In honor (?) of The Dark Knight and its record shattering ways, lets remember a time when Batman used to make our jaw drop in horror for entirely different reasons. Reasons like Mogo the Bat-Ape... wearing a mask... so people won't recognize him as Mogo. The only way this comic book cover could be more awesome is if Mogo was a Ninja Bat-Ape and the crooks on the roof were some sort of zombie robot pirates.
Back in the day, comics didn't need foil enhanced lenticular holograms or alternate covers painted by Alex Ross to sell more copies. Back in the day, it seems you just needed to give out a little sweet chin music to a missus who didn't know her place and thus be crowned "The Magazine With the Widest Range of Appeal!" I bet is has. Dames...
This is why my drug of choice is reading old true crime comics (and by reading I mean looking at pictures... there are too many words in those word balloons.) With old true crime comics, there's simply no limit to the magical worlds you can discover.
You know, I sure won't forget MY first Googam. Sure, he basically ruined my living room, reaching in with his surprisingly foul smelling fingers, each one the size of chunky alligator. He reached in, smashing the window, pulled out our couch and swallowed it whole. You see, Goom (his dad) never really got Googam into good dental habits and he basically was all gums. He left after taking the couch, but he looked back first, with those little round eyes, so angry but yet, behind them, there was something more. Something, I will now admit, that thrilled me as never before.
Insurance basically covered the mess.
The word "Adopted" probably has as much place in a What If? title as did "Baptized" or "Nourished" or "Comforted", or "Scrubbed". This issue was pretty much near the end of the last What If? run (and I'm just guessing that here, I'm far to lazy too look it up) so we were spared "What If THE PUNISHER Cheered Up MAN-THING?!?" and "What If MODOK rented an apartment from PROFESSOR CHARLES XAVIER?!?"
Here is a great photo cover from Saga of the Swamp Thing #2. The photo supplied, of course, from the award winning major motion picture, which the cover proudly attributes to Avco-Embassy! You remember them, right? I thought you didn't.
Now us comic fans will remember that, just a couple years after this issue came out, writer Alan Moore would take over and create an industry changing "mature readers" comic that would give birth to the Vertigo line and countless other great series where we get to see our characters use swear words and flash their unmentionables. But this series kicks it off in style, proudly displaying the movie version of Swampy. Here, he's seen either a) describing the physical size of a lady he was with last night, b) playing "I love you this much" with Swamp Mommy, or c) playing cowboy shoot-off with his brother Larry Thing ("Draw....pard...nuh").
Labels: swamp thing
So... the Grim Reaper outs himself here in the lost world of the Warlord. Hey, look what Warlord's wearing, can you blame the poor guy for getting over-excited like that? He's very possessive though, a big red flag here to potential suitors.
The title of this post is gratuitously aimed at attracting some search engine traffic -- you know who you are. Now that that's out of the way, this is still a pretty messed up cover, care of writer/artist/feminist John Byrne. She-Hulk is a lawyer, though, so I guess I don't feel that bad... she was asking for it. And one more time for you searchers: nude, naked, exposed She-Hulk. Thank you.
UPDATE: I was joking about this post until I checked my log files.. all I can say is, don't be ashamed if you stumbled onto this post looking for our green super-heroine with no clothes on, cause you're just one of several hundreds! I wish I could help you out. (Except for the person searching for "nude hulk"... that, I do not want to see, thank heavens for stretchy purple pants.)
Does it ever get old? Not to me, I still laugh at farts. So in honor of the greatest comic-book title of all time, and because no comic book blog would be official without giving mention to it at least once, I give you, in all of its erotic, swamp-water-dripping, Howard the Duck guest starring glory: 68 big pages of Giant-Size Man-Thing. (There, I said it.)
Labels: giant-size man-thing
Any cover featuring one Fin Fang Foom is ultimately fan-freakin-tastic in my book. Add a purple hued It the Living Colossus to the mix? You've got comic ass-kickery. The fact that they're both wearing shorts that match their skin hues? Double ass-kickery. The fact that Fin Fang Foom's shorts come with a hole big enough for his tail? There are no words. Then... then... a cover blurb that cites Five Claws of Death -- when Fin Fang clearly only has four -- karate chopping a telephone poll? You're thinking, how could they only have charged a quarter for this? All I know is, if I ever lose phone service again (meaning my land line, I'm hip to all this cell phone jazz), I can only pray it's because two monsters were fighting it out on my block in their underpants.
Labels: fin fang foom
By the look on his face, it seems that not even the mighty Flash can defeat a lower gastro-intestinal disturbance of this magnitude. His thought balloon here would probably read something like "Fastest man alive, fastest man alive, FASTEST MAN ALIVE!"
Surely, the Golem did more like a man than just walk. But I guess that sounded cooler than "The Thing That Never Asks Directions Like a Man!" or "The Thing That Only Washes His Hands in the Men's Room if Another Guy is There Like a Man!" But the greatest thing on this cover is our machine gun shooting friend of Middle Eastern descent. Is he the coolest cat in the desert or what. His jeep is being tossed around by a giant purple statue that can't be bothered with a rib cage bullet of hot lead, yet he still finds the time to state his frustration: "Gunfire -- tanks -- Nothing will stop him! Is he Man or Monster?" It's good to get those emotions off your chest in stressful situations, I suppose. If it were me in the picture, my word balloon would read something like, oh, perhaps: "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT MOTHER F --AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" in a pitch far too high for a man's voice.
Where's Mitt Romney when you need him? Spidey and Hulk are just making a mess of things. Typical Americans. Yet still, something along these lines would probably be the only reason I'd watch the Winter Olympics at all. That, and maybe curling. I'm sorry, the Olympics are so boring that I can barely even finish typing this post. I'm surprised you're still reading this too. Isn't American Idol on? That's the new Olympics in my book. I watch that and chant "USA! USA!" more than you might think. It just feels right.
Is Superman crying because Lois is presumably dead, or are his eyes simply stinging after looking at the shocking male stripper outfit sported by the alien superhero Vartox? Apparently "gaydar" isn't one of Supes' many special abilities, or else he would have seen this one coming.
In celebration of the release of Spider-Man 3, it was imperative that the worst Spider-Man comic every published be acknowledged. The easy route would have been to go with any or all of the Spider-Clone saga, or maybe that creepy issue where it was revealed that the underage Glen Stacy hooked up with Norman Osborn. Or when Aunt May married Doc Ock. Or when Rocket Racer and the Big Wheel teamed up on him. That really happened. No, for the purposes this day, it had to be the Hypno-Hustler and his eight tracks of evil. It's what happens when you mix Disco with hypnosis, and add in a dash of villainy.
Sure, I enjoy a good yarn about Batman being burned alive in 1692 by Superman as the next fanboy, but for pity's sake, space them out a few issues, would you? They lose their "oomph" this way. These two covers are from World's Finest 186 and 187, two unrelated issues, both sporting similar cover themes. That's all sorts of crazy. I read that Superman was a mean drunk, but I had no idea.
History tells us that these old fashioned Bat-Witch burnings were cruel. Yet somewhere, two fat 15ish kids are chest bumping to this. I don't understand these kids.
Finally, you can judge a book by its cover. The only thing better than a comic-book called "Fight Comics" would have been a comic-book called "Fight Gorilla Comics." Or maybe "Micheal Bay Presents Fight Gorilla Comics." No, wait... "Micheal Bay Presents Fight Gorilla Comics in IMAX 3-D."
The New Mutants versus Mr. T?!? A shocking backlash against his "Treat Your Mother Right" song? No, sadly, the world was never that awesome. If it was, I'd be holding a polybagged mint copy of the Power Pack versus Dolph Lundgren Treasury Edition. No, despite the tease on this cover, it's just a knock-off villain with a mohawk, ax, and the inability to pronounce the "d" at the end of the word "and." Look, it was the eighties an' no one used that "d".