Choosy Scouts Choose Spidey

My son, who is at the Bear level in Cub Scouts this year, came running to me over the weekend with his latest issue of Boys' Life.  Since we'd been watching Spiderman 3  on the tube and likewise since I had my nose deep in the Return of the Black Cat  trade, Nolan plopped next to me at my reading spot and excitedly shook his magazine at me.

Now, I'd been a Scout once, making it at least through the junior ranks and into my first year of Boy Scouts until I dropped out.  Boys' Life  had been a part of my mandatory reading itinerary back then, so it's not even nostalgia that made me smile a bit harder seeing the modern edition drop into the crease of my book, breaking up a heated kiss between the webhead and Felicia Hardy for all of New York City to witness including, gasp,  Mary Jane...

After he made a curious comment about why Peter Parker would hurt Mary Jane like that, I gave him the quick rehash that the comic book power couple had long split up, Renew Your Vows  notwithstanding.  It became a mere footnote to the kid, who quickly thumbed to the page that had prompted his amusing interruption and chimed to the tune of, "Dad!  Dad!  Look at this!  The readers picked Spiderman as their favorite superhero!  He even beat Batman and Captain America!"

Indeed, page 60 of the October, 2016 edition of Boys' Life  presented its reader poll for "Favorite Superhero" and it was only by a three percent margin, but the wall crawler took top honors over Cap, grabbing 24% of the vote.  Just as he was when I was Nolan's age, Spiderman is king of comics.  Of course, there were three quarters less the number of titles to choose from back in 1978, and we had the zip-pop education show The Electric Company  to reinforce Spidey, who was a silent mainstay on the program.  Spiderman forced us to learn how to read through his sqwawky word balloons and effectively turn to his comics back in the day.  Always the shrewd marketers lurking in the Marvel bullpen.

Out of eight finalists, the breakdown in popularity according to Boys' Life  ended up thus:

24%   Spiderman
21%   Captain America
17%   Batman
15%   Iron Man
13%   Superman
4%     Wolverine
3%     Hulk
3%     Thor

Perhaps the funniest moment of this memorable sit-down with Nolan came when he said, "Gee, Dad, I feel bad for Thor.  I know how much you like him.  What's wrong with people?  Also, Hulk?   Only 3%?  Are you kidding  me?  He could beat all of them, except maybe Thor, or Superman, or Iron Man...but it still stinks he finished so low.  Hulk rules.  Yay, Spidey, though.  Can we watch Spectacular Spiderman ?"

With any luck, we'll still be having these types of conversations after he hits Weblos.

New Book Wednesday Pick of the Week: Darth Vader # 25

Hard to believe 25 issues have flown by in more than a year-and-a-half's time, but that helps when you employ the trendy doubling-up inside a month method as Marvel did on occasion with its largely superb Darth Vader  series.  In the blink of a Force flick, Vader's solo run comes to a wrap within reach of the forthcoming Rogue One:  A Star Wars Story  film.

UK sensation Kieron Gillon has done a slamdango job on the Darth Vader  series, which felt more like a longer investment than the finite run it was.  Considering the onslaught of miniseries and the regular Star Wars  run from Marvel (Han Solo  # 4 also came out today, FYI), it's appropriate they devoted the extra time to sci-fi's most venerable villain.

What's been a pleasure throughout Darth Vader  aside from Salvador Larocca and Edgar Delgado's reliably breathtaking graphics has been the extra characters introduced into the Star Wars  canon.  Vader's cunning henchwoman, Dr. Aphra, stands to take a firm place alongside Grand Admiral Thrawn and Prince Xizor as most memorable associates of the Empire without a "Darth" designation affixed to their names.  Then there's the wonderfully hedonistic anti-counterparts to C3PO and R2-D2, 0-0-0 (aka Triple Zero) and BT-1 (Beetee).  Considering Vader, as a young Anakin Skywalker, originally built C3PO, the nihilistic, nattering Triple Zero presents dark gallows humor, nervously grounding a series that moved at hyperspeed.  Think about it, Darth Vader has zilch in the way of a personality, thus Triple Zero is his representative, ungovernable comedy relief.

"End of Games, Part VI" wraps this series on a high note (even if if this might be the fastest you'll consume a six dollar comic all year) as Vader is set to vanquish his semi-cyborg nemesis Cylo and wholly redeem himself in the eyes of his master, Emperor Palpatine.  Vader was effectively demoted at the beginning of this series as consequence for losing the original Death Star in the battle of Yavin.  Darth Vader  has represented the lost-forever Anakin Skywalker's atonement, but it's been more his evil catharsis, a solidified pact with the Dark Side, if not wholly obliging to his master.

While Vader's loyalty to the Emperor has been tested all along, so too has Dr. Aphra's constancy to Vader.  As suggested by the end of Darth Vader  # 24, in this final issue, Aphra betrays Vader to the Emperor.  Throughout the story, Vader has exploited Imperial resources in an attempt to thread his lineage and rectify a latent sense of guilt pestering him, that thread naturally being his son, Luke.  Despite Aphra's betrayal, Palpatine praises Vader's wiliness, re-escalating him to his right hand.

The story is brisker and tighter than a Volbeat album, but it's the epilogue to "End of Games Part, VI" that'll get ya.  No spoiler here, the punchline is too rich.  The bonus story, "Coda" is one of the few told from the point-of-view of the Tusken Raiders and if you're likewise a fan of The Wicker Man,  you'll trip on this wordless narrative.

Part of what's been building up through Darth Vader  is witnessing the ultimate fate of Dr. Aphra, who was at one point captured by the Rebel Alliance.  All this time, you just know she's been bound to get it  in this series.  Yes, we've detoured into the quite awesome "Vader Down" crossover tale where even a legion of Rebels is no match for a grounded Sith.  Vader has toyed with an Imperial detective, Inspector Thanoth, practically for fun.  Vader has squashed an insurrection on the planet Shu-Torun in his inimitable, brutal fashion.  He's made mincemeat of young warriors bred into the Force, Morit and Aiolin, whom he views as abominations instead of peers.  He's debunked science as a harbinger of controlled chaos, defeating Imperial scientist Tulon Voidgazer and her cyberanimate rancor.  Hey, Vader's kid took on the real thing in Return of the Jedi,  call it kismet.

Still, the core of the Darth Vader  series comes down to a singular relationship, one devoid of emotional chemistry, given Anakin's Skywalker's only true love was killed by his own hand.  Dr. Aphra is as close to an organic companion in Vader's malformed life as he'll ever get, post-Padme.  Having made a deal with the devil (or worse, a Sith Lord) though, even a drunken Rodian can tell you Aphra figures less into Vader's master plan than the plot of Splinter of the Mind's Eye.  Regardless of how integral Dr. Aprha's been to this story line and as a crossover character in Jason Aaron's regular Star Wars  run, no matter how long Vader has spared her (even exhausted measures to rescue her), it's all control freakism.  Aphra stands to be disposed on his  terms.

Does  Aphra bite it in the end?  I know.  Bleeding Cool  and many comics hubs likewise know and will give you the answer now if you wanna cheat.  If you're a purist, you'll take my bait here, grab Darth Vader  # 25 and find out for yourself.  Like I tell my son, who lacks proper start-to-finish reading etiquette at age eight (as Yoda would say, the boy has no patience) don't you dare be skipping pages!!!

Meme-O-Rama: Hellboy and Maleficent Walk Into a Bar...

Retro Replay: Amazing Spiderman Vol. 1 #133

This week's Retro Replay selection comes courtesy of a viewing of Spectacular Spiderman:  The Animated Series  yesterday with my son, particularly the episode featuring the Molten Man.  Not even seconds within the appearance of this show's teened-down Mark Raxton, I detected that twinkle in the boy's eyes, the one all you parents know.  It's that mystified gleam, indicating fascination, an in-the-moment connection that imprints upon a youth's mind, be it short-term or long.  Short-term being slack-jawed wonderment, long-term meaning the cogs are twisting inside that little brain to ask Santa  for an unattainable Molten Man action figure to wage war against his vast army of Spidermen.  Without a doubt, there's an appealing spectacle of a walking inferno if you're a young boy, one especially being raised by an adult comics nerd.

I thought highly of Spectacular Spiderman:  The Animated Series,  though nothing will beat Spiderman  '67 in my eyes, despite the latter using stock footage to greater offense than even the Filmation cartoons of the 1970s and '80s.  Yes, every new Spiderman, Batman, Superman, Supergirl, Flash, X-Men or Captain America motion media presentation is susceptible to reinvention and rule-bending.  Thus I had no qualms with how Spectacular Spiderman  handled Peter Parker's revolving love tryst of Liz Allen, Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane Watson.  It being for a younger generation than mine, it was hipper to the broken social taboos and put Peter into an interracial relationship by changing Liz's heritage.  For that, I give the series a thumbs-up, as I do with the Flash  series for what it's done with Barry's surrogate family--Iris in particular--that tells reinforces the message love and honor is deeper than skin.

In this particular round of events on the show (where Petey and Gwen declare their mutual love and Liz is on her way out romantically with an extra harsh twist fate ringing to the 'ol Parker luck), Liz's full brother, Mark Raxton, appears as an adolescent version of the more memorable adult Raxton from The Amazing Spiderman  comics.  You fellow comics nerds will flag along with me the original Mark Raxton is only Liz's stepbrother, for whom she felt responsible and vanished from the series to take care of him by becoming a nurse.  Her efforts were to no avail, of course, as Raxton breaks from free to find the critical elemental cure-all, which is where we find ourselves in Amazing Spiderman  #133.

The Molten Man first appeared in Amazing Spiderman  #28 and with far less definition than Ross Andru's glorious depiction when #133 came out in 1974.  Molten Man is reputed to be able to lift up to 40 tons and can withstand heat temps through 500 Fahrenheit.  Mark Raxton gained his powers after exposure to a liquid alloy from a meteor discovered by Spencer Smythe, whom veteran Spidey readers will recognize as one of the webhead's eternal pains in the ass.  Instead of turning Raxton into a walking plant ala Stephen King's Creepshow,  Raxton becomes a walking blast furnace.

Spotting the reaction of Nolan while we watched the show, I slithered over to my archives and pulled out Amazing Spiderman  #133 to show off, since that would be a comics nerd dad thing to do.  Kiddo's jaw drooped further in reaction and, doing what any eight-year-old would, he quickly started pawing for it and asked me to pull it out of the bag.  Now, of course, I never was the investor type of comics fan; I'm a reader,  for God's sake.  Yet when I spotted the current value for this issue at mint, I had to raise my brows.  My copy would sit in the VF category (very fine, if you're a comic book rook), but I still had that protective snap trap inside my mind, the same one telling my kid we can only play with my original set of Star Wars  figures on occasion since they're technically antiques.

I'd opened Pandora's box, however, so I had to follow through and let kiddo peek at the contents inside after being asked the question, "Did Molten Man live through this issue?"  See, even kids today know what tricksters comic publishers are.  Still, you had to have been there while I recited the splashed-out sound effects from the panels such as "SPAT!" "SPANG!" "WAK!" and "HISSSS!"

"The Molten Man Break Out!" was written by Gerry Conway, one of Marvel's master writers of the 1970s, and it was the rear half of Molten Man's second story arc in The Amazing Spiderman.   Here, Molten Man is after Daily Bugle  reporter Ned Leeds who is recuperating in the hospital.  Leeds has discovered Mark Raxton's secret and ba da da daaaaaaa,  Spiderman is there to thwart the attack.  Essentially this story is broken into two primary conflicts involving Raxton.  After failing to snuff out Ned Leeds, he turns his attention to acquiring a set of isotopes that can save him from melting into oblivion.

Of course, this is going to pit him against the wall crawler one final time (yeah, right) in a brawl carrying from the subway leading out of Manhattan into Brooklyn (presumably the 7 line if the rail system was the same back then) and into a construction zone, one of comics' tried and true superhero arenas.  You can imagine my son's reaction when he saw Molten Man dissolve in the water after Spiderman diverts him into diving for the isotopes, ringing to the kid chime of "Noooooooooooooo!"

This being a significant person in Liz Allen's life, you can expect the ramifications to Molten Man's death aren't going to bode well in Peter's future life.  In this story, we see a brief sequence where Peter spies upon Liz and MJ talking and Liz recounts her long disappearance.  The ol' Parker luck strikes again, as Petey's stealth mode is foiled by an angry dog which rips his pants.  It's one of the enduring charms of the Spiderman ethos, the omnipresent roll of snake eyes over Peter's tail-spun, er web-spun life, often to comedic effect.

Now this being 1974 when Molten Man was presumed to have bitten it, nobody expected to see Mark Raxton ever again.   However, the comics revival through 1990s and 2000s saw everyone return from the dead, particularly Norman Osborn and of course, Mark Raxton, who has rampaged yet again.  He's most notably been in Marvel's original Civil War  crossover, the Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2  video game and of course, Spectacular Spiderman:  The Animated Series where he was, along with Rhino and others, a pawn of the Green Goblin.

As my son said it best upon sealing the book back up, some bad guys are just too cool to die forever.

Meme-O-Rama: You Might Wanna Stay in Manhattan, Spidey

Big Dumb Lists: 10 Things I Can Do This Weekend Since I'm Not at NYCC

As the second biggest U.S. comic con behind San Diego revs up this weekend, yours truly is unfortunately not attending, though I thank my Manhattan friends and music publicists who checked in and offered to meet up at the New York Comic Con.  Next year, peeps, let's plan for it now.  Until then, it's a modest, non-con weekend for me with lots of work on tap.  Still, here are ten other things I could idle it away with aside from college football and the MLB playoffs:


1.  Troll the previous run of Silver Surfer  and count Dawn Greenwood's polka dots, each panel, each issue for continuity purposes.

2.  Try and win a gig as last minute campaign manager for Kermit the Frog.  A write-in will one day rule the world!  This is America,  dammit!

3.  Wipe off Lesbian Vampire Killers and Frankenhooker  from the DVR before kiddo trips across them.

4.  Listen to the new Red Hot Chili Peppers album The Getwaway  for the 37th time and finally purge the following quote that's stuck with me like a festering sore:  "Man, the Chili Peppers just haven't been the same since Mother's Milk!"

5.  Record the sheep baaas from the farm across the street.  It would be a hellacool sample to throw against guitar shred on Hank 3's next album.

6.  Hang under the stars and drone "Hail, Krypton..." until one of my farmer neighbors has me committed.

7.  Go to my favorite Irish pub from my last living location and see if being a German-Dutch Van Horn with McDermott blood entitles me to a pint o' Smitticks on the house.

8.  Mutter the name of Crom after each curl rep in the gym, finishing my workout by pointing at the heavens and declaring, "Thank you, Crom, for these gains!"

9.  Ponder just what the hell has Batgirl so teenie-smitten in this piece:

10.  Laundry.  Like taxes, it just never goes away.

New Book Review: Saga # 38

Saga  # 38

Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples

Image Comics

I've always said if Salvador Dali were alive, he would probably be Saga's  champion ahead of the rest of us.  Being a fan of surrealism and having trekked to numerous art galleries in the U.S. based on them having any original Dalis or Magrittes, I was instantly drawn to Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples' Saga, at least once I discovered Issue # 17 and began the laborious quest to complete the run.

We live in a desensitized society where it takes something of an over-the-top, horrific scale to gain the public's attention beyond the senseless murder of an elderly person in the local crime blotter, that person's extinguished life warranting little more than a mere paragraph.  It takes a mass shooting, a suicide bombing, a plane crash, something of an epic nature, before society cares, and frankly, that sucks.  A pitiful excuse, but the it's reality we're stuck with, attributable to a fast-paced, 24-7 society where we're all on the move at-large and it's enough to keep up with sports scores and the weather.

So too have we as comics readers become desensitized to death.  In this case, the older you are, the more times you've seen critical superheroes killed off by their publishers in sensational fashion, only to rise from the dead later.  It was truly a powerful thing when Barry Allen and Kara Zor-El died in DC's Crisis on Infinite Earths  back in 1985 and '86.  At the time, such proposals as killing off established heroes wasn't attempted very often, Yellowjacket and Jean Grey notwithstanding in the Marvel U.

These days, Superman's bit it a couple times and Rebirth has taken a leery turn by bringing him back, this time as an alternate Earth's version come down to ours.  So many of the capes have departed and found their way back it's always dubious now when they depart.  After Jason Todd, we'll never trust comics again when death comes allegedly knocking.

And yet we have Saga  # 38.

By now, I'm out of the spoiler zone since I've heard and seen this issue being discussed--and with great reason.  The ending to this issue is genuinely shocking.  Much as it is genuinely moving.  Brian K. Vaughan's expressionistic macrocosm of a galaxy is far weirder than Lucas or Roddenberry's.  It's a fantastical realm where monarchs are crowned with tube televisions, trans-dimensional trees sweep you away faster than a wormhole, aliens either titillate or look like atrophy is their daily norm, sexual taboos are gibed as close to the limit as can be tolerated (after you've read Sex  and Sex Criminals,  you're ripe for anything Vaughan throws at you) and you're susceptible to violently-contested clashes among fuzzy wubbies.

This is a world featuring a mocking, pink adolescent apparition, Izabel, who has settled into the story and become more than a recollected babysitter figure to Vaughan's narrator, Hazel.  Izabel, in her odd, transparent way, became the voice of reason to Saga,  the only being to keep Hazel (who is quickly growing up through this recent arc after the series took a short hiatus) from exploding, considering her bi-species parents Marko and Alana are constantly on the lam and at each other's throats, much less Hazel's.

Vaughan captures the foibles of parenthood so well, sagely coming from the clashing points-of-view of parents and their offspring.  When Hazel gnashes "If there's one thing parents suck at it, it's estimating how long any activity is going to take," there's such bloody and accurate honesty to it. Yes, we do  suck at it, me, especially.  Yeah, Nolan, I'll be done this album review in ten minutes.  An hour later, Yeah, Nolan, I'm almost done, five more minutes, kiddo.   As a father, I've had my gut checked twice within a weeks' time by Saga  # 38 and DC's Trinity  # 1.  Both Vaughan and Francis Manapul have tugged at my daddy strings with their spot-on insight into the parenting process it's prompted me to write a few private pages that look to be morphing into a short story.  Thank you, gentlemen.

It's this angst Hazel dishes out while we follow her and our motley band on their current locale of Phang, a planet "Mom and Dad thought we'd be on for a few hours at most," that leaves the reader vulnerable for the horror show to come.  We see Hazel beginning to open ties with new friends and doing what any young, barely-checked child would do:  she gets into minor mischief, this case killing alien-form lightning bugs.  As Izabel admonishes her, Hazel's recollected chuck becomes "What, like you were never a vicious little asshole when you were that age?"

Masterful writing, when you come to realize Hazel's blase, nubile attitude toward death becomes a dark prophecy leading to Izabel's final stand in this series.  I'll leave you to discover her stunning fate, but truly, Brian K. Vaughan has managed to do the impossible in this genre, and that's to deliver a death sequence that stings in the worst yet most poignant way.


Rating:  9 

New Book Wednesday Pick of the Week - 10/5/16: Archie Meets Ramones

Gabba Gabba Arch!


In the late Eighties, the Ramones saved my soul.  My then-girlfriend had left for college and broke up with me long-distance, thus leaving me stranded without a prom date.  I had car problems, I had high risk, high premium car insurance for being a dumb, defenseless 17-year-old male.  So too did the Ramones, apparently, if you listen to Joey croon sardonically on the End of the Century  album.   I'd lost one job, then another one based upon a misunderstanding after I'd tried to be a hero and help a colleague, instead taking a bum rap for my troubles.  Being that dumb, defenseless 17-year-old male, I got railroaded on a set of lies and ushered out.  Said fabricated events inadvertently cost me a date with an old friend in school, someone I'd had a crush on and was thrilled to pieces her mother had set us up.  Considering I was a longhaired grit, I took it as huge praise I'd won over the mother. Unfortunately, this person's mom had bought into the lies and subsequently forbade me from going out with her daughter without giving me a chance to defend myself, yadda yadda yadda, you get the picture.  Senior year high school drama at its best.


Kinda sounds like a slice out of life of ol' Riverdale, doesn't it? 


It was the Ramones who brought me out that rut every teenager goes through at some point, the doldrums that hang about like kudzu, the adolescent ball of confusion that persistently rolls and nips at the heels of threadbare Chucks or Vans checkerboard loafers.  Hey, sorry for the outdated references, I'm old school.  All those problems back then seemed like the weight of the world to a teenager, but sheesh, I'd kill to have those dilemmas again compared to my adult troubles.  It's all relative, of course, but in retrospect, it's so silly I'd let all that static get to me so badly.  Thus the Ramones were there for me when I needed them most.  Three chord nirvana, no-frills punk rock with more omnipresent buzz than a pot convention.  "I Don't Wanna Go Down to the Basement," "Beat On the Brat," "Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment," "We're a Happy Family," yeah, man...that's what was up.

Archie Comics today...dag, is there anything cooler than what these guys are cooking up?  For eighty years, the ginger teen swinger has defined coolness in teen life, despite his everykid's klutziness.  For each trend and each fad, Archie and his pals n' gals have been there, sporting them like comic book models, Veronica Lodge being the drawn and colored embodiment of Elle.  The Riverdale gang has entered the new millennium not so much occupied with trying to keep up with a highly complicated, tech-based new frontier, but to redefine the characters for another generation of comics readers.  Yet it's more than even that.


Archie 2.0 just may be twice as hip from his nutball, free-spirited exploits of the past.  In modern day Riverdale, Archie's gone toe-to-toe against The Punisher and Predator, both hysterical mash-ups any comic reader should own.  He's faced down a Sharknado.  Arch, along with Jug, Reg, Betts and Ronnie have been catapulted into a zombie apocalypse, their distant comrade Sabrina, an unwitting pawn of Satan.  Afterlife With Archie and The Chilling Tales of Sabrina  are in the upper echelon of books in both contemporary comics and horror fiction.  Even an alter form of Josie and the Pussycats have been reinvented as vampires in Afterlife,  this being an indirect pre-launch of their new rock n' roll comic.  The Married Life, where we got to explore dual paths as to what Archie's life would've been like with Veronica and Betty as his bride(s).  Sheer brilliance.  Then what can you say about Mark Waid's super-slick current rebrand of the original Archie  series?  If you're not down in Riverdale these days, you're just not down.

We all know Archie has a musician's soul and his friends have obligingly outfitted him with a backing band.  The 1960s saw The Archies as both a cartoon band and transitory "recording artists."  "Sugar Sugar," anyone?  It's thus no surprise that Archie has already crossed guitar necks with Kiss in the past, a band thriving the same time period Archie Comics did during the 1970s and early Eighties.  Now comes Archie Meets Ramones, yet another one of those books making you think at face-value, "WTF?"  By now, though, one can expect the Archie Comics heads know their turf and better yet, their ever-changing demographic, one that has come to expect "WTF?" in Riverdale.  As with everything else from the imprint lately, this proposal is a wild success.


It's too bad Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee and Tommy aren't alive to witness their legacy.  As with many bands and artists, death is often the "it" factor to gaining worldwide attention that may have been elusive to them in life.  The Ramones fought harder than most for the meager success they enjoyed and only after they retired did the music world begin to see their value.  Sports arenas made them outright posh by hijacking the trademark "Hey! Ho! Let's Go!" chant from "Blitzkrieg Bop," even if the Rock and Roll High School  movie from 1979 still remains only a cult phenomenon.  The filmmakers behind the adaptation of Stephen King's Pet Sematary  did try their damnedest to break the Ramones, albeit it wasn't until the summer festival circuit on the Ramones' farewell tour when they finally did break.


I took the death of Joey Ramone brutally hard and Johnny, Dee Dee and Tommy followed suit while I was building my career in music journalism.  I felt an emptiness in my heart without having had the chance to interview those guys.  By the time I finally got to sit with Marky Ramone, it was one of the greatest moments of my professional life--and music-listening life, at-that.  Thus, I came to Archie Meets Ramones  with instant flightiness and echoes of "I Don't Wanna Walk Around With You" reeling inside my giddy skull.

This one-shot story was written by Alex Segura (Silent City, Down the Darkest Street)  and Matthew Rosenberg (We Can Never Go Home, Rocket Racoon)  and art provided by Gisele Lagace.  Well, funny enough, time capsule rules apply here as we go back to retro Archie and the gang trips into a fateful rock summit with the Ramones.  The quick recap of the story is thus:  The Archies have an epic fail at the Riverdale High Talent Contest and by enchantment of the comic gods (or was  it Sabrina, hmmmmm...), they're whisked away to the old punk club, Max's Kansas City in New York circa 1976.  Suffice it to say, it's up to Joey and the boys to restore the gang's sullied musical confidence on a cross-time journey that's pretty far out.

The Ramones are snide and sarcastic, but they send our Riverdale friends through a Ramones-based scavenger hunt in order to find their verve and ultimately, their way home again.   For us old school readers, it does take a bit of getting used to the Archie crew presented as millennials while the time-honored adult populace such as Mr. Weatherbee, Pop Tate and Archie's parents are effectively us Gen X'ers.  Archie's dad is the big Ramones fan, which is like a sucker punch if you've read the Archie books longer than 2010.  Still, with everything to this story, apply suspension of belief and you'll have a blast.


How many tantrums between Ronnie and Betty will Archie and the Ramones have to weather?  How many "I Wanna's..." will emit from the leather-clad punkers of yesteryear? 


You'll have to read to find out.  1, 2, 3, 4!!!

Meme-O-Rama Quadzilla-Style

Multipurpose meme to service my fellow lifting peeps (go natty or go home) and my monster mash peeps.  DDP!

Redefining Wonder Woman's Sexuality in 2016...Are We Sure She's Not Bi?

Greg Rucka, you magnificent bastard.

Even if you're not an actual reader of comics, you're probably aware of the big news out of Themyscira.   We know who you are, that obtuse demographic who shows up at the cape films under baseball caps and oversized jackets, pretending  not to be one of us.  Meh, let your freak flag fly already, huh?  We hear you buzzing about this topic beneath the hiss of your office Keurig machine.

Letting their freak flag soar with crackling snaps amidst the winds of change, DC Comics, who are freaking killing it with Rebirth, dropped a bombshell (I'm not talking about variant covers or the all-femme period piece comic series) upon the world.  Wonder Woman, who is enjoying her 75th year in comics, has come out of the closet. 

This game-changing announcement comes courtesy of the Amazon princess' Rebirth chronicler Greg Rucka.  Truth.com, Rucka is currently writing DC's best book (along with Dan Abnett's equally brilliant revamp of Aquaman ) with alternating storylines, "Year One" and "The Lies."  One writer, two sublime artists of varying styles (Liam Sharp and Nicola Scott) and a gorgeously-depicted Wonder Woman brought into a brave new world--rebranded by her scribe as gay.

Now, before I say anything else, let me state I have quite a few friends in the gay community, not that I'm asking for a pass or a pat on the back.  I've had the pleasure of interviewing two musical figureheads who are way open about their homosexuality, Rob Halford and Otep.  Halford is a king who, after all these years as heavy metal's sovereign voice, still doesn't know he wears a crown.  He's a wonderful human being, a gentleman, and I'll always treasure talking with him about his niece, who was giving a violin recital after our interview.  Otep, mad respect for that lady.  She gave me an hour-and-a-half interview for a book I'm currently writing, and she let a hetero male in the door...at least to the interior welcome mat with open arms and hung-out stories. 

While Otep is far more full-frontal (outright confrontational if you piss her off) about her sexual preference, I don't feel it wholly defines who she is, nor does it for Rob Halford.  Neither, then, should Diana Prince's sexuality define the character.  Wonder Woman is an icon, like Halford is to Judas Priest and the heavy metal community.   She was borne from William Moulton Marston as a symbol of American fighting spirit and ultimately a civil rights leader in comic book form.  In a wonderful article for The New Yorker by Jill Lepore, the suggestion is made Wonder Woman was made out of free love as much as hardline feminism.  Lepore's article also shows Moulton Marston in a different light than we all might've thought.

Otep has a new song from her Generation Doom  album called "Equal Rights Equal Lefts."  Not for the timid, especially if you're homophobic.  Let it be said in the midst of Greg Rucka's core-shaking revisionism, and on the heels of Lepore's poly amorous proposal, that Wonder Woman has long preached equal rights regardless of which fence she could stand on to get her itch scratched.

Okay, so with Rucka's implied refashioning of Wonder Woman's orientation, my run of the New 52's Superman/Wonder Woman  can go to the shredder, since the ramifications are kaput.  Gee, thanks.  Likewise, Steve Trevor means dick to Diana, pun intended.  Right out the gate of Rebirth, Cheetah and Diana have something broiling beneath the surface to tap into once Wonder Woman helps her best friend shed her curse, particularly as sex slave to a male demoniac.  Liberation or reform, you be the judge.  I mean, look, anyone who knows me knows I  judge people strictly on character, not sex, race, creed or sexuality.  In this case, without meaning to offend Greg Rucka or anyone, I judge Wonder Woman to be potential victim of a publicity scam. 

Don't get me wrong.  I have no problem whatsoever if we're to assume that coming from an island of all females, Diana Prince would have more than a latent desire for someone of the same sex.  It's a viable thesis, even if we've had to play the suspension of disbelief game for decades that not a single lick of male sperm went into forging Paradise Island's female-only populace.  Well, there was  Zeus, who got the ball rolling with Hippolyta...oy, please excuse me.

Yet, let's consider how long Wonder Woman has had an affair with Steve Trevor during the course leading to her quarter century mark.  This love story of a goddess forsaking her immortality to help humanity and going the next step further by opening romantic ties with a mortal man...  Sheesh, this has been as timeless as Superman and Lois Lane.  It's superhero ethos.  The consummation that was Superman/Wonder Woman  was enough of a shakeup, even if the two momentary lovers have long flirted and kissed over the years.

Steve Trevor has been a figurative linchpin in Wonder Woman's life since World War II.  He represents her sexual awakening, even if it's largely been innocuous through the golden, silver and bronze age comics and the Linda Carter t.v. show.  The New 52 Justice League America strained their relationship to the point of a painful breakup, while Greg Rucka has reunited them in both of his story arcs.  There's a decided before-and-after pining for one another in both of his arcs, which leaves a glaring question mark.

Yes, it's pliable Diana Prince would fancy a woman, and yes, long-standing characters are subject to revision in response to the times around them.  Yet, given all we've been taught about Wonder Woman's legacy, wouldn't this daring update coming into harmony with the character's past actually constitute her as bi?

DC has done a sharp job over the years instituting gay characters into their progressive universe.  Kyle Rayner had a hell of a run as a fan-beloved Green Lantern.  Kate Kane is a valiant Batwoman.  Poison Ivy these days has let it be known she wants her Harley and no else.  Changing up Wonder Woman's sexual persuasion, though?  If she were real, she'd have to feel some sense of lockup  of emotions.  As the god of war, Wonder Woman stands to be hella-pissed if she can't get a grip (cough cough) on which way her creators want her to swing.  Doomsday?  A pussy in comparison to what wrath Diana could wreak at full-tilt with muddled hormones.

I grew up with a crush upon the following stars (marking me as hopelessly old school as the Pinto I once drove):  Barbara Eden, Yvonne Craig, Julie Newmar, Catherine Bach and of course, Linda Carter.  I never saw Carter, even to this day, as sexually explosive, though she indeed was--and still is.  Carter is a perpetually beautiful woman who has stood the test of time as durably as her claim to fame.  Getting real, though, the 1970s Wonder Woman  show was family-oriented, so it's not like Linda Carter and Lyle Waggoner were ever going to do more than make googly eyes at each other. 

Not once in my lifetime of reading Wonder Woman have I ever gotten that dorky "turn on" feeling like I have with, say, Red Sonja, Tank Girl or Catwoman.  Wonder Woman is a symbol of strength, an instrument of justice for all, a gift to humankind.  I feel guilty if I ogle her contours when reading her.  Seriously.  I just don't feel any real need for Greg Rucka or anyone else to confirm which sex she prefers in this day and age, or whenever.

On the flipside, the gay community couldn't be happier Wonder Woman has been announced as queer.  That makes me smile for my friends who apply.  Bob Dylan is always proven right by each generation that the times, they keep on a-changin' but would Linda Carter, a conservative woman of grace, want to play a controversial Wonder Woman?  It would be interesting to get her thoughts on whether or not she felt Wonder Woman had a libido at all, much less pro alpha or pro omega.  With Gal Gadot already redefining the character into gladiator form as the meager gleam of hope in Batman v. Superman  and her subsequent solo film, is she expected to cozy up to a female character since the new film is reputedly set in World War II, a less-enlightened setting?

I dunno, man.  My mind is far more open than much of my horndog hetero ilk, but Greg Rucka is already knocking out a home run with this character.  Was generating a hype machine really necessary?  This new revelation comes off like a shock tactic to spike sales and that  element is what sucks.   To his credit, though, Rucka explains that he has a distaste for writers blatantly writing about character sexuality instead of dropping subtleties and letting the reader ponder to him or herself.  That much, I agree with and salute him for.  Sometimes the tease is better than the payoff.

If Diana adopts a full-on ladies-only policy, I'll still read her, absolutely.  She'll always be the sensational best of us, no matter what designs her future creators have for her.

Schooling My Kid About Batgirl

So we were recently forced to move in a rush after our landlord sold our place from under us.  If ever the phrase "the summer of my discontent" was personified, yours truly and his family lived it out in living color this past July and August.

My son is about to turn nine and I couldn't have asked for a better child to have come into my life.  Adopting him remains the single greatest thing I've done with my life, no matter my professional accomplishments.  He will be always my greatest achievement and he did me so proud during this move, sacrificing much of his summer vacation with the understanding of what all hands on deck means--even if I handled the majority of the physical labor of our transition. 

As a reward for his maturity, I passed down two bins of my old toys that I was going to give him at a later point in his life.  Seriously, the kid earned  it.  These included Star Wars, Batman, He-Man, Hot Wheels, my original line of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and other superhero crapola I'd collected over the years.  No matter how wonderful your kids may be, as a parent, any adult hangover romance with toys dissipates after a few kid-based birthdays and holidays, mark my words.  Likewise, I have four words of incarnate evil they have yet to come up with a counter curse for:  McDonald's Happy Meal Toys.

Being a huge Batgeek on top of Star Wars nut, my son understood the weight of the gesture I'd bestowed upon him.  Batman, Batgirl, Nightwing and Catwoman account for an easy thirty percent of my comics collection and well, let's just say parting with my toys was much easier when sparse living space and the necessity of a storage locker prevailed over my decision making process.  It's made me smile greatly watching Nolan play with all that stuff, but even he couldn't quite understand why I started chuckling aloud when I fished out the Batgirl action figure as you see above.

This rather kickass figure was designed for the dreaded Batman and Robin  flick from 1997.  Now, I don't want dump all over Alicia Silverstone, who's long paid the price for her flash-in-the-pan fame.  I really do think she was terrific in Clueless and she's enough to unnerve you the right way if you vicariously allow yourself to be seduced as her leading men in The Crush and The Babysitter.  Dudes in the office, Gen X and Millennials, still go apeshit over her and Liv Tyler from Aerosmith's "Crazy" video all these years later.  Alicia still gets work now and then, but seriously, worst...Batgirl...ever...

Of course, the abysmal script spelled de facto doom for Alicia's Batgirl.  As the bloated Bane in that crawling septic death of a film accurately quipped, "Boooooooooomb!  Boooooooooooomb!"  Bane as a dunderhead peon instead of the tactical genius he was in the "Knightfall" storyline and through Tom Hardy's brainy-savage portrayal...like, gag me with a vial of Venom.  But I digress.

Looking at the Batgirl action figure sold in correlation to the film, it's evident the toy manufacturer got a first whiff of Batman and Robin  and had the good sense to distance their model light years away from the movie.  Since I consider myself a responsible parent, I have not yet shown Nolan Batman and Robin  in the interest of good taste.  That, and I don't want him to see his old man turn hypocrite by wiping drool away during Uma Thurman's Ivy transformation.  Wrong villainess, I know, but purrrrrrr...  Again, I digress.

I gave boyo a quick Batgirl history lesson via my comics, running him through the succession of Barbara Gordon to Cassandra Cain to Stephanie Brown and back to Babs again.  Being the sharp lad I've raised to this point, he knew to ask me, "Wasn't Barbara also Oracle?"  After rumpling his hair like the proud papa I am, I confirmed and congratulated him, cleaning up the events of the un-kid-friendly The Killing Joke  which put Batgirl into a wheelchair, since Nolan was likewise astute to ask me about that.  I really  can't tell him Batgirl doinked Batman in the new animated adaptation.   Oops, ummmm....spoiler alert?  My bad.  Hey, speaking of Spoiler...Stephanie Brown...hmmm, huh, hmmm, huh?  What a small world in DC land, yes?  Alright, getting on with it.

I then explained to Nolan that poor Alicia Silverstone got the brunt end of us comic nerds' wrath for Batman and Robin.   I understood totally when he said "Dad, she's hot," after showing him a picture of Silverstone in her vinyl Bat duds.  When I told him the action figure was supposed to be her, but they'd covered up the hair and made her "tougher-looking," then  he got it.  I took that figure and drop-kicked the Bane figure I'd also given him (The Animated Series  Bane, for you uber-curious dweebs) into a plastic tub.  "That's  who Batgirl is, my man," I said to my son.

"Oh, right," Nolan responded, "Like the t.v. show Batgirl!  She's rules, just like you said.  Best kicks ever." 

I'm so damned proud.

God help me, though, whenever he asks what Batgirl bukkake means.

Welcome...

Greetings, readers, welcome to Van Horn's third blog...yeah, third...Confessions of an Old School Comics Nerd.

If you're coming over as one my loyal followers from The Metal Minute  and The Crash Pad of Ray Van Horn, Jr., I thank you for your continued patronage.  While I haven't posted jack at either page in forever, they continue to be stat machines, so I felt a third one was in order, a hub where I can really take my passion for comic books to...well, somewhere.  You vets of The Crash Pad  have already been submitted to my more-than-routine ramblings about the genre, so expect nothing but comics speak here.

My aim with Confessions of an Old School Comics Nerd  is to not only celebrate the medium with retrospective looks at comics from over the years, along with sharing my longtime perspectives, I will do what I do as a music journalist:  stay old school while keeping my finger on the pulse of the new.  For me, it's never old versus new, but new complimenting old.  Thus, this will be a hub where new books will be reviewed, breaking news could likely pop up here, a guest or two from the industry might give me a few moments to chat for this site, or maybe I'll even showcase some new talent since what I do as a music writer and tastemaker is help break new artists. 

As a father, I get very few releases around home as I'm working dual careers on top of parenting, and the writer portion of my being is often shoved into the evening hours.  Comic books serve as my release and always have, aside from music, film, animation, baseball, football and hockey. 

Comics have consumed my life and anyone who knows me knows what strides I've been taking the past couple years trying to network inside the comics scene as an aspirant script writer.  It's doubly hard to break into this medium than it was for me to rise to A-list in metal and punk journalism, but I have every bit of faith my time will come.  Already I've been offered an eight-page script assignment for a music-themed comic as part of an existing series.  I'm stoked for the opportunity and it inspired me to get this site rolling. 

So what makes me qualified to yak at you fellow freaks about comics, since there's a shit ton of respected websites, hubs and blogs doing what I'm attempting to do here other than grade your books for future resale?  K, I'll answer that in order:

1.  When watching the Spiderman films with my son, I always remind him Betty Brant was Peter's first  true love before Gwen, Debra, MJ, Felicia and Carlie.  After taking the extra minute to explain who Debra and Carlie were in Peter's love-stinks life (cue up the J. Geils Band, if you please), I always say MJ would be my  numero uno if real life was comic book life.  Betty, to be fair, could be pretty hot for a nerdette newspaper secretary.

2.  When walking out of Batman v. Superman, the first question I blurted out to my friends was "Who the hell moved Metropolis across the pond from Gotham?"   Oh, my bad, this must've been Earth 2. 

3.  I own an original copy of Tales from the Crypt  # 44.  Foom!

4.  I used to work comics retail in the early 1990s.  Yeah, you know, when Superman died the first  time?   Black Friday, 1992, we had a line down the entire strip center from non-comics folks looking to cash in.  Of course, nobody, especially the owners, told them they were shacking out for second printings.  "Hah!" guffawed Doomsday.  DC did more than guffaw that year.  The rest of us guffawed at Supes' mullet upon his miraculous return from the dead.

5.  I was there at the theater in 1977 when the original Star Wars  (these days referred to as A New Hope ) premiered.  It was the greatest moment of my childhood.  I was also there when a green Bugs Bunny showed his dumb ass in Marvel's Star Wars # 8 and 9, one of the biggest betrayals  of my childhood.

So, as they chimed each week on The Beverly Hillbillies, ya'll come now, y'hear?  Yeah, I'm old school, pathetically so.