Get Away With It (Part Three)

Only in the world of super-heroes can you...

3. Wear your underpants on the outside. Nobody will even care. The only drawback: this will often cause your genitalia to vanish.

Get Away With It (Part One)

The 2008 Prism Comics reading guide has a two-page article by none other than the Unbeatable Blockade Boy! ...And yes, I've started not only adding the "Unbeatable" when I say my own name -- which is a lot -- but also requiring others to add it, as well. So of course, Storm Boy now wants to be called "the Unstoppable Storm Boy." Yeah, I'm not doing that. Although, I may have to start slapping him on the back of the head more often.

*takes hearty sip of space java*

AAANNNYYway, it turns out that the Unbeatable One's awesomeness was just too massive (and vein-y and throbbing) to fit into a mere two pages. So they had to leave out some of the illustrations I'd provided for them. It makes me wanna holler!

*unleashes mournful bellow, like a wounded earthquake beast)

...Okay, I feel better now. So as I was saying -- hang on, excuse me. WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! ...NO, YOU GET BACK TO WORK!

*glares at Bad Apple Boy until he wets himself and rushes out of the office, all red-faced and crying*

Criminy. How is a guy supposed to get his blog posting done when all of his coworkers are bugging him? It's ridiculous!

OKAY.

So the deal is, my article was supposed to have an illustrated sidebar with four fashion "don'ts" that only the Super-Hero Set can ever get away with. But in the finished product, the sidebar was turned into a box, and there were no pictures at all. So this week, I'm going to post the pictures, in glorious Blockade Color! (Everyone, don your special glasses now.) Here's the first one!

Only in the world of super-heroes, can you...

1. Leave your house dressed only in lingerie, without being mistaken for a hussy.

Bikini Area 51

I hope Chameleon Boy remembers to thank Shrinking Violet for letting him borrow her blouse and panties.

What in the Sam Hill is going on here, you might ask, if you were a comic-relief "old prospector" character from a Hollywood Western? It's pretty simple, really. Let me break it down for you:

1. Chameleon Boy is sweet on Jan. Sadly...
2. Chameleon Boy is too shy to "make the first move", so...
3. Chameleon Boy has resorted to a trick taught to him by Timber Wolf...
4. And has shown up in her room with no trousers on. Unfortunately...
5. Chameleon Boy forgot to shape-shift himself some genitalia.

But that's no big deal, Cham. You don't need your junk to "press the button", if you know what I mean.

Belly Shirt State Penitentiary

Let's go-go to prison!

Here's the Dazzler, from issue number 13 of her own comic (March, 1982), bralessly fighting for her very life against the Grapplers! Not to be confused with the Gropers, whom I'm pretty sure are Chuck Austen characters. And this titanic tussle takes place in Ryker's Island! ("I've read about that place", Dazzler exclaims to her permed-and-mustachioed lawyer. "It's a JUNGLE!" No, dear. It's a prison.)

Now, you might assume from the tomato-red hue of Dazzler's top (with matching clam-diggers, and I apologize for how dirty that sounds) that she's wearing an actual prison uniform, and maybe she found the time to alter it into something trashier, and also she removed the numeric I.D. patch, and really that's an awful bunch of assuming, and I have to wonder at this elaborate dream-world you've created for yourself.

But NO.

In fact, HELL NO, because these are the Dazzler's own clothes. See, the Dazzler apparently decided that this flimsy get-up -- sans bra! -- would be just the thing to wear to a rough 'n' tumble prison! Criminy. And yet, it's far from the most salacious ensemble worn by a female prisoner there! Let's flash back to a few pages earlier, when the Dazzler is unceremoniously dragged onto what appears to be the set of a Jim McMahon courtroom drama:

Yes, in 20th-century American prisons, the inmates just saunter around in their undergarments. ...DAMN IT! How come I never was told this? I could have volunteered to teach some brawny, nearly-nude he-hoodlums how to read, or some shit. And then somebody would have made an inspirational movie about me. For Colt Studios. ...Wow, my whole life could have been different. Holy BALLS!

The Jugs of Navarone

Yeah, I'm pretty sure those two were already headed "behind the pillars," smart guy. (They've been reunited for like, three seconds, and he's nearly got that bra off of her...)

Also: "Only a loan"?

"Resistance fighters", my firm, hairy ass! NOBODY can resist Zorba!

Some Scars Don't Heal

You know your comic book empire is in disarray when the letterer is micro-managing the colorist. ("Blue-skinned beauty"... FEH!)

Blockade Boy here, with the start of a brief (yet all-too-necessary) break from the Gravity Girl saga! I'll finally get around to the "Legion of Substitute Costumes" post for Rainbow Girl on Monday and I assume Storm Boy's post will be soon... the obsessive li'l bugger has been spending every waking hour (which for him is about six per day) writing it and when I try to ask him about his progress he mainly grunts or waves a broken bottle of space rum at me without even looking up, like I'm nothing, and then of course I have to slap the bottle out of his hand and belabor him about the head and shoulders with my cane or magnetic codpiece and then he just sinks to the floor in a heap and sobs for a little while. So I guess it'll be ready when it's ready. Whatever. And tomorrow I'll have the first of my "accessories for super-villains" (suggested by brilliant blogger Steven)!

Anyway! Behold the majesty of two Storm Boy original costume designs! Yes, both Storm Boy and myself finally hit the "big time" and sold some costumes to the Legion! I was responsible for Cosmic Boy's kick-ass black outfit as well as Element Lad's tasteful "green arrow" number, while Storm Boy can be held responsible for these things. The above panel depicts the ladies' initial reactions to seeing themselves in Storm Boy's garments. They're holding up better than I would under the circumstances. It always looks better in the store, doesn't it, gals? (You'll note that Shadow Lass already has located a gas can so she can burn her orange bra.)

Spiritually Uplifted (and Separated)

Hey, quit ogling her! Can't you see she's a nun? What the hell is wrong with you?! Christ almighty!

Okay, so according to the dialog (in "Rebirth" #1 from Tokyopop) she's technically a monk, but I'm having enough trouble accepting the idea that she'd wear that inane get-up under her (conveniently destroyed) robes without trying to factor in the notion of a co-ed monastery. Huh. I wonder if all the monks have to dress like that, or just her? ("Brother Matthew, the Abbot is concerned you're spending too much time studying the scriptures and not enough time grooming your bikini area.")

But mainly it's the tonal discrepancy that bothers me. "Rebirth" is a serious, if melodramatic, action-horror manwha and then you have Our Lady of Perpetual Hotness here looking like she just stepped out of a David Lee Roth video. I dunno. Maybe I don't get it because I'm from a different culture (i.e. the FUTURE!).

Pandering to the Lois Common Denominator

Gratuitous bra-and-pantie sequence: 1980! Although somehow I always imagined Lois would wear those voluminous, droopy "granny panties"... and a chastity belt. Still, I have to give kudos to artist Bob Oskner for depicting her with internal organs and a working spine. And inker Vince "Kirby Killa" Colletta actually managed to not screw it up! I guess there was nothing good on TV that week.

Umar Mongers

In "What If" #40 (August 1983) Doctor Strange's enemy, the Unspeakable Umar, gets a radical makeover courtesy of artist Jackson "Butch" Guice. On the left is Umar's traditional look, rendered by Paul Smith in "Doctor Strange" #69 (February 1985) and on the right is Guice's version.

Whoo, mama! Umar, you saucy tramp, I didn't think you had it in you! And by "it" I mean crabs. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a vast improvement over Dark Crystal Gayle over there, who needs to get back to her community theater production of "The King & I" pronto. For reals, she looks like the Michael Jackson Pepsi accident all over again, only with Lady Thiang. "Here is a man who thinks with his heart, his heart is not always-- AAAAIIEEEE! Good GOD! PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!"

Nope, the Guice version is much prettier, what with the cute gauzy skirt and the more realistic flaming crown and the bangles and such. That said, the silhouette is just way too slutty. What's with the arrow cut-out that points to her Unspeakable cooter? (I guess Umar really is queen of the nether regions!) If I didn't know any better, I'd think the Wasp had a hand in this. Or up it. Speaking of which... that pet, whatever the hell it is? It's getting a bit familiar, wouldn't you say? I'm no prude, but even I'm squicked out by the notion of training an animal to finger bang you. (And you just know some of those rich old society matrons with the teacup chihuanuas have thought about that on more than one occasion.)

Hey, how's about a close-up?

Ah, another glimpse into Guice's record collection. I wonder who this is. My guess? Laura Branigan. "Clea, you're always on the run now...!"

Casual Fridays At 177A Bleecker Street

Lazy, rainy Fridays at the Sanctum Sanctorum of Doctor Strange... could it get any better? I imagine it would be like living in a Pier One. Cool foreign knick-knacks everywhere, the air permeated with a sublime, musky incense, and lite jazz blasting from hidden speakers. But unlike Pier One, you can stroll about in your bare feet and a cool robe and the salespeople won't scream at you or call the cops. Uptight bastards... but I seem to have gotten off track. Where were we? Oh yes.

Here's Clea, the Vili Fualaau to Doctor Strange's Mary Kay Letourneau, in a fetchingly convoluted penoir-and-genie-pants ensemble. It's very nearly see-through (the shameless hussy!) and features a stiff orange collar that would have done the Karate Kid proud. The very best part? The collar doubles as a dry-erase board. That way, when you're done doodling on it, you can jot down helpful messages. Like "Buy more incense" or "Exorcise cats." If it weren't for that way-out collar, Clea's "satanic milkmaid" up-do would overpower the gauzy frock -- but with the collar, the hair's practically a necessity.

And what would Hep Cat Supreme, Doctor Stephen Strange wear? Dig it!



Suh-weet! I covet that robe. Profoundly. Knowing that such a glorious robe exists and that I don't have it makes me die a little inside. And you know me; I'm an expert at sneaking into places and taking whatever I want, er, need. (Like "my" time bubble. Haw!) But I'm sure Strange's crib is fortified to the rafters with spells that would turn me into a bunny rabbit (with bangin' highlights) or hurl my taut white ass into a shadowy limbo-realm if I so much as tapped on a huge round window. So I guess I'm just going to have to deal with it. Hey, let's look at the back of the robe...



Gah--! Hang it all, now I really want that robe! And you just know it's the most comfortable robe, like, ever. Probably micro-woven out of the silken moustache hairs of teenage satyrs and hand-dyed with the hypo-allergenic inks of Polynesian octopus-spirits. And yet it's machine washable. Because it's magic. Check out the bottom half of it. There's even a scary crimson bat-creature on it to guard against people yanking it up when you're not wearing any underpants. Which is the case here, I'm sure. Oh, I must have that robe! Unless... maybe the robe itself is guarded with spells. Like, if anybody else tries to wear it, it eats them or maybe it transforms into an abbreviated terrycloth number, rendering itself unfashionable. Yikes. I guess I'd better leave well enough alone. No doubt, the bathrobe of Doctor Strange is not intended for mere mortals.

And You Smell Like One Too!

The man whose brow is all a-wrinkle is Bruce Wayne; the lady with the fifty-cent garland from Hobby Lobby on her head is, of course, Poison Ivy. This is her very first appearance (Batman #181, June 1966). Happy 40th birthday, Ivy! Although technically the comic was probably published in March 1966. Nevertheless, you still look positively ravishing. Must be that brow lift you got back in '02. Sure, at first you resembled a Romulan but I think it's settled quite nicely.

Could Bruce be any cattier about Ivy and her makeup? Yes. Yes, he could, and I'd like to help. I think you've got a good start with the passive-aggressive tone of your remark, but you need to follow it up with something bigger. Here are some ideas:

"And frankly, I'd applaud anything that will distract them from how limp and stringy your hair looks. Seriously, when was the last time you washed it? During the Eisenhower Administration?"

"Nice eyebrows, by the way. What did you use, a magic marker?"

"And you're asking your cigarette because... why?"

"You've got a mouth like a catfish and your eyes are way too far apart. Practically on either side of your head. I don't know if makeup is going to get the job done. Have you considered just wearing a ski mask all the time? Or maybe never leaving your house?"

Feel free to take any or all of these, Bruce. It's my free gift to you! Just for being so darned square-jawed and rugged.

Now let's look at Ivy's former rivals, who first and last appeared in this same comic. Unless you count their cameo appearance as a godawful "Riot Grrrrl" band in some retelling of Ivy's origin a few years back. Which I sure as hell don't. Presenting... the three most dangerous people in the entire world! They're not just random tarts in showgirl costumes. Honest.



On the left we have Dragon Fly, with her innovative "crotch louver" bathing suit. Say goodbye to yeast infections forever with adjustable slats that give your cooter an air of Film Noir mystery!

In the center, we have Silken Spider, who is wearing the standard nurse's uniform for the Tommy Lee Memorial STD wing at Cedars-Sinai. It's also what the maids have to wear at Charlie Sheen's house. I don't know why she's posing with a garbage can. Probably full of busted sex toys and empty bottles of lubricant.

And on the right we have Tiger Moth, who has just returned from yet another daring faux-fur robbery. Now she has enough to make some capri pants! I wonder if anyone explained to her that moths don't have bird wings. Of course, former "Top Model" contestants have believed that all birds are blind and that elephants are related to dinosaurs, so anything's possible.

Meanwhile, in the lower right-hand corner, the Alfred clone just cannot believe the size of that lolly-pop.

I Wear Green And Purple And A Punctuation Mark. Who Am I?

Guess who that guy is. Yup! It's the Riddler! Believe it or not. This image is from "Detective Comics Annual" #8 (1995) by Chuck Dixon and Kieron Dwyer. It's the story that made me love the Riddler. Which was a feat tantamount to sending a manned spacecraft to Pluto, since before I'd always hated the guy. Dixon and Dwyer managed to make the querying l'il irritant sympathetic with this origin story, which chronicles the Riddler's arduous journey from the small time to the big leagues. And it's reflected perfectly in his costumes.

That was his first attempt at a costume, up there. I love the stocking cap. So low-rent, it's kinda charming. And the question mark was painted on. Beautiful. It puts me in mind of the DIY badguys in Bob Burden's comics. It looks like any second now, Bondo-Man or Jumpin' Jehosaphat is going to plow into him and beat him senseless.

The Riddler tried a little harder for his next job.



Here we have the introduction of purple into the Riddler's costume. And how 'bout those accessories? He's bolstered his confidence with not one, but two phallic symbols! (And he then touches the tips of them together. I don't think Freud had a chapter on that one.) But white for the question mark? Oh, honey, no.

And now a little sumpin' for the breeders!



The Riddler's costume here -- *ahem!* Eyes to the center of the panel, buster! I'll get to the Skanks of Prey in just a sec. Anyhow, this is the first version of the costume that most folks associate with the Riddler. Thanks to the old TV show, natch. Although I'm pretty sure that one didn't have a big leather belt holding up the tights. Not seen in this panel: black boots with really thick soles. And you just know those gloves are Playtex. Like I said, first attempt. But the crudity of it all is almost sweet. If you're wondering about why the Riddler's nose looks so odd in this panel, it's because it's bandaged. Because it keeps getting broken, because the Riddler keeps mouthing off to brawny thugs and they keep punching him in the face. Example dialog from the previous page:

Denglar (brawny thug): The police will be on to us like stink on fish.
Riddler: Well, Denglar, I've got a riddle for you. How do you keep an idiot waiting?
Denglar: I dunno.
Riddler: I'll tell you later.

And then Denglar punches the Riddler in the face.

Still, I never cared much for this outfit, especially in its refined, unitard version. Maybe because it was almost too theatrical -- and I know it appeared in comics first, but it really seems to me like the product of somebody who never read comics, and it was their idea of a SUPER! (in a Big Gay Al voice) costume.

Oooohhhkay. How 'bout those floozies, fellas? The one on the left needs to unbuckle a couple of things, because they're cutting off the blood supply to her head. Nice heart-shaped earrings, by the way. This is what the Care Bears cartoon would have been like, if it had been produced by Vince McMahon. Also, check out the spiked thigh-band or whatever that thing's supposed to be. She'll puncture a vital artery if she puts her thighs too close together -- like that's ever going to happen! Nice Devo sunglasses on the other gal. Either that, or somebody pulled an "X-23" with Cyclops' DNA.

I tried to picture what these ladies would look like if they'd been drawn by Dick Sprang. It gave me a tummy ache.



YEAH, BOY! There's the Riddler I love! Finally, a dapper, dandyish look to go with the cocky attitude! And so generous! When he was at the haberdashers and they gave him his bowler hat, he said, "Y'know what? I'd like to buy a round of bowler hats for the house! Bowler hats for everybody!" And then the place went apeshit.

It's a great look for the guy. Very crisp, very polished, and it's all about creating an impression -- right down to the painstakingly pomaded hair with a single loose forelock for a bit of boyish charm. (It worked for Superman and it works for the Riddler.)

His hench-gals still look like whores, but hey, whatever works for them.

Stupid Moments In Fashion: Avengers #222 (Part One)

Can anybody explain the Wasp's line of thinking here? The She-Hulk is around six-foot-six. How is her figure flattered by putting her in genie pants and puffy sleeves? Is it really imperative that she look bulkier? And if so, why bother with all that fancy sewing? Why not stick her in a burqa, topped with a big, floppy sun hat? Or a beekeeper's uniform?

The She-Hulk obviously hates this costume, and I respect the hell out of her for tempering her response. 'Cause God knows I wouldn't have. The Wasp defends her sorry creation in the next panel: "You're an unusual woman, Jennifer! Your clothes should say that!" (The green hair and skin not doing it for you, honey?) "We want a complete image that'll drive men wild at the sight of you!" (And that means concealing as much of your body as humanly possible!)

The Wasp shows the She-Hulk exactly where she fits on her list of priorities (i.e. down at #732, between "Look in the Yellow Pages for a good chimney sweep" and "Get that Plantar's wart looked at") when the Masters of Evil attack. The She-Hulk rushes off to battle but the Wasp flies in front of her just as she's about to rip her way out of the puffy-yet-restrictive garment. "That outfit is an original!" snaps the Wasp. "Tear it -- and I'll never speak to you again!" So while Moonstone and the Scorpion are pulverizing The Mighty Thor, the She-Hulk has to carefully get out of her ensemble...



...and join the fray in her lacy unmentionables.



Think about it: some poor Korean gal had to wax a full square yard of bikini area. I hope she got a decent tip.

Tomorrow: more fashion-related fun from Avengers #222!

Take Your (Grand)Daughter To Work (It) Day

You know what the great thing is about being a bent, wizened sorceror who belongs to an Atlantean cult? The great thing is, you can convince the teenage granddaughter of the cult leader that she is vital to the destiny of all mankind and that she should drop whatever the hell she's doing and become your "apprentice." And you can also tell her that oh, just by the way, she needs to dress at all times in a metal bikini top and low-riding powder blue panties with a chrome-plated Ouija board pointer on them.

That's what Dakihm the Enchanter did to Jennifer Kale in some old "Man-Thing" and "Howard the Duck" stories back in the 70's. And sure, she fetched a magic tome from some otherdimensional netherworld and helped repel an invasion from the demon-realm of Sominus. But I think Dakihm mainly wanted to see Jennifer parade around in that outfit. There's something patently creepy about the whole set-up, if you ask me. And that's why I say God bless June Brigman for drawing Jennifer in "The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe" #6 (May, 1985) like this:



Compare this image with the one of the voluptuous, big-bottomed gal posing on the edge of a table for Dakihm's decrepid amusement. ("Reading this scroll is hard!" *giggle, blush, coquettish head tilt*) Brigman's depiction of Jennifer is really kind of startling in its honesty. She doesn't look much like a stereotypical pulp novel character to me. Instead, it's like a candid shot of a confused, emotionally screwed-up teenage runaway who just happens to be wearing a way-too-revealing costume. It's not so much Frank Frazetta as it is Diane Arbus. Now, I have no idea if Brigman did this on purpose, since everyone she draws tends to look somewhat like a teenage girl. But still, my hat's off to her.