Wait, What Kind of "Convention" IS This?

In your era, She-Lah is dating Jake Gyllenhaal! Or maybe she's married to Keith Urban. I forget.

So, how do you solve a problem like She-Lah?

You dare her to fellate a live wire.

The next panel: the Shield tells She-Lah to "go make [him] a sammitch."

I'm not quite sure what to make of She-Lah's robo-togs, here. I mean, she's got the imperious headdress thing goin' on, like the evil queen in "Snow White", but then she pairs it with a drably wholesome ice-skating outfit. It gives off mixed signals. (It's the Mike Piazza of supervillainess costumes!) One gets the feeling that She-Lah would smirkingly order you to get down on your knees, and then proceed to remove the pilled-up lint from the shoulders of your sport coat with one of those sticky little roller things. And then she'd chirp, "There! Isn't that better?"

And you'd wind up cheating on her with the ball-cutting robot next door.

Chapeau by Jiffy Pop

The last time I saw a hat like that, it adorned a "hillbilly" teddy bear at the Cracker Barrel.

Operation: Fascinate!

I can't tell if those things on their heads are flowers, crocheted doilies, luncheon meat, or just their brain matter bulging out of the holes in their noggins.

I also think it's telling that one of these "hats" totally effed up Mister Spock when it got stuck to his back, and yet these ladies don't even notice them. (Granted, the li'l neural parasites would have to burrow through a good eight inches of hair-do before it touched flesh.)

Mayday! Slope-Shouldered, Mouth-Breathing, Racist "Bandito" Character at 3:00!

That "head-band" is many things, but "legendary" isn't one of them. (By the way, I caught "Winston and the Diggers" back in '66. They opened for the Beach Boys at the Coco Beach Surf-a-Go-Go Festival. And they sucked.)

So, what wondrous abilities do you think that zany Aztec-Kirby helmet will bestow?

Oh. Gesundheit, I guess.

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Enchantress to Enchanter, Part Two

Today I'm revamping the Enchantress' best-known costume. And boy, is it a tough one! Why? Because I say so, that's why! Never question me! Sheesh!

Fine, I'll explain. The Enchantress' 1980's outfit is a weird androgynous affair* that would have looked perfectly at home in a mondern dance company's interpretive ballet about Shang-Chi, Master of Kung-Fu. Plus? It had a kooky hat! But mostly the look screams "1980's!!!" The top is all loose and flowy, and the bottom is... stirrup pants. A girl could have worn this ensemble to the mall in 1986 Minneapolis and been the toast of Teentown! So my challenge was to somehow make it even more butch without going too far afield from the original design.

What I came up with is very "John Byrne." Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, as long as it doesn't involve those weird chunky metal boots he likes to draw... y'know, the ones that look like upended spittoons. Or Donna Troy's "business casual prom" costume from near the end of his Wonder Woman run. (Remember? The spiky off-the-shoulder number? Yikes!) Anyway, goes:

Or maybe it's more like the costumes John Romita, Jr. designed for the X-Men comics in the 80's. Can't you just see Rogue in this? Minus the hat, I mean? Okay, enough nostalgia. Let's break this thing down:

Long hair on a sorceror in the 1980's? Sure, I'll allow it! It's very "David Copperfield meets Aerosmith" so why the hell not? I opened up the front of the blouse/robe thingie and lengthened it on the bottom for more of a loincloth effect. Then I paired the black tights with a black top, so the Enchanter wouldn't show as much skin as the Enchantress. The boots are in a manly, swashbuckling mode, with the "V" shaped flap mirroring the shapes of the hat and the top. I finished it off with a stylized, Kirby-esque Fourth World-type goatee.

*Y'know, I once had a weird androgynous affair. I thought I'd finally gotten Lightning Lad to "switch teams" and then it turned out I'd actually gotten it on with his twin sister, Lightning Lass! Or so they claimed...!

Tomorrow: The Enchanter's final costume! How will I reinterpret yet another bustier? Yeah, I'm not sure either. Let's find out together!

Gender Reassignment Challenge: Enchantress to Enchanter, Part One

Have you ever known somebody whom you thought looked kind of cute and fun the first time you met them, but that turned out to be a total fluke? Because every single time you've seen them afterwards they were dressed in clothes that were either ugly or way over the top slutty? And when you think back to it, even the first time you met them they displyed a stank personality? That's how I feel about the Enchantress. Not the grandly bitchy Marvel version, though. I'm talking about the DC Universe Enchantress, June Moone. Because when I saw this costume of hers as a little boy (in "Superman Family" #204 (December 1980) I just thought it was the cutest thing ever:

Forget (if you can) the freshly boiled Mister Potato Head with the thyroid problem... how about that costume? Green-and-black Harlequin-print miniskirt, finished with huge jagged edges created by the world's biggest pinking shears (probably manifested by the Spectre)? If this is a dream, nobody pinch me because I don't wanna wake up! And the hat? Adorable! It's like she's straight out of a Sandra Dee comedy, one with a title like "The Witchiest Debutante" or maybe "Love Me for a Spell." It's just a shame her personality is so humorless. Why dress cute when you're actually a total pill? Ah, well.

The Enchantress had a shot at being a fun, magic-using superheroine, a la Zatanna, based on her first appearance ("Strange Adventures" #187, April 1966). She even had a very Captain Marvel-esque origin, in that sweet blonde June Moone got her powers from a weirdo on a granite throne, courtesy of a (green) lightning bolt (not shown in the above flashback sequence). And I love that the bolt was accompanied by the sound effect "VOOM" (as in va-va-)! Alas, these salad days would prove to be short-lived. After a few more stories in "Strange Adventures" she dropped out of sight until 1980, when she was used as the sort-of-baddie in a two-part Supergirl story. Her fortunes have waxed and waned countless times since then. To me, however, she'll always be the gal with the cute pun name and the go-go check skirt.

Which is a warped, roundabout way of saying I'm dedicating a supersized Gender Reassignment Challenge to her. Three costumes: original, Suicide Squad era and Shadowpact era, over three days (today through Wednesday)! Wahoo!

The first costume is one of her girliest, since it features both a mini-skirt and a witch hat. Well sir, here's how I'd recajigger it for a man:

My first sketches for the Enchanter (a.k.a. August Moon*, no teahouse jokes if you please) had him wearing a Guy Fawkes/Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General hat, which is flat on top. I didn't like it. Too Pilgrim-y. I finally decided to lengthen the crown of the witch hat and make it like a Gandalf-type hat instead. Note how the brim slouches rakishly over one eye. His hair is Beatle's-length, but with some Goth pointiness and shag. I had initially loaded up the Enchanter's costume with 17th Century gear like these convoluted little boots with spurs on them, but I forced myself to edit it down into something that was more like a 1960's superhero costume... specifically, like Doctor Strange's. I used to hate that the Doctor never wore boots, but I totally understand it now. I altered the Enchantress' miniskirt into a waistcoat and kept the arms and legs of the outfit very simple, so as not to compete with the pattern.

*or if you prefer, Newt Eldritch.

Tomorrow: the Suicide Squad look, with some Byrne/Simonson flavor. See you then!

Previous Gender Reassignment Challenges:

• Saturn Girl
• Scarlet Witch
• Looker (and a slight revision)
• Storm
• Marvel Girl
• Black Canary
• Phantom Lady
• Snowbird
• Dazzler
• Mantis

Hot Town, Cimmerian In The City (Part One)

Wow! So, an entire cult has sprung up from the Milton Bradley game "Sorry!" (Salvation is completely random, depending on whether or not you land on a slide -- but any other cult member can bump you back... to hell!)

Naw! I'm kiddin'! Actually this is the guy from "What If" #13 (February, 1978) who put Conan the Barbarian into a huge bucket and lowered him into a time-well. Conan burst through the ropes that had bound him through sheer awesomeness, but wait! Before he could climb all the way out, the rope he was climbing broke (gotta control the awesomeness, dude) and he fell down, down, down... all the way to Greenwich Village in 1977.



Is it wrong that I covet that necklace on the gal in the lower center of this panel? I think I could seriously work something like that. Hmm... dig the pseudo-hippie at the lower far right. A ponytail and a headband? Is your hair really that out-of-control? Hell, why not add some barrettes, a hairnet, a snood, one of those monks' hats, a shower cap, a do-rag, and a couple of Ace bandages? Just really clamp that shit down. Either that or you could just get a haircut, you goddamn hippie!!! On the left side of the panel we have an alarmingly gray-haired hippie (in 1977?! Curse you, LSD!) sporting a perky flip-do that Laura Petrie would have killed for. And in the back, a curvacious -- if somewhat man-shouldered -- female street performer wearing a mesh t-shirt! You give that back to the Puerto Rican man you stole that from this instant, little missy! It's certainly one way to draw a crowd, I will admit. Although they may be somewhat confused about where to put their dollars. Also, if she lets that guitar drop a quarter-inch she's officially committing a felony.



"Hey, look! Some guy's doing the naked-but-for-a-loincloth bit." "Nice way to beat the heat, huh? Wish I could try it!" "But you could try it! I mean, you are a guy, right? 'Cause I really can't tell sometimes, but I was kinda leaning towards 'guy' on account of how flat your chest is and also that little mustache you got happening... Hey! Where are you going?!"

Apparently 1977 was the hey-day of the tank top. Why, everybody who was anybody wore 'em! Michael Douglas, Al Pacino, Burt Reynolds, Truman Capote, Jack Klugman, Red Buttons, Walter Mondale, Henry Kissinger... y'know. All the "sex symbols." Pretty much the only guy who isn't wearing one here is that snide economist in the plum-colored polyester. "With such happenings, it is small wonder the yen gains daily on the dollar!" Really, pal? That was the source of America's economic stagnation? Too many time-traveling fantasy barbarians? Huh. Come to think of it, I remember Jimmy Carter giving a speech on just that very thing. I think his solution was to give the time-traveling fantasy barbarians the Panama Canal.

You know what the worst part of this comic was? The continuous assertions of bystanders that Our Hero looks just like Sylvester Stallone. Yeah. You know what, Roy Thomas? That's not a compliment. I'd prefer to think he looks like Christian Bale or -- ooh! -- Jason Statham, but that's just my deal. And of course, your 1977-self wouldn't have the first notion about those two gentlemen. Hey, how 'bout Harrison Ford? He's tall, handsome, brooding, he's got the shelf-like forehead action goin' on... and unlike Stallone, he doesn't look hopelessly inbred.

Tomorrow: Conan vs. Glam Rock!

The Composite Doorman

(From "Mad About Millie Special" #1, Marvel, November 1971.) What a horrifying apparition! And what awesome power he must wield in this odd, amalgamated form! From top to bottom I count:
1. General Zod's hat
2. Wolverine's sideburns
3. Ultimate Wolverine's fey little beard
4. Captain Nazi's epaulets
5. The Phantom Stranger's gold-plated disco medallion
6. Gorilla Grodd's torso
7. Little Dot's favorite pajamas, and
8. Jesus' sandals

Any additions or corrections will be welcomed with open arms.

Masquerade Smarties

Next Jimmy's headed to the Byrne boards to really start some shit!

Everyone's favorite boneheaded, er, redheaded cub reporter has donned "The Helmet of Hate!" -- which is also the title of this reprint story from "Jimmy Olsen" #113 (Aug.-Sept. 1968). Like a lot of Superman Family stories from its era, it's filled with so many SHOCKING TWISTS and STARTLING REVELATIONS that it chokes on them, and dies an exceedingly moronic death. The primary plot element here is deception. Sure, the reader thinks one thing is going on, but it's actually something entirely different! And they'll explain with excruciating detail how everything was done! I wonder sometimes if the Superman comics were edited by Julius Schwartz or the Amazing Randi. (The closest modern example I can think of is the first couple years of the JSA comic, in which every seemingly unbeatable villain had a fatal Achilles heel -- which the JSA knew about all along! Or any Warren Ellis/Garth Ennis/Mark Millar story where the "hero" is a deceitful wiseass.)

Suffice it to say that everything that seems to be happening to Jimmy and Superman is all a ruse in order to foil an alien invasion. Got it? Swell. Now I'm free to talk fashion!

About that helmet -- I'm not sure why so many sci-fi helmets from the 50's and 60's were transparent. You'd have to make sure your hair was flawless before you put it on -- and then the weight of the helmet would smoosh it down. So you'd be screwed! The Hate Helmet doesn't seem as bad, since the glass or what-have-you is kept away from the top of your coif -- as long as you keep your hair reasonably close to your scalp. A pompadour might be a bad idea. And just imagine the grease marks all over the glass!

But Jimmy didn't just accessorize with a Hate Helmet. He's also brandishing a red Kryptonite gun! Or is he? ...Okay, he's not. Hope that doesn't spoil the story for you.



Uh-oh! The red-K has turned Superman into a devil! Not! That costume looks kind of familiar, doesn't it? I'm guessing he popped into the Phantom Zone and borrowed Mon-El's tunic.

Mon-El: Superman! At last, you've come to free me from this dreadful prison!

Superman: Um... yes! That's precisely why I'm here! But you'll have to remove your top first.

Mon-El: Sure, I-- what?

Superman: I'll need a sample of your clothing in order to match your exact molecular frequency. So hurry up and get nude.

Mon-El: I've got a button here that popped loose. Can't you just take that instead of the entire tunic?

Superman: Oh, I'm sorry, Mon-El, I thought you were serious about wanting to get out of here. But obviously you'd rather stay in the Phantom Zone getting phantom dry-humped by General Zod than enjoy untold freedom in the outside world. Tell you what -- when you grow the fuck up and decide to act like a man, you give me a call. 'Kay? Bye.

Mon-El: Wait! I'm a grown-up! I'm serious! [he hurriedly removes his tunic]

Superman [snatches the tunic from Mon-El's hands]: Yoink! See you in 990 years, sucker! [he vanishes]

Hey, pixie boots! I didn't even know they made shoes like that in Superman's size. He really went all-out on this devil costume! For him, I mean. I don't hold Superman to an especially high standard when it comes to costume design. I would have spruced it up with some nice gauntlets, maybe with talons on them, and a much longer and nicer cape. Or a cloak! I just watched Michael Powell's "The Tales Of Hoffman" this weekend, and I think Leonide Massine's "Schlemil" costume in a shade of crimson would have been nice as well. It was a military number with these big silver hawks or owls or something on the shoulders. Very striking. Superman could have used bats instead, or some kind of lame-ass Kryptonian fauna that only some nerdy loser would be familiar with. Like a rondor! (Oops.) And now for the shocking conclusion!



Oh, for--! Now he'll never be able to return those things to Hot Topic.

Out In Space

In his "Starman" series, James Robinson made it his business to somehow include every single DC character who had that name -- even this guy right here. And up 'til then, this was the only comic book appearance he'd ever made! ("First Issue Special" #12, March 1976.) He's an alien, with the isn't-that-convenient name of "Mikaal Tomas" and he's the rebel outcast of a warmongering culture that's established a secret base on Earth's moon. I wonder if they brought a covered dish to the Inhumans when they moved next door. Oops! Wrong universe! Annnyway, over in Robinson's "Starman" it turned out Mikaal was gay or at least bi or something, and he even got himself a boyfriend. Good for him! Mind you, I'm always a bit wary when a comic book character suddenly turns out to be gay, because it can feel phony and tacked-on if it's not done right. With Mikaal, he'd only had one appearance that was written by somebody else before Robinson decided to use him, so it wasn't nearly as jarring. And if I remember right, Robinson had Mikaal explain to his boyfriend that his people don't have strict definitions of sexuality. Although Robinson's actual dialog was undoubtedly more florid and pretentious. (Like I should talk--!) But to get to the matter at hand, having just perused "First Issue Special" I now understand that the gay subtext was there in Mikaal's world all along. Observe!

Here's the standard guard uniform on the alien moonbase:



Our model, An'twon, is wearing the latest see-through chapeau from the Space Ranger line of haberdashery for whisper-thin young space rangers. The sleeves of his pistachio blouse are fetchingly puffed, while his coordinating cigarette pants hug every contour of his spindly legs. A hand-tooled skull belt completes the ensemble. I'm pretty sure he's not holding that gun right, but oh well.

Now, let's take a look at what the elite guardsmen get to wear:



I'd like to dedicate this panel to everyone who complains I draw my superheroes with "packages" that are too big. 'Cause I think Mike Vosburg and Mike Royer here have me beat in that competition by a country mile. Jeebus. What's Turran Kha got stashed away in that thing? Two of 'em? Y'know, if my stuff was that prodigious, I sure as hell wouldn't have a skull mounted over it. A "happy face" maybe, but not a skull. Now, if you can be bothered to tear your eyes away from Turran Kha's manhood for a few moments, get a load of the boots. This must be the earliest example of superfluous straps in a superhero comic, predating Rob Liefeld's fashion grotesqueries by at least twelve years. Are the boots going to fall off if Turran Kha doesn't strap them to his knees? And get a load of the dainty little spikes on his jogging shoes. Simply adorable.

How gay is Mikaal Tomas' culture? Well, as soon as "First Guardsman of the Worldstone, Turran Kha" shows up, his boss orders him to... redecorate.



Turran Kha's thinking, "I'm pretty sure this is a table but whatever floats your boat..."

Also, I had no idea that wood was so flexible. I think I'll mold Jeremy's buffet table into a sculpture of an elk.

Near the end of the comic, Mikaal Tomas is sentenced to death by a tribunal that features a sexy lady (why couldn't Ruth Bader Ginsburg dress like that?), the Ming the Merciless rip-off bad guy, and... I'm not exactly sure who or what the third person is.



Death to the man who made this hat! I don't know what "Uncle May's" problem is, but he/she/it looks pissed. I bet they're the "Janice Dickinson" of the panel. And they look like a cross between Christopher Lee and my gramma. Kinda disturbing, to be honest.

So in light of all this, I'd say writing Mikaal Tomas as gay or bi or whatever makes total sense to me now!

Bride And Grooming

Karnilla took a sip of mead, then casually smashed the goblet in the little satyr's face. "Pray tell me why you be not pleased, my betrothed?" she purred.

"Many reasons have I," replied Baldur. "For one--!" Abruptly, Baldur wrenched the slobbering imp from his left leg and threw him against a nearby cavern wall. "Thou hast 'measured mine inseam' enow, wretch! Think me not ignorant of thine attempts to 'cop a feel.'" The silver-maned god of light smoothed the wrinkles from his garish raiment and strode purposefully toward his soon-to-be-wife. In a deep, clear voice, strangely reminiscent of church bells, he unburdened his heart. "For one, mine legs be so constrained by thine straps and buckles that mine very circulation be impaired, so very much so that I fear I should lose a toe afore our wedding night! Secondly, I recollect with much clarity seeing this self-same skirt on professional figure skater Michelle Kwan. Thirdly..."

"Thou dost enjoy women's figure skating?" inquired Karnilla with a tiny smirk.

"That be beside mine point!" Baldur snapped.

"No, thou has made me curious as to thine other interests!" Karnilla grinned. She leaned forward, like a panther appraising an unsuspecting fawn. "What else might thou do for fun? Shoe shopping? Body waxing? Gossipping about Jared Leto?"

Baldur's shining eyes glared balefully at his betrothed. "Queen of all that is evil," he swore, "thou shalt not get mine goat!"

A rueful titter escaped Karnilla's cruel mouth. "I be not sure I'd want thine goat! I knowest not how thou might have made sport with it!"

"To continue," sighed Baldur, "These gloves be most passing strange. The orange pigment rubs off to reveal a hue as red as roses. And what be the purpose of these so-called 'repulsor rays?'"

"The gloves I found at a garage sale," Karnilla smiled. "Vintage, see? Be they not cool?"

"But mine most pressing complaint," continued Baldur, "is in reference to the chest plate. I see not why mine nipples need screen doors."

Karnilla shook her head. "Silly godling," she clucked. Regally, she arose from her couch and advanced on the white-haired god. She placed her hands on his chest, causing him to recoil in alarm. "Tis no ordinary chest plate, my lord, but a stereo! One dost only work the skull like this...! Her slim, taloned fingers carressed Baldur's chest. As if by magic, a tinny rendition of Wagner's "Fire Music" flitted through the speakers and wafted about the cavern. Baldur winced, his square jaw tightening. And then, fresh tears brimming in his eyes, he softly sighed and submitted himself fully to the Norn Queen's ministrations.

"And besides," Karnilla added, "thou hast not seen it with the hat on yet! Not that the Queen of the Norns wishes to hide her king's gorgeous silver hair, but it dost be traditional, mine love! And hark! Turn it upside-down, and it doubles as a foot-stool!"

Hat Out Of Hell

Say what you will about Maximus the Mad. Sure, he drugged his entire family with "hypno-potions" and he tried to destroy the Earth with meteors. But the man certainly has a flair for choosing a chapeau.



"I WANT YOU! To pull my finger!" Here, Maximus has found just the right cap to compliment his jogging suit. Modest but not meek, this sporty little number is trimmed in real gold and, apparently, keeps his Rastafarian dreads in check.



Yeah, I had the exact same expression when a really bitchy salesgirl at a Coast City boutique told me my knit cap made my head look like an acorn. Anyway. That's one magnificent hat. The effect is dampened somewhat when you realize that you can see his hair through it, and that he has the exact same haircut as one of the Three Stooges. But still. It's so sleek. I bet it picks up satellite radio signals. And it toasts an English muffin to perfection. It looks like Darth Vader's spaceship. Only cooler. AND, if you look at it just right, pretending the spot where Maxiumus' face pokes through is a mouth, and the three holes just above that are two eyes and a nose? It looks like the head of Ultron's dog.

But nothing -- and I do mean nothing -- can eclipse the sheer grandeur of this hat:



Dear sweet Lord in Heaven above! It's glorious! I think I could live quite comfortably inside Maximus' hat. In fact, I think I ought to start a charity, building replicas of it for low-income families. "Maxiumus' Hat For Humanity." It would help make up a little for all the times Maximus has tried to eradicate all mankind (and he's tried it a lot.)

Fun fact: on Orando this is considered a "beanie."

And His Junk Is Composed Of A Series Of Ones And Zeroes

Golden Age villain "the Thinker" used to be a chubbier version of Gale Gordon from The Lucy Show with a "thinking cap" that was essentially an inverted colander with some buttons and wires on it. Observe:



He's dead now. And yet he still exists, kind of, as a free-roaming, evil computer consciousness with the ability to manifest a hologram body. That's one way to lose those unwanted pounds.



Here are just a few of the advantages of the Thinker's new digital bod:

1. His nipples have a resolution of 2560 x 1600 for a crisp, lifelike appearance.
2. His bellybutton is a functioning USB port.
3. You can illegally download current box office smash films straight from his sinuses. But they're all in some weird foreign language you don't understand. Because he's evil.
4. Each toenail has its own ringtone.
5. He belches real-time stock quotes.
6. He poops your horoscope.
7. He can block all spam e-mails just by making the "talk to the hand" gesture. And his liver is a firewall.
8. His white blood cells look exactly like Ms. Pac-Man.
9. Through methods too complicated to explain here, he's currently draining the life force from Lindsay Lohan. Seriously. I mean, have you seen her lately? 'Cause DAMN.
10. He can yank it with a top speed of 2.16 GHz.

Is That A Bowling Pin On His Head?

Yes! Yes, it is. A bowling pin with some pretty embroidery and two cow horns. Apparently the Supervillain Costume Barn was having a clearance sale. And nobody was happier about that than Maur-Kon, the bad guy from Marvel's "Shogun Warriors" #6 (July, 1979). And sure, installing a TV camera in front of the toilet made sense at the time, but who could have guessed some asshole would pirate the signal while you're trying to pass that tainted pulled pork sandwich you ate last night?



"Inside Combatra, Lord Maur-Kon is enjoying himself immensely..." Then why are both his hands in plain sight? And why is he crying? Oh, I understand now. Maur-Kon used to run with a Mexican gang, and they gave him those badass teardrop tattoos they're so fond of. And judging from the elaborate mustache, Maur-Kon also used to be lead tenor in a barbershop quartet. Man, that must have been a hectic schedule. 2:00 PM: pop a cap in Julio's ass. 2:15 PM: join the boys for a medley of Steven Foster tunes over at the Senior Citizens' Center. 2:30 PM: hold switchblade against Paco's right cheek and demand to know "why he always gettin' loud wit' me." 2:45 PM: head over to the Wal-Mart for more mesh t-shirts and mustache wax.

Naw, I'm just funnin', Maur-Kon. So, this is probably the first time anybody on the planet has mentioned you in any context at all in over twenty-five years. How does that make you feel?



Pfft. I have the feeling this wasn't your first time, honey.

And now, some vaguely inappropriate sound effects.



Er... yes. Indeed. "Doosh."

The Sweatsuit Competition: Miss America

What's her deal:
In 1943, Madeline Joyce's uncle sponsored a research scientist who kept a laboratory in an old lighthouse. A lightning bolt struck the tower while Madeline was inside it. Instead of electrocuting the intrepid lass, the massive voltage sent her into a coma. The scientist was consumed with guilt. He destroyed all of his machinery and himself along with it. A week later, Madeline recovered. Awesome timing, doc.

The accident, as it happened, had endowed Madeline with a veritable cornucopia of superpowers, such as flight, super-strength, super-intelligence (which one presumes would prevent her from doing any more snooping about in tall structures during electrical storms), x-ray vision and invulnerability. She designed a baggy, figure-concealing but mightily patriotic costume. Her alias: Miss America. Madeline at one point joined a super-team calling itself "The All-Winners Squad" -- a supremely ironic moniker considering the number of losers on the roster. Later she married one of those losers, Bob Frank, a.k.a. "The Whizzer." (He had super-speed. Why, what did you think it meant?) After the war, she lost most of her powers, due mainly to the fact she was being written by sexist male dickweeds. Her firstborn child was a radioactive supervillain named "Nuklo." Madeline died giving birth to a second child, who was stillborn. The end! Cheery, huh? First appearance: Marvel Mystery Comics #49 (Timely, October 1943).


Crimes against fashion:
Nearly the entire outfit. It looked like a track suit more than anything else, and it shouldn't have surprised me to learn it was made of terrycloth. The superhero emblem on her bosom looks like it should say "Phillips 66." And the teeny red cap! That misshapen yarmulke crept steadily forward over the years until it was practically over her eyes. Like most superheroes in her dimension, she had a secret identity but no mask. (Jeebus! C'MON!) She occasionally added harlequin glasses, which made her look less like a superhero and more like a really flamboyant librarian. Her hair ranged from blonde to black to brown, finally settling on brown. I think.

Our meeting:
It's a long, complicated story, so kindly bear with me. I was in the Timely/Marvel dimension circa 1944 when I approached Captain America with some great ideas for improving his dorky costume. Cappy barely let me get a word out before turning me down flat (and calling me "son" in the process, which really ticked me off). His parting shot? Telling me to shave off my sweet-ass goatee and muttonchops, which he termed "ridiculous." It was on. Not in the physical sense, mind you, because Captain America could clean my clock nine ways to Sunday. No, my plan was to hightail it to California and the studios of Republic Pictures so I could surreptitiously redesign the costume for the Captain America serial they were planning to shoot. Then he'd see how right I was! Mwuh-hah-hah-hah!

Well, yes, it's a terribly passive kind of revenge. What's your point?

I donned one of my superhero outfits. Then I snuck onto the lot, posing as an extra in a science fiction film. I quickly located the costume department, seized the Captain America designs, and set to work. I had only got as far as erasing those goofy wings from his cowl and penciling in a handgun when I heard a mob of people hollering about something or other. The huddled masses helpfully exposited that...
1. A director who craved realism had wrangled a genuine mummy for his latest picture.
2. Some sort of chemical mishap had brought the mummy to horrifying life!
3. The mummy had slung starlet Vera Hruba Ralston over its shoulder like a shapely sack of potatoes and taken off running, and...
4. It was headed this way!

With a loud sigh, I dropped everything and ran outside to face the menace head-on. I planted myself firmly in the path of the bandaged bandito and shouted my catchphrase, "Stop, in the name of Blockade Boy!" And then I turned into a steel wall. And then, as per usual, my foe ran around me and kept right on going. Have I mentioned that I don't turn into a very big steel wall?

To her credit, Miss Ralston was a champion ice skater and quite strong; at that point she had pounded on the mummy so hard that a good-sized hole had appeared in its lower back. Suddenly, a crimson meteor smashed down upon the mummy, reducing it to smithereens, and sweeping Miss Ralston away to safety. The red blur resolved itself into a dowdy lady in a stupid hat. It was Miss America! Seeing that I was a fellow super-powered adventurer, Miss America took me into her confidence. From there it was a simple matter to convice her to let me redesign her costume.

My presentation:
For your first option, I've merely tweaked your original outfit into something that's actually flattering.

Red is a strong color. It can be overwhelming when used in large quantities. So, I've eliminated your leggings. To compensate, I've lengthened the tunic into a short, pleated dress, just like ice skaters wear. It's practical yet feminine. To match your blue cape, I've added blue boots and blue gloves. You may have noticed that the boots are not high-heeled. That's because high-heeled boots are an absurd thing for a superheroine to wear. I remember getting into an argument with Princess Projectra about why she shouldn't wear heels, and she was all, "But my power is illusion-casting, I don't have to move around when I fight, and anyway I look really sexy in heels, blah blah blah, I'm a princess!" And then while we were just standing there talking, one of her ankles snapped in two. Heh! Um, anyway, I've trimmed the dress and the gloves in gold. I've also altered the symbol on your chest somewhat. The heart shape is more becoming to the female bosom. Plus, it represents how you love America, and this way it no longer resembles a highway marker. Finally, I've added a mask, because believe it or not, you need to conceal at least part of your face if you want to maintain a secret identity. No, really. No, REALLY. I'm not kidding. Well, I don't care what the Whizzer told you. Or the Thin Man. Or Red Raven. Or Dynamic Man OR the Human Top. Or-- look, these people are idiots, okay? Just trust me on this! Jeez! Okay then. Next!


Your second option is so fashion-forward it doesn't even exist yet! Or something like that. I wanted to give you the look a fighter plane, since your fabulous powers allow you to rain death upon all who oppose you. I've even borrowed the star from a Navy fighter for your new symbol! Well, yeah, I know they changed it last year. Well, it looks better this way. Moving on... in lieu of a mask, I thought we could put a bold, blue stripe of makeup right across your eyes, the way the Aztecs did! It matches your blue lipstick. It's all very intimidating! For the costume itself, we have a silver body suit with red-and-blue body armor on the shoulders, calves, and hips -- not that you need armor, being indestructible and all, but it's important for the look. Your waist is so thick it makes this outfit something of a gamble, but I think we can get away with it provided you lay off the fatty foods. Now, I'd like to draw your attention to the thick red lines over the crotch and across the thighs, which subtly frame your "lady business" -- OW! Hey, knock it off!

Miss America's response:
... was to slap me, which fractured my jaw and caused a couple of teeth to fly out of my mouth. "You are the rudest, most vulgar young man I have ever met in all my life!" she fumed. She stomped out the door, but before she disappeared from my life forever, she spun around and snapped, "And lose the sideburns and the nanny goat beard. You look like an idiot."

Oh, it's on NOW, honey.