If the Dinobots were out of your price range, perhaps the Starriors were more suitable for your dinosaur robot dollars
Gobots were the poor man’s Transformers. Robotix were the poor man’s Gobots. Starriors were the poor man’s Robotix (or vice versa — who cares?). That they had a four issue Marvel Comics miniseries — with covers, like Transformers, by Bill Sienkiewicz — doesn’t save them. Not even the giant red T-Rex thing that vomits yellow Frisbees can do that.
I remember two things about the old Muppet Babies cartoon: the fantastic Indiana Jones takeoff they did in one of their episodes, and that when Robin, Kermit’s nephew, came to visit his uncle in the nursery, he was just a tadpole in a bowl. Both were neat. Sadly, though, Muppet Babies was not a well-liked show — at least in this corner. Its watered down, infantile versions of the characters who had brought the spectacular The Muppet Show to such vivid life was a bridge too far. Though its emphasis on encouraging kids to explore the limitless bounds of their imaginations was laudable, the execution was too often glurgey, dragged down to the lowest common denominator, as most Saturday morning fare was (and, I suppose, is). It was strictly kid stuff, whereas the Muppets were always aimed at all ages. (Hell, Ted Koppel once thought it was a good idea for Kermit and the gang to come on Nightline and explain the 1987 stock market crash. Yes, Milton Friedman shared a billing with Fozzie Bear. Wocka wocka.) Animation stripped much of the tangible charm from the characters — was it still the same sans Jim Henson and Frank Oz with their hands jammed up the Muppets’ rear ends? Without their fuzzy, homemade appeal? The three dimensions? No. No it wasn’t.
Yet the show ran for seven years or so, and picked up acclaim along the way. So what do I know.
All that said, I’m pleased to report that their comic works a bit better. Read more…
There’s a degree of irresistibility with Snoopy merchandise, whether it’s pencil sharpeners or cloth patches. That’s doubly true when he’s doing his aviator thing, winning the Great War from above, astride his red dog house. Feel free to adorn your casual or formal wear with these delightful (bootleg?) World War I Flying Ace-themed patches. Suitable for all ages, from motorcycle gangs to little old ladies.
Thrill at the Kirby Silver Surfer/Galactus poster. Scratch your head at the Black Knight’s.
If someone knocked on my door — perhaps some grimy GRIT-ish urchin — and offered me the Galactus poster, I’d find it hard to resist. The Fantastic Four and Thor posters less so, but still, the temptation would be there. These are Jack Kirby posters we’re talking about here, people. AND THEY’RE THREE FEET TALL. Was there a great Black Knight groundswell, though? Ever? One gets the feeling that the only way his poster ever moved was in the Marvelmania package deal with its neighbors.
Should I ever get married, that SS/G number is going to be on a registry somewhere — to be placed right next to the ASM #33 print. And if the future missus balks, she will not be the future missus.
Jimmy Olsen: Odd man out of Man of Steel and his own comic book – Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #94
Man of Steel looks like it’s going to be fantastic, but there’s been something missing from the barrage of promotional imagery leading up to next week’s big release. Not the familiar red briefs — though they’re gone, too. No, the missing element from all the glorious promotional material is none other than Superman’s bestest pal, the befreckled, camera-toting Jimmy Olsen. No Olsen? Isn’t that some manner of blasphemy, far greater than Lois being a redhead and Perry White being black (OH THE IRONY)? In the trailers we’ve seen a young woman in the company of Laurence Fishburne’s White, as they both flee for cover with Metropolis crumbling around them. Has Jimmy undergone a sex change? Would that be better or worse than no Jimmy at all?
The sad lack of Mr. Olsen reminds one of this cover. Glum and shunted to the side yet again.
Read more…
There’s no one more sad and disgusting than the people who pretend they’re war heroes, cashing in on the respect and sympathy that other people have earned, often by paying the highest price. Eventually their lies come tumbling down, but I imagine the above medals and insignia would be handy along the way. Just a thought.
On a more light-hearted note, there was a time in the 1980s when G.I. Joe toys came with colorful service ribbons, which mimicked the real things that decorate the chests of service members. I loved those things.
You ever wonder if the long-suffering Trix rabbit curses his Tantalus-like fate — that kids are forever denying him the wholesome taste of his very own product, while his Quik cousin gets all the chocolate milk he wants? If he’s also jealous of the Quik Bunny’s bling? And that the Quik Bunny probably gets to hang out with fellow Quik spokesthings, the Gobots?
Or maybe the eager-eyed kids up there are fattening the Quik Bunny up for a big dinner, and they’d turn their noses up at the drawn, emaciated silly rabbit. So maybe it all works out in the end.
Most of us appreciate the need to keep the world around us clean, and as free from asphalt, power lines and smokestacks as possible. That said, I like to picture Lyndon Baines Johnson delivering this call to environmentalist arms during one of his morning talks while he sat on the can. Toilet time with LBJ!
Thank you, National Social Welfare Assembly. Thank you.
And just where exactly would BEM fit into the Great Society?
Cabbage Patch Kids — terrifying even in repose
I think we would all endorse pulping Cabbage Patch Kids story books. Wipe them from the face of the Earth and all. That and burying the Cabbage Patch Kids in padlocked coffins, so that they can’t rise from the grave and kill us all.
You realize they’re plotting your death as they pretend to read those books, don’t you?
Of all the ad infinitum forgettable TV series that somehow, someway found their way into comic book adaptations, Rango is right at the head of the pack. Though it may lack the head-smacking cringe-worthiness of It’s About Time (an admittedly tall task), any Tim Conway Western lawman sitcom has ratings disaster written all over it. Let’s combine Gunsmoke with I Love Lucy! Those are good shows, right? If we put them together, we’ll get an even better show! Right?
Wrong.
Read more…
It takes a special kind of ad to suck all the life out of great songs of old. Like this one.
Gosh. Aren’t you wild with excitement to send your cash? Just look at the tremendous eye appeal!
Was “Paint It Black” really dance music? And incidentally, Mick Jagger — there was a man who really knew how to use his lips to their fullest attention-grabbing comic book ad potential.
Did you know there were alternate Archie universes? Not that it really matters much with a character whose world has only paid the scantest heed to anything close to continuity, but there is a sort of Archie multiverse, where the “imaginary” plots exist. Check out this Wikipedia article — there’s a ton of nooks and crannies. In fact, we’ve had one on this blog before: the Christmastime hijinks of the New Archies.
They’re all a bit odd, but perhaps none of the alternate Archie-verses were as insufferable, and as annoying to type, as the Man from R.I.V.E.R.D.A.L.E.
Read more…
Captain Action, the identity hermit crab of the posable action figure kingdom, has a wide range of potential changes in this old ad, including good old Steve Canyon and the Lone Ranger amongst their more superheroish cousins. And check out Flash Gordon wearing space gear that makes the Apollo astronauts’ haberdashery seem streamlined. (Or he’s about to install a rooftop antenna, one or the other.) Somewhere stunning Flash designs from Alex Raymond and Stanley Pitt are weeping openly.
If neither pirate banks nor miniature TV banks float your boat, perhaps entrusting hard-earned loose change to spooky ghouls is more your thing. Apparently there were variant versions of the “Haunted House Mystery Bank”: one had a hand that popped out and snatched away the coin placed on the doorstep, while the other had a ghost that did the same. Pick your haunted house poison, I guess. (You can see the INCREDIBLY LOUD ghost version in the embed below.)
Also, the house in the ad looks like either Cain’s or Able’s domicile in the Sandman books. House of Mystery? House of Secrets? You decide.
“What’s new[,] Pussycats???” this ad asks. “Not much. How about you?” we Pussycats answer. Being a man with a head shaved bald as an egg, I’ll reserve comment on the quality of the hairpieces on display. I will say this: the beehive remains one of the most bewildering hairstyles in human history, whether with real hair or Dynel.
Jared
blog into mystery 