‘Bout time I got another blog out. Yeesh! Been a crazy couple of weeks, kiddies. Sorry for the delay. Now then…
A few weeks ago I decided it was high time I wrote a blog dedicated to one of my very most favoritest of things about comics. And by “comics” I mean Comic Books. Many folks have only recently discovered the medium (and we welcome you) through Hollywood’s current obsession with turning anything print-related into cinematic masterpieces (“Rise of the Silver Surfer” for the MOTHERFUCKIN’ WIN!!!) This is one reason why I am not at all against rebooting the Spider-Man franchise: the more folks that decide they like that character and want to delve further into his universe, by all means! The problem is when people watch something like “Silver Surfer” or “Ghost Rider” and are turned-off of the comics medium forever. You can almost hear them: “Yep, I knew that was a buncha geek shit. I was right. ”
Anyone else thinks he should be asking about the whereabouts of John Connor? Also, maybe he should put on some pants?
But anyway. I was born in AD 1970 (by your Earth-man reckoning) and raised in a time long before the Internet. Hell, we didn’t start stealing cable until I was about twelve. If you’ve ever tried to watch scrambled adult movies for that one-fifteenth-of-a-second glimpse of areola, then bub…you haven’t lived. You also don’t appreciate how good you have it now. EPIPHANY: This is my generation’s “walking a mile through the snow to get to school” story. “When I was your age, we had to scan the scrambled channels for hours in the hopes that Shannon Tweed would pop a nipple out and we’d be able to see through the miasma long enough to enjoy a blurry red-and-green smudged bouncing tit. AND WE WERE HAPPY FOR THAT TIT!” We were. We really were.
Wait for it...wait for it...GAH!! FOILED AGAIN!!
But if, like me, you were into comics by that time, well then…It wasn’t quite porn, not even soft-core. It was miles shy of even Playboy. But it’s not too long a stretch to say that the babes rendered by the likes of John Romita, Jr. and John Byrne were our version of MAXIM’s “Hometown Honeys” or whatever they call that cheesecake. It was a simple eight-color version of the SI swimsuit issue. It was glorious. Seriously, there was a story line in X-Men where Rogue was trying to sort out her memories from those of Carol Danvers (Ms.Marvel) and she goes on a soul-searching walkabout of sorts. There are a few panels where Rogue is wearing…wait for it…a black bikini. I literally fell in love. John Romita Jr. wasn’t always my favorite artist, but the way he captured Rogue, Kitty Pryde, and Storm always worked for me. In a very real sense. Ahem. I also just realized that my mom is reading this entry. Moving on…
Ladies and gentlemen...John Byrne's She-Hulk. The defense rests.
So that brings me to this disclaimer: this blog is, and always will be, MY opinions. Therefore, they are not always going to be the POPULAR opinions. So, like any ranked list, my choices are going to be different than yours. So let’s just get this argument out of the way right now: Wonder Woman is not, and never will be, on my top-hotties list. Apologies to my gay male friends and to one very-perturbed Kansas City roller derby goddess. I’ll let you shout at me for a minute, then I’ll give you my rationale. We good? Got yourself under control? Okay. My argument follows:
Wonder Woman is stupid. <ducks flying debris…> Seriously. Allow you and me to have us a virtual conversation (I’ll play both parts.)
YOU: Wonder Woman is awesome. She’s an Amazon Princess, who…
ME: Like, South American? From the Amazon River? That IS pretty badass!
YOU: No, like the old Greek Island Amazon. They wear togas and such. Anyway, she’s got these bracers (don’t call ’em bracelets!) that allow her to deflect bullets!
ME: Wow, that’s some serious ninja-shit! I like her! Tell me more!
YOU: Okay, she also has this “Lasso of Truth.” If she snares you in it, you–
ME: Wait – lasso? Like, rope?
YOU: Yeah, like I was saying, when she ropes you, you have no choice but–
ME: Like “Wild West” lasso? Is this Amazon Island near Tombstone?
ME: Just figured, you know, maybe she was really a cowgirl or something. Her backstory would be a lot better if she were actually Annie Oakley with amnesia or some shit.
YOU: No! It’s just…a lasso! I mean, maybe they had to break their own horses on the Amazon Island! Anyway, she also has an invisible jet, so she–
ME: You’re fucking with me now.
YOU: No, no! It can’t be seen with the naked eye, and–
ME: So an island civilization that apparently still ropes and breaks their own wild horses, and which has apparently been overlooked by, you know, THE FUCKING WORLD for centuries also manages to have the technology and the actual physical manufacturing wherewithal to produce the greatest stealth technology the world has ever seen? And they make exactly ONE of them? And give it to a Princess so that she can go to the United States and fight crime? With her lasso?
YOU: Look, it’s not like that! You see, she started out fighting Nazis, and–
ME: Oh, like Captain America? Was she frozen in ice like him? Not that his story is plausible, mind you, but at least it’s something.
YOU: Just…NO! Just, listen! Okay, so…fuck, where was I?
ME: Aaaaand scene.
Okay, then. Break into groups and discuss. When next we speak, class, I’ll have the hottest babes from comics. And NO Wonder Woman. Sorry. My blog. My rules.