An Open Letter in Response to DC Nation #45

Dear Eddie Berganza:

Where do I even start?

No. I will not give Supergirl a shot. I already gave her a shot, and I am still trying to get over the nausea.

You want to make her a "normal teenager"? Then cover her the fuck up. Go check out a comic called Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane. Those are teenagers. Supergirl looks like an anorexic blow-up doll with a torso that's longer than her legs (which are also very long) and eyes that are bigger than her waist.

Y'know, you could almost convince me to give her a shot with the promise that you are re-inventing her, except for the part where you said "the incomparable Michael Turner." Incomparable? Incomparably shitty, maybe. After all, didn't his art inspire my favourite action figure?

The amazing Elongated Super-Girl! Now with bed-head and stripper eyes! Crotch that's lower than her skirt? You bet! (Jesus...just how long is her torso anyway? Seriously!)

Also, wow. You invited one real live woman to your conference call to discuss the future of the character. And she "was pivitol in giving us a woman's point of view on the character." Her suggestion: Kara needs to gain some weight. Well, agreed, but she needs a lot more than that. Let's have a look:

Well, let's just consider ourselves lucky that she has no real crotch area and that her legs go right into her stomach (or lack of). Because otherwise Nightwing would be unable to concentrate. (Alternate joke: It's so rare that you get to see Dick and snatch on the same cover).
The cape is nice. The sleeves are nice. I like the pointy cuffs. But that shirt has to come down a few inches. Or all the way to the waist. Or the skirt needs to be more than a curtain tie. The porn face is also a problem.

But enough about my problems with Supergirl, Eddie. Let's talk about my problems with you.

Shut up, Eddie. I'm not reading Supergirl for the same reason I don't read the new Flash comics, Batman Confidential, or the Martian Manhunter series: they suck ass. I don't care that this comic is MADE for ladies so therefore I SHOULD like it. I don't. It doesn't interest me and I am busy spending money on and reading the comics that you actually bother to put good writers and artists on. Because, and maybe I shouldn't speak for all women here because I don't know, I think that we appreciate...quality. You know, good stories, good art, good characters, and costumes that don't make you throw up in your mouth.

You know what I would like? I would like you to invite the "ladies" to come out and give The Brave and the Bold a shot. Because that's what I'm really looking forward to. Or The Spirit. Or Jonah Hex. Or The Justice Society. You know. Good comics.

Maybe you could just slap some pink covers on them so girls can understand them. Or make them out of chocolate. It doesn't really matter because we just use them to blow our noses on when watching The Notebook anyway.

You horrible douchebag.

Truly,
Rachelle

Shut Up, Jeph Loeb (#1)

For the record, I don't hate Jeph Loeb. He's written things that I've enjoyed quite a bit. Things that many comic readers did not enjoy. Say what you want about Hush, but it is hands-down the best superhero comic book to lend to someone who doesn't read superhero comic books. This is because of three key Loeb traits that are more than present in Hush, and pretty much everything else the guy writes:

1. Heavy-handed, repetitive, soul-searching in the form of interior monologues, usually serving as narration.
2. A veritable all-star game of every hero and villain he can think of, each with a clear introduction, regardless of how well the characters actually fit into the story.
3. Cuteness.

Loeb's stories often go nowhere, but at least there are lots of clear roadsigns along the way. And the artwork is always nice because he gets superstar artists. What I'm saying is, his comics are easy to read, and this might explain his popularity among the casual comic fan (read: people who read comics to feel closer to Brandon Routh).

Like I said, I don't hate the man's writing, and I can see that he has enormous love for the characters and so forth. But pretty much every time I read one of his stories I hit a moment where all I can think is...

I guess I should give an example. Hmmmm...so many to choose from...

Alright, here's a good one. From Superman/Batman #4. These are probably the only two pages of these books that don't explicitly indicate that Superman and Batman are totally in love with each other. Because that's another Loeb trait: all superheroes love each other as much as Loeb loves them.

Anyway, in these panels we have S & B fighting it up against a grab bag of DC superheroes. Here's a chunk of what they're thinking:

Did I mention that Loeb likes to have his characters over-explain things? He does.

"S. Castling."?! Why don't you just say "switch"? It's not like that's code for anything. Any idiot would know what you're planning. But just in case the readers are morons, Superman explains it to us. And adds something cute about Bruce loving chess. And then Batman makes a cute remark about it. No, wait...Batman thinks a cute remark about it.

So within these two pages we see examples of all three signs that you're reading a Loeb story: overly spelled-out narration in the form of interior monologues, loads of random characters, and unbearable cuteness.

Frankly I'd be ok with all of that if the story would just go somewhere satisfying for once. Always with the convoluted craziness! Like this story, for example, started by being about Metallo and the possibility that he murdered Thomas and Martha Wayne back when he was merely John Corben. But it ended by being about...Captain Atom zapping Superman with a Kryptonite ring so that he could be the one to pilot a giant composite Superman/Batman-shaped spacecraft and destroy a Kryptonite meteor headed for Earth while Batman and a recovered Superman battle Lex Luthor. And even to get into the larger story of Superman being framed by Luthor for wanting to destroy the Earth, we have to accept the fact that the entire world and all Justice League and Justice Soceity superheroes would agree that a Kryptonite meteor is evidence enough that Superman is out to destroy them all. *sigh*

Crazy In Love: The Saga of the Super-Sons

This may be hard to believe, but sometimes the comic book big shots have some really bad ideas for story lines. And sometimes they will even drag these bad stories out way too long. Something what should have been contained in a single issue, or perhaps even a single panel...or to a single piece of fanfiction...or not at all. Something like...The Saga of the Super-Sons. This is something that DC pulled out of their asses in the early 70s. These two losers showed up in several World's Finest comics, ruining them for everyone.

First of all, for the record, only one son is "super." The other is "bat." World's Finest Sons would make more sense, but would be a gross misstatement.

There are only two ways to enjoy these characters. One, because in costume they look exactly like their fathers, you can pretend that the ridiculous things they say are actually being said by Superman and Batman. Two, you can focus on how totally and completely in love these two boys are.

Oh, Bruce Junior. Such a hippy. Where did Bruce Sr. go wrong?

Not that Junior doesn't have the astounding detective skills of his dad, as demonstrated here:

Keen eye, kiddo!

Of course, being the egomaniacs that they are, Superman and Batman have named their sons after themselves. Because that's a really good way to cover the ol' secret identity. Especially since Bruce and Clark jrs are pretty open about complaining about their superhero fathers. And the dads aren't so good at keeping the secret either:

Heh. "Big Daddy."

I'd like to point out that they are in the vicinity of some criminals that Batman just beat up. And while beating up these criminals, Batman exclaimed upon seeing his son, and I quote "Bruce...? My boy...Bruce?"

Like I was saying, in costume the sons look just like their dads. So let's pretend that this is really Batman talking in these panels:

Man I wish Batman would say "bomberoo" more often.

Superman Jr is also an idiot. But you don't have to take my word for it:

I don't like the hint of smile on Supe Jr's face one bit. They just watched a man get mowed down with a machine gun and he's cracking wise. *shudder*

Oh, and here's what he decides to do rather and stop a train full of toxic gas:

Wow.

These boys also have a strange pre-occupation with paddling tail (which, if you ask me, is exactly what a certain couple of super dads need to do to their useless sons):

I can't really find any way to segue into this panel, but would you check out Superman Jr's bizarre caught-in-an-explosion pose here:

Oh, MY GOD is right, Bat-Son (also...you're in a garbage can).

Ok, things get really weird in the 1974 World's Finest 100 Page Super Spectacular. The sons are getting along so poorly with their dads that all four of them end up at some weird all-man hippy retreat to heal their relationships. Thus we get a bone-chilling panel that I will never be able to erase from my memory:

"Men...Dancing Together?" Oh, come on, Clark. Like you don't love that idea. Plus, it's your SON, doofus! No one is going to think you're gay. This might raise some eyebrows, though:

That...is not how Batman and Superman fly together...I'm pretty sure...usually...

Anyway, the sons decide to trade dads for a bit at this retreat. Then we get these hilarious panels:

"Straight, eh? That's what he called me, hmm? Well, we'll just see about that!"

Let's see what wholesome activity Clark Jr is engaging in with Bruce Wayne:

Yeah...ok. Willing pupil, eh? Wait! Switching dads permanently?! That's not how life works! This story is so bizarre.

These characters suck. Death would be too kind for these guys. But they were part of one of the best comic covers of all time:

Awesome.

In conclusion...PILLOW FIGHT!!!!

Bath-Man

I was re-reading the JLA: Crisis of Conscience trade because I like it, but sometimes little things can really get you down.

I mean, I don't want to nit-pick because I love a good Batman/Catwoman scene, and I can appreciate how awesome it is that Selina is bringing tea for two down to the Batcave wearing nothing but Bruce's monogrammed bathrobe. HOWEVER...

I dunno. Call me crazy, but I just think that Bruce Wayne's housecoat shouldn't be too small for Selina Kyle.

HOT Action Comics

The mid-80s was a time of boundary-pushing in the comic industry. Stories were trying hard to be gritty and dark and "real." Even with that in mind, I still don't know how this one got past the censors. Not so much because of it's mature subject matter, but because it's Superman.

First of all, big thanks to Dave for lending me these issues (Action Comics #592 & 593 by John Byrne).

Ok, so Big Barda is hanging out in Metropolis's notorious Suicide Slum when she runs into this guy:
His name is Sleez, and he is so gross that, get this, he was kicked out of Apokoplips. Yeah, you have to suck a lot for that to happen. Since Sleez is his game, as well as his name, he uses the power of the mega rod that he steals from Barda to make her dance for him in a skimpy outfit:

I love Sleez's jambox. What song do you think is playing? It looks like something from Jesus Christ Superstar, maybe. Or Hair.

Seriously, though, Barda's capture is pretty disturbing. We don't actually see her being forced to perform sexual favours, but panels like this one kind of imply that it's happening:

Yay! Superman! Except, no, wait. Superman is a douchebag:

That's, uh, real sensitive, Superman. Is that what you say to all rape victims? "Sorry, miss. I don't recognize you because you look like a WHORE." I mean, what if it was Wonder Woman under all that "glop"? Also, is Wonder Woman the only dark-haired woman that Superman knows? Because I can think of at least one other he might be familiar with...

So anyway, Sleez ends up trapping both Barda and Superman, and putting them both under his mind-control spell. Oh yes, you can see where this is going.

As it turns out, Sleez has been making money by pimping Barda out to a porno movie producer. He's already made at least one movie with her, and now he's offering Superman to the producer as well. Yup. That's what I said. Check it out:

Ok, wait. Rewind.

WOAH! WOAH! First of all, I think there just might be a market for THAT solo act, Mr Porno. And also...SOLO ACT?! SUPERMAN?! Just take a moment to consider what exactly they are talking about here. And then the line "any co-star's gonna wind up looking like my desk"!! This is so dirty and wrong!

Meanwhile, Darkseid has shown Mr Miracle some recent video footage of his wife "performing." Here are the excellent reaction shots of both Mr Miracle and Oberon:

So he runs off to find and rescue Barda.

This is really the money shot of the comic, as it were:

Ha! Superman sucks at porn! This is really as far as things get because Mr Miracle arrives to break up the party:

I wouldn't necessarily say that things were about to go too far, Mr M. I mean, they just started kissing finally. It's barely first base. (Alternately: Mr Miracle does not consider his wife kissing another man to be "going too far").

Afterwards, there is this awkward conversation between Superman and Barda:

"I mean, we...sort of kissed a little. Fully clothed..."

No one seems concerned enough that Barda was trapped for what must have been days, being forced to make porno movies. That's pretty awful.

And what became of Sleez? He blew himself up by igniting sewer gases. The result is one of the greatest Superman-explosion-aftermath panels I've ever seen:

"...Great... ...Scott...!!" It's a pretty good explosion panel, too.

So there you have it. Superman was once forced to do porn in an actual DC-published comic. So don't think that your fanfiction is original.

And Pipe Smoking In Teen Boys Dropped Dramatically...

Why can't I just sit and enjoy a comic without seeing an ad that makes me cry?

Jesus that's bleak. I like this line: "He was a tough cop, and proud of it. Eating right, exercise, vacations - those were for guys not so tough."

Exercise? Sure, eating right and vacations I'll accept. Those things are for pussies. But exercise is kinda macho, isn't it?

And who is there to mourn Gordon's passing? No one. Because no one wants to be anywhere near a filthy smoker.

Incidentally, who is manning the Bat Signal on this grim evening?

Anyway, I just hope Batman hunts down the asshole who got Gordon started on pipe smoking in the first place and beats the holy living...

...oh.