07 June 2012



In the making of that first comic book of mine Mistier Stupendous lives in 1978, I hit on several ideas which would alter be caught up to by more mainstream comic books, and in fact, by the greater society  at large as I could just sense then even as precocious boy where we were headed and towards what cliff.

1. Hercules as hero. Although great artists were abounded then in comics, like Neal Adams and Ross Andru and the Italians at Marvel, instead of the more Lithe and almost dancer like superheroes of their choice, I rather used a Michelangelo golden mean for my superman, MS. I was drilled in classical art by fascias since a boy, so, I utilised the Buonerotti  meter for my hero, smaller head, thirteen heads high, large pelvis and leg muscles, almost a living suit of armour as seen in italic folktales Bramante. A bulkiness affixed itself to my heroes, even heroism, to the point that this sort of ethic proportions  caused someone at marvel to say of my work that all looked black and colour in my universes, something they didn’t have to succumb tow when placing Obama on the cover of their comic magazines as he is slight and effeminate like they like their niggers to be...when trusted.

2. McComix. --Instead of issuing the earth two silliness to explain why The flash was in ww2 and then at studio 54, I merely made the superhero as franchise, no different than seeing comic strips like fumettis  in over sized comics of captain marvel, as it these were merely roles need to be filled by various chumps, as in a stock company. Miss Mary Amazon therefore was no real Amazon, but a pretty Jewish woman, sister of CC Eaton, who was originally from Yonkers, and who wore a outfit first worn by a forties actress based on the lovely Phyllis Coats, etc, until a street carnival shooting made her rethink her place as star spangled Amazon from Queens, rather than queen of amazons and she in turn shoved the new costume, also something later re seen, onto cat woman like Violet. This would later be seen in much of Alan Moore work, not to call it a swipe, but just to say it makes more scene to do that than have a thousand supermen flying about. Also, in the original, a madman becoming Rocketman--I had seen the Shatner brilliance done live in fact,-- becomes more trouble than he is worth, and is recalled by one of his own superman robots come to life who is more willing to full the shoes of the hero as Fee cee commix would like, showing a behind the curtain liken Hollywood confidential aspect done brilliantly in the cartoons of Chuck Jones when Daffy and Bugs are seen as RKO like contract  players, like Lucy, Orson and other great comedians.

3. Plutocrat as villain. Much like Mister Potter in the work by Capra, there is always to any Italian worth his salt, a natural inclination to eye plutocracy as villain, and so, in CC Eaton, financier and arms merchant I found a lovable Jewish rouge who would be, for me a reprise to Lex Luther and Sivana as arch villains, as a departure from the heinous Joker and worse yet, Joker without portfolio the awful green goblin, who seemed to think jet packs made for great villainy. CC returns the story to the kind of Mortiarty as showed by always in the end hapless genius villain who wouldn’t ride a jet sky or though a pumpkin if he was paid to do so. In the original, to show what a bad ass he is, Maven Eaton, on a pun of his appetite and too, a slight edge of self imposed pretenses, his baptismal name was always Artie Pinkus, and from the expensive papered I used once, when still had ambition, he kills or has killed the joker of the already in media res comic book world, Jackie Paper, to show he is the new Sherriff in town, and isn’t fucking around. 

Also, he is a arms merchant and loses a contract to the then still involved space race, --he dreams of privatising space, and having Eaton made Rama Like war ships encircling  the globe. This is a prediction of later Star Wars, though even I couldn’t really know that this mad mess on Jewish Gonniffs Eaton part, he is considered mad by sitting southern hick president --a prediction of Clinton, or perhaps a look back at LBJ, Black Jack McTaviosh,--and the Government still sane in 1978, wanted no part of his billion dollar boondoggle to weaponise space. Within ten years as was with so much, a goon named Reagan, our Constantine who allowed the born again to steal with impunity, as if having seen the first ash can editions I made, went out word that this was a grand idea, which each president has signed off on, as trying to hit a bullet with a bullet as Eaton said with my usual prescience of mind, is wonderful, when you are the one selling the bullets. But too, predicting Rush Limbaugh as his ilk, fat men paid by Eaton on his station UBS, daily shows, filled with laughing Jews and afternoon shock jocks, why not make ridicule a daily show subsuming the soap operas, really it was that perfect, are told by Uncle Eaton to destroy who he wishes to destroy, push what he wishes to push with both Jewish comedians at night recalling Johnnie Carson who is actually in the comic forced out for gruff dago-gumba Jew Pauli Saracmuchie, all eventually have ads and shows are made and sold to push Eaton’s dream of a rocket in every pot, a bomb in every garage. I am quite proud of this foreknowledge before GE bought NBC, that was where  were we were headed all along, despite CBS still holding out as a Tiffany amid Silverman’s drug stores, super trains and the 3 of us manage e foolishness. A student of Rome, CC knows comedy is king when one wishes to skim off the armamentaria’s top.

4. MEMPHIS. In his trying to bollix up Star Lab, based on Skylab a beginning of the decline of NASA when I was boy, Eaton perfects with his ex Nazi scientists who he liked giving the old mach Snell to, like Spielberg as I said even then, the first supercomputer or wonder computer as I envisioned then, a master board of all commuters called Memphis. Like Hal, cubed, this massive machine was used by Eaton to stick his beak in every then burgeoning computer on earth he knew of and could--yes, hack into. I was friends  and acquaintances then with scientific minded geeks, who thought I was one of them--I wasn’t, not to sound uppity, but had no real inclination towards math and science, as Scorsese and his backers would approve, though to be fair, when taking the test for college aptitude I, like Rory Gilmore, found a higher score in math and science  than in verbal, which, mister Marincucci the Italian teacher, in the public schools whose own daughters dutiful were kept out of the nigger asylums, was hoping to get me as one Italian willing to go to school and not be a pool hall hanger or a butcher boy, said this as because to this day I can sense it I then and worse now wrote like a Jesuit. They had told me that science was the coming age, though then I was sure that that virulent Pneumonia was going to have a bigger effect on the culture as Jesuits and  Franciscans  were dying off I recall with unnoticed regularity. His master machine was a super computer said to find the beginning of the big bang, a s the super colluder was, though in truth was used less for that than to be able to calculate bills given to the government down to the half penny, and of course to shut down peoples credit card accounts at the speed of light. This was seen as a first showing in my part of Anti-Semitism, though all in all predicted Google’s rise and their reason d’etra to a tee. Eaton isn’t just another Jewish banker type, but a seething cauldron of a man, based on Father Ginnocius no less, smart and brilliant, and who, though MS had ruined his chance to send Skylab hurtling into Texas stadium and hopefully kill Cosell, he like all Jews and Italians adored a Hercules when he saw one. 

In this I preceded where the comics would later bring Lex Luther and even Dr. Sivana as rich man millionaire villain, again utilising trope less television than ancient Italic fairy tale even then. Again the diva of goblin on jet skis attacking mister stupendous amid the Bauhaus sky scrapers seemed unseemly to me, and wanted no part of it.

5. Dr Virgil I presume. --In the first six of the twelve booklets I had planned in a flying off to Mars, which sort of again has echoes of Moore’s watchman too it, or auguring actually, as mine came first unnoticed or not, but sent out my share of pamphlets, not to cast any thing like plagiarism as I have and will to Fixar works, just to show we both steal from the same places, MS goes to Mars and a crystalline city predating Superman now preoccupation with crystalline by months, where Joe, the perfect named every man hero, discovers the true forum of all the works he is and has done. Not Kane, the Orson like hero father Gheppeto of the thing, but instead , a enlightened Arthur C Clarke like wheelchair bound-before he was, delightful intellectual named Dr Virgil Cherrywood, like my mothers Pinocchio readings to me as a boy, Doctore Chilliage,  who tell MS what he is. This goes on for pages, I recall doing them between Sunday dinners, stealing imagery from Mort Drucker of all people, as this seemed too adult to me to just use Stan’s gumbas this time. Although then as now have no idea how to explain what or who MS is but a woodbine creature come to life, an Italian fairy tale trope anointer when Cordelli first had Dr. Cherry in his own what I must admit is a lovely line of the dreaded Christopher Hitchens --having clicked on an anti Potter link I has  seen him in the shower soaped up in a always promoting style is an image I would pay to expunge and wipe from my mind, actually said something sweet, there, in calling Ovid as a stolen from golden city predecessor to Harry Potter, without having to deign to use the name Ovid,--that JRR Wraring uses blatantly and incorrectly, “ the ancient charm of metamorphoses“ --then says she sues this delightful aspect like a club to bludgeon her audience, showing Ovid’s don’t grow on trees. As it were. 

I have never seen a single episode, thinking super boy inst someone this interesting to see this long, graduate to the cape already, damnnit, still, in SmallVille, Superboy is taken to see a dying Christopher Reeve who is playing a caricature named Dr.Virgil Swann, again to show I was stealing from these wells before you knew they had water in them, and well before you poisoned them. Down to the wheelchair, I saw my own hero now a man, a new man, confronted with the older man, a palimpsest of Arthur Clarke, who had tired of his own foreknowledge and was telling the wooden toy-man who he was and where he came from, which of course was a neat trick as to this day do not know it all myself, expect to say, like Shakespeare if its in Ariosto that’s good enough for me.

I recall watching the Great Tom Snyder Tomorrow show in 1978 from where a lot of the impetus to make MS came from, and he did a show I have heard others mention about Superman, down to having old men Jerry and Joe then on, blind and feeble and fucked over by a company who in some years would act as if they had come up with the idea for superman and action comics number one themselves, like Nero rewriting Virgil as he did, sure he could punch it up and give it the happy needing all women yearn for. I prefer Growling Augustus when asked if he had fashioned his own tackle on the Pharsalus and his own commentaries, begged off and said Anthony had alas wiped hisself out a second time on his sponge. He could not in good conscious strike out Antony again by pretending he was good enough to make Antony an epic hero, though again it must have been better than what Shakespeare  plagiarized Antony Into. And I heard the guests then speak of the unknown they got to play the man of steel, and how he would knock peoples socks off how prefect a pair of living cartoons these two unknowns were, and I saw them speak of then the real and only true Action Comics number one, the one you cant buy on Amazon, ever. And I have used MS to if not relive those days, which isn’t what nostalgia really means, to almost --vindicate them.

Today I went out and saw Doctor Emily for my infection , as she is a lovely Italian doctor woman I got by accident, who works for a doctor who looks frighteningly like Michael Richards, as I was shocked to see a look-alike to Kramer walk through the halls when first there. AS she is a lovely woman, with hair as red as Patti’s pig, Irish looking with bright blue eyes, showing there never has been such a thing as the white girls speak of looking Italian, though Meagan Fox and even Angelina were close enough for government work. I have reached the page thought of years back in MS, when he saved MMA Violet, which I would see done later on, Superman the movie, when Superman’s saves Lois Lane. Altough in mine, before a crowd in west Hollywood and all the attached stereotypes involved, as I said, its good enough for Italians, its good enough for your sanctimonious protected sorts. In this page, He saves her from, being killed, supposedly though she had become super -powered by the auspices of Sly Sylvia Schwartz as the new Wonder girl, still he doesn’t know that, and saves her from being crushed by a giant kosher Penguin signage, where a man named Marty Slotnick sells kosher dogs and ices. The little girl next to her who he saves by accident is, I knew from the beginning, a little girl to grow up and become Vundergirl as an older Violet hands off the tiara to her as her predecessor Sylvia did previously.

And today as they have upped my ampicllian quotient--I couldn’t bring myself to tell lovely Emily of my urine additions, still, I am diligently at work to finish this booklet and its reaming pages before my birthday earlier if need be. And today, Bill Clinton was forced as they always are to come out and apologia for having told the truth, Machiavellian or not, as Obhamaluch seemingly does little more than flits from one big money rain dance to the next, though outdone of hooker face hag women and Clooney who likes playing Randolph Scott, the big moneys seemingly is waiting for the interregnum to come to a demanded and forewarned close. I know what Bill Is doing, and better than not, there is consigliore Dick Morris admitting that Roman Bill said to someone he has at that Neutered point six months to save --The Republic. I was half joking when I said he had to expunge Obama from the record as if crushing a Roman candidate plate full of passvanate grapes, and I was not complete serious when I said he thought he was as champion of the Republic. Then again, maybe not. And so, as the Wisconsin primary shows that democrats are as good at lousing up ad hoc elections as they are at the regularly scheduled ones, I note that I have been looking up Superman returns lately, that monstrosity which allowed me to cut my teeth and  make my bones as a measly sneered at blogger, as a new Superman is being readied, as it seems as I have said, Stan Lee is our national poet. Like me, he saw the end of American coming way back in Tom Tomorrow times, but at least made it  work for him. I am in that Limbo between good health, and having been worse. And I see where Singer a kind of allowable fag we have up our ass now, as the Jesuits are dead, that he gave in too much to the mythology of Superman when I have argued he did no such thing at all, and is just naturally boring. As I thought at first having bought a comic adaptation  of Superman returns  from Barnes and Noble as I try to push Maddowly AR there too, for three bucks from goodwill as I am want to do, seeing it is done by the gorgeous artist Alex Ross I think, worth the money, as Jack Warner is dead and I don’t feel literally so good myself, if he was so enthralled with the mythology of Superman why on earth was Superman dog in one of these boring scenes, not a greyhound...?


Post a Comment

<< Home