Mr. Thunder "Gets It."

I've always admired how villains could always tell a new hero's theme at first glance. I mean, it's easier nowadays to tell that Batman is a Bat and why the guy with the big white skull on his chest shooting a bazooka at you calls himself "The Punisher." But I especially admire Mr. Thunder.

I would not have figured out the bullet theme so quickly. Seriously, look at that phallic helmet. I would have been like, "Egad! It's the Human.... um, Dildo?"

Don't act like you don't see it.

Adventure Comics' 250th Issue Craptacular!

So, I've forced myself through about 250 issues of Adventure Comics and the Legion has only appeared once. It appears I've got many miles to go before they become a regular fixture. Had I known this, I might have taken a cyanide suicide pill around 150 issues ago, but we're too far along to quit now! Certainly not with deliciously awful Superboy solo tales like that of Adventure Comics Number 250.

Now, you'd think that at a milestone like that, there would be hoopla. Well, there wasn't much. They didn't even make a stink about it on the cover, which is interesting, because you know that never would have flown with Stan Lee.


It seems like Mr. Future Man could have saved us a lot of grief if he'd said "Lorac is disguised as LANA LANG!" A little less verbosity and a few more proper nouns could have saved everyone a lot of stress. "Lorac is disguised as one of your friends or neighbors?" Seriously, what the hell is that? Why did he have to be so cryptic?


But, stupid as this story was, it did make me do a little research. Cobalt doesn't explode, folks. At its most menacing, it's an isotope. Big mushroom clouds like they're showing there? Not so much.


I'll call the store and order a television.... wait a second, I'm a sole proprietor. There's no one there to answer the phone! Dang!


EVERYONE'S WATCH HAS STOPPED! CAN YOU FIND THE CLUE IN THIS PANEL WHERE ALL WE TALK ABOUT IS HOW EVERYONE'S WATCH HAS STOPPED? NO, SERIOUSLY! THERE'S A CLUE HERE! MAYBE YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO EVERYONE WHEN THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT HOW THEIR WATCHES HAVE STOPPED! HEY - WHAT TIME IS IT? *wink wink*!

Bonus - The Coolest Name Ever

Forest G. Knuckles is a real person.

I don't know him, but he has the coolest name ever. Willard Scott wished him a happy birthday on The Today Show this morning, which means he's over 100 years old. Want to know why he's over 100 years old? Because no one, not even the Grim Reaper himself, jacks with Forest G. Knuckles.

Like it or not, humans are a stupid lot, and we evaluate people based on unimportant things like appearance and impressions rather than character. One of those things that gives an impression is one's own name. Think about it. Rockefeller = wealthy, Cronkite = honest, Bush = the worst thing to happen to America in 40 years.

Pick out a page in the phone book and read down the list of names. If you had to face any one of those people in hand-to-hand combat or a guy named Forest G. Knuckles, who would you pick? You'd go with whoever isn't going through life carrying a badass name like Forest G. Knuckles.

So, happy birthday, Forrest G. Knuckles! You have the greatest name ever!

Self-Awareness Wednesday!

Okay, check this out:


This, of course, is a much different Green Arrow than I've been making fun of the past few months. For the non-comic fan readers of this site, Green Arrow was one of the first heroes to get a makeover, going from the generic millionaire Batman rip-off we've been making fun of here to a rebellious, bankrupt, womanizing malcontent.

And, since I was born around the time he was retooled, I've always like Green Arrow. He was a rebel before Wolverine made it cliche, in that his "bite me" attitude came from a desire to change society for the better, to help the truly disadvantaged, etc.

That being said, this made no sense to me:



Oliver wipes out a bunch of Yazuka mobsters with a semi-automatic gun, then throws the gun down in disgust and picks up the arrows. Now, mind you, the boxing glove arrows and such were no longer used. By this point, Ollie used arrows with which you kill things.

I hate to be picky, but dead is dead. Ever since The Longbow Hunters in the mid-1980's, Ollie hasn't been shy about putting a shaft where it would do the most good. Or, as we see here, snapping someone's neck and tossing them headfirst over a stairwell:


I'm just not seeing the moral inferiority in using the gun as opposed to these other methods. If I'm going to buy the farm, I'm all in favor of quick. I don't see an arrow as being any less painful or more humane.

What am I missing? Besides the horror when you realize that you have ruined your own ballpark with your own littering!:



and that's just one step away from:



See? See what I did there?

Self-inventory is a painful process. I prefer to avoid doing it myself by pointing out the flaws in others.

Ain't Gonna Be No Trial Tuesday!

So he's locking Clark up because he doesn't have any money? Um.... Sheriff, is there a basis for stopping Clark and searching him, much less arresting him?

Sadly, there are Judges I know that would say this was perfectly okay. Just in case you're wondering - IT ISN'T! Not even in 1950's Kansas!
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I guess we shouldn't feel too badly for Clark. Booking procedures? Never heard of 'em.

Hey, Superboy! Don't I at least get a phone call?

Get into that empty cell, you!

Aren't you going to tell the deputies I'm here so they'll set an arraignment before a magistrate as provided by the Constitution of the State of Kansas?

What did I just say about getting into that cell?
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You know, if someone gets past the safe, I don't think you can rely on the sign to save the day, know what I mean?

Ah! At last! I've found the Arrowcave and cracked the code to the Arrowsafe!

But, Boss! Look!

What? Curses! A sign! Signed by Green Arrow himself! Alright, everyone! Put the stuff back. *grumble grumble gripe gripe*

Thanksgiving Retrospective Monday

Oh, my lovelies, it is positively wonderful to be back! I hope those of you that celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday had a great one. I got to see the nieces and nephews on both sides of my family (ranging from age 4 to 21), and it warmed the cockles of my heart to see what compassionate, kind-hearted people they were becoming. I had nothing to do with it, but it still made my heart swell with joy. I love each and every one of 'em as if they were my own.

But enough of that. Here's a picture of Pa Kent tossing a photo of his adopted son into a blazing fire:


I love the unnecessary exposition taking place here with Pa Kent. My nephew, Freddy Kent, is coming tomorrow, Martha! He 's the boy we're adopting! I realize this is for our benefit, but what an awkward recap.

Then again, old people talk strangely sometimes. Hand me my sweater! That's the sweater I wear when I'm cold! I bought it at Montgomery Ward's! They used to have a soda fountain where you could get a green river fizz!

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We don't believe in sloppy sentimentality here in the mid-west. If your sister marries someone your family likes better, you're pretty much out luck!
(I keed, I keed.... I love my bro-in-law to pieces).
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A jetstream emitted behind it that kills the person who loaded it? Sounds like the hazards my Beloved faces when she throws me my dinner on Taco Night! Better get a running start, sweetie! I feel the emissions a'comin'!

Happy Thanksgiving!

See you Monday! Have a safe and happy holiday weekend!