Blowing Stuff Up with Starman

How cool was Starman?

So cool he could compose flattering yet minatory haiku while jogging at the speed of a horse.



But let me blow up
that place; that sort of stuff is
right down my alley!


I swoon at his personal and poetic power! Oh, we shall not see your like again, Ted Knight!

Can you (even when not jogging alonside a running horse) compose a haiku to compare with that of Starman?

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles...

Surely you remember "the Best Lois Lane Panel Ever"?

Thanks to Absorbascommando Don Reisig, we know that that Golden Age panel was reprised in the Silver Age. Or was it?

In the Golden Age, it looked like this:
Lois has engaged an eminent psychiatrist (you can tell from the beard) with the most powerful Yellow File Card of Piercing Insight imaginable. Where was this man when Hal Jordan lost it, I ask you? Lois is an active participant in her own recovery, alert, leaning forward aggressively into the doctor's territory. Plus, she's wearing one of the spunkiest little outfits I've ever seen, right down to the kryptonite green gloves. That's a Golden Age outfit that screams, "Don't muck with me, doc! I've got a problem and I'm here to solve it!" No shame, no shyness; there's a reason Lois is in Action Comics, folks. Dr. James Lipton is all aquiver and can barely keep up with the Lois's psyche, and the whole scene's more like a riveting evening on Inside the Gal Reporter's Studio than a shrink session.

But, oh, in the Silver Age! In the Silver Age, it looked like this:Lo, how the mighty have fallen! No more Viennese experts for poor Lo-Lo. She's stuck with the bored and weary corner pharmacist, who, instead of using a Famous Freudian Filebox, is calmly scratching out her prescription for Xanax on a cheap steno pad from the Rea & Derrick he works at, immediately aware that she's a hopeless codependent mess. And she is, lying there in some frumpy suburban hausfrau outfit like a worn-out dishrag, draped supine on a cheesy hospital cot like a M*A*S*H extra, with her hand stuck to her forehead in the universal "woe is me" symbol.

You disgust me, Silver Age Lois! Where is your Golden Age verve, your gal-elan, your moxie? Gone, all of it, eroded by month after month of cruel identity hoaxes, hissies with Lana, bizarrely extreme yet still temporary transmogrifications of your physiognomy, and imaginary stories spent shacking up with chubby Lex Luthor. There it lies, a silent but eloquent indictment of post-war American society, the remains of the Toughest Cookie in the Golden Age, eaten away by the acidic insanity of the Silver Age.

Crisis on Ancient Earth

It is the greatest story ever told, the perfect unity of myth, legend, and history. It is the inexahustible wellspring into which all ancient Greek myth flows or emanates. It is "Crisis on Ancient Earth". It is, in essence, the comic book that created Western Civilization. It is the Trojan War.

As a trained Classicist, I am not inclined to praise modern interpretations and retellings of Ancient lit. That's because so many are dreck; all is dross that is not Helena, after all. Yet I have nothing but the highest praise for Eric Shanower's Age of Bronze, an on-going monthly series that is retelling the story of the Trojan War.

Unlike many adaptations, Shanower's strives for accuracy, in characterization, plot, dress, design, and decor. Even the decorations seen on palace walls in the comic book are extrapolations from the actual remains of murals unearthed at Troy. He's made all the difficult decisions in interpretation, such as how to reconcile textual inconsistencies or in what way to understand the role of the gods in the conflict, with great care, intelligence, and style. The result is most readable version of the war since, well, Homer.

Shanower also takes full advantage of the comic book medium in adapting the tale. For example, when King Priam tells the story of how when he was a boy Herakles sacked his city, the flashback is drawn in a "Popeyesque" style that captures the mythic tone of Herakles in a way a thousand words could not. As, and befits a gifted interpreter, he augments the original stories with logical expansions, such as the inclusion of the dog Argos in the story of the Madness of Odysseus and of Troilus & Cressida in the doings at the Trojan court.

I don't care what else Image has done; they publish "Age of Bronze" and for that they shall always have my respect and gratitude.

Apparently I'm not the only person to praise the series. Age of Bronze has already won two Eisners and is nominated for a third this year. Unfortunately, it's too close to being one of those books everyone praises but no one reads (you know; like Manhunter). While sales of its collected trades remain healthy, too many trade-waiters are dampening sales of the monthly issues. If those fail, there aren't going to be any trades. That would be a crime, so I'd like your help to keep that from happening. Besides, I want to find out how the war ends.

I intend to do my part by posting occasionally on the various characters, stories, and situations in Age of Bronze and how they should appeal to the average comic book reader. For example, how anyone can call himself a Batman fan without knowing the stories of Odysseus, the Batman of Ancient literature, is beyond me.

All I'm asking is that you check out the Age of Bronze website, read some more about it on-line, and consider subscribing to this wonderful series. Age of Bronze belongs in the short boxes of every educated Westerner, right alongside Action Philosophers.

Donna ... oh, Donna....

I am not twisted. I am not morbid or sadistic.

I only want one (or six) of these suckers:


for their marvelous potential in rounding out Superman teams.

And, if Troia just happens to be on the board when I field them and she just

happens

to get in the way

repeatedly

well, who am I to fight poetic justice?

The Real Amanda Waller

I miss this woman. Can you still recognize her?


Yes, that's Amanda Waller. The real Amanda Waller.

Somewhere along the line, she was replaced by some sort of "mini-me" one eighth her original size:Yes; yes, you! I don't know who you are, girlie, but you aren't Amanda Waller. You look like the lady who does the nightly news on my local tv channel, whereas the real Amanda Waller looks like the newsvan she travels in. You are phat; the real Amanda Waller is fat.

The real Amanda Waller, girlie, eats people like you for breakfast, figuratively and literally. You are, at best, Amanda's lesbian daughter who's a principal at a private school. You have no hairbun, no earrings, no purple eye shadow, no cerulean heels, and no calves the size of black angus bulls. You are a mere slip of a girl; the real Amanda Waller can be spotted from space without using Brother Eye and lights up not merely rooms but entire football stadiums with her fabulous presence.

You are merely another symptom of DC's on-going putsch against fat people. Etta Candy and Alfred Pennyworth, sent to a fat farms. Doiby Dickles, shipped off planet. Vulko, sleeping with the fishes. Chunk, disappeared. Tubby Watts, erased. Uncle Dudley, forgotten. Orca the Whalewoman, her glorious life completely covered up in a society-wide conspiracy to pretend she and Larry Hama never existed. Marsha Mallow cries out, "My editor, why hast thou forsaken me?!"

Ironically, fat characters may be the victims of the PR campaigns of real fat people. Yes, I said, "fat people", not "big" or "plus size" or any such euphemisms; sue me. [Of course, nowadays, some people will sue you for using the word "big", but that's another story.] The media, stung perhaps by criticisms of their common use of fat people as comic relief, have, in some cases, come up with a simple answer; "Fine; rather than risk showing fat people in a bad light, we simply won't show them at all."

For whatever reason, though, fat people are now virtually absent from the DCU, furthering the illusion that, while New Earth may not be perfect, its abdominals sure are. Why, nowadays you could scrub your laundry on Perry White's rippling torso, so successful has been DC's campaign against Mr. Roly Poly.

DC! As you've recently proven, the vast expanse of the DC Universe has room for characters of every stripe and flavor. Isn't it large enough to have room for some fat people, too?

Next time you show me Amanda Waller, please make it the real one.

Feeding the Ostrich

Absorbacommando Sharif donates a little piece that reminds us: Grant Morrison's homage to the Silver Age Superman fares poorly in comparison to the insanity of the real thing.

In the recent All-Star Superman #3, the legendary Samson and Atlas vie against Superman for Lois's attentions, and Superman, eventually and patiently, puts them in their places, at Lois's insistence. Cute.

In the original story, however...Superman doesn't have to lift a finger, fully confident that Lois and Lana will destroy and humiliate Hercules (whom Morrison relaced with Atlas, for some reason) and Samson completely and casually.

Which, naturally, they do...

My new life goal is to have a reason to say,
"See, dearest? To prove how much I love you,
I'm feeding the ostrich all my old pictures of Superman!"


Gee, whaddaya know; Lana blows. Poorly.


Three guesses how Lana helps the less-than-chivalrous Samson
get the gum out of his hair.

Silver-plated stories are cute. But they ain't Silver.

Comic Book Irony

As surpassingly unlikely as it might seem, I now own a signed copy of Sword of Atlantis #1.

Despite my having given him nothing but grief about that title, magnanimous Kurt Busiek (whose current work on Superman I madly adore, by the way) was kind enough to grant Big Monkey Comics an exclusive interview recently, done by Devon of Seven Hells.

The Aquaman related portion of the interview is now posted for your delectation.

I want to publically thank Kurt for doing the interview (thanks, Kurt!!!) and Jon Cohen of Beyond Comics for helping make it happen.

You're a mensch, Kurt; and thanks for the autographed copy of SOA#1, on whose personalized cover Aquaman, Aquaman, and King Shark are greeting me warmly.Oh, the Comic Book Irony of it all.

Why Gorillas are in Comic Books

Why are there so many gorillas in comics books?

There're probably no more than, say, 130,000 gorillas worldwide. In the U.S., there's only about 350. By comparison, there are over 51,000 dachshunds in the U.S. Gorillas are in the comics all the time; but how many times do you see a dachshund? Almost never, even though any fool knows dachshunds are more dangerous than gorillas.

This is kind of info I have to keep from my dog, because, while a ticked gorilla is still throwing leaves around and having an ostentatious hissy fit, the wily dachshund will have already tripped you, crushed your trachea, and, as you suffocate, be sitting on your chest chewing on your ribs while farting in your face. And wagging his tail.

That first face? A gentle giant of a vegetarian, our simple minded cousin who wants only to live in peace and indolence with Jane Goodall and her Everything Bag by his side. The second? Pure Evil with a Kung Fu Mouthgrip. There was no serpent in the Garden of Eden, folks; they just couldn't see the dachshund's legs. Forget that movie everyone's hyped about; when they come out with the sequel, "Dachshunds on a Plane", then I will be scared.

Yet gorillas, not dachshunds (or any other dog, for that matter), are the big threats in so many stories. Scores of gorillas, many of them bent on world domination. How many gorillas do you know in real life interested in world domination? Zero. Again, gorillas pale as a threat when compared to dachshunds, all of which are bent on world domination. Charles Heston would've lasted about 3 seconds on the Planet of the Dachshunds, people.

Yet in the comics, no animal guest star comes even close to the gorilla. Even perennial favorites like horsies, birds, and sharks. Gorillas have them all beat, and can turn up anywhere, except, you know, in an Aquaman story.

I think only dinosaurs come close to the gorilla in their comic book Q Rating. And dinosaurs aren't a threat to anybody. Not like dachshunds, which are a threat to everybody.

Smart money's on Schatzie, folks. I know what really killed the dinosaurs.

So why are gorillas everywhere in the comic books? Okay, I will tell you.

First, though, I need to qualify; when I say "everywhere in the comic books", I mean, "everywhere in DC comics" (and most of the older comics put out by other companies that DC later bought out or sued into submission for violating their copyright on the word "gorilla"). Marvel doesn't have gorillas; Marvel has zombies instead.

As our simian cousins, gorillas symbolize for us our baser, animal selves, our impulses toward violence and aggression. Everytime a hero faces a gunwielding thug, a pavement-cracking monster, a domineering supervillain, he's facing a manifestation of the antisocial human urge, the impetus toward violence for personal advancement at the expense of others. In short, as a rule, the antagonist in a most comic book stories is "the Evil Ape Within Us All". The hero represents our "better and wiser" selves, struggling to conquer the part of us that would shortsightedly harm society for personal gain.

Thus, the comic book battle between Good and Evil is a symbolization of the inner struggle between the Angel and the Ape in our souls. Small wonder, then, that one of the most common tropes in comics is an initial meeting between two heroes where a misunderstanding leads them to fight, usually ending when both parties think better of it, check their natural aggression, and work out their situation intellectually, through talking together.

Similarly, it is understandably axiomatic that heroes (who represent the cooperative spirit of society) work well together and villains (who embody selfish individualism) do not. The inversion of this pattern, therefore, often packs a punch in comic book lore. Conflict and crosspurposes among the member of a hero team or cooperation by the members of a Rogue's Gallery stab at our innate fears that the society that sustains us is potential unstable. DC's made good currency of this lately with the Secret Society of Supervillains versus the dissolution of the JLA. In Alex Ross's Justice, the Legion of Doom takes the threat one step further by not only banding together, but pretending to adopt humanity's best interests as its own.

Meanwhile, back in the jungle... . When a hero confronts a gorilla as his antagonist, he's facing the purest symbol of amoral, antisocial, animalistic selfishness. Mind you, I'm not saying that's really what gorillas are like; as previously mentioned, gorillas aren't really nasty at all (not like the you-know-what, which I can't type now because the dog just walked in the room and, trust me, it knows when it's being dissed and I have no intention of ticking off something that lives in my house and can eat bones). That's just what gorillas symbolize in our culture.

So when a comic book gorilla evinces intelligence, talks, plans, and uses higher abilities to plot its antisocial agenda, it becomes the personification of our fear that the Forces of Evil will finally get their act together, curbing their own animal natures just enough to advance their own agenda and become serious threats to our society. This is why writing Gorilla Grodd as a rabid savage is stupid and boring.

This is why it is very cool, on the other hand, that the well-written Gorilla Grodd ran the original Secret Society of Supervillains in the 1970s comic, on the JLU animated series, and (I'm betting) the new Society now that Alexander Luthor isn't in charge.

Anyway, that is why there are so many gorillas in comic books.

Or maybe they're just cool and pump up sales; who can say?

The Name Game

My new poll about finding a first name for poor, mononymous Mr Bones, has me in a nominal mood. T.O. Morrow; Roy G. Bivolo, Joe Coyne; I can't help loving guys with those wacky comic book names! So, I'd like to denominate my own favorite comic book (or comic book-y) names, then seek your nominations of your own.

Marsha Mallow. You immediately know what she's like. Only Vandal Savage beats her out for Best Aptronym. I've always wondered why the two've never met. Perhaps in the current JSA Classified storyline she'll turn up. With her carefree "eat now worry later" attitude, she's just the person to befriend, bed, then help reform everyone's favorite "Type A" Neanderthal.

"Bony" Donut. Okay, there is no character named "Bony" Donut. But there really should be, don't you think? Some skinny girl sidekick, surely; but whose? Bullock? Maybe Wildcat.

"Con" Connors. A recurring grifter in Superman stories. "Gee, Jimmy; think we should trust him?"

Dick Hunter. Snort.

Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald. Fine, fine. He's not in a comic book; but he's on Passions, which is kind of the same thing.

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Enough said.

Cooky La Moo. If this woman is not in the new Wonder Woman at some point, there is no God.

Prof. Keenbean. Did you know that Richie Rich was the star of far, far more titles than any other comic book character in history? At one point, I believe, he was in 25 titles simultaneously, teaching us to be proud of the excesses of capitalism.

Tinya Wazzo. I don't want to live in the 30th century for the tech, or the excitement, or the interspecies culture. I just want to know lots and lots of people named things like "Tinya Wazzo" and run around making excuses to say their names all day long. "Hello, Reep Daggle; Querl Dox and Rond Vidar said you'd know where Tinya Wazzo went."

Oh, but I could "naming" all day; surely you have favorites or your own....?

Seven Hells Haikuschriftfest

One year ago, I was no longer alone in the blogosphere.

My friend and colleague Devon Sanders is one of the best prose writers I know, certainly better than I. But his sterling reviews of comic books were languishing in obscurity. Oh, as you would expect, they were being published on line, and at a famous site. But it was one so large that occasional features, like his reviews, despite their quality, could go unnoticed.

All that changed exactly one year ago when Devon struck out on his own and created what you know now as Seven Hells, the Absorbascon's "cousin". Taking after its author, Seven Hells is manly, two-fisted blogging with a refined urban style; not without reason are Hawkman and Wildcat its "patron heroes".

Devon doesn't go unnoticed any more! So busy is he hanging with the like of Kurt Busiek, Brad Meltzer, and Jimmy Palmiotti, that he can barely spare time for guest-spots even in his favorite books like Manhunter:OK; two questions.
One. What are you doing here?
And two. You 're black?

Forget Pinhead; to honor the Seven Hells blogoversary, I present the never before seen face of the author of your Seven Hells of pain, of pleasure:

The Devon Sanders.

I'm not good enough a writer to compose a haiku in honor of this event.

But I bet you all are...!

The Odd Couple

Most people think that the only comic book theme Neal Hefti ever wrote was the theme to the Batman television show (including its dadaeqsue lyric, 'nananana nananana'; so avant garde, even for the sixities). But he also wrote the lyrics to another well-known television theme. 

Those lyrics, which you've probably never heard (with good reason), are below, and I'm convinced that Hefti had another comic book pair in mind at the time he wrote them. For the record, I'm okay with the "youthful ward" thing; poor boy and rich man, helping each other out. It's okay, it's the way of the world. 

 But ... "boy pals"? No. No, that's just wrong... 

No matter where they go 

They are known as the couple.

They're never seen alone 

So they're known as the couple.

As I've indicated 

They are never quite separated, 

They are peas in a pod. 

Don't you think that it's odd. 

Their habits, I confess 

None can guess with the couple. 

If one says no it's yes 

more or less, with the couple.

But they're laugh-provoking; 

Yet they really don't know they're joking.

Don't you find 

When love is blind 

It's kind of odd.

Vibe is the Spice of Life!

If no one else will, then I will speak the unspeakable, mention the unmentionable, and eff the ineffable. Like the bold and innocent boy who shouted that "the Emperor has no clothes" when all around him were cowed into silence, I must declare:

The DC Universe has no Vibe.

Reading the DCU without Vibe is like drinking coffee black. Yes, Dan, it's a great blend, but... it would taste so much better IF ONLY...! And, sure, I know people who like their coffee black, but do you trust any of those people? I mean, really? Supervillains drink their coffee black, gang, and they're the same people who prefer a universe without Vibe in it.

Vibe could take down a multiversal vibrational tuning fork. In fact, he did, in the original Crisis. And if Dick turned to him and said "Forget him; focus on this", you wouldn't hear Vibe complaining that it was too big to handle; sh'yeah, as if.

Negating vibrational frequencies?
Okay, the dude's name is "Vibe", tu sabes. No sweat, primo.

Vibe would love to go to the game with them. The Puerto Ricans, they love the baseball. Can't you imagine the hilarity that would ensue with Hal, Ollie, and Paco at the ballpark? Ollie and Hal in their muted polo shirts and Paco wearing, well, what Paco wears?

Vibe coulda done that, too; and he'd have done it while breakdancing, I might add. Of course, so could I, or, for that matter, Stargirl or the killer from Identity Crisis, since we all wear the same boots.

I bet Vibe could even make Jonah Hex smile.
The laughing, the dancing, the festive outfit and fonny ahsent.
"Oh, Cisco!" "Oh, Pancho!"

And if Vibe had been there, not only would Hal and Julie have had a night far, far beyond "amazing", but they'd remember Paco's name the next morning and forever after, te aseguro.

Face it, folks; life tastes better with Vibe!!!

Jimmy Olsen is One in a Million!

The population of Metropolis is about six million people.

How do I know this? Jimmy Olsen, of course.


Reading the Superman Family Showcase (which, as everyone knows, is really the Jimmy Olsen Showcase but DC didn't have the guts to call it that) is opening my eyes. I am learning about new things. How to use 4th dimensional forceps. Sending morse code messages with chalk dust. How to unthaw a dinosaur. I can't wait to show off at my next high school reunion.

Anyway, the story "The Six Jimmy Olsens" taught me that six people named Jimmy Olsen live in Metropolis. Now, trust me, you do not have the strength to know anything more about the story than that. Even I, whose Silver Fu is strong, so very strong ... even I, after reading the story, am now sequestered in the same urban Buddhist monastery where Eel O'Brien recovered, where I will need a semester of silence and separation from society to regain my composure. But the Absorbascon must go on.

Let's assume Metropolis is not significantly different statistically from our own world. Okay, that's a pretty big assumption, given that Metropolis seems to have about 10 times as many reporters as it does police, and the reporters are the one who have to stop all the crime. On the other hand, I live in Washington, D.C., so that seems pretty normal to me.

So, given that there are 296 people currently in the U.S. population named Jimmy Olsen, that means for each person named Jimmy Olsen there are just over one million other people.

Ergo, if there are six Jimmy Olsens in Metropolis, it's population should be about 6 million people. It also means that in Central City, there's a Jimmy Olsen on every block.

*Shudder*!

And This Means You!

In Metropolis, they know how to deal with paparazzi.

Attempt Ninety-Six Unsuccessful

Is the concept of "Superboy" inherently ... flawed?
During his originaly Silver Age, the Boy of Steel pushed "suspension of disbelief" to unheard of places. Believing that the Superman can keep his identity secret in the heavily populated Metropolis is one thing; believing that Superboy can do that in Smallville, which had, tops, maybe 100 boys in his age range is beyond the pale.

Even if you overlook that, Superboy and Superman are not supposed to coexist at the same time. The post-Crisis Superboy was introduced when Superman was absent from the DCU; indeed, precisely because he was absent. After Superman returned, their relationship was rocky at best. Narratively, Superboy was just a YJer or a Titan, not really a member of the "Superman Family" (although great strides were made toward including him in recent years). Perhaps Superboy's doom became inevitable as soon as Superman returned?

Recent events in Infinite Crisis with both Superboy and Superboy Prime lend an air of inevitable failure to the concept of Superboy as an on-going character, and so does Judge Lew of the Ninth Circuit. Superboy has been seamlessly replaced by Supergirl over in the Legion comic, and I'm wondering whether the recent ruling means the same mght be happening to the forthcoming cartoon show.

Is this seeming curse on the Boy of Steel simply happenstance? Comic book irony? Or is the ver concept of Superboy inherently flawed, unstable, doomed to self-destruction? I mean, isn't it odd that in Infinite Crisis, Superboy is essentially killed by ... Superboy?

Or is this the on-going revenge of Billy Batson...?

And on Wednesday, God Created Joy

There was so much to enjoy in this week's comics, well, my heart grew three sizes this day.


Justice League Unlimited

Finally! A sensible explanation for how Mary Marvel got her name. Mr. Terrific in the background ready to take J’onn’s place when the time comes. The New Olympians. The New. Friggin’. Olympians. Just to prove, I guess, that the Animated Universe is still stranger than New Earth could ever hope to be.

Detective

(1) It's nice to know that certain people are still basically crazy as a loon; (2) No, I was not sorry to see the person killed who was killed; it's long overdue.

I almost fainted when there was an Editor’s Note telling me to look for something in the Back-Up Feature. Editor’s Note? Back-Up Feature? I wonder many how many younguns had to google those terms when they read them.

Then I discover the Back-Up Feature is Jason Bard!!! Jason Bard is back and better than ever, with a new storytelling purpose and his own back-up feature. Besides, there’s something wrong with you if you don’t love Batman breaking into an apartment in the middle of the night so he can say to a pistol-wielding butt-naked private dick, “I need your services.” Who says Batman has no sense of humor?

Teen Titans

TT is full of all manner of unexpected craziness. Kid Devil! Zatara! Plastic Boy! Karen’s hair! And, last but not least, Tim’s Science Fair Project!

Batman & The Monster Men

Wagner’s tone remains dead-on with this miniseries and I’m looking forward to his next Golden Age redux, “Batman versus the Mad Monk”. I just wish the story had had more Golden Age compression; I would have preferred it in four issues, not six.

Infinite Crisis

So much to enjoy! Ollie & Hal. Batman & Booster. Black Lightning & Mr. Terrific. Black Adam & the Psycho Pirate. Nightwing & Alexander Luthor. Superboy & Superboy Prime.

I must say, I’d love to read some stories from Earth-154 and Earth-898; I’m betting you would, too. And Earth-0? It was just nice to see it. And ... I was right about what Alex was looking for all along; now THAT is comic book irony.

Jonah Hex

JH is the most refreshingly depressing comic series ever made. JH makes Supergirl look like an inspirational speaker. You can read all your indy comics about skinny kids breaking up with each other; Jonah Hex experiences more bleak tragedy in his average afternoon than those kids will know in a thousand lifetimes.

Especially monkeys!

Meanwhile, at the Monkey...



Sherin wants to talk to you about the sexuality/sexualness of female characters.

Rambo begins his on-going series on convincing your friends to try comic books.

The Big Blog discusses Lois Lane, and other characters who need their butts whooped.

Do you having any questions for Kurt Busiek? Let Manager Lad ask him for you!

"Quickly, Elevator Boy; to the shaft!"

I am trying ernestly to continue hating Jimmy Olsen, but, believe it or not, reading the Superman Family Showcase is making it increasingly difficult.

Nonplussed? Me, too. But how can you hate somebody ... like this:

"Dick Hunter, Elevator Boy"

I am certain I rented that movie; the star kept inviting people to go up and down his shaft.

And now I'm eagerly anticipating the rest of the Superman Family Showcase stories, where I'm hoping to encounter Jimmy's other "secret disguises": Ben Dover, the plumber's assistant; Peter Lover, the circus sword swallower; and Phil Colon, proctology nurse. I mean, really, Jimmy! I guess it works, though; judging from the word balloon, Superman really enjoys Jimmy's role-playing.

Face it, the more Jimmy Olsen stories you read, the more you realize that hating Jimmy Olsen is like kicking a sick puppy. It's just not fair.

This panel is from "Jimmy Olsen's Forgotten Adventure"; "Oh, Superman, I was so drunk last night!". Don't worry, Jimmy, I'm sure the jpegs will be all over the internet to help remind you.

Anyway, since this is Haikuesday...According to this
identification I
know I'm Dick Hunter.

Okay, Jimmy, okay, we get it; you're a "Dick Hunter", give it a rest.
Stop hitting us over the head with it like a brick...

The universe sends a firm message to Jimmy about the lack of subtlety in his
"secret identities".

Paging Dr. Psycho

I do not know who the villain is (if any) planned for the Wonder Woman feature film.

If there is a god in heaven (or gods on Olympus) it will Dr. Psycho as portrayed by Shakespearean actor Peter Dinklage (who will be seen as Simon Bar Sinister in the Underdog film in 2007).

Peter, I hope you see this post and demand the role! If so, the Absorbascon will support you 110 percent.

This One's For Jerome

For those readers surprised at the assertion that Wonder Woman's creator, psychologist and lawyer William Moulton Marston, was into Bondage and Discipline and psychology of "DISC" theory...

heh
heh,
oh
yes
indeed
he
was.


Don't be shocked; he was a Harvard man.

The Hal Jordans

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Hal Jordan ...

and ... Hal Jordan.

Two great tastes that taste great together.