Review of the Super-Human Detritus of the 30th Century, Part 2, By Johnathan

Next up: Storm Boy!
Before we got down to the nitty-gritty of the events surrounding Storm Boy's application to the Legion, let's take a look at appearance. His hair: square and marine-esque, it probably said someting to the DC audience of the time, but I'm not sure what. This was the early sixties, and I'm not certain at what point the owner of such a haircut would have metamorphosized from an upstanding young man to a complete and utter square. In any case I like his hair, because of its rarity in the comic medium - you're not likely to find it on anyone other than Sergeant Rock... and maybe Captain Atom. I like his glasses even more, and for the same reason: superheros don't wear glasses (Clark Kent et al do not count). And I wear glasses, so. Plus, this thing's set a thousand years in the future! I honestly would have thought that by the year 2962 (or whenever) children would be scanned in the womb and at the first sign of myopia the cloning process would begin. New eyes would be grown in a matter of minutes and installed in utero, and the entire family would henceforth speak of 'Billy's little problem' in hushed tones when he wasn't around. Assuming that my powers of prediction are infallible - and permitting myself a lapse into vulgarity - this guy's eyes must be fucked up!

Moving on, Storm Boy's clothing is a standard 30th Century jumpsuit. For a while I'd thought that he was wearing a glowing jewel around his neck, but I recently realized that that thing is his superhero emblem - he's chosen to represent the awesome powers of the thunderstorm with a little glowy cloud thing. Questionable, but we all just have to remember that the guy's eyes are fucked up.

Enough with the fashion critique. It's time for the nitty-gritty!

Storm Boy lives up to his name and his glowy cloud and calls up a thunderstom. He Impresses Bouncing Boy - looks like the guy's a shoe-in! But wait...

Oops! He was doing it with a little device in his pocket! And that's the number one rule when seeking membership in the Legion of Superheros: you gotta have your own powers. Storm Boy's little remote control is a big no-no, and one that he likely knew about, which is why I ask the question: why'd he do such a bad job of using it? Sticking his hand in his pocket like that. So disappointing, but even if he wasn't a moron and hid it in his boot or something what did he expect to happen? Did he think that he'd do well as a member and that everyone would just laugh it off when they found him out? Listen, Storm Boy, if a Legionnaire loses his or her powers at two o'clock they're out the door with a selection of erased memories by four thirty. They don't even get a party. And that's Sun Boy - you they'd probably hunt for sport.

So anyway:

They get Triplicate Girl to kick him out and think no more of it. And that, if you were wondering, is why they keep Triplicate Girl around.

Some closing thoughts:

1) I sure hope that this wasn't one of those needlessly complicated comic books schemes where, say, Storm Boy's sister has been kidnapped by gangsters and he's not allowed to go to the police but he figures that if he joins the Legion he can trick them into rescuing her. Because they didn't really give him a chance to explain.

2) Did Cosmic Boy give back that storm-making device?

"Hey guys! I got a new power! I'm magnetic and I can make storms!"

Storm Boy is:


Review of Old Comic Book Mail-Order Stuff, Part Two, By Johnathan

In contrast with the astonishing and glorious POCKET SPY SCOPE (see Part One), may I present:

The X-RAY SPECS, a heinous and cynical exploitation of the same nerdish lusts served so faithfully by the altruists behind the POCKET SPY SCOPE.
Though an invaluable kitsch resource and generally cool-looking eyewear, the X-RAY SPECS are their core an example of the tendency of humanity to exploit the weakness of its fellows for the dubious pleasure of reaping stacks and stacks of cold, hard cash. The specs operate by optical illusion, and allow one to see 'bones' when peering through them at a hand or an arm. But look at the ad! It says that you can see through clothes! There's a buxom lass in the background! The clear implication is that one can employ these spectacles to play the voyeur on the sly - and how many of our nerdish forebears had their hopes dashed as a result? How many horn-rimmed, bryl-creme'd, zit-encrusted youths gambled their dollar on the specs, figuring that they would ogle their secret crush (and make no mistake - all of their crushes were secret) in public with none the wiser, only to find to their disappointment (six to eight weeks later) that these traitorous lenses simply didn't work as implicitly advertised? How many of those same intrepid, gawky lads had no money left after this soul-crushing betrayal, and were unable to purchase the POCKET SPY SCOPE? How many boys crouched in the undergrowth, pockets protected, squinting forlornly at the lighted window in the distance, where was visible only the occasional and oh-so-tiny glimpse of rosy girl-flesh, rather than the orgiastic/voyeuristic inadvertent strip-show that was their due? How many virgins wept in the rhododendrons?

Geeks of yesteryear, I acknowledge your sorrow.