Avert your eyes, kids. Power Girl’s chest has an invasion to repel. (Special Guest Stars: Commissioner Bruce Wayne’s Gray Temples and Pipe) – All-Star Comics #67

A recent local news scare report about the youth-corrupting dangers of breast-riddled comic books — horror of horrors — got me thinking about the assorted Jayne Mansfields amongst DC Comics heroines. One really stands out among all the rest, and you know who I’m talking about. Yes, the blonde-tressed bombshell called Power Girl, the young lady whose breasts have been purposefully amplified over the years, the one who could poke an eye out with those things — and you would willingly go blind. THEY ARE HUGE.

And what do you know, this book was sitting on my desk. Kismet. A real, genuine 1970s comic book with Power Girl’s assets on full display (and oh, how they’re showcased). Sadly, there’s no deep story analysis to be had here. I prefer it when my Justice Society stories have a Roy Thomas element to them, and this one, featuring a botched invasion from below, an invasion in serious need of Marvel’s Mole Man’s (nearsighted) genius, is an average read. No offense to scripter Paul Levitz (Joe Staton and Bob Layton handled the art), but there just isn’t much to be said about it.

Or maybe I was too distracted reading it, because Power Girl’s mammaries are two of the featured performers, with super-feats of their very own. Her big boobs fight evil. It’s all enough to turn a kid into a rampaging, aroused, homicidal lunatic, and therefore it’s worthy of our rapt, slavering attention.

Before we get her (or them), a word about Earth-2’s (former) Caped Crusader, Gotham City Police Commissioner Bruce Wayne, who makes a sub-plot appearance in these pages. There was always a refreshing taste of passing time in that alternate Earth, one populated by the old Golden Age heroes. It was a place where the cycle of years could take its toll even on the greatest of champions, and the mortal, all too human Batman fit right into that. There’s a definite Admiral James T. Kirk dynamic at play with this Commish, an old war-horse past his prime, now stuck behind a desk far from the front lines he once prowled. Once the guy out and about crushing skulls and such, Wayne (with his George Clooney hair) has traded the batarangs for a pipe, the cape for a trench coat, and is stuck chasing down those whom he used to walk amongst:

One can empathize with the frustrations that a retired Dark Knight would have in civilian togs. IT’S ENOUGH TO MAKE A MAN POUND HIS DESK AND ALMOST SNAP HIS PIPE WITH HIS TEETH:

I wonder if Wayne can puff little bats with his pipe smoke. One hopes. And if on Earth-1 Batman brings Commissioner Gordon pipe tobacco, who brings Commissioner Wayne his? Robin?

Okay, enough of that. Onto the boobs.

Nothing helps a superheroine’s cans jut more than being bound with her arms over her head, and it makes her BUSTing free all the more delicious:

They must have helped her generate some breakaway momentum, right? Gravity?

There’s no ambiguity of what’s doing the work here — THE MONEY SHOT:

Keep up with the “I must, I must, I must increase my bust” exercises, girls. They’ll all pay off one day. BREASTS TRIUMPHANT.

Lastly, if the reader isn’t a breast man, the final page has this gratuitous ass shot thrown in for good measure:

Nice.

And that’s it. This book came out in 1977. Viewed chestularly, it’s really no worse than (or, as I prefer to think of it, JUST AS AWESOME AS) the buxom works of today. For decades kids have been awakened to the amplified and unrealistic female form through comic books, and the ogling is harmless. We all turn out fine. 

Consider this a mild, hastily composed, booby rebuttal to Fox5’s silly piece.