he finger-banged my aortic valve! But I'm in the vast minority here. And besides, a beard so utterly colossal makes a costume pointless. That's why I only gave him boots and wrist-guards. Yeah, that's the reason. *nervously avoids your gaze*

Now let's see him from above:

Oh, Starfire Dude--! You're scaring the local fauna! Knock it off this instant!

...Hmm. He spends a lot of time in the gym! Mostly in the showers. (Conditioning his beard! Why, what were you thinking?)

Mammothly-bearded Starfire faces persecution from the general public and his teammates alike! Watch out for that famous Tamaranian temper, She-borg!

But at heart, he's not a fighter. He's a lover!

Aw! Jonathan, he likes you! Or maybe he's referring to Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. Well, I'd advise either of you gentlemen to take care sailing into those romantic waters. You'd be something like Starfire Dude's fourth fiance and third husband! Where are the other two husbands right now? I'm not sure, but it wouldn't surprise me to learn that they're both trapped somewhere inside that beard... it's like a pitcher plant!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Starfire

Before I get to the main part of the post, I have some good news and some bad news -- not affecting this blog one whit, so you can cut the hysterics. Honestly, you're more Pavlovian than the "Dancing with the Stars" audience! Quit yer bawlin'! ...Aw, heck, I'm lashing out at my audience again. I'm sorry! I think I'm having a meltdown! No, wait... that's just my robo-dingus. Hang on while I replenish the radiator fluid. Yeow! Too hot! Shoulda worn gloves! Or at least a condom! Gimme a sec...

...Aaand I'm back. Sizzling comets, what was I about to say?! Oh yeah! The good news: frequent commenter and all-around cool guy Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator invited me to participate in his group blog contest thingie, Last Gladiator Standing 2. That's where the elite invite-only crowd is divided into two teams and each week they individually write posts "in character" with predetermined story elements. After that, an independent judge (not Jon) picks the best post. That person's team wins for the week. The losing team has to e-mail Jon with the name of the person on their team they want to get rid of. (Do you see where I'm headed with the "bad news" part?) Yup, the bad news: I was the first guy voted off the island/boardroom/house/dance floor. Which, if you're a Shear Genius fan, makes me Paul-Jean -- or if your taste runs more toward "Dancing with the Stars", makes me Tucker Carlson. (Never thought I'd say that!) And no, changing that reference to Paulina Porizkova doesn't help. But I appreciate the thought.

Okay, let's get down to "bidness" as the ancient Mayans used to say. Last week I showed you how I imagined Starfire would look if she was evil. This week I'll show you how I envision Starfire, the hot extraterrestrial dude. And boy howdy, was it a tough challenge!

First, the before:

The art is obviously by Tom Grummett, but the design is pure Perez. Check it! We're talking early 80's George Perez at his finest right here: segmented boots, floral amulets, alligator-skin wrist guards, and a carnivorous perm. That hair-do could have headlined its own comic! Its arch-nemesis: one of those scores of disembodied mounds of straight black Japanese hair that one finds everywhere in manga and J-horror films -- and it would be a ninja, natch. Say! Why am I goin' on like this? I suspect most of you aren't even looking at Starfire's head, much less her hair. Yes indeedy, Starfire's astounding orange rack (doubtless covered with a short soft fuzz, like a peach) and the scientifically improbable way those thin purple strips keep in it check are the main reasons I even brought her up in the first place. Starfire's appearance is undoubtedly, whole-heartedly, in-your-face and poke-your-eyes-out feminine. Now, how can I transmogrify that into something suitable for a male hero?

Glad you asked!

I really, really, really wanted to give the male Starfire a ginormous Tamaranian beard like some of the "real" Starfire's relatives had (and a shaven pate for contrast). So why didn't I? For one, it would have obscured the costume. (And I didn't want to repeat myself by making the shape of the beard substitute for a costume element.) Secondly, I wanted to preserve the idea that it left a trail while Starfire flew around, and even I had to admit that a "beard trail" would have looked freakin' goofy. And thirdly, it wouldn't have read as "young" as I wanted. My compromise was to pull the hair back in a Samurai ponytail deal and let it flow from there. I coupled it with a modest Donegal beard because I wanted to make him look more leonine. (Starfire's people are descended from a feline species, after all.)

Costume-wise, the biggest alteration was in the color. Not that a guy couldn't rock a purple outfit -- I've designed plenty of them -- but in Starfire's case, the hue didn't exactly scream "bad-ass warrior." So I shifted it down the spectrum slightly, to blue. I didn't have to change the boots or the wrist guards. I did remove the texture from the wrist guards because I figured it was more masculine to have a simpler, more graphic costume. I also ditched the two bejeweled amulets, although I left a cut-out down around the waist where it would have gone. I made the collar bigger so it covered the neck and the shoulders and I integrated it with the straps on the torso -- which I widened to create a vest.

Do I like it, personally? Eh, not bad. The size of the hair always has been and always will be ridiculous and clown-like to me, so that's a wash. The rest of it I'm pretty happy with. Starfire Dude looks like he could have come straight out of a Jim Starlin comic. He and Adam Warlock would fight and then team up... to do each other's hair!

You'll notice the art is more stylized than is normal for me. That's because I want to experiment with more expressionistic linework. I definitely think this guy looks more solid than my mannered "air guitar" Lionfang drawing from last summer (your time). The big difference: I didn't use any photo reference for Lionfang, whereas I did for Starfire Dude (just like I've been using for most of my drawings). That's one pic (of a bald guy!) for above the waist, another pic (naked, natch) for below the waist, and the face I just made up. Who knows what kind of kooky crap I'll come up with next week? Not me! See you then!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

• Saturn Girl
• Scarlet Witch
• Looker (and a slight revision)
• Storm
• Marvel Girl
• Black Canary
• Phantom Lady
• Snowbird
• Dazzler
• Mantis
• DC's Enchantress in the Silver Age and the Suicide Squad and the
  Shadowpact
  

Moral Realignment Challnge: Starfire and Psimon

In the Moral Realignment Challenge, I imagine how a bad guy would look as a good guy, and vice-versa. Currently I'm working my way through the Fearsome Five and the Teen Titans! Hey, Starfire and Psimon! You're up to bat!

From "Quiz the Question Guy (All-Psimon Edition)" in "Direct Currents" on the back pages of "Brainiac Bunch" #218 (February 1982) on Earth-AAA:

Q: Where did Psimon get his powers? A: Orphan Simon Jones was granted his magic mental abilities by the old wizard Trigon the Terrific!

Q: Why does Psimon wear that dome on his head and what is it made of (the dome, not his head)? A: Now that he's a grown man, only Psimon's special diamond quartz helmet can keep his awesome powers in check when he's outside of his containment capsule.

Q: What happened to the Psimon back-up in CLAIRVOYANT COMICS? A: Psimon is busy adventuring with his pals in THE NEW FEARLESS FIVE. But don't be surprised if he guest-stars later this year in CLAIRVOYANT fighting alongside his former mentor, Doctor Psychic!

Q: Why does Starfire have it in for Psimon? A: In DC SUPERSTARS IN SPACE #6 he prevented her from destroying her home planet of Tamaran.

Q: Is Psimon related to Validus from the LEGION OF THE SUPER-VALIANT comic? They both have mental powers, Psimon wears purple and has a see-through helmet and Validus is purple-skinned and has a see-through head! A: Wow! Interesting theory, but nope! Validus is not Psimon's descendant. Besides, can you imagine your child coming out looking like your favorite outfit? That would just be silly!

Evil Psimon is a creepy monster so I made Good Psimon a handsome hunk. He has that Mister Freeze thing goin' on with the helmet so the fact he's a dreamboat just makes it all the more tragic he can't kiss anybody. (And conceptually, Good Psimon owes a lot to Cyclops, Rogue, Jack of Hearts, and just for the heck of it, Captain Marvel... er, the Fawcett/DC one.) I based Good Psimon's costume on the Evil Psimon's original duds... y'know, the hot pink choir robe with the lace collar? That's where the cape came from. So the terrarium helmet wouldn't get lonesome, I added see-through-plastic-over-white gloves and kneepads. The rest of the costume is done up in shades of purple to coordinate with the cape. Finally, his hair is white, because it goes with the whole colorless/see-through head theme. Besides, I just can't resist a good-lookin' guy with prematurely white hair!

Good Starfire's costume is a flimsy purple number with freakin' daisies or some shit on it, so I made Evil Starfire's costume the opposite of that in several ways:

1. It covers everything except her face and hands.
2. The color is hot instead of cool.
   
3. The shapes are geometric instead of organic. Specifically, that goofball flower thing has been replaced by hexagons.
   

Also, her positively gargantuan Tamarafro of sproingy, curly hair -- or rather, the energy that surrounds it and creates the illusion of a trail as she passes by, is confined to a crest of flames atop the helmet. Voila! Curvy cosmic badass!

Next week: I'm not done with Starfire yet! It's Gender Reassignment Challenge time!

Previous Moral Realignment Challenges:

• Elongated Man and Doctor Light
• Jubilee and Apocalypse
• Iron Man and M.O.D.O.K.
• The Flash and Murmur
• Green Arrow and Clock King
• Nightwing and Gizmo
• Wonder Girl and Mammoth

Rescue Me Bonus: Son of the Annihilator

I'd like to start out with a belated tip of the cap to Sleestak for suggesting yesterday's post! Thanks, pal! Now, let's get down to business.

The main story in "Action Comics" #356 (November 1967) starts out on a bizarre note, as the Annihilator, a doughy Eurotrash doofus in an absurd costume, orders Superman to leave the Earth within forty-eight hours... and Superman agrees! Because the Annihilator is a dangerous individual. And he's obviously, unpredictably bat-shit crazy... a man who would willingly dress like that is capable of anything!

But the proceedings take an even freakier turn when the Annihilator decides to do what any publicly-loathed celebrity does to improve his image: adopt a kid who can show up in a few newspaper photos before he's handed over to the nanny for the rest of his natural life! His new son? A smart-mouthed teenage delinquent. Because, really, isn't that the obvious choice? Let's take a look at the irrepressible little scamp, starting with the cover.

What's wrong with this picture? (And no, the Annihilator's "Nostril Libre" mask doesn't count.) Here's a hint: it was published in 19-freaking-67. And yet the Son of the Annihilator is dressed like Marlon Brando in "The Wild One" (a film from 1953!). It's yet more proof of how DC was getting thoroughly drubbed in the Coolness Wars by Marvel Comics. Sure, Stan Lee was a middle-aged crypto-fascist conservative, but at least he could pretend to get his grooviness on! DC wore their John Birchian squareness right on their covers where every hippie could see it. But wait! It gets worse! Thanks to the cover artist (I'm guessing Neal Adams?) the Son of the Annihilator appears to be a darkly handsome "bad boy" whom any teenage girl (and more than a few teenage boys) would swoon for. So far, not bad. But let's see how interior artist (Wayne Boring, I think) depicts him!

Yipes. Kinda homely. (And he stole all his insults from old "Dead End Kids" films.) Well, maybe he looks better when he smiles.

Gah! He's hideous! Who's his biological father? The Prankster? Criminy! I can forgive a lot in a guy (evidenced by my continuing relationship with Weight Wizard) but a deficient personality and an ugly mug? Good night male nurse!

All that aside, I must say that "Action Comics" #356 had an intriguing undercurrent. Leather-loving outsider "caught... with the meat in his mouth" approached by a brawny, elaborately-moustachioed older gentleman who wants to be called "Dad"? (Haw! Your father's mustache, Pocketbook Pete!) I dunno. It just really resonates with me for some unknown reason.

Anyway, like a lot of father-son relationships, Annihilator and Son hit a rocky patch when hijo ingests some contraband substances.

"All right, son! I'm glad to share my super-power with you." Which of course the Annihilator is going to say, since his own super-power has worn off, and the smirking little shit he calls "son" would punch his goofy noggin off his fat neck if he so much as looked at him funny. ("Daddy-o." Aw, for chrissakes, DC Comics of 1967--!) You know what I would have liked to have seen in "Infinite Crisis"? Son of the Annihilator and Superboy Prime going all "Rock'em Sock'em Robots" on each other. Just get rid of both of those annoying dillweeds at the same time.

So. The Son of the Annihilator is a lot of things, but one thing he's not is cool. He needs one of my patented Blockade Boy makeovers, pronto!

Ah, that's better. The Son of the Annihilator... wait, he needs a name that's not so clunky... I believe I'll dub him "Kid Annihilator" or KA for short... anyway, Kid Annihilator has a shagadelic rawk 'n' roll haircut now, complete with muttonchops. He doesn't bother to cover up his facial hair with a mask like the Annihilator does because he doesn't care about protecting a secret identity. He has the Annihilator's logo on his chest, but it's bordered by three orange shapes that hark back to the radioactivity symbol. That relates to the glow of his powerful fists. His boots are fringed because it's current and groovy and youthful (for 1967) and also because I like the contrast between supercostumes and street clothing. (When it's not overpowering or overdone, I should add. Like trenchcoats... ugh!) In my sketches he had a fringed vest to match, but I decided it covered up too much of my design. And the color scheme is all secondary colors because it compliments the Annihilator's primary scheme and it's more far-out, maaaannnn! Now this guy would look at home battling the Teen Titans... who are as hip, sadly, as 1967 DC ever would get. In my head I can see a dynamic Nick Cardy cover with Kid Annihilator smashing his way through the Titans in front of the words "Make War, Not Love!"

What else do I see in my head? Oh, you don't wanna know. You couldn't handle it! What? You're sure? Okay, I'll share one more thing: I can see Weight Wizard's face after I disrobed in the Conjugal Visit Pod at the addiction treatment center. I take it he'd never seen a robotic dingus before. And he'd especially never seen one with my self-designed Robot Hand with Pimp-Slapping Action attachment! Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sharing too much. Suffice it to say Weight Wizard learned his lesson. For now! And inbetween visits, he can think of me while he tries to scub off the huge motor oil stain I left on his back. Er, I'm sharing too much again, aren't I? See you next Monday!

Rescue Me Bonus: the Annihilator

Here's a costume redesign that doesn't fit into one of my regular categories: 1960's Superman villain, the Annihilator. One of my many cultured and tasteful commenters* suggested I tackle this joker's apparel, mainly because his nose pokes through his mask! I'd forgotten all about him until last week. That's when a laser-guided demolition crew disintegrated a museum to make way for a new Bismoll MacMattercuddy's family restaurant (try the copper-plated breakfast burrito!) and discovered an ancient comic book shoppe underneath! It turns out the whole thing had been engulfed in lava while the inhabitants were in the middle of a HeroClix tourney. Thank goodness mylar and cardboard proved to be the perfect protection against surging, molten death. Size XXXL Vampirella t-shirts? Not so much. All that was left of the humans in that crowded death-box was some Pompei-style rock statues studded with candybar wrappers and the occasional ingrown beard hair. Long story short, the development company claimed the store's merchandise through some arcane landlocked salvage law and auctioned the whole deal off, cheap! I snagged a ton of them, including a copy of Action Comics #356 (November 1967). It was perfectly legible once I chisled the rock off of it.

*I'm embarrassed and chagrined to admit that I can't remember who precisely. I even spent a couple of hours last night poring over my older costume redesign posts looking for the exact comment. I couldn't locate it, but I got many a hearty, booming, basso profundo chuckle from reading my own writing. Good heavens, but I'm clever! Er, anyway... maybe the person I'm thinking of sent me an e-mail instead. I dunno.

The Annihilator's power is cool enough. He's like an evil Human Bomb, powered by chemicals somehow left on the Earth by the Kryptonians (the Kree of the DC Universe... just dropping their untold scads of power-inducing crap all over planet Earth, like it's their own personal landfill). But that costume--! The main part of it is ugly, but in a completely boring way -- just like most characters that show up in your typical Superman story. But then... there's the mask. It does indeed have his nose sticking through it, all naked and nude and uncovered, with a frankly insoucient attitude reminiscent of Berlin in the 1920's. But wait! That's not the best part! The real beauty of the mask is that it covers up his upper lip... because the Annihilator's civilian identity, "Nobel Prize-winning biochemist" Karl Keller, has a handlebar mustache!

See? And he's not even drawn by Herb Trimpe! Honestly, I think the Annihilator could have had a much more illustrious career if only he'd dressed better! So here's what I'd do:

See, Annihilator? That's how you can enjoy both a supervillainous secret identity and a handlebar mustache while not getting laughed at! Well, at least they won't laugh at you in your villain costume, anyhow. I make no guarantees for how you dress in the privacy of your own lab. Because his powers are Kryptonian-based, I made his costume a riff on Superman's. That's why it's primarily red-and-blue, only darker, natch, 'cause he's a baddie. Instead of a cape, the red is supplied by the accessories, like the nifty shoulderpads. The Anime-style hair has one extra-long lock as a tribute to Superman's famous (and equally ridiculous) "spit curl." Except it's sticking straight up in the air and it's all spiky, to impart menace. No, for reals. Plus, he can just slick it back down while he's out of costume. The Annihilator's logo is an inverted Superman shield (evil!) with the alchemical symbol for the planet Pluto inside it, symbolizing upheaval and violent change. And sure, it looks like the intergalactic sign for a well-hung gentleman who's doing the splits, but so what? I checked out 21st Century industrial explosion symbols online but it turns out they're not designed very well at all. I could have done better, but none of you vacuous cavemen bothered to ask me while I was living in your idiotic time period. Feh. Your loss!

Tomorrow (you heard me): the Son of the Annihilator! Plus, Weight Wizard news.

Next week: Moral Reversal Challenge: Starfire and Psimon!

Previous "Rescue Me" challenges:

• Turner D. Century
• Shellshock
• Mirage
• The Vamp
• The Basilisk
• Megatak
• Hellrazor
• The Melter
• Cyclone
• The Hijacker
• The Fly
• The Cheetah
• Lionfang
• The Miracle Man
• Bird-Man 2
• Steeplejack 2
• Commander Kraken
• Titania

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Enchantress to Enchanter, Part Three

Remember when I said that the Enchantress' Suicide Squad costume was a tough one to translate into a male version? I found her Shadowpact costume even tougher. That's because it's another bustier/tiara combo. (Criminy, people! Enough already! How 'bout a nice tailored pant suit and a Pucci scarf?) To top it off, the costume also has capri pants, slippers, and fingerless opera gloves! To top that off? It's really, really boring. Say what you will about the giant witch hat, at least it had some personality and it was actually symbolic of the Enchantress' powers. The sorry ensemble she sports in the "Shadowpact" era is a warmed-over regurgitation of Storm, the Scarlet Witch, Marvel's Enchantress, and the White Queen, with a little "Shelly Winters in 'Lolita'" for spice. It's "I Dream of Jeanie" meets the Pussycat Dolls. Blech. Hey, let's get our heroine's reaction to the first time she saw her new get-up in a full-length mirror.

You can't run from ugly, Enchantress. But enough about her! What about me? (Which is something I ask people, including random bystanders, at least ten times a day.) To put it mildly, I had quite the chore on my hands.

Here's what I finally came up with:

The last time I had to rework a tiara for a male character, I turned it into hair. This time, it's a tattoo. Or facepaint, if you're squeemish. I made it red, like the gem, instead of gold. Because it looks tougher that way! I think it lends a nice shamanistic feel to the character. I also added a smaller portion of tattoo/paint to the chin, to balance out the design. I changed the oval jewel to a rectangular one and moved it up to the neck. And I connected the cape to a tall, close-fitting collar. The lace-up bustier was turned into a Ren Faire/Barney Rubble lace-up vest. The fingerless opera gloves are now very long wrist bands (they go from the wrist to the elbow). The sash is a lot wider now -- kind of a swashbuckling, Arabian Nights type of thing. I kept the silhouette of the capri pants/slippers, but the negative space that used to be exposed skin is now the very stylized portion of the boots.

Whew! I think it holds together okay. That said, I really prefer the previous two costumes. They're a lot more fun!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Enchantress to Enchanter, Part Two

Today I'm revamping the Enchantress' best-known costume. And boy, is it a tough one! Why? Because I say so, that's why! Never question me! Sheesh!

Fine, I'll explain. The Enchantress' 1980's outfit is a weird androgynous affair* that would have looked perfectly at home in a mondern dance company's interpretive ballet about Shang-Chi, Master of Kung-Fu. Plus? It had a kooky hat! But mostly the look screams "1980's!!!" The top is all loose and flowy, and the bottom is... stirrup pants. A girl could have worn this ensemble to the mall in 1986 Minneapolis and been the toast of Teentown! So my challenge was to somehow make it even more butch without going too far afield from the original design.

What I came up with is very "John Byrne." Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as it doesn't involve those weird chunky metal boots he likes to draw... y'know, the ones that look like upended spittoons. Or Donna Troy's "business casual prom" costume from near the end of his Wonder Woman run. (Remember? The spiky off-the-shoulder number? Yikes!) Anyway, goes:

Or maybe it's more like the costumes John Romita, Jr. designed for the X-Men comics in the 80's. Can't you just see Rogue in this? Minus the hat, I mean? Okay, enough nostalgia. Let's break this thing down:

Long hair on a sorceror in the 1980's? Sure, I'll allow it! It's very "David Copperfield meets Aerosmith" so why the hell not? I opened up the front of the blouse/robe thingie and lengthened it on the bottom for more of a loincloth effect. Then I paired the black tights with a black top, so the Enchanter wouldn't show as much skin as the Enchantress. The boots are in a manly, swashbuckling mode, with the "V" shaped flap mirroring the shapes of the hat and the top. I finished it off with a stylized, Kirby-esque Fourth World-type goatee.

*Y'know, I once had a weird androgynous affair. I thought I'd finally gotten Lightning Lad to "switch teams" and then it turned out I'd actually gotten it on with his twin sister, Lightning Lass! Or so they claimed...!

Tomorrow: The Enchanter's final costume! How will I reinterpret yet another bustier? Yeah, I'm not sure either. Let's find out together!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Enchantress to Enchanter, Part One

Have you ever known somebody whom you thought looked kind of cute and fun the first time you met them, but that turned out to be a total fluke? Because every single time you've seen them afterwards they were dressed in clothes that were either ugly or way over the top slutty? And when you think back to it, even the first time you met them they displyed a stank personality? That's how I feel about the Enchantress. Not the grandly bitchy Marvel version, though. I'm talking about the DC Universe Enchantress, June Moone. Because when I saw this costume of hers as a little boy (in "Superman Family" #204 (December 1980) I just thought it was the cutest thing ever:

Forget (if you can) the freshly boiled Mister Potato Head with the thyroid problem... how about that costume? Green-and-black Harlequin-print miniskirt, finished with huge jagged edges created by the world's biggest pinking shears (probably manifested by the Spectre)? If this is a dream, nobody pinch me because I don't wanna wake up! And the hat? Adorable! It's like she's straight out of a Sandra Dee comedy, one with a title like "The Witchiest Debutante" or maybe "Love Me for a Spell." It's just a shame her personality is so humorless. Why dress cute when you're actually a total pill? Ah, well.

The Enchantress had a shot at being a fun, magic-using superheroine, a la Zatanna, based on her first appearance ("Strange Adventures" #187, April 1966). She even had a very Captain Marvel-esque origin, in that sweet blonde June Moone got her powers from a weirdo on a granite throne, courtesy of a (green) lightning bolt (not shown in the above flashback sequence). And I love that the bolt was accompanied by the sound effect "VOOM" (as in va-va-)! Alas, these salad days would prove to be short-lived. After a few more stories in "Strange Adventures" she dropped out of sight until 1980, when she was used as the sort-of-baddie in a two-part Supergirl story. Her fortunes have waxed and waned countless times since then. To me, however, she'll always be the gal with the cute pun name and the go-go check skirt.

Which is a warped, roundabout way of saying I'm dedicating a supersized Gender Reassignment Challenge to her. Three costumes: original, Suicide Squad era and Shadowpact era, over three days (today through Wednesday)! Wahoo!

The first costume is one of her girliest, since it features both a mini-skirt and a witch hat. Well sir, here's how I'd recajigger it for a man:

My first sketches for the Enchanter (a.k.a. August Moon*, no teahouse jokes if you please) had him wearing a Guy Fawkes/Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General hat, which is flat on top. I didn't like it. Too Pilgrim-y. I finally decided to lengthen the crown of the witch hat and make it like a Gandalf-type hat instead. Note how the brim slouches rakishly over one eye. His hair is Beatle's-length, but with some Goth pointiness and shag. I had initially loaded up the Enchanter's costume with 17th Century gear like these convoluted little boots with spurs on them, but I forced myself to edit it down into something that was more like a 1960's superhero costume... specifically, like Doctor Strange's. I used to hate that the Doctor never wore boots, but I totally understand it now. I altered the Enchantress' miniskirt into a waistcoat and kept the arms and legs of the outfit very simple, so as not to compete with the pattern.

*or if you prefer, Newt Eldritch.

Tomorrow: the Suicide Squad look, with some Byrne/Simonson flavor. See you then!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

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

Rescue Me: Titania

Back in the 1980's, a bunch of folks under the nom-de-guerre of "Scourge" took it upon themselves to wipe out supervillainy! As long as it wasn't Doctor Doom or Magneto or the Mandarin or the Abomination or anybody else who stood a decent chance of kicking "Scourge's" collective ass. Nope, only losers and second-rate douchebags were offed by Scourge. With the cry "Justice is served!" Scourge agents would shoot hapless second-stringers with explosive bullets (usually in the back) or maybe they'd just lure a whole passle of 'em to an out-of-the-way location and blow them to smithereens, en masse. And almost to a man (and woman) these supervillainous unfortunates had atrocious costumes. In fact, it's my theory that if they'd simply dressed better, they could have ended up as big time villains... and therefore they'd have been too big to make the Scourge posse's shitlist!

Skeptical? Allow me to demonstrate! Take for example... oh, let's say... Titania! No, not the Secret Wars redhead with the spikes-a-poppin' costume and the bulletheaded beau. I'm talking the previous Titania. I'm talking about the lady who led the all-lady-wrestler supervillain team, the Grapplers. The close personal friend of Screaming Mimi/Songbird. The one who got her ass kicked by the Dazzler. The gal who was offed while she was taking a shower by a possibly female Scourge agent in a feather boa. Ouch.

Big Barda called; she wants her headband back! What's wrong with this costume? How 'bout the fact it just looks like a one-piece swimsuit with a lot of big red buttons on it? Oh, I'm sorry... they're "explosive discs." Whatever. Bottomline? It's BORING!

I think Titania's look is a remnant of the old Marvel policy of making every costume look like it was designed by Jack Kirby. Granted, she first appeared in "Marvel Two-In-One" #54. So she was probably designed by Ron Wilson. Wilson was Marvel's most prolific Kirby immitator in the early 80's, sometime after the heyday of Herb Trimpe (assuming Herb Trimpe ever enjoyed anything that could be considered a "heyday") and before the oppressive reign of Ron "Tom DeFalco Says I Have To Draw This Way Now" Frenz. That would explain the costume's thrown-together look and its oodles of meaningless ornamentation.

So here's what I'd have done:

Titania needed to ditch the disc gimmick and stick to the theme that made her (halfway) unique: lady wrasslin'! She was a strong woman, plain and simple. In fact, her strength was super-sized over the years... first through technology and then through the Power Broker's patented treatments. And with the wrestling angle, she had a reasonably solid, memorable hook. Hey, it's less generic than some bozo with a bad haircut and a zillion little pouches, flying around and shooting goopy laser beams out of his palms.

I wanted to put Titania in a suit that looked reasonably like a wrestling costume and was at once strong, intimidating, practical, and a little sexy. Admittedly, the recent (your time) kerfuffle over Michael Turner's atrocious depiction of Power Girl was in the back of my mind. Not that Titania the First was ever a sex object. At any rate, my Titania has more muscle mass than the skinny bitches who usually show up to fight the good guys. She's a strong, sturdy, healthy gal. And sure, she's in a tight costume, but there isn't a whole lot of skin exposed. Heck, even her ears are covered up, because her cowl is based on genny-ine wresting headgear. There's a chin guard and everything! Her shoulder straps are nice and wide so there's little danger of her breasts being exposed in combat. She's wearing heels, kind of, because a wrestling-themed supercostume needs some theatrical elements. But they're not really high heels and they sure ain't stilettos. You can't see it from this angle, but Titania is actually wearing those chunky, solid boots where the heel is elevated. Kind of like platforms, only not. I don't know what you folks call them. In my time, they go by a Khundian name and it's not really translatable into English. It kind of sounds like a really watery fart. Anyway, I think I saw Gwen Stefani wearing them one time. The 21st Century ones, not the Khundian ones. God, I'm floundering here. I'm flopsweating like a sum'bitch! Dang! Aw, let's move on. I used purple as the costume's main color to symbolize royalty, because Shakespeare's Titania was a queen. And in case that wasn't obvious enough, I added two crown symbols: one on the cowl and one on the waist where a belt buckle would be. So the yellow crowns wouldn't get lonesome, I added yellow accents to the gloves, boots, and headgear. They harken back to the fuzzily scientific thingamabobs Roxxon Oil added to her costume to augment her strength.

*slaps forhead* It's called a wedge heel! God, don't you just hate it when you remember things too late?

I like to think this Titania would have knocked the gun out of She-Scourge's hands with a roundhouse kick, strangled her with her own boa, hoisted the homicidal nuisance over her head, and tossed 'er out a window. And then she'd have said sumpin' kick-ass but not terribly clever, like "Serve this, bitch!" (Am I overthinking this? Oh, just a tad.)

Oh, and Scipio wanted to know how I liked the planet of Femnaz, which is ruled by lipstick lesbians. As you'll recall, the Femnaz men are all living there again, after the Legion took it upon itself to ship their wimpy asses back to where they came from. So the good news is: men! The bad news is: they're a weak and cowardly lot. All intellectual and spindly. Feh! I spotted one miraculously brawny specimen in a coffee shop and after chatting him up for a bit I suggested we go back to my hotel room and "wrestle." *raises big bushy eyebrows suggestively* His reply? "Like the other males, I think combat for sport is barbarous." Then he tooted his rape whistle and I was thrown in jail! Thank God my cell had pay-per-view!

Me Am Here!

HI! HI! HI! Me am BLOCKADE TOT! Me am awesome super-baby living on moon! Me am three years old! Me not especially good with personal pronouns! Me am from many many years in PAST! Funny man in purple robe SNATCH me from day-care on moon-colony! Him plop me down here on planet Earth in front of future-self's computer to see what me do because he am avid reader of future-self's blog and him think it BORING right now! Me not know where future-self is but me think me am SWELL REPLACEMENT!

What can me tell you 'bout me? Me like: macaroni and space cheese, rainbows (though me never actually see one), horsies, rubbing mommy's feet. Me hate: moon rover sickness, Winath sprouts, daddy's "friend" Justine. Me have super-power! Me can turn into three-foot by three-foot steel wall! Mommy use me as PET GATE sometimes so old limping half-blind space-terrier Spaat not get into trouble! Me have to stand at top of stairs for HOURS! Sometimes mommy and mommy's friends am in next room playing Cosmic Mah-Jong and drinking Orando Slings until they DRUNK and mommy FORGET about Blockade Tot! Then it morning again and she want feet rubbed and she holler "WHERE AM that damn kid?" And me say "Here mommy! Here!" Then she say "Oops!" and she apologize but me not sure she really mean it! Me think she am kind of SCREWED UP! Me still love her though!

Other name is "Phyl Staad" but that am lame! So me INSIST mommy and daddy and day-care lady and other kids call me Blockade Tot! If mommy and daddy and day-care lady forget well there not much me can do 'bout it! (Mommy say Daddy forget WHOLE BUNCH OF THINGS sometimes! Like where him live and who him married to!) But if KIDS forget then me punch them on arm REAL REAL HARD or me push them down or me grab kids' feet and drag them 'cross gravelly part of playground! Them all learn by now! All except best friend Weight Novice!

Weight Novice am shrimpy kid! Other kids all pick on Weight Novice except him am always hanging around me! That am because me am MUCH BIGGER than other kids! Because me am only kid on whole moon-colony from planet Amadus! That am also why me only kid in day-care with hairy legs!

Weight Novice like to TEASE ME and TEASE ME! Him call me "Phyl" and "Phylbert" and "Phyl-ly Cheese Steak" and "Cum On Phyl the Noize" (which am Amadus planetary anthem) and him NEVER call me "Blockade Tot" and me get SUPER-ANGRY! So me shove him on ground and me just lay on top of him for real long time yelling "Say name! Say name!" until him CRYING! And then me roll off him. And me and him get giggle fit! Ha, ha!

One time Weight Novice make himself super-weightless and him start to float away but me grab Weight Novice's foot with big hairy hand and then me just carry him 'round all day like him am HELIUM BALLOON! That pretty funny too! Weight Novice no longer wear red or yellow or blue no more because me sat him down and TOLD him he not look good in primary colors! So now him only wear purple and orange! Just like me! Me also responsible for Weight Novice getting more flattering haircut! Mommy and Daddy think me spend WAY TOO MUCH TIME over at Weight Novice's house! ME think Mommy and Daddy spend way too much time over by liquor cabinet! Ha, ha!

Funny man in purple robe say this am enough already! Him say me am kind of DOWNER so him am sending me back in time again and also to moon-colony! Me want to STAY and read some of future-self's blog! Like ALREADY me see that someday me have a ROBOTIC DINGUS which me am pretty sure am kind of wild doggie from Australia! So THAT am cool! When me all growed up, me ride robotic dingus every day! Oops! Funny man in purple robe am just shaking head! Him say "Time's up!" This am it! BYE-BYE EVERYBODY! BYE-BYE!