Operation: Great Job!

I don’t make fun of retarded people. I think it’s unfunny and unfair. However, some labels I think are questionable. I think “touched” is a stupid one, if a little outdated, and “handicapable” is just trying too hard. That’s just me, I deal with semantics quite often and have word preferences. So with the kinder, gentler phrasing in mind, what do you think of this cover?

No one suspected him…

Anatomy Make Eyes Hurt!

Oh no.

No no no no no no. Do not want.

What are you THINKING, 1990’s Marvel? Did you think Thor could walk with those legs? He’d chafe his dumplings down to nothing and then snap his shins like stale breadsticks. I have fairly large thighs, I admit it, but they stop touching each other well before they get to my knees. Does he have any skin at all on his legs? Because he’s showing interior thigh muscles that wouldn’t be visible unless he was flayed - and he’s wearing armor on top of it.

That isn’t a shirt. It can’t be. It can only be painted on, with definition like that, which means that before battle Thor has someone painting his chest blue and yellow. You think your job sucks?

Does he have wings? Who the hell has muscles that stick out like that from their back? Arms attach to the shoulder, not to the ribcage. And what arms they are! Looks like they’re being held on by a prayer.

And his chest is almost the same length across as the distance from his chin to his knees. This is bad. Way bad.

And if you do the thing where 1 head = 1 foot, Thor is 8 feet tall. His head is TINY. A little peanut-headed storm god.

So what does this add up to? In my esteemed opinion, the man is a giant who uses steroids like a fiend, shrunk his batch down to nothingness, and has malignant cancerous tumors under his arms. And he’s a comic book hero worthy of the 400th issue of a 482-issue comic book (?).

I need to lie down.

Rock and Roll Is Here To Stay

Waaaaay back in the 80’s, there was something called “heavy metal music.” It was loud, shrieky, fast, occasionally sentimental, and, for some reason, people took it seriously. Grown men wearing spandex, makeup, and big hair would yell about partying and girls and crowds would react positively. In retrospect, they looked like many women do in the deep South. But they were huge, with all the drugs, and sex, and money they could ask for. Nowadays, bands like Cinderella, Ratt, the Scorpions, and Winger struggle to find a bar gig, but back in the days before alternative rock, these guys were the main show.

Which is why they got their own comic books.

Rock N’ Roll Comics were the products of Revolutionary Comics, a company who also put out unauthorized histories of baseball players and porn stars. The comics consisted of the history of the band up to that point, three full-page B&W pin-ups of the band member who died, and one or two short humor pieces, usually based around whatever big-haired, interchangeable band was featured that week. They were insanely positive of whoever they were featuring, setting up each awful metal band as the greatest thing to ever happen to music. Oh, there was a New Kids on the Block issue too.

But the one thing these all had in common? Amazingly bad art.

DEAR GOD LOOK AT STEVEN TYLER’S EYES

The art was on-par with the guy in your high school who’d turn in hand-drawn notebook sketches of Ozzy for art projects about the Impressionists. Saying it was amateur was a compliment. Despite this being a biographical comic, the artist that was hired (and uncredited, as far as the Comic Book Database can tell) just simply could not capture likenesses. It was just one more shovel of dirt onto the coffin of a comic that featured Guns N’ Roses every third issue.

I own some of these issues, I got them as a joke gift from a friend who found them for about 15 cents each and all of them are atrocious. Here are some highlights from my collection:

I hesitate in this public blog to use the word “mongoloid”, but damn, something is wrong with David Lee Roth’s eyes and that’s the closest thing I can use to describe it.

We won’t spend too much time on James Hetfield’s receding Klingon hairline and will instead focus on bassist Jason Newsted. What the hell was this artist on?

A comparison:

Jason’s turned into a hastily sketched “human” thing with uneven eyes and tiny forehead. If I saw this crawling out of a military lab, I’d order it shot then burned.

Say, like Bon Jovi?

Then you’d probably hate the unauthorized comic book starring this guy:

And that’s the COVER of this book. This is supposed to make people buy this comic. They’re supposed to recognize this guy. Try it for yourself. Copy and paste the picture into a word document and then show it to people in your office. See if they correctly guess who this is supposed to be in 10 tries or less.

But who can forget Motley Crue!?!

Obviously the artist could, since he drew people who look barely even human, let alone like Motley Crue. Also, breasts don’t work that way, butts definitely don’t work that way, and the girl on the lower right looks like she has fish ribs.

The Stories Behind the San Diego Comic Con Costumes

MOTHER: Ronnie, are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your Halloween costume?

RONNIE: NO, Mom. I told you, it’s not for Halloween, it’s for Comic Con. DUH, you’re so retarded sometimes.

MOTHER: I know that you want it to be the best, and I have all this sewing equipment that I never get a chance to use.

RONNIE: I KNOW how to make a costume, Mom. I already have a pair of red cargo pants, they’re hella awesome and they totally make the costume.

MOTHER: Oh those things? Ronnie, dear, I bought those for you when you were still in middle school, they’re very faded by now.

RONNIE: No, stupid. They’re fine. I still wear them, like, all the time. I spill butter on them now and then, but you wash most of it off.

MOTHER: But the shirt you have is a much brighter red than the pants, I’d hate for you to go out and…

RONNIE: MOM! I told you already! I’m making my own costume! Damn! And it’s a Deadpool costume, it’s not like anyone’s going to care about the mask or the pants, it’s all about the guns. Why didn’t you know that, stupid?

MOTHER: I don’t really know about comic books, darling. You’d think with you living here, in my home, for 32 years I would have caught on, but no, I really haven’t.

RONNIE: Like, everyone, knows about Deadpool. Only an IDIOT doesn’t know who I’m going to Comic Con as. Now, get outta my room, I gotta scrounge up more electrical tape for my mask.

MOTHER: Just as long as it covers up your lack of chin, dear, you’ll be the handsomest boy at the show!

RONNIE: MOOOOOOOOM! It’s not a show, it’s a COMIC BOOK CONVENTION.

The Stories Behind the San Diego Comic Con Costumes

Three days before Comic Con:

TUCKER: “Oh boy, oh boy, I have the perfect costume for Mexican wrestling night and the Comic Con! I got this great red and blue Spider-Man costume and I’m going to be mad awesome. Everyone at Comic Con’s going to be doing weird characters, but you can’t go wrong with the red & blue! Classy, classy, classy! I’ll just wear it to Mexican wrestling night then off to the con floor!”

Two days before Comic Con, at the Mexican wrestling night:

REF: And El Spidero takes a hit to the gut! And another! And another! And…OOOOOH! A knee right to the face!

TUCKER: (splutter, splutter) I can’t…(cough, retch)

REF: Looks like El Spidero’s going to be…OH JESUS CRISTO! That’s a full on boot to the face!

TUCKER: (cough) Gaaaaahhhh….(splutter, splutter)

One day before Comic Con, at the costume store:

TUCKER: Uh, hi. By dame is Tucker. I bwas id here the utha day.

CLERK: Dear Lord, what the hell happened to your nose?

TUCKER: Is broked. (cough, spatter)

CLERK: I am totally sorry, man. It’s all over by your ear n’ junk.

TUCKER: Cad I geb a refud on dis bask? (holds up blood-filled Spider-man mask)

CLERK: Dude, that’s medical waste at this point. And it’s Comic Con season, I can’t get you a new costume, those things sold out fast.

TUCKER: Crab.

CLERK: Here, I have something that might work. You need something, man, I can’t believe you’re even out of the house with a face like that. Your eye’s like all sunken in and crap. This is a Spider-man 3 mask. The rest of the costume has pee on it, so we through it out, but the mask doesn’t have as much pee on it, so we threw it in the bargain bin.

TUCKER: Thaks.

Superscale Prime!

The torture never stops, does it?

This is another Dan Jurgens cover of Superman. Now, I happen to like a lot of Dan’s work. I thought the death and return of Superman was a great story, I liked some of the tales that came after, I like his work on Booster Gold now, and I really dug his art when I was a kid. When I didn’t have a critical mind that questioned things. Like Superboy’s legs.

Now is time to ask the question. What happened to Superboy’s legs?

Sure, he’s a teenager, proportions might not always be 100% when you’re dealing with teens, but this is just goony. Those things are so tiny! He’s got these little Yogi Bear-style legs!

He looks like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Anyhoodles, this is the kind of thing an editor should catch. I’ve seen editorial comments on art before and they mark down even the most minor of things, like “move hand off of table” or “eyes should be closed”. These baby legs don’t warrant a post-it?

Come to think of it, all the characters have shortened legs, and Steel’s feet are way too tiny. Those officially qualify as “booties”, not boots. Really unwieldy booties, but still, not boots. Don’t ask where his shoulders are, seriously. Also, I want to draw your attention to Eradicator’s legs and package in the back there. Oh, and his arm is all squished up. Can he feed himself?

Ladies and gentlemen, this was the 90’s. Everyone had tiny legs, everyone stood on their tip-toes, and everyone wore a big, metal, non-functional codpiece. Yes, those were the days. The days where I stopped reading comic books for 13 years.

Not very super, man

I’ve been giving ol’ Supes a ribbing the last few days, what with the Louis Silk post a few days back and the busted-ass kid on the cover of his comic, but I figure if you’ve got a good thing going, why stop it? Why deny yourself when you’re on a roll? What I mean to say is that I’ve been reading a lot of Superman (check out the great Geoff Johns run on Action Comics and the new James Robinson run on Superman) and watching his animated show, so I keep running into weird Superman phenomenon.

For instance, here are some screen shots in order of Superman using his x-ray vision in an animated episode called “The Main Man”.

Again, these are presented in order. Notice anything?

That’s right. In order to use his x-ray vision, Clark Kent had to first lower his glasses. The hell? Much like the Hulk’s pants, glasses must be another one of those nuisances that cannot be conquered. The whole point of x-ray vision is to see through objects you normally can’t see through, yet Clark is evidently having some trouble seeing through the thing that’s actually transparent.

Please, someone who worked on the TV show, tell me that there was some debate in the animation room about this and it came down to a close vote.

Dear God, Superman, what the hell happened?

Hey! Guess what! Toyman killed Cat Grant’s kid! Like, a million years ago, but still, it’s in continuity. I didn’t used to read Superman comics, I was more of a Batman guy, so I missed this issue. Today, sadly, I finally saw the cover.

What the hell is wrong with that kid? Aside from everything?

First off, the head’s insane. The human body is about 7x the length of the head, meaning it would take seven of your heads to equal the size of your body. A helpful guide:

This boy’s body is about 5 head lengths tall, making him a dwarf. I don’t believe that Cat Grant’s son being a dwarf was ever brought up in Superman comics, especially since every dwarf in comics either has magic powers (Mr. Mxyzptlk, Bat-mite) or smokes cigars (Oberon, Lord Emp). But that ain’t all, Superman’s hand is larger than the kid’s head is (he could palm it like a basketball, easy). My hands are about average size, 7 inches tip to wrist, which is about the size of a child’s head, give or take a few centimeters. Superman’s thumb is roughly the same size as the distance from the kid’s eye to his ear. This kid may have a big head for his body, but he’s got a tiny head to begin with.

There’s also loads wrong with the kid’s arms. Call it foreshortening all you want, it’s really just bad, Liefeld-esque art. Despite his shoulders being mostly even, he’s missing a few inches of his right arm. They might have something to do with the child’s missing wrists, I’m not sure. The left arm is just a mess. Normally, a person’s arm and hand extend to the top of the thigh. This boy is a major exception, his wrist beginning where a normal person’s hand would end. His right, baby arm is actually more in line with anatomy than his left. Elephant Man time!

The torso and the butt are disasters of Katrina-proportions (although I hesitate to use the word “proportions”, since they’re not really being used in this drawing). The boy has his torso and head drastically facing the left while his hips are pointing to the right (as evidenced by his knees bending that way). This is not a normal way for a person to turn, as the body would probably snap back to center, especially if being held aloft by someone else. The butt is either lumpy (big wallet for a small kid), or just uneven. If there was foreshortening on the left left, indicating it was bent, there would actually be less butt shown since that would have been extended forward. Say nothing of the fact that the boy’s wearing pink pants with cuffs and a red belt.

The legs are their own separate Dresden of ink and paint. The calfs are of equal length or longer than the thighs, or in the case of the one on the left, smaller than the kid’s forearm. Whereas a normal leg is 4 heads high (see the diagram again), Cat Grant’s son’s are only 2, maybe 2.5 if you’re being nice with the right one. the foot is as long as the calf. And the icing on the cake is that the kid has two right feet. Look at the curve of the shoes and tell me that he doesn’t. I dare you.

The less said about Supes the better. Of more interest is the way that Toyman is holding the knife. The thumb position is all off, the thumb only runs that perpendicular to the fingers when making a fist, not when holding a cylindrical object. If it’s holding anything In fact, the knife handle is so large that he’s only holding it with the tips of his fingers. He very well could drop it if he swung his arm around with any force. Oh, and the face on the handle doesn’t match the perspective of the blade. This might have been the way the knife was produced, as the face doesn’t have to line up with the blade at all, but it would make for a nicer knife.

So I ask again. What the hell happened? The kid got stabbed, not carved apart and sewn back together again in the dark. Who let this cover go through? It’s so many disasters, I wouldn’t even begin to know which was the worst offender.

Foul, I say, foul.

If I wasn’t mad, I wouldn’t be here

Folks who read this site and who know me personally are aware that I have a very, very unhealthy obsession with DC’s Mad Hatter. It’s not pleasant to visit my home (unless you’re me), as there are numerous Hatter memorabilia hanging up and around and under things and whatnot. It’s definitely unhealthy.

Still, it’s fun to keep adding to it. Most recently, I purchased some of the original art for my favorite comic series, The Secret Six. The Gail Simone one from 2006. The one where the Hatter was one of the lead characters. I had been looking at art pages online for a while and gauging prices, so I decided that, since I couldn’t find any of Brad Walker’s art on sale on any dealer sites, I should try and contact him directly about getting a few pages. Luckily, Brad’s super nice and let me know what pages he still had in his possession.

In the end I purchased three of the original hand-drawn and inked pages from the six-issue mini, all of which are framed and mounted behind the futon in the living room. I’ll try and get some photos up before too long, but I wanted to post a picture of the highlight of the whole purchase for me, the page that I had really hoped Brad hung on to. It’s possibly my favorite comic page ever, and now I have the original hand-drawn and inked page in my collection. It’s this one:

The one where the Mad Hatter boinks his hats.

And it’s mine.

And it’s on display in my home. Where my parents come to visit.

Japan = Insane

A conversation, between me and my friend Jeff:

Jeffrey: …then what happens?!
You can’t just trail off mid sentence!

Ethan: They got bored and wandered off

Jeffrey: What about Louis Silk’s man friend?

Ethan: Superman and his lover, Louis Silk.
what the hell?

Jeffrey: Louis Silk = Matches Malone

Ethan: GASP! That’s Batman’s shameful secret!