REVIEW: Marvel Team-Up #132

Writer: J.M. Dematteis Artists: Sal Buscema and Mike Esposito Color: Bob Sharen Letter: Joe Rosen Review: Madman

I plundered this beauty from one of the many longboxes that myself, the HCB’s own ole’ Cat Lady Dubbeld and his lady friend, diligently pawed through at Kokomo-Con 2015. In fact I distinctly remember Will practically forced me (possibly with the Force via the Dark Side) to buy this comic (beginning to suspect the comic jockey and Will are in cahoots . . . some kind of evil super team that forces innocents to buy comics to shoot up in the alley ‘round back). As he threw the comic in question on the longbox in front of me he seductively asked, “Would this be something you’re interested in?” I looked down and without hesitation tossed said comic onto my stack of dollar box gold. I mean the cover is horribly “fantastic”, with Spidey swinging through the air with grotesque midget Hulk legs and Mr. Fantastic‘s rubbery pelvis contorted and “innocently” contouring some “Spider-B-Hole”, with an “I’m gonna get ya, sucka” look on his mug. I’ve been staring at this cover for like 15 minutes and I’ve decided two things: #1: I can’t bring myself to act out the exact “moment” in “comicdom” that this cover depicts in funny little voices. As much as I want to, I flat out refuse. #2: I seriously think that “old school” Reed and Nick Fury share the same head…every other Tuesday and “twice” on Saturday. All awkward sexual innuendo aside I loved this freaking comic. The script was super fun and engaging straight from the “jump” and the art definitely had that nostalgic newsprint “vibe” from the humble beginnings and “pre-whore’n” Marvel. The story starts out with Reed in his workshop and his dead best buddies’ son, Larry, shows up. HUH! It Turns out Larry has “escaped” . . . or was he set free? [Enter evil laughter here]. As Reed goes to get his guest a soda, Larry reveals his true intentions and dons a featureless mask, brandishes a “futuristic” ray gun that looks like a diver’s oxygen tank, and starts referring to himself as Every Man . . . Larry the Every Man zaps Reed with his “scuba-gun” and sucks out his energy as well as his genius. Low and behold, Spidey shows up to ask Reed for ideas that will help Peter make some bill money (eff you Spider-Stark). Spidey teams up with Reed to eventually defeat Larry. It’s not your typical hero beats on the villain, villain goes to jail type defeat. Reed literally turns Larry into a whimpering mess by talking to Larry and convincing him that he’s really just some crazy-ass whack job. Larry surrenders and apologizes for the mischief he has caused (attacking Reed, murdering three cops . . .), then Reed, much to my surprise, accepts Larry’s apology and then just lets him go. That’s it. Oh ok, you apologized . . . you’re free to go. I love it . . . except Spidey’s grotesque midget Hulk legs . . . screwing with my chi.

REVIEW: Batman and the Outsiders #6

Writer/Co-creators/Artist: Mike W. Barr & Jim Aparo Reviewer: Will Dubbeld

Ah, Batman, the perpetual loner. Unless he’s tooling around with a Robin. Or hanging out with the Justice League. Or deciding to start his own superteam called the Outsiders. So he’s a perpetual loner who needs friends. I’m not entirely sure how the Outsiders team came to be, if Batman was on the outs with the Justice League at the time, if he was jealous of the Teen Titans and wanted his own group of B-listers, or if they were drawn together by happenstance, but I do know it’s a great read. Aside from a sweet spot in the mid-2000s, DC has been rolling gutter balls since around 1993 in my opinion. Perhaps not gutter balls, but they sure as hell haven’t bowled a 300 game (Vertigo notwithstanding) since Kingdom Come. There are always some bright spots like Jonah Hex, Secret Six, about 45% of Johns’ Green Lantern run, but all in all there aren’t a lot of phenomenal contemporary DC comics. The 1970s-80s, however! They were action-packed fun-filled superheroics! DC was in that transition phase between your daddies (or granddaddy’s) four-color punch-ups of yesteryear and a more matured look at how to tell a story with pictures. The result was a sweet mélange of lighter ‘gee whiz!’ stories and a wellspring of deeper subject matter. Batman and the Outsiders is no exception. As mentioned prior, I have absolutely no idea why this team existed; save for what I was able to glean from the odd issue picked from quarter bins and flea markets. I was fortunate enough to pick up a near complete run at a convention this year for pennies on the dollar so perhaps I’ll know the answer to that mystery when I get around to reading them in full. Having randomly grabbed issue 6 didn’t fill me in on any real backstory (of anything or anyone, really), but it is a helluva lot of fun. The Outsiders at press consisted of Katana, Halo, Black Lightning, Geo-Force, and Metamorpho. And of course the G.D. Batman. I could go into some detail about the individual members and their respective powers and shticks, but everyone does pretty much what their name leads you to believe. Comics are good for that. The book opens with Katana cajoling teen member Halo into going to school. That’s the books opener. A somewhat stern, matronly Japanese woman and a perhaps somewhat simple teenage girl at odds over school. Beautiful. Katana proceeds to a meeting with Bruce Wayne who is acting as a go-between for the team and Batman. Evidently the Outsiders are unaware Batman and Bruce Wayne are one in the same, but I’m guessing they all find out by the issue 10 cliffhanger reveal. Also this at least sets precedent for Batman, Inc. . . . In short order we cut to Geo-Force and Metamorpho visiting an ally who’s been hospitalized, only to run afoul of a new super-villain attempting to steal an artificial kidney. This new menace is apparently a flying, knockout gas wielding, speedster with a cold gun, who I find noteworthy because Batman will later arbitrarily name The Cryonic Man. All but picks the name out of his cowl . . . In the book’s remainder we’re treated to a look at Cryonic Man’s lair, a ramshackle abandoned house complete with ‘no trespassing’ sign and a secret basement laboratory. Very Scooby-Doo/1950s-60s super villain. Apparently Cryonic Man is some sort of organ-and-limb harvesting weirdo that keeps folks in stasis tubes and has a long lost love he’s trying to rescue from an ailment like so much Mr. Freeze. Oh, he also thinks it’s 1955. Presumably because he too was frozen in stasis. Probably cryogenically . . . The Outsiders plan on springing a trap on the Cryonic Man, which he almost immediately recognizes as a trap, but to quote, “it’s a trap, I suppose . . . but the risk is worth it . . .” I love this guy. He sees a news report dangling a crime in front of his nose and immediately thinks, “This is b.s. but what the hell, I’ll take a crack at it.” The Outsiders spring the trap, mix it up with Cryonic Man, and the reader is treated with an almost William Dozier-esque “What’s This?!!!” cliffhanger. Phenomenal book. Mike Barr had his finger on the pulse of 1983 superhero comics. All the familiar tropes and comfortable clichés are there without coming off as trite, and all the hokey storytelling tricks slide comfortably into place. Aparo gets a free pass here because he’s tied with Norm Breyfogle as my all-time favorite Batman artist. I don’t care what book, be it grade A or fishwrap, either of those two illustrate, if it’s a Bat-book it goes to the head of the class. The lettering is great as well. Lettering doesn’t always get the love it should, but it’s tight and concise here, and worthy of praise. Kudos to the creative team. Heart swelling with pride and nostalgia, I took to this book like slipping into a comfy pair of slippers, or some other worn-out, tired-ass cliché. I’ve got thirty some-odd issues of this series to read by my reckoning and absolutely cannot wait to dive in. It’s one of those books that makes me regret collecting anything post-1990 and makes me thankful I’ve longboxes full of Golden Oldies I can retreat to when I’ve had my fill of the modern day Big Two.

REVIEW: Alley Cat #1

Created: Alley Baggett, Matt Hawkins, and Greg Aronowitz Written: Bob Naxton and Matt Hawkins Pencils: BoSco Inks: Tie Review: Art Bee

Just for our readers, I decided to pull out an old comic box from storage, blow the dust off the top, and randomly pull out a book to review for you. Unfortunately for me it was a box that probably should have been disposed of long ago. This is not one of my most impressive buys. This book came out towards the end of the ‘90s Image era, during which it seemed like they were mostly pumping out cliché products to compete with the Big 2. Alley Cat looks to be nothing but a fan boy’s fantasy of the model Alley Baggett (Glamour, Playboy). Even though this book has two authors, it has the content of a spaghetti noodle: she’s hot she’s hot she’s hot. Granted, the cover had to have been the only thing that enticed a young hormone-driven comic nerd of 21 to pick it up, so their marketing strategy was on target. Anyway, this story starts with our heroine in the middle of New Orleans combing lingerie stores looking for the perfect underthings for her honeymoon. Her friend Stacy has heard of a place in the French Quarter that might show promise. By the way, the French Quarter is the Voodoo and creepiness hub of New Orleans, so it’s not recommended for tourists at night. Guess when they go! I won’t reveal further in case you have a crush on Alley Baggett and just NEED to destroy your own brain matter. The artwork is not bad but that does not mean good. Whoever BoSco and Tie are (internet search was not friendly on this one) they like to draw women’s curves, but that is about the extent of their expertise. It is about as middle-of-the-road as comics can be. I would only recommend digging this out of a box of back issues if you are a huge Alley Baggett fan, a complete pervert, or cannot wrap your mind around complex or normal plot lines. I am totally embarrassed to have even purchased this remnant of a dead tree and will be promptly removing it from my possession. Thank you all for your time, and I hope to save you some of it in the future by deterring readers from this crap.

REVIEW: Nova #16 (1977)

Writer: Marv Wolfman Artists: Carmine Infantino & Tom Palmer Review: Will Dubbeld

Ah, vintage comics. That musty newsprint, the slight trace of ink left on the fingertips . . . I love it. New comics are great, with varying results, but old comics are almost across the board amazing. Not necessarily due to superior writing or art, but because of a hefty dose of heart, nostalgia, and snapshots of a less corporate-driven industry. This crusty old issue of Nova is no exception. I've never been a Nova fan, only barely warming up to the character after he tore Annihilus' guts out through his mouth in the climax of Annihilation. That was pretty boss. That said, I do have a small collection of Nova books from the days of yore, not due to love of the character, but due to a love of dollar boxes full of vintage books. Nova #16 finds our hero, Richard Rider, in the throes of teen angst like so much early Spider-Man but without the engaging supporting cast. Sure, he's got ciphers for Liz Allan and Flash Thompson, but the creative team doesn't quite capture that lightning in a bottle Lee/Ditko dynamic. Beset by woes both at school and at home, Richard gets a reprieve from his domestic turmoil in the form of a phone call from Nick Fury. At home. Because the head of super-spy organization S.H.I.E.L.D. will just ring you up on a random afternoon to help save the world. At least he waited until school was let out . . . Nova ditches his familial obligations to go tear-assing around the country with Fury in order to defeat the villainy of Yellow Claw, and I'd like to pause for a moment here and talk about this guy. Yellow Claw first appeared in the mid-1950s in the throes of the post-WWII Red Scare. He's an archetypical Mandarin Chinese stereotype right out of Sax Rohmer's Fu Manchu books and is one of the most hilariously racist characters I've ever seen. The Yellow Peril propaganda just drips off of this guy. Yellow-skinned with talons and a whip-thin mustache, this guy would have been right at home getting socked in the kisser by Captain America in the '40s. Buy war bonds! It wouldn't surprise me if he had fangs in his early appearances, not due to demonic influence, but simply because he was Heathen Chinee. In all honesty, I can't even be mad. I'm not race-baiting or acting as an apologist for the writers, and I grant it's easy to take this stance from high atop my White Privilege, but these portrayals were a sign of the times and are engrained in the history of the comics medium. Characters like Wonder Woman's foe Egg Fu, The Spirit's Ebony White (Ebony White, for fucks sake . . .), and even Li’l Abner portray a race/ class/what-have-you in a cringey manner but are part of the whole and should not be swept under the rug or ignored. These characters hold the same status as 19th century minstrel shows and nearly every Hollywood Indian to hit the Silver Screen, not to be praised but remembered and learned from as a look at history, society, and in cases like Yellow Claw, xenophobia. What does shock me about Yellow Claw is that writers kept unabashedly using him in stories well after the 50s, up into the early 2000s when there was an attempt to redeem the character in the (phenomenal) Agents of Atlas books. Villainous, cackling racial stereotypes aside, Nova and Nick Fury wage epic battle with the seemingly endless tide of Yellow Claw goons until they finally are defeated and taken as prisoners to the Yellow Claw's SECRET UNDERSEA LAIR. Because you're goddamn right Yellow Claw has a secret undersea lair. Claw and his accomplice, a Nazi war criminal (OF COURSE), tie Nova and Fury to a rocket set to collide with a government spy satellite that Yellow Claw needs out of the way if his "thousand-year reign!" is to be victorious. The issue ends on a cliffhanger as Our Heroes hurtle towards their doom, the rocket diverted from its flight plan by a mysterious figure and headed straight for our nation's capitol. Also, there's a one-pager featuring Spider-Man defeating the monstrous criminal Legal Eagle with the creamed filling and moist devil's food cake of Hostess Cup Cakes. Obviously a highlight of the book. Nearly any comic from the '70s-'80s is a guaranteed winner in my eyes, and this goofy-ass Nova book is no exception. I wallow in too much dopey nostalgia to take any of these books for granted, and I do earnestly believe these comics hearken to a more idyllic era, at least from a readership standpoint. I certainly won't be searching high and low for the follow up issues. I'm pretty sure Nova and Nick Fury make it out of the situation . . . If I happen to stumble across more Nova in a quarter bin, or perhaps at a flea market or garage sale, we all know damn well what'll happen though. Make Mine Marvel, suckah . . .

THCB Swap Meet

Once a year, perhaps more if we’re sassy, the Hammond Comics Blog staffers assign each other a book to read and review. Something out of our comfort zone, something we think the other writer will enjoy, something to broaden horizons . . . Mixed results usually occur with perhaps a modicum of cursing, but it’s become tradition here at the HCB and something I look forward to, as I hope you will. Postscript: I still owe Cody a review of some Deadpool miniseries from last year; my LCS sold out and didn’t reorder. Post-postscript: I still think you should have reviewed Amethyst: Princess of Gemworld. You know who you are . . . Venom: The Madness #1-3Writer: Ann Nocenti Pencils: Kelley Jones Inks: John Beatty Colorist: Tim Smith Review: Art Bee

We at The Hammond Comics Blog like to dig in our boxes and throw stuff at each other occasionally. I bet you are giggling, thinking I just made a silly pun. Freaks! Last time Madman sent me a deplorable waste of ink and paper called Death Moth. This time around it was 1993s Venom: The Madness miniseries. When I opened the cover of the first issue, I was sent into a nostalgic state seeing an ad for the Sega Genesis WWF Royal Rumble video game. The first thing that stood out in this series was the words at the start of each book, “Stan Lee presents”. If the current creators would go back to the days of Stan Lee and mirror his work, they would be doing a lot better than they are now, but that is a whole different topic. This miniseries was quite the read. Our crazy, skewed, neighborhood Venom is driven a little more nuts when a sentient mercurial virus enters his body and joins the community of Eddie Brock and the symbiote. Open the door for madness and find Dusk. Yes, that’s right; we are talking about a trip that will make your eyes roll. Sprinkle in a corrupt corporation, Eddie Brock’s girlfriend, and Juggernaut, and you have a story that will cause you to bang your head against the wall with enjoyment. Even though I enjoyed this classic title, I felt the artwork was a bit on the lower end of the spectrum. Many panels featured Venom’s form drastically drawn out of proportion, even for Venom. The worst work I saw was in Venom’s head. It looked almost as if the artist was having trouble with the shape of the head in relation to the jaw and teeth. At the same time, the artist was doing a great job with the additional mutations caused by the virus. Another problem was the shading, and the actual problem is I can’t make up my mind whether I like it or not. It is quite a different style than I am used to seeing. Seeing how corporations and politics were viewed in the early 90s made this throwback worth reading. Comic books are not only just a great American art form, but they are time capsules into history. Silver and Golden age comics will give you a glimpse into the attitudes and trends prevalent during their time. So dig into your comic boxes and relive the past some or go to your LCBS to thumb through the quarter and dollar boxes. Just because a comic is old and not worth much money does not mean it’s worthless. Divine Right: The Adventures of Max Faraday 1-7Story & pictures: Jim Lee Inks: Scott Williams Colors: Tad Ehrlich Review: Cody "Madman" Miller

So Mr. Bee is the guy responsible for me reading and reviewing this run of back issues. At first glance of the covers I thought instantly that I was going to hate every issue. Not because the cover art is terrible or anything but, because, well, it’s 90’s Image thru and thru. In my early days I never acquired a taste for Image. I mean sure, what teenager didn’t think Spawn was cool, but that was as far as I went down the rabbit hole. To me every 90’s Image book looks the same with the exception to Spawn. If the artwork doesn’t do it for me I usually tend not to care about the book, no matter how well written it is. So, when I noticed Jim Lee’s name in the credits as writer and artist, I admit my interest did pique a bit. I wouldn’t say I’m a huge Jim Lee fan by any means, but I know enough to know Mr. Lee is legit and deserves the benefit of the doubt. After the first issue I was drowning in cliché and no doubt offered a few “choice” words in Mr. Bee’s general direction . . . and trudged through the mire into issue #2. The art is what I expected. Mr. Lee’s style hasn’t changed much from then until now. Most comic book geeks could probably pick Lee’s artwork out of a line up, so no surprise there. Issue #2 is where things turned around for me, though, and by issue #3 I was hooked and couldn’t read the last four issues Mr. Bee had given me fast enough. The story really pulled me in and was very well done. I found out there are 11 issues in this series (according to Mr. Wiki) and issue #7 cuts off at a pretty important spot in the story. I’ve no idea how the series ends and to be blatantly honest it’s killing me. Believe me; I was shocked more than anyone about this recent turn of events. I started thinking crazy thoughts like; “What if I misjudged 90’s Image?”, or “Maybe I should go pick up a run of Youngblood or WildC.A.T.s”. I don’t think I actually care enough to do so, but I did think it for a fleeting moment. Anywho, the story is about Max Faraday, this computer nerd/slacker that, through a strange set of events, is imbued with the Creation Code; the God like ability to create things with his mind. Of course, the ever present battle between good and evil for the Holy super power ensues all the while there’s a strange on-line romance between Max and his mystery dream girl. I actually dug the on-line romance bit as it really helped to separate and develop the story line. So if you’ve not read Divine Right and you’re into the Heaven vs. Hell type of thing. Then check this title out, I promise it’s a pleasant surprise even if you hate early Image doodles and pointy breasts. Satellite Sam 1-15Writer: Matt Fraction Artist: Howard Chaykin Review: William R. Davis, Jr.

I want to apologize in advance to my brother-in-arms, Will Dubbeld for my take on Satellite Sam 1-15, but I just couldn’t get behind this one. Captain Picard’s Dixon Hill gave me serious reservations about the noir genre. Never have I ever wanted to punch a television more as a child. This though, is not that. Books like Brubaker’s Fatale are notable exceptions and proof that quality work can transcend one’s dislike of a genre in comics. But Satellite Sam was not a book that I hated because of theme or setting. Fraction and Chaykin attempted an ironic take on a period piece that unfortunately materialized as a sophomoric and misogynistic quasi-homage to the golden age of television. Thin on actual story with art that looked like it was drawn by Lichtenstein’s retarded cousin, there were two aspects of this Fraction/Chaykin run that I just could not get behind: the art was jarringly muddled with a final reveal that looked like latter day Leisure Suit Larry, and every female character was embarrassingly profane to the point that it felt like an early Image Liefeld book co-written by Spinal Tap. Satellite Sam must hold the Guinness Book World Record for panels containing women on their knees giving blowjobs, because there was one in almost every issue. This is not an over-exaggeration either. See for yourself, the proof is in the pages. I can appreciate the fact that 1950s America was a man’s world and the writer was trying to convey gender inequality, but where stories like Mad Men succeed, Satellite Sam completely shits the bed. Every female character was void of substance and could have been easily replaced by an inflatable cum receptacle. After finishing this fifteen issue run I firmly believe that Matt Fraction has some subconscious problem with women that manifested itself in this title. Exorcising demons through creative projects can be compelling if done correctly, but I found this book to be nothing more than the vomiting up of adolescent angst, and an offensively cringe-worthy one at that. When both of your main female characters are: either choking on a ball gag while being used as a foot stool, or bible-beating recovering alcoholics obsessed with sex, it is time to re-think why you wrote them that way in the first place. This was an interesting experiment for me personally, because normally I never would have made it through all 15 issues. Often times after writing a negative review I find myself wondering if I should’ve stuck with a book for one more arc. I can put those reservations to bed. There are plenty of critically acclaimed titles that I do not enjoy, and I guess it is time to add another one to the list. Satellite Sam is my least favorite Matt Fraction title, and one of the few times that I actually lost respect for a writer as a human being after reading their work. Many fans and critics alike find Howard Chaykin’s style to be innovative, but I find it distracting. Once again, I am not one of those people who drank the Kool-Aid. I hated this book more than I have hated anything I have read in a long time. Are you trolling me, Dubbeld? You’ll pay big. Journey Into Mystery #622-645By Kieron Gillen and an all-star cast too numerous to mention. Review: Will Dubbeld

When Journey Into Mystery relaunched a while back featuring Kid Loki, my response was, ‘Nah, I’m good thankyouverymuch”. When Mr. Davis tossed this epic run my way for consideration my response was, “*sigh, Goddammit . . .” Well, in the parlance of our time, nom nom crow . . . I ended up loving this damn comic. The book was birthed in that sweet spot between Marvel mega-events (in this case Siege and Fear Itself) and tells the tale of Kid Loki and his too-numerous-to-mention Machiavellian adventures. Early issues were burdened by an overarching, “Remember, True Believers: Fear Itself is coming in June!” feeling, but by the time Journey Into Mystery was being released concurrently with the event, the behind the scenes goings on around Fear Itself were more interesting than the actual Fear Itself book. The trend continues post-Fear Itself, when Thor is dead and forgotten, and replaced by Tanarus the less popular thunder god who -spoiler alert- turned out to be Ulik the Troll embroiled in some convoluted revenge plot. I'm not really sure; I dropped Thor around that point, but seeing these events unfold from Loki’s perspective made me want to pick up where I left off. Unfortunately we're treated to a few multipart crossovers with the New Mutants and Thor comics, which is some maddening shit DC always pulls in an attempt to sell product. A couple of the story arcs were incomplete as a result, but thank god for recap pages filling me in . . . Crossovers aside this book pulled some of my favorite bits of Marvel lore and Thor comics in particular. It heavily features Volstagg (the best of the Warriors Three) and of particular delight was a Christmas issue where Volstagg is Santa Claus. We’re also treated to a few appearances from Daimon Hellstrom (The Son of Satan!) doing his traveling exorcist routine, John Constantine riff, though we get a splendid arc tussling with Nightmare and callback to the Dr. Druid miniseries so it’s all good. The last few arcs feature smoke-belching mechanical siege engine-cities controlled by the 'tyrant gods of modernity' that ravage Otherworld (giving us a Capt. Britain appearance and an Arthurian adventure) and an epic conflict with Vanaheim and Surtur that sees Volstagg crowned king of Asgard, so you know that's some legit storytelling. Throughout the series we’re also treated to Tyr, gratuitous use of undead cannibal valkyries, Hela, and just a touch of Thor to keep us honest. Prevalent as well is an extremely well-scribed antagonistic relationship betwixt Loki and Leah, a handmaiden of Hela with a holy-crap twist I didn't see coming a mile off. All the while the reader is given breather issues in-between all the heavy plots. Mephisto walks into a bar, Volstagg telling a story to his kids, etc, all relevant to the arc, but giving the reader time to catch his wind. This is a great storytelling mechanism oft neglected by writers who usually follow a 6-part story by launching the reader headlong into a 12-part crossover. Bravo, Kieron! All through the series I got the impression that Gillen was doing his best to channel Neil Gaiman’s Sandman in epic bardic fashion, that mélange of subtle wordsmithing dovetailing humor and gravitas the way that Alan Moore wishes he still could, Grant Morrison shakes his fist at wishing he could at all, and the way Warren Ellis could were he not such a cynic. "Harpoons that hunt incorporeal dream-whales and a net woven from Hel itself" among other bits of ethereal prose and symbolism screamed early Gaiman, and there is even part of the run that frankly is taken from the American Gods playbook, but I can’t even be mad. The story is just that good. One arc does use the time-travel deus ex machina moment that made me groan because it’s almost the laziest of storytelling tools for writing yourself out of a jam, but that’s one of the only dim points in the book. One of the characters is quoted as saying this is ". . . the greatest (tale) that Loki has ever wrought." It’s certainly the greatest tale I've ever read with Loki outside of Norse mythology.

REVIEW: M.A.S.K #1-6

Script: Michael Fleisher Art: Curt Swan, Kurt Schaffenberger Letters: John Costanza Colors: Bob Le Rose Review: Cody “Madman” Miller

Holy dollar box score, Batman! I found this gem in the first dollar box I pawed through at this years Kokomo-Con in Kokomo, Indiana. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Why, oh why, would anyone banish such a historic treasure to the comic book graveyard? That’s borderline heresy right there. The man responsible should be ashamed of himself . . . equating the value of this sacred relic with that of a McDonalds “cheeseburger”. For shame! It all worked out for the better though as I did my civic duty to comicdom, rescued this bit of my childhood, and secured it in the bag and board it deserves. This comic was my favorite score of the year as far as old n’ moldy goes. The cover is amazing complete with an automatic flashback of hours of rug-burns playing with my MASK toys and watching the cartoon way back in my humble beginnings. For me MASK and G.I Joe toys were the thing to have. Yeah, Transformers were cool, but robots didn’t become interesting until Terminator. Mask toys could “morph” kind of like the Transformers except instead of robots turning into vehicles, the vehicles transformed into war machines hell bent on protecting the great state of Nevada as well as the world from the terrorist organization known as Venom. Smack dab in the center of the cover is the leader of M.A.S.K. (Mobile Armored Strike Kommand) himself: Matt “Hunter” Trakker. Hunter is leaping from the drivers’ seat of Thunder Hawk (a red Chevrolet Camaro that turns into a gull-winged fighter) onto Switchblade (the helicopter that turns into a jet) that the mastermind behind Venom, Miles “Wolf” Mayhem, flies. You have to admit that’s probably the coolest bad guy name ever. There is also a teeny weenie Rhino in the background. The Rhino (a maroon Kenworth semi tractor that converts into a mobile defense platform and command center) was the coolest toy ever and my most desired in my youth. Rhino’s smoke stacks turned into freaking cannons for goodness sake, and it had a spring loaded bomb too. Oh happy days.

A few other M.A.S.K. vehicles graced the pages of this sacred text, including my 2nd favorite M.A.S.K. vehicle, Hurricane (a turquoise 57 Chevy with orange and red flames that turns into a six-wheeled attack tank) I can’t remember the cartoon enough to say for sure if the comic follows the show or its own separate entity, but I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing. I could probably find the DVD of the cartoon series on Amazon or eBay but I’m much more into the nostalgic comic smell that one only finds nestled between the endless Alpha Flight and Evil Ernie comics in the dollar box. The quest for old unwanted bastard floppies has never been easy, but it must be done. Hours of pawing through every single book in every single long box that crosses your path, but that’s what all the buzz is about now isn’t it? “The hunt for treasure” as it were, is what drives us on and sometimes, not always, but sometimes it pays off big. Happy hunting!