First of all, no dogs should be allowed on the chemistry table. Heaven forbid if Bat-Hound were to knock over some acid or something. The last thing we need is a Bat-Hound-Two-Face running around. Secondly does the poor dog need a mask? I think his identity is safe. Thirdly, someone please teach Robin how to measure fluids. How can he possibly be keeping an eye on the middle of the meniscus? However, fourthly, I really like the name ‘Bat-Hound.’
I searched all over the internet trying to find a picture of Batman in a sailboat. This image is all I could find, thanks to http://luchins.com/what-were-they-thinking/bat-gadgets/
The artwork is from Batman 154. I would have liked to have seen Batman’s cape acting as a sail, but this will suffice:
Boom! Batman has no tolerance for the bald. Oh, and please support the Red Cross; Batman has too many bald guys to pop in the trap to be any use to the cause. Oh and Bruce, Robin’s hand is raised, I think he has a question about your brute tactics.
This is why Batman and Robin can never enjoy a day off:
And come on Batman, you adopted Robin, make him put on a pair of pants when it snows.
Also, it almost looks like Batman made Robin stand back so he could show off some crazy ice skating trick. Don’t you have enough of the spotlight, Bruce?
Other than that, it’s nice to see the dynamic duo making the most of the weather.
In Hollywood, on the corner of Hollywood Blvd. and Wilcox Avenue (I think) there’s this mural featuring all your favorite characters from the movies:
I noticed that Superman’s even there. Check him out. He looks pissed.
He looks so pissed. I think he’s angry that he got seated in the same row as Frankenstein, R2-D2, and the Bigfoot looking dude. Look he keeps a seat in between them, trying to disassociate himself from such freakish folly. “I may be fantastical, but at least I look normal. Not like these three eye sores. Why can’t I sit next to Han Solo or Nancy Reagan over there? This sucks.”
Look at him! Wow, he’s really upset. We judge you for who you are Superman, and maybe Frankenstein and the Bigfoot Man have something to offer the world. It’s not like Jerry Seigel and Joe Schuster were better writers than Mary Shelley.
I’m helping my folks clean out the garage and came across an old stash of my comics. I found the below scan from WHAT THE..?! No. 7, published by Marvel Comics in 1990. The below Twinkie Ad parody is by Marc Siry, Jade Moede, and Kelly P. Corvese. I don’t know if anyone else remembers the old Hostess ads that used to be in comics, but I’m still laughing at this:
Batman & Reuben
Batman is sitting at a diner, enjoying a sandwich. A man in a purple suit walks by.
Man: Hey, check it out! It’s Batman and Reuben.
Batman politely waves.
Man: Get it, Batman? A Reuben sandwich. Batman and Reuben. It’s like a New Yorker cartoon.
Batman: Very witty. Now if you don’t mind, I’d just like to eat my Reuben.
Man: Huh?… Oh, the sandwich.
Man: Just kidding, Batman and Reuben. Just joking. Juuuuust joking. Batman and Reuben. Love the boots, fyi.
Batman: Batman and Reuben. Wait a second! Wait a second! You’re the Joker!
The man runs off, laughing.
Batman gets up from his chair and spills his Dr. Pepper.
As he mops up the spill with his cape, Batman eats the rest of his sandwich as fast as he can, at the same time digging in his utility belt for money to pay the tab.
A waitress, walks by, looking at the mess.
Batman (with a mouth full of food): The Reuben was delicious. Thank you.
Waitress: Don’t mention it.
Batman is desperately trying to find money, clean his table, and finish his meal.
Waitress: Say, Batman, you OK?
Batman: I’m just trying to get out of here so I can go get the Joker.
Waitress: What’d he do?
Batman (flustered): He told some jokes or something.
Waitress: You should go after my brother in law.
First, The Wild Hunstman, the guy swinging the axe, is going straight for the crotch. Maybe he’s more of a problem than The Conqueror. Second, I guess Aquaman’s sitting this one out. Anybody got a magazine he can read? In fact, the whole bottom third of the cover should be an After School Special.
Seraph looks cool.
It pains me that a million years from now, we won’t have a cure for excema. When I was 14, I had that same forehead rash with which Futurio-XX is stricken. I remember it flaked a lot and was not only uncomfortable, but unsightly. I can still hear the whispers of that short kid on the North Quincy High hockey team and his girlfriend making fun of me during European History I. I think I was the only thing they had to talk about. I wonder if they got married and divorced and the reason for divorce they gave was that they just couldn’t talk about my flakey forehead rash anymore.
I hope Wonder Woman is knitting Robin some pants.
I hope Aquaman gets over himself.
I hope Superman one day can afford his own comic books.
I hope the man with the Big F and pretty eyes makes an appointment next time. Perhaps his Lotus Notes Meeting Maker is the cause of this misunderstanding. That thing never works. Just schedule everything as appointments and call to confirm.
Why does Professor Nichols look he’s just been “blessed by the Lord?” Gorilla-lujah!
I wonder if the Professor is related to the same Nichols who was in my Michael Howard Studios Summer Conservatory acting classes. We all did so much crying that summer. Something which became a summer tradition when I decided to pursue acting as a career.
“Do something, Superman?” Do something, Aquaman. You lazy ass. It’s an ocean monster. For once, something’s compatible with your resume.
I have reimagined the character of Captain America. Enjoy.
In the middle of World War 2, Steve Rogers, a young, scrawny, army recruit was ordered to a secret military lab in Montauk, New York where he was reluctantly strapped into a strange, alien looking chair. While immobilized, Rogers was injected with an experimental top secret “super soldier” serum. The serum transformed Rogers’ meek body and endowed him with almost superhuman strength. Unfortunately, A Nazi spy infiltrated the experiment, causing the fiery destruction of the lab. Only Rogers survived.
The newly modified recruit was immediately commissioned and sent into battle, with an indestructable shield, as Captain America! During many morale boosting victories, Captain America blazed through the war… until he sacrificed his life to thwart a Nazi rocket attack… Or did he?
Time passes. New wars replace old wars. Enemies rotate in and out of the American cross-hairs. Society gets better. Things get worse. People change. Human-influenced climate change kicks up the temperature and the arctic circle begins to melt at a steady clip… By the year 2050 people start reporting seeing something roaming the Alaskan wilderness, something human-like but carrying a familiar looking shield.
Rogers was last seen falling into the Atlantic. Could the super-soldier serum in combination with the ocean’s cool temperature render Rogers into a state of suspended animation? Could he slowly have been transforming into something… strange?
Radio Reporter Benjamin Grimmles, host of WFFF’s The Thing with Benjamin Grimmles, is used to telling people his rock hard opinions. What he isn’t used to is waiting for his dopey college friend Reed Pritchard, his wife, and her hotshot brother. So instead of hanging around hoping they show up for a decent night of Chinese, he takes off in his brand new, very pricey, space car. The radio station had just given him a lead: a retired Park Ranger saw an “Abominable Snowman” wandering around the woods by his cabin, an Abominable Snowman with a Captain America shield!
Grimmles’ space car shoots into space as he circumvents the globe towards his next big story. Unfortunately Grimmles’s expensive shortcut lands him right in the middle of a solar flare! He is bombarded with cosmic rays! The space car tumbles to Earth and Grimmles spills his coffee all over his lap. Since starting radio, Grimmles had gone up to around ten cups a day. A real problem… that just landed in his lap!
As Grimmles lies in his wrecked space car, thankful for its Volvo inspired cage-like internal frame, he spews, angry, whispered curses. But then he notices he doesn’t feel any pain from the spilled coffee on his lap. He just fell from space and doesn’t feel any pain at all… For the cosmic rays had made Grimmles some brutish creature with rock-like skin. He is no longer human, he has become… some THING!
Filled with rage over his newfound monstrousity, Grimmles goes on a rampage in Alaska, but is stopped by a mysterious figure baring the Captain America shield. The figure manages to strangely calm Grimmles before his rampage leads to murder but then disappears…
Meanwhile, Grimmles uses the last of his frequent flyer miles to get back to New York and scream at Reed Pritchard. If Reed, his wife, and her hotshot brother had made it on time, he would have spent the night burping up some decent Lo Mein and not have become this… THING!
Grimmles’s new, unstoppable quest for this “Captain America Sasquatch” makes the WFFF station owners skeptical of his integrity. Gradually his broadcast presence is reduced to a sixty second rundown of the headlines. Those poor stone lips can hardly move fast enough to say more than a sentence in a minute. To save his job, he enlists the help of David Bruce Bandato, a nuclear physicist specializing in gamma rays.
Bandato takes Grimmles to the Nevada Desert and drops a gamma ray bomb on the poor sap. The objective of this mad science is to wash out the cosmic radiation and restore Grimmles’ genome. The bomb drops. The gamma rays mutate Grimmles further. His skin is now rocky and GREEN! The poor bastard is twice as hideous. And Bandato? He isn’t going to win any beauty pageants either. He hadn’t shielded himself properly and got hit by the harsh gamma rays. He turns into a large, hulking, green skinned monster. With increased strength and size, Bandato’s genius falls victim to his insecurity about his appearance. Seeing no place for someone of his ugliness on Earth, he leaves for Mars to become a migrant worker. The new Martian infrastructure is a boom economy and employers don’t care what you look like, especially if you can bench a couple tons.
After Grimmles screams at Pritchard some more about that fateful night, he decides to finally file the insurance claim on his space car. The space car insurance company sends an insurance adjuster to Alaska to document the claim. This insurance adjuster is Peter Pacjenko, a starving newspaper photographer trying to earn his rent (in 2050 newspaper journalists are a step below struggling actors). The photographs he captures of the space car’s last registered GPS coordinates show nothing but burn marks from a crash… and/or a take-off!
Grimmles has had it! That car cost more than a few paychecks! He demands to meet the young Pacjenko. He isn’t going to let some wannabe rag-photographer keep him from his hard earned cash. Pacjenko suggests they investigate the story further, he’s curious about these claims of an abominable snowman. “It’s Captain America!” Grimmles’ gravely voice insists.
After seeing the pain in Grimmles’ eyes, locked behind mutant green pebbles, Pacjenko suggests a new health treatment he had photographed for the paper. Apparently people were getting bitten by radioactive spiders and it was curing everything from psoriasis to depression. “I got both of those!” Grimmles squeaks and off they go.
Grimmles drops a wad of cash at a spooky looking lab by Columbia. Then Pacjenko and Grimmles are ushered into a strange sauna type room and told to allow spiders to crawl all over them. “I’ve paid for worse things to be done to me,” Grimmles jokes as the tiny arachnids do their work.
When Grimmles emerges he feels a definite change in mood. He is happy again. But he also mutates further developing the powers of a spider, which can hardly be expressed through his rock hard, green shell.
The young Peter Pacjenko also goes through some mysterious changes, the least of which is a cure to his life long problem with psoriasis. At night the formerly shy Pacjenko jumps around the city, looking for trouble until one night he finds it on Staten Island! He stumbles across a dark figure carrying a shield in a Staten Island park. A dark figure who keeps mumbling about protecting U.S. shores from Nazi subs!
Meanwhile, Pritchard, feeling vaguely responsible for Grimmles medical problems after showing up late for Chinese that fateful night puts Grimmles in contact with “Acupuncturist Supreme,” Stephen Strangelli. Using this ancient medicine, over eight pricey weeks, Grimmles is cured… in a manner of speaking! For Dr. Strangelli has left but one capillary tube in Grimmles that if removed will revert him back to his mutated self!
After hearing about Pacjenko’s encounter on Staten Island, Grimmles vows to go back into radio full force. But unfortunately due to events on Mars, Earth enters into a space recession. WFFF goes out of business and Grimmles files for unemployment with the assistance of Peter Pacjenko who frequents the dole.
Grimmles turns to the cheap life of an avant garde print journalist to document the Captain America sightings. But to make money he pursues the baking business where one night in a cooking class at the Yancey Street Community Center he meets Chef Chuck Xavier who’s discovered a strange, naturally occuring mutant strain of baking yeast at his school for gifted cooks.
One whiff of the mutant yeast sends a tremor of transformation through Grimmles but Dr. Strangelli’s capillary tube remains, fulfilling the ancient promise of acupuncture. Grimmles writes of the strange yeast in the underground paper where he and Pacjenko now pursue their passion.
The article attracts the attention of the U.S. government who in 2050 relies heavily on regulating genetically modified foods to feed the entire population, causing Chef X to take his operation off the grid.
The article also attracts the attention of Doctor Duma, a mysterious man from overseas who claims to be a big fan of Grimmles work. He would like to join Pacjenko and Grimmles on their quest for Captain America. For Duma believes Captain America is the lost key to reconstructing the legendary Montauk Chair, a chair rumored to be the remains of an alien space craft. Duma claims that Rogers was strapped into this chair when he was injected with the Super Soldier Serum.
Grimmles and Pacjenko have little trust of Doctor Duma, but they have even less of a choice, for Duma’s overseas cash is the only thing keeping them afloat in this time of economic collapse.
However Doctor Duma’s cash might soon be gone as the Galactus Corporation orchestrates machinations to purchase all of Earth’s assets as a means of reclaiming unpaid debt to satisfy its enormous hunger for profits. The Galactus Corporation’s VP in Charge of Aquisitions, Norton Radd, the silver tongued surfer, might be having a change of heart. But the Galactus Corporation is fiercely hungry for money.
Will Captain America emerge from Staten Island with the answer? Will Ben Grimmles have to remove the capillary tube that stands between him and his life as a walking nightmare? What is the Montauk Chair?