"A Green Arrow! Crashing through the window!"

Activated by a radio announcement, Green Arrow launches himself into action at the History Club in the least sensible way possible: ejector seat.

"This is faster than using the stairs... and a 1000 times stupider!"

Include 'window bars' in the 1001 Ways To Defeat Green Arrow.  This scene shows one of the secrets to Green Arrow's success: he continually does more life-threatening things to himself than his foes do.  "Rig up an ejector seat that will hurl GA out of his car and into the side of building" is a GREAT villainous plan for doing in Green Arrow... it's just that Ollie beats them to it.  No wonder there are no good Green Arrow villains; what class act would want to compete with Ollie's self-imposed "Jackass" stunts in endangering himself?

I love the fact that members of the History Club don't even think to say "WTF, why are you crashing through our window and who's going to pay for that?!"  Remember, Green Arrow is already a world-wide figure and well known in Manhattan; they expect this kind of pointless destruction and stupidity from him.  He's like Naked Guitar-Playing Cowboy.

So, rather than complain, the members of the History Club simply introduce themselves with exposition ("intropositioning" as we have termed it) as quickly as possible, before they start dying:

Frank is clearly named after one of history's greatest men, Marcy D'Arcy.

The History Club is (of course) populated only by successful men with surnames of famous historical figures.  That is, it's the kind of club that exists only in the DCU.  All adult clubs in the DCU have the same purpose: for their members to be murdered.  One by one.  "Joining a club" is the number one method of suicide in Golden Age comic books; you will be killed; your family will still get the insurance money; and your killer will be caught (or will die ironically).  

Usually, clubs have some stupid theme that serves as the red herring.  You know the drill: murder victims all have X in common. "Why is the killer obsessed with killing Xs?"  And then it turns out that only one or two of the victims are the real targets, the other murders are just 'to throw the police off the trail'.  "To throw the police off the trail" is the number one cause of murder in the DCU (and most murder mysteries).   

If Green Arrow is ahead of you in thinking, you are going to die very very soon.

Sure enough...

Well, there's a shock.

Yes. Leonard, Green Arrow is trying to trick you. Because he's a thematic psychokiller who wants to shoot an arrow into your heel. In front of witnesses.  You completely deserve to die, dumb-ass.  If Green Arrow wanted to kill you, he'd just give you a ride in the Arrowcar and catapult you into the side of a building.

Someone from across the street shoots at Green Arrow (like ya do), which is made remarkably easier by the fact that Green Arrow already destroyed the window with his pointless entrance.

"electrocuted: killed (or injured) by electric shock"
You're welcome, Ollie; and stop yelling.

So, Green Arrow does what seems like the perfectly logical thing if you're Green Arrow:

True story: last night, I lost sleep trying to imagine how Green Arrow could be any stupider.

shoots a tight rope across to the other building and slowly walks across it toward the armed man who just shot at him.  You can almost feel the despair of the wannabe Green Arrow villain whose plan was "I'll force him to walk a tight-rope high over a city street toward an armed gunm--GODDAMMIT, ARROW!"

Fortunately the kid in the yellow hat got bored sitting in the Arrowcar and decides to catapult up, knowing full well that GA's had almost 3 minutes to put himself in mortal danger.

"GA,look out for the skylight...!!!"
"OW, my shin! *kee-rash* YAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...."

Indulge me; look at that man; how many fingers does he appear to have? Remember your answer because this will be on the test.

A pigeon coop. Really, I don't have the strength to comment on that.  

So, this guy -- lazily named "Muggsy Smith" -- tells them he was under orders from his masked boss, whom he was going to meet at 5pm.  Ollie decides to take Muggsy's place at the meeting.  Rather than, say, call the police.  Because he's Green Arrow, and disguising himself as Muggsy is the choice that's a thousand times stupider.

Besides...

"I'll be waiting outside the hideout...just in case you eff this up like an idiot."
"Thanks, Red-Leg Kid!"

...WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?


Next: What goes wrong.

At room temp'rature

If you are familiar at all with those wacky creations of DC's late Silver Age, the Metal Men, then you've probably seem them do their standard "introposition" spiels. 

Whenever you see them do this (they do it in almost every story), you barely pay attention because it's become so formulaic.  Particularly Mercury's "did I ever mention that Mercury is the only metal etc." routine.

So would you notice if it were...

a haiku?

I'M MERCURY THE

ONLY METAL THAT'S LIQUID

AT ROOM TEMPERATURE.

I'm assuming Mercury pronounces "temperature" with only three syllables, because, well, that's how everyone pronounces it.

We all know Mercury's the snooty one, but don't the other Metal Men deserve their own haikus?  Can you write them each their own haikus of self-introduction?

Final Crisis: Secret Files

Len Wein is my newest (Facebook) friend, and just in time for my spirited defense of his most recent comic, the Final Crisis: Secret Files that came out last week.

I've heard from an unimpeachable source, that this book's been getting dissed on line. Inconceivable!

First off, it's the only remotely comprehensible Final Crisis book so far. Grant Morrison didn't write it, and Len Wein did. Len Wein, unlike Morrison, is able to write a story that makes you say, "Wow, what happened in that story was crazy!", rather than, "Wow, I have no idea what happened in that story and whoever wrote it was crazy!"

Second, it's got the villain talking out loud to himself and intropositioning himself through his origin story. How refreshingly old-school and in keeping with the comic book medium!

Speaking of which.... third, the origin itself was almost aggressively old-school. The villain playing with Heroclix figures. Libra's pseudo-prophetic name, Justin Ballantine. The childhood traumas brought on by ... lack of balance. And, c'mon.... how can you not love that the Golden Age Starman is as essential part of the story? Nothing, but nothing says old-fashioned goodness and DRAMA than the Golden Age Starman. Not only does his inclusion gives us that background that makes the original Libra story (more) believable and grounded in the DCU as we know it, but the story lets us know that Ted Knight had all the info on his Starman tech just filed casually in an unlocked cabinet in his office. Of course he did; he's Starman. It wouldn't even occur to him that some lesser being would be able to understand his work.

Now, it's possible that Len just writes this way naturally, as a good Bronze-Ager. But I much prefer to perceive it as an act of literary defiance against the Morrison Generation. I imagine him pounding this stuff out on a typewriter, snickering, "THIS is how an origin goes, you disaffected little postmodernist punks! Everything you think is 'cool' is underacinatably rooted in everything you think is 'uncool'. And there's nothing you can do about it; NOTHING, I say! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Fourth (and this is really, I suppose, just an extention of the last point), there's the dialog. If I want weepy drama, self-recrimination, and moral quavering, well, my television gets both "the N" and Lifetime, thank you very much. I read comics because I need THIS:

"Should I commit some elaborate crime to bring myself to the heroes' attention?"

"We begin our planetary reign of terror immediately."

"Ahhh.... You're all awake. Excellent."

"Worlds uncounted are now mine to toy with as I will!"

and, of course, this timeless classic reprised from the original Libra story:

"I am truth! I am knowledge! I ... am ... losssssssstttttttt...."

Fifth: Darkseid's makeover-vision. It's the first time Darkseid's ever impressed me or even seemed useful or threatening. Darkseid totally deserves a show on HGTV or Bravo: "Omega Eye for the Earth Guy". Glorious Godfrey could be the Culture Guy, Granny Goodness would handle the grooming tips, and Desaad could renovate your bachelor pad into a swinging torture chamber for the new millenium.

And all this is just Len's story. This book goes for the extra points, including a one-page explanation of the anti-life equation that makes more sense than all of Final Crisis put together, and the sketchbook that includes that welcome news that DC finally understands that Aquaman is a western.

Groovy Chick Month 8: Enrichetta Negrini

The Search for Ray Palmer? Forget about Ray Palmer; start searching for his assistant!


She was an Italian knockout and an outstanding scientist. A cutting edge physicist and a shiny-haired beauty. As at home in the Eternal City as in the Eternal Laws, she was Gina Lolabrigitta and Lise Meitner combined.

The one, the only:

Enrichetta Negrini!

Enrichetta Negrini was an Italian graduate student of Ray Palmer's at Ivy University. She was actually named for her countryman and fellow physicist, Enrico Fermi, which despite being really "comic-booky" is still pretty darned cool.

"Why didn't I bring a flamethrower, just in case?"
Jean is asking herself.

Enrichetta possesses the power of introposition, which is always groovy. And cute when done with an Italian accent!

Enrichetta didn't need go-go boots or love beads to be groovy. She rocked her simple, sleek dresses, pouty lips, massively arched eyebrows, and the warrior helmet hairdo that protected her enormously powerful and valuable brain.

How smart was Enrichetta? Smart enough to keep up with Ray Palmer; that's scary smart!

"We'll see how smart you are when I step on that big brain of yours with my tiny boots!"
Jean thought.

Unlike Ray Palmer, who never seemed to even think of using his amazing discoveries to advance society rather than just play hero, Enrichetta sees the world-changing possibilities of technology.


At one point, she could even turn things into gold with her mind (and the Philosopher's Stone); but that's another story entirely.

"Enrichetta's amazing, honey! Today she invented a hyper-space prober!" Ray said.
"Oh, and, um... what did you do today, Jean?"

What became of Enrichetta Negrini, the beautiful and brilliant pioneer of hyper-space? If only someone, say, perhaps the writer on the Atom, would bring back Enrichetta Negrini, who was one groovy chick!

Groovy Chick Month 4: Julie Jively

Today, let's talk about one of Lois Lane's former roommates. Do I mean marvelous Marsha Mallow, one of our Absorbafaves?


Do I mean Kristen Cutler, piranha-loving, knife-wielding lunatic?


NO! The chick I mean is EVEN GROOVIER.

Once upon a time (Lois Lane 120), Lois Lane's sister got involved with the sinister crime cartel called the 100, then was (apparently) killed in South America. This led to exactly what you'd expect: Lois tied to a giant bull's-eye while a pack of Frito Banditos aim their darts at her nether regions. I just hate it when that happens!

Sometimes, to paraphrase Freud, a dart is just a dart.
This is not one of those times.

Anyway, the whole adventure wrecks Lois's composure and she goes missing for a month and winds up wandering the streets of what in Metropolis passes as the bad part of town (meaning that the sidewalk ice cream vendors there don't carry sprinkles).

Lois is (of course) mugged and who comes her aid? No, not Superman!

JULIE JIVELY!

Okay, I don't really know what her last name was; it's never mentioned (please, readers, correct me if it was every clarified in some later story, because I'd love to know what her last name really is).

Marsha and Kristen got last names when they exercised their power of introposition. But when Julie met Lois, she was too busy kicking tail to introposition herself.

But if the fat roommate is Marsha Mallow and the knife-wielding roommate is Kristen Cutler, it's pretty clear that this story, despite Bronze Age political sensibilities, still has Silver Age naming conventions. Thus, the sassy black roommate must be named Julie Jively.

In fact, I bet at the apartment they even stand around in alphabetical order: Julie Jively, Kristen Cutler, Lois Lane, and Marsha Mallow. Thank Schwartz the apartment wasn't any bigger or we'd be dealing with a French stewardess named No-No Nanette.

Not only does Julie Jively wear matching purple belt, hot pants, and hip boots (all leather, I assume) while kicking tail, but she also sasses you while doing it.



Oh, but remember, folks (and Batwoman), there's a price to pay for fighting crime in heels:

Fabulous high-kick, though. She could be one of the Metropolis Rockettes!


Don't worry, kids! Seeing Julie Jively in danger, Lois Lane comes to her senses and beats the muggers senseless with some garbage can lids. Welcome back, Lo-Lo! A standard Lois versus Evil Landlord Scheme follows, but the important part is this:


Yep. All those famously hip outfits Lois wore in the 1970s? The boots, the bangles, the beads? The minis, the micros, the midriffs? The headbands, the hot pants, the hip-huggers?

They belonged to JULIE JIVELY.


Julie Jiveley was a no-nonsense chick who talked turkey.

Butterball turkey, in fact.
P.S. Ladies, please get back in alphabetical order!

Julie Jively calls a woman she met that day and is planning on living with "Butterball", and starts controlling her life almost immediately. In comic books, this sort of behavior is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. In our world, it's the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome.

She's hip, she's sassy, she's a major busybody; how could she get any better? Why, she's well-educated and sultry, too!

It's the middle of the night, and you've awakened just in time to disarm your knife-wielding psycho of a roommate before she ventilates the orange Naugahyde sofa. Do you have the presence of mind to make a sassy Shakespearean reference? Julie Jively does.

Damn it, ladies, you're standing out of order again!

Not only is witty Julie Jively a Friend of the Bard, she's sultry. How do we know this? Just look, for pity's sake:

• Lois Lane is wearing a frilly "What color is my underwear?/Oh, save me, Superman!" nightie with matching slippers.
• Marsha Mallow is sporting classic "Ethel Mertz: Prisoner of Cellblock H" sleepwear.
• Julie Jively? Going barefoot in her "Leave the money on the table" red negligee. Besides, an editorial caption actually calls her "sultry Julie", just so there's no doubt.

Convinced yet? I've got one more try to help you understand the grooviness that is Julie Jively.

The scene is a crowded Metropolis lecture hall. Metropolitans, remember, get attacked by Brainiac or giant gorillas every other week, so they can get a little edgy. Earlier that day, an escalator had malfunctioned, so the crowd's pretty tense already. Suddenly, the lights in the auditorium go out. What does any sensible resident of Metropolis do?

ASSUME IT'S A BOMB AND PANIC!

Keeping her cool (something a girl has to know how to do these days), Julie Jively immediately leaps onto the stage and leads her roommates in

AN AUDIENCE-ENTRANCING HIGH-STEPPING KICKLINE!

Ah, I knew those high kicks of hers would come in handy some day! But the ladies are STILL out of order; what the heck is this, JLA #7?

Zod's Naughty Doggies

If thou are not reading Krypto the Superdog, I call thee "fool".

When I saw my email from Big Monkey about what was coming out this week, I thought, "Gosh, should I really be getting 'Krypto', some goofy comic for little kids?"

Yeah. I actually think "gosh". It's just one of the things that happens to you when you read lots of Golden Age comics.

Well, I enjoy all my comics this week, a lot. But I think I enjoyed Krypto as much as all of them combined. How could this be?

If you read this month's issue (a brilliant riff on Superman II), you'd know.

Remember when I said the evil Kryptonians banished to the Phantom Zone had cats? Well, some of them also had dogs.

BEHOLD THE DOGS OF ZOD!

This single panel contains more concentrated Evil than the Collected Preacher and more Four-Color Fabulousness than the Complete Works of Jeph Loeb.

Evil Kryptonian dogs. In purple capes. And facial hair. Well, I mean, more facial hair. Now, I would have been content if "Growl", "Snarl" and "Snap" had been their names. Of course, I realize now that that's silly; it's legally impossible to do that, since that's the name of the three gremlins on the box of Earth-3 Rice Krispies. So, in fact, their names are "Dom", "Vilea", and "Tronk", which automatically tells you everything you need to know about them collectively and individually; it's a masterpiece of canine introposition. I'm willing to bet that you, like I, are so immediately swept away by this Silver Age tsunami of a panel that you knew immediately that, rules of pronunciation be damned, that second name is "VILE - UH", not "vill AY uh". Because "VILE-UH" is an evil name.

Naturally, the Science Council turns to Jor-El, because they are established weenies and he's a Man of Scientific Action. That old saying "if your only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail" must be Kryptonian, I think, because Jor-El's is -- what else? -- to rocket them into outer space. That's Jor-El's solution to everything. A monkey flings poo at you? Rocket him into outer space! Your kid's dog whizzes on your K-Pod? Rocket him into outer space! Catch Van-Zee leering at Lara behind your back? Rocket him into outer space! For people who never left their own planet, the Kryptonians have an awful lot of rockets lying around.

Can you imagine how annoying it would be to work with Jor-El?

"Okay, everyone, let's figure out how to deal with the opposing lobbyists on the Hill--"
"Rocket them into outer space!'
"Uh, yeah, Jorry, we can't really do that, and Congress would never--"
"Rocket them, too!"
"To say nothing of the press."
"Into outer space! All of them!"
"New rule, Jorry: decaf only."

Anyway, so, Jor-El, who is not only single-minded but condescending, rockets them into outer space with a wicked nasty pun.

"Sirius?" "Completely."

Peter David, eat your heart out. "Sirius/completely" is now my second favorite pun, surpassed only by "Sir, you're back!"/"Yes, she almost broke it!"

Naturally, since it's a Jor-El plan, something goes wrong and the dogs wind up later on Earth. Because Jor-El's the kind of co-worker who, long after he's been retired or fired, is still responsible for messes that pop up on your desk years later.

"What do you mean, only the designer has the access codes? Call him."
"Um... he's in the Phantom Zone and his cell gets no signal there."
"Then wipe the damn thing and reinstall it."
"We need the original crystal memory shard for that."
"Don't tell me: SOMEone rocketed it into outer space..."
"Speaking of which... I think I figured out what happened to the office copy of The Collected Wisdom of the Six Known Galaxies... ."

So the Three Naughty Doggies show up on Earth, like everything else fleeing Krypton; when the heck did when give them TPS?

This is where they discover they have superpowers when on earth. At this point, I'll skip my "how do dogs, who have extremely little exposed skin, soak up solar energy?" lecture, because it's too geeky. But I will admit that my first thought upon seeing this panel was, "Oh, Tronk can't talk, like the big guy in Superman II; huh, I wonder why he can't talk." You know that the tsunami has hit and that you're completely submerged in Silver Age logic when you don't notice you're automatically thinking things like, "I wonder why that dog can't talk."

Now I'll skip the scene where they whup Streaky the Supercat's hinie, mostly because I've already sent that out to be framed. The real action comes when they catch up with Krypto and his family in Tahiti on vacation, where Krypto's human gets his family to safety by convincing them that there's an impending -- wait for it -- tsunami. Ain't that the truth.

The phrase "This is your hairless one? Perhaps after I've defeated you, I'll make him my pet" is a clever reference to a similar scene in Superman II. It's also extremely useful at the bars and I've already said it three times this weekend.

So, Krypto does his Linda Carter-esque superspin into costume:

If there's anything better than evil Kryptonian superdogs in purple capes and more facial hair it's snarky evil Kryptonian superdogs in purple capes and more facial hair. I didn't get to say, "Special effects and capes; how quaint" this weekend, but I did hear a 6'3" drag queen say it, which was even better.

At this point, we not only get to see that Kryptonian dogs have opposable thumbs (because THAT's how advanced the Kryptonians were), we get to hear one the Greatest Lines of All Time.

"Bow down to me, Pet of Jor-El!" Priceless.

All ends well. Our heroes trick the Three Naughty Dogs of Zod with some kryptonite and then handle them in the only sensible way:

Rocket them in outer space.

BUT WAIT, there's more.

The issue has a back-up story, in which Krypto the Superdog teams up with Ace the Bathound against the Joker's hyenas, Bud & Lou. Why?

Because Batman asked for their help.

Now, THAT is a Batman I can adore.

It's clever, plot-driven story, in which the Joker is trying use his pets to lure Batman out of town, and the dog heroes are trying to make it look as if he has, including lots of scenes where Ace disguises himself as Batman. No, that's not stupid; trust me, it works. I'm completely Sirius.

See for yourself.

No, he's not really driving. But I love that they let you think for a moment that he is.

Ace isn't driving; it's just Krypto the flying dog carrying the Batmobile using his superstrength. Phew! Good; for a moment I thought the writers were asking us to believe the impossible!

Don't dismiss something like Krypto just because it's "written for kids". Some of the best comics were, you know.

So, if thou are not reading Krypto the Superdog, I call thee "fool". And so does this guy:

10 Things Batman Should Never Say

I take back everything I said about Mike Sekowsky during Widowmaker Week, because it's by far the best story in the recently released Brave & Bold Showcase edition.

I'd not read much Bob Haney before, and my impression of his work stemmed largely from other people's perceptions (such as H and Devon). So I wasn't really prepared for the experience of reading this volume. No matter, I suppose, for one could no more effectively steel oneself against Haney's writing than one can mentally prepare oneself to fall into a wood chipper.

It's not that it's bad, per se. A lot of people write comics badly; at Marvel, it's a job requirement. It's that it's so perversely and haphazardly bad. Villains like "the Collector", "the Molder", and "the Cannoneer"; French farce betrayals and love triangles that wouldn't have been believed on Three's Company; heroes acting and talking wildly out of character.

I kind of get what Haney the Hippy was trying to do. Haney was trying to bring a dose of Marvel-style "coolness" to DC comics. You'll notice oblique references to Spider-Man and the Hulk, there's lots of romance, and characters speak very -- well, I'll call it "casually".

Now, I've never heard Haney, never seen him, never even seen a photo. I can only picture him as a comic-book writin' Sammy Davis Junior, all angles, sharkskin, and sharp creases. Always wears a hat. Calls everybody "baby". Bloody Mary for breakfast.

He's probably not like that, of course; he's probably just a member of the generation that thought that's what "cool" look liked. So his attempts to coolify characters means that everybody talks just like Metamorpho.

Which leads me to the real point of this post:

(At Least) Ten Things Batman Should Never Say

1. "Why was that bow buzzard trying to ventilate your beautiful torso?"

Actually, I think we're pretty safe from ever hearing this one again, since occasions for saying it would be pretty rare. Unless, you know, he's talking to Black Canary.


2. "Have you flipped your badge, Commissioner? It's me, Batman -- your humble obedient servant and all-around crimestopper!"

This is the kind of talk that makes me want to beat Spider-Man to death with hammer. Besides, Batman is not a supporting character and so should never stoop to introposition.


3. "Sure, fella, and my best bat-wishes with it."

No, I'm not going to complain about "bat-hyphen" nouns. Haney was writing during the height of TV's Batmania, so I won't pick on him for that. It's "fella". Batman should never say "fella". Bruce Wayne is a blueblood billionaire not a salty stevedore.


4. "Brucie boy."

Another faux Spider-Man moment. What kind of person would have heroes with secret identities and loved ones to protect use someone's first name while they're in costume rather than codenames? I mean, other than Brad Meltzer? Let alone do it to yourself? Scipio does not approve of Batman referring to himself in third-person.



5. "Follow, follow, follow the gleam."

Batman should not be singing the song that won the 1920 Silver Bay prize at Bryn Mawr. Or any other. At least, not while swinging on a batrope.


6, "I'm a chemical pheenom."

This goes without saying (I hope). This is from the infamous "Bat-Hulk" story, which wastes appearances by the Joker, the Penguin, and the Riddler on some goofy "Batman becomes a monster with a bad personality " story. Maybe that's where Frank Miller got the idea for All-Star Batman?

I would say that Haney wrote this because he missed Metamorpho so much except--oh, wait that's right: Metamorpho's the co-star of this story!



7. "UHH ... Grip like .. a ... king crab's ... bite!"

I'm at a loss to imagine anyone saying or thinking this, let alone Batman. Maybe this is the same Batman who said, "Step away from the lobster trap?"

Oh, and pardon my adolescence, but I dare you to look at the panel without thinking something naughty and giggling: "The tall man grabbed Bruce firmly from behind..." . I think it's the word "slither" that puts it over the top. Well, that and "but he FEELS him ..."



8. "I'm being hit by a plastic deluge ... and it's hardening!"

Speaking of naughty pictures; oh ho, how ribald! As bad as the quote itself is, the picture (below) really completes it. It's Bob Haney meets slash-pic. C'mon, DC; break down and publish these in a 365 Days of Really Gay Batman Panels desktop calendar and you'll make millions!



9. "Commish".

Okay, I've performed emergency tracheotomies while lost in the Southeast Asian jungles and armed with nothing but a pen-knife and a box of Kleenex (I travel light). Yet I almost fainted when Batman calls Jim Gordon "commish". In any sensible Golden Age story, this would be the point at which a thought balloon would inform you that Robin is starting to catch on that Batman has been kidnapped and replaced by a criminal lookalike named Knuckles Brenneman as part of some byzantine scheme to gain access to the Batcave where an item kept as souvenir in the Hall of Trophies secretly contains information as to the location of unrecovered swag from the Amalgamated Gum Co. payroll heist that the Lefty Lochner gang pulled a few years ago before Lefty got sent to Joliet and the chair.

"Gosh, I bet that's the real reason 'Batman' didn't want to use our batropes and is letting me drive the Batmobile! I'd better wait and see what's he up to before I expose him! I won't expose him till we're alone in the Batcave and we're not surrounded by police who could help me -- that way, when the real Batman escapes he'll be just in time to save me!"

But in the Haney Age, it's the way everyone talks. No one should say "commish", except Harvey Bullock, who is allowed to do so precisely because it makes him sound cloddish.

However, Batman should say "I've got to get him! I want him so bad, I can taste it". Frequently. In fact, from now whenever I say that phrase at the bars, I will precede it with "As Batman said..." .


10. "Why, Commissioner, under that rocklike exterior of yours beats a rocklike heart!"

Actually, I'm less disturbed at Batman's flip disrect of the commish, than at the news the Batman apparently ogles his rocklike physique. Guess Bruce has daddy issues; let the slashfic begin!


Still, to his credit, while Bob Haney may not have known how to write Batman, he sure knew how to write Hal Jordan:

The Power of Introposition

Face it: the best you can hope for is being a supporting character-in-law.

You have no superpowers, Olympic-level abilities, or leotard/cape combo outfits with your emblem emblazoned on them. You don't even have an emblem.

What's more, you don't know anyone who does. If you're very lucky, you're someone who knows someone else who does. If so, you're a supporting cast member for a member of somebody's supporting cast. You're Boris from "Steel"; you're Terry Berg's boyfriend; you're Marsha Mallow.

But take heart, for you are not without abilities of your own! Supporting characters-in-law have the power that many walk-on characters have, a highly specialized form of exposition called:

Introposition -- the ability to synopsize your personality and story-function with one word balloon.

In the panel above, Marsha Mallow and Kristen Cutler (whose names certainly help) use their power of introposition to quickly establish themselves as the Fat Comic Relief and the Self-Centered Bitch. Both of them, in one panel.

The economy! The tersity! The simplicity! You think comic book writers love to write characters that can move planets? No, they do not. What they love are characters with the incredible power of introposition.

Can you imagine a person in real life walking up to you and saying, "I'm Marsha Mallow! Too many calories, no will power -- and a new diet every week!" It would be AMAZING. People who would basically speak in "personal ads". You would know immediately everything you'd ever need to know about them, how you should treat them, and what to expect from them. How much better society would be!

Here's my challenge:

• You've just walked on panel and have to "introposition" yourself to the other characters within the space of one word balloon. How do you summarize your personality and role in life's storyline...?