The rest of the "Romeo and Juliet" brawl in Lego (see previous day for the start)

This comic never was completed for a variety of reasons:
- time,
- desire for pieces used for the stage,
- impending move,
- office/Lego space traded so that I no longer had a cat-free environment (and this was a big stage...)
- the play was over,
- I didn't have a copy of "Comic Book Creator."

Now that the final part has been addressed - thanks to a clearance-priced copy in a toystore - I'm now able to publish these. There were three more page of heavy, heavy text, but it's better to end the first issue of a comic with a cliffhanger. I like the "Next Issue" notes I made.

Seriously tempted to start up on a different play, albeit with a different approach to staging...

Five Pages of My "Romeo and Juliet" Lego Comic

These were some of the first Lego pictures I took - without a macros light tent and with a flash. This facility was crude, but it was adequate to freeze these images for the Bard. (Sorry.)

Idle Convention Musing

As if there's no one else doing this, but...

At the moment, all I can think is that I really wish I'd caught Obama's speech last week - but, as a Canadian, I'm naturally inclined that way.

It's a bit more fun watching PBS, since they show the protesters a little more - the guy with the "McCain votes against vets" sign, a bit of someone yelling something at McCain - but it's been a long time since I watched any of this political stuff. Probably 1992, in all honesty.

Leaving aside the cringe-worthy hagiography of the lead-in video for McCain, the most fun and the most terror has been found in the knee-jerk chants of "USA! USA!" when McCain tried to talk about the economic troubles of the moment. I realize that this is theatre, but give the actor a chance to work the lines and the message. Shouting down the ideas you dislike... well, it seems goofy when they're said by your candidate.

The cliches have been fast and furious, raining down like cats and dogs, too. It hurts to hear, and it hurts to make the obvious ironic quip, too.

Still, the best has been the blue screen that McCain's in front of for his speech. I realize that the imagery from the audience is very Reaganesque, what with the morning sky and the stalwart flag, but you'd think they may have learned something from Colbert's green screen challenges this year.

Okay, now that we're into the shout-outs to people, real people (whose states inevitably cheer when they realize that these examples are one of their own), I just can't keep up. I need to prep, and need some distance from all of this - especially if my 10s vote for the novels I think they will (To Kill A Mockingbird and Fahrenheit 451) and I need to consider just how much politics I should let into play in an English class.

All the Blog Entries..., Part Two: Ironic Subtitle

There's simply not enough time left for anyone to capitalize on it, but if anyone's in Vancouver between now and 8 September, stop by the Vancouver Art Gallery for the last days of the "Krazy! The Delirious World of Anime + Comics + Video Games + Art" exhibit.

Were this a traditional review, there'd be some sort of ironic title like "Museums Have Grown Up and Accept Comics" or "Otaku Kids: On to the Opera!" or something like that, but this will be mostly anecdotal. If you want lots of details, get hold of the exhibit book. (I'll order it in a day or two when I send off for Anathem.)

Krazy! takes over the first two floors of the Art Gallery. I'd never been there before - so I can't compare to previous installations - but I made a point of getting to this show twice this summer. The general direction for the show seemed to be counterclockwise on the first floor, taking you from comics to graphic novels to manga to anime to cartoons. The second floor, clockwise in orientation (unless you tend to visit the gift shop in the middle of your tour), went from video games to the theatre to pop art to CGI art to conceptual art (to the gift shop).

Each section featured about eight artists, with several pages or images apiece. Presentation was spare and simple - lots of white walls, plain wood, and extra 3D elements added to the mix like maquettes and cardboard models of settings - though some sections had more to offer than others. For example, the comics and graphic novels were entirely English language, while the manga did not feature translations, but anime, thank goodness, had subtitles.

The most disappointing section was probably video games. It's not that the selections were bad - it's hard to argue with most of the selections that had been released - but that some of the choices were odd. Most notable was the choice to include Spore. Part of this may have been that Will Wright, the creator of Spore, The Sims, and most anything else with Sim in the title, was the curator for the video games section - which, admittedly, didn`t keep Seth or Spiegelman from including their own works in the comic and graphic novel sections - but the main source of annoyance is that the game isn`t even out yet and it`s already featured in the show. The other issue with this section was the layout - screenshots and video were shown on televisions set on short stands in the middle of the floor - while the walls had some game boxes, consoles, and a wall of screenshots. When compared to the anime section, which featured angled projections on white walls and LCDs playing key clips from a series of films - a thoroughly effective and hypnotic section - the video games were quite disappointing. (And you couldn't buy them in the gift shop, though you couldn't buy the anime, either.)

There were many notable sections and sequences for the exhibition. I was deeply taken by Kevin Huizenga's "Jeepers Jacobs" in the comics, and Lynda Barry's One Hundred Demons was quite impressive, too. I'll need to get hold of several anime films now, such as Paprika, Patlabor 2, and The Place Promised in Our Early Days. (Oh, and Akira again. It always comes back Akira, doesn't it?) I'd like to try some of the manga that was featured, though it's tough to figure what to make of some. Afro Samurai didn't look too bad, but I'm not sure what to make of the super-kawaii (but hyper-sexualized) Pure Trance. And it would be neat to see all of Cosplayers, with its striking mix of supermodern Chinese urbanity and people running around in full fandom costumes.

Two pieces particularly stand out in my memory, though. One was a massive statue by Mr. (seriously, Mr.) called Strawberry Voice. The statue was a cartoon girl's head, roughly 3 to 4 metres tall, with a face of sunny details and vague distance and a cave entered from the nape of the skull filled with decades of girls' toys, shiny objects, and a ceiling of country-style quilting. This sounds much simpler than it is. The effect, I suppose, was akin to seeing the monumental Lawren Harris at the McMichael a few years ago: you encounter something iconic and realize that there's something to the icon, rather than just a shorthand. Strawberry Voice was as similar an experience as monumental theosophist art compared to pop-culture suffused statuary can be. I realize that's an awfully mixed metaphor, but it's art - if I could nail it down and quantify it with joyless, pinpoint precision, I'd likely be shilling for some major brand.

The other - my favourite, for reasons I still can't coalesce - was No Ghost Just a Shell by Angela Bulloch and Imke Wagener. It was a multimedia sort of an art piece, and I'll have to read more on it later. [Having breezed through some of the link above, I'm kinda right and kinda wrong.] Essentially, it is a presentation of a metaphysical, self-aware computer generator character... I think. A small theatre offered a spooling presentation of a four minute clip, possibly from a larger piece, where this figure discussed something either philosophical or pretentious (or both) with an internal monologue conducted at a rapid, hypersaturatedliterate clip. The only sounds "made" by this figure were clicks and gasps which made it seem less and less human, made the viewer face the uncanny valley of computer representation rather than be taken by the figure and accept it as a humane figure. I still can't quite say what it's about. I can't even quite say if it was successful. I can say that it was compelling, though, and that it enthralled me.

I'm sure that this show may have annoyed some - there were far more bad words and bits of nudity than the slightest mention of superheroes, and the detailed examination of Over the Hedge, particularly as the example of the state-of-the-art for cartooning, was odd - but the overall effect was very strong. I wish I could see it again.

All the Blog Entries I Meant to Write, Part One

I'd intended to end the whole research gig with a trip to the library. Not quite the first library for my postsecondary schooling - that was in Camrose, AB. The old stacks at Augustana were classically college: lots of titles, lots of old titles that hadn't been read to pieces but hadn't been deaccessioned, lots of old carpet with old stains, lots of odd corners, and lots of old wooden tables. It was great fun for the papers I was doing in first year, but I'm sure I'd be harder on myself than my profs were on me. (Well, one was critical of one paper that rested too heavily on one source... that took a bit of adjustment.) Still, it had a pine outside the front windows that caught the snow, and I loved it. When compared to the library at DeVry - which I looked at my postsecondary tour in grade 12, and discounted when I realized that there were probably only 1/20 of the titles that my high school library had featured - Augustana had been heavenly.

And it's not like the library I was going to could even claim to be the site I'd spent the most time in study, since Weldon at UWO easily outstrips the competition for time spent in research and/or study. Granted, I did have a study there, and close to a good friend who was going through the same comps process, and a tonne of books to read... but the sheer volume (noise, not titles) in that library, especially on the first few floors, was simply stupifying. And I simply don't have the funds to make a ritualistic flight to London; at least, not at this juncture.

No, the return - one final return, in all that cliched effect - would be to the Koerner library at UBC. Koerner was one of the first buildings I heard critiqued in a scholarly fashion - something about part Seawall, part False Creek condo, part postmodern cathedral, and only partly complete (which is still the case, if I recall properly) - and I got to spend a lot of time there, though mostly in the basement. It had a lot of great features - a spiral slide for a book return, a big concrete courtyard suitable for APEC protester road hockey games in the fall of 1997 (which I didn't participate in), and nice big carrels where I could immerse myself in periodicals, monographs, readings, or comic books (I distinctly remember reading the end of the "Onslaught" special there). And its elevators still have that oiled machinery odor of high school shop class.

But it's not even true to say that this was the official ending. After all, there was an even more convenient option for book returns - UBC Okanagan's library, just down the valley in Kelowna. And I had gone there to return books... and came back with one. It's hard to go cold turkey, I suppose, and something about Barbara Ehrenreich's Long March, Short Spring called out for further reading. So 27 books were returned in one fell swoop, and one remained. The plan was simple - read that book, and return it to Koerner when I visited Vancouver at the end of the month.

Ah, but then there's distractions from reading the book, other thoughts to work with, other things to read... and so I was scrambling to read it the night before I returned it.

It's not a bad book - not as scholarly as I'd hoped, entirely focused on 1968, but still interesting on the whole. Some of the German and Italian bits were decent, though the real revelation was in the midst of the chapter on Columbia. While describing the occupation of the Dean's office - with the Dean kept as a virtual hostage, if memory serves - Ehrenreich notes that a group of students spent their time playing "Diplomacy" around the clock.

It's one of those startling bits that just leap off the page and insist that you turn to the source material and see who these game-minded activists were. Again, nothing much there other than a note on sources. What really struck me was the range of possibilities for this little fact: for the first time in ages, I thought "This could be an excellent short story... or play!"

So the book didn't get returned. The official research is done and over, regardless, but the possibilities for that historical detail remain... and I'd like to play a little.

End of an Era, Start of an Epic

So here's a few words on the termination of studies for the PhD -

One, it's tough to find the right word for what this process is. Termination is really harsh. Cessation is much softer - and what was used in my emails to my supervisor and grad chair - but it's still not right. The closest approximation is "I have decided to not continue this course of study." "Quit" and "dropped" aren't even apt, at least in my mind. I remember reading the classic Matt Groening "School is Hell" way back when, and it had a cartoon for the grad school dropout. (If memory serves, they're supposed to be the saddest people on earth. There was also a note with it that said something like, "If it's not making sense, just read another book!") I don't feel that I'm dropping out; I feel that I achieved the metaphorical "ABD" (since there's no program or lambskin for that) and that this was probably what I came for.

"Brand" is another word, one that I used way back when as a Social Science rep for a preliminary session for discussion of either a new Dean for grad studies or a change in the program (I really can't remember which one). Simply put, there've been more and more reports about the dilution of PhD brand as more and more are produced, and that there's less and less positions for us to fill. Yeah, I know that scaremongering is easy, lazy reporting. But I also sat in on a lot of job hire functions (go for the juice and cookies, stay for the insight into the process) and came away with more and more questions. How was it that there were this many applicants for such specialized positions? How is it that we came up with these names out of so many in the stack? How is it that so many... underwhelming applicants (all unhired) made it onto the shortlist? Are the rest of the names in the long list this underwhelming, possessors of C.V. poison, or simply really, really unlucky? I've discussed them with lots of people since, and a lot of those questions remained for me. I can live with questions... but there's other words that influence things here.

"Expectations" is another word, to be perfectly mercenary and perfectly personal. I'm really not interested in trying for the big university life of academe. I like to teach, preferably at a high level. But I'm not interested in living anywhere other than near my family, and they're all in BC. BC does have more universities on the way - in a manner of speaking, depending on how all of them shape up - but it's not sure how the colleges are going to go. And, quite simply, such considerations are quite a few years away, even if I stayed the course. There's several more years of uncertainty to have to endure, and I've been unsettled for a few years. Heck, the trip to grad school was done because of uncertainty. I'd spent four years as a substitute teacher, and governance changes for BC's schools made it pretty unlikely that something would come up soon. Four years of subbing would burn most anyone out, and I was torched. Thankfully, the MA program was an excellent reboot, and the community of grad students that I was in was a fun and welcoming one. So... roll it over and give it a try.

"Try" is another word. The PhD program was, at times, challenging, tiring, exhausting, and reflective. I saw it, in a way, as the first stage in a career (albeit a pretty low-paying stage). Did anyone see Oronte Churm's blog post on archaeology back in July? The first stage (Days 1-2,190) sort of captures the feel. Instead of the whole "week's probation for a dishwashing gig," this was sort of like a decade's probation for an academic's gig. (Really, lecturer/seminar instructor would be the parts I'd be looking to do, but you have to take the whole gig on if you want to get anywhere with it.) And I've seen other people further along this process than I am. Some have done fabulously with it, and some... seem to have not. I suppose that's life, but it seems that there's fewer in the first position. (And to make it in the first position you've got to have a knack for grants, it seems - never one of my strong points.)

"Me," ultimately, is the final word to consider here. I just didn't see me in PhD anymore. (It probably doesn't help that the lyrics to the Beastie Boys' "Dr. Lee, PhD" are pretty garbled. How could you fail me like this now, pop culture?) I simply didn't want to be defined by what I did anymore - or, rather, what I was aspiring to do. I suppose there's many things I'll still be defined by, but that's neither here nor there, and having one less major definer will provide me with a better focus for my life as I live it. And it's fairly unlikely that I'd manage to purge the verbal tendencies that I've acquired over these past few years, so my students will likely continue to have to ask me to re-word questions that are phrased over their heads. (I remain unapologetic about that, except when my phrasing is tortured and incomplete. Except for in this post - some of these issues and words can only be approached poetically, even if it's bad poetry. As long as it's not as purple as the patriotic doggerel that J.V. introduced in seminar...)

So what can readers of this take? Well, take whatever you want. Even though most of the readers will be linked from my Facebook page - a pretty diverse crowd - I'm really only assuming that colleagues will have read this. For my colleagues, I don't think of this decision as the end of our collegiality (though I'd really rather just say that it's friendship). There's no way to excise the history, let alone historiography, from my thought patterns, and it's not as though I'm renouncing anyone here. We'll likely not run into each other at conferences now, though, but you're always welcome to come and visit, just as I hope to still be able to visit people in Ontario. (I'm sure that wine tourists will be the most likely visitors, naturally.) Your friendship, advice, help, and conviviality has been dearly appreciated over the years. I hope that the students I help at the high school level will be better prepared for the university courses in which you'll encounter them, or at least to act like decent, thoughtful citizens who don't take umbrage at the traditional list of "OMG the things these professors study on taxpayer money" titles at Congress time in June.

I nearly wrote earlier today that "It is with regret that I announce" this decision, but I quickly deleted that. I don't regret this decision, but it was not an easy decision to come to. It took a lot of thought and reflection for me to arrive at this point, but here it is. I remember a discussion with a friend in the teacher program at UBC about our future education options, and he argued that the key thing is to aim to be an intellectual rather than an academic if you're going on with further studies. That one always stayed with me. I'd like to think that I've started on that path, but I know that it's a lifetime of study. It might seem odd to some that this self-defined lifetime path is the better one than a five-to-seven year course of study, but it makes perfect sense to me.

Cunning scientists and power-mad military men

Phew. It's been a busy month. As it turned out, it wasn't just the block apiece of English 11 and English 9 that I took on - it was also a block of English 10 (so three teaching blocks, and three preps) as well as a few weeks of tending to visiting international students from Korea (short-term visits of four to seven weeks). I get my spare back this week, at least.

It has been quite tiring, frustrating, rewarding, and somewhat fun this week.

Texts today: Amazing Spider-Man #2-4, Tales of Suspense # 40-42

Contrary to what was found earlier with Fantastic Four, Spidey hits the ground running with his rogues' gallery. Issue two introduces the Vulture (and the Tinkerer – yes, an extra “-er” on that name), issue three features Doctor Octopus, and issue four has the Sandman. (Recall that at this point the FF had just met the Sub-Mariner – their first really good villain. The Mole Man is bush league.)

There’s not a ton of science to be had in issue two. There are some hijinks in the science lab, as Peter trades barbs with “Moose” and is told off by the teacher for flipping through a magazine instead of minding his experiment. The appeal of the mag is the offer of a substantial payday for pictures of the Vulture, a flight-powered supercriminal clad in shaggy green tights. The first tussle goes badly, but Peter develops an “anti-magnetic inverter” as a countermeasure for the magnetic-powered gear of the Vulture and subdues him. The “B” story opens in the science lab (“A story has to start somewhere, so let’s begin ours in the science lab of Midtown High…”) where Peter is focused on his beakers while the cool kids tease him [ASM #2 - .pdf #11]. Peter’s offered a job helping with weekend research for Professor Cobbwell (“Gosh! A chance to work with the most famous electronics expert in town?”), who apparently doesn’t have grad students or undergrads to help him with his “urgent experiments” [ibid]. Step one is to pick up the professor’s radio from the shop. (An electronics expert’s radio in the shop… sure, why not.) The Tinkerer’s prices are insane – so cheap that even chronically broke Peter Parker is doubtful – and the radio, just like the Tinkerer’s shop, set off the underdeveloped Spider-Sense. If you’ve paid attention to any of the previous issues of other titles, you can already guess that there’s probably invading aliens behind all of this – they’ve been prepping their invasion through the Tinkerer’s low, low repair prices, sneaking spy devices into each radio or TV. After Peter examines the radio and finds odd gadgets in it, he returns to the shop as Spider-Man to take a look-see. Naturally, the “military leader” the aliens are listening in on is about to divulge “our plans for the defense of our eastern seaboard” to his aide just as Spidey is noticed. There’s a fight, Spidey’s zapped by the Tinkerer’s special weapon, Spidey escapes from a deathtrap, the aliens flee the earth (destroying the evidence as they go), and the Tinkerer escapes the patriotic rage of Spider-Man (“They were just doing their duty to whatever planet they were from! But you, you traitor--!”). [ASM #2 - .pdf 16]

Issue three is very nice: a classic villain, no B-story, and lots of sciencey things. Doctor Octopus is probably second in the classic Spidey-villain pantheon to the Green Goblin, and he suits Spidey nicely. The full-on origin story is given as part of the omniscient narrative of this issue, as the reader is segued to the “US Atomic Research Centre” on the edge of town. Doc Ock is introduced as the “most brilliant atomic researcher in our country today” – one who has designed four robotic arms that he can manually control to safely conduct experiments which will allow him to “work safely with volatile chemicals… though others fear radiation, I alone am able to make it my servant!” [ASM #3, .pdf 3] Of course, things go badly (for science and grammar: a worker announces that “There’s gonna be a blow-up!” when his panel goes whacky), and Doc Ock is bathed in radiation. He wakes up paranoid, and takes the hospital hostage. He subdues Spidey and gloats that “mine is the energy of an atom, born of a nuclear accident” rather than that of a mere spider [ASM #3, .pdf 7]. Peter is bummed, and asks for the first time if this is “the end of Spider-Man?” [ibid.] Emboldened and driven from his hospital, Doc Ock next takes over his old workplace and decides to demonstrate his strength by destroying half of the nuclear plant and then rebuilding it to suit himself. (Understandably – have you ever tried to find a nuclear subcontractor to do renos on your nuclear plant?) The “foremost brains of the nation’s armed forces and security agencies confer feverishly,” and one notes that “We’ve never been up against anything like this before! A brilliant scientist, with superhuman powers, on a mad rampage!” [ASM #3, .pdf 9. These guys may be the foremost brains, but they’ve probably not been paying attention to the world around them. Will they be surprised when word gets out about, oh, every other atomic scientist in the vicinity of New York gaining super powers…]

Anyhow, the Human Torch is supposed to beat Doc Ock but he’s got to wait for his fire reserves to build up again. While waiting, he works as an inspirational speaker at Peter’s high school! (No, I’m not kidding.) He tells the students to “stick to your school word and do your best in your studies! Don’t be discouraged if it sometimes seems tough!” [ASM #3, .pdf 9] It’s no speech about a van down by the river, but it works its magic on Peter. (Steve Ditko does really well with pictures of Peter Parker, by the way – the two panel progression from surprise to confidence is pretty fun.) Anyhow, Spidey heads off to battle Doc Ock, takes some time to prepare a chemical compound which will instantly fuse metal (i.e., the arms of Doc Ock), and ultimately fells his antagonist with an “old fashioned punch to the jaw” [ASM #3, .pdf 13]

One letter stands out from the first letters page – a plea for Spider-Man to not deal with invading aliens, written in response to the first issue. I hope, for the sake of the writer of this letter, that he stayed with the book in spite of the previous issue’s aliens…

The fourth issue introduces the Sandman. After – again – Spider-Man loses his first meeting with the villain (due to a mask malfunction which drives him from the fight early), Peter sees the handy backstory exposition news report on the TV while he’s darning his mask. Flint Marko, a hardened and most wanted criminal, had hid out in an atomic testing range and been mistakenly granted the ability to adapt his form to various properties of sand as a result of a test blast. J. Jonah Jameson rants that the advance-seeking Parker is like all other teens – “you think the world owes you a living” – and muses that Spidey and the Sandman may be in cahoots. (Mmmmm…constant red herrings….) Sandman ends up trying to hide out in Peter’s high school, barges in on a class with the principal and a bunch of students, and then demands a diploma (a self-respecting hardened criminal, Sandman never finished his schooling). The principal stands firm on this one, though – “Nothing could make me do that! A diploma must be earned!” – and Spider-Man ultimately lays the vacuum down on the villain [ASM #4, .pdf 9].

Tales of Suspense #40-42 does not feature any members of Iron Man’s stable of villains. Offhand, I’m not sure I can name any other than his Soviet counterparts and the Mandarin. Anyhow, the first villain is a huge Neanderthal called “Gargantus”… which ends up being an android devised by unnamed alien invaders who’d last come by 80,000 years before and figured that this type of masterful, hypnotic figure would be a perfect stalking horse for their invasion. The best part of this issue – actually, of all three of these issues – is the first few pages which present a short bio of Iron Man. Considering that ToS was an anthology series, this cut down the writing load by a page or two each month, but it may have been annoying for some 60s readers. For me, though – well, the idea of transistor-engine-powered roller skates which send US troops down highways at 60 mph is just ludicrous. (And really – unless they were invading Germany or fighting domestically, how much smooth highway does the army expect to encounter?) But it’s all worthwhile for Tony Stark – after all, he does not “neglect America’s Cold War struggle against the communist menace” and he presents himself as “a scientist who realizes that the boundaries of science are infinite…” [ToS #40, .pdf 3] Unfortunately, he has no aesthetic sense. It takes the tears of a small child to convince him of the need to change his look. Alas, it’s just a coat of gold paint, not a new suit. (That comes at the end of 1963.)

[C-story note - #40’s has a time traveler trying to blackmail the United Nations, lest he forewarn nations about their impending doom. And then he finds that the UN functionary he was talking to was… a policeman from his time!]

ToS #41 has a broader tableau of inventions from Stark – it opens with his munitions (“These atomic naval cannons I designed are able to fire a nuclear salvo more than 500 miles, thereby revolutionizing battleship firepower!”), with medicine (“Your flesh-healing serum works perfectly…”), space problems (as he works on shielding to withstand all types of interstellar radiation), and his help for the US defense effort (artillery shells capable of destroying hardened pillboxes and bunkers are miniaturized to the size of .50 cal bullets so that they can be fired upwards of 1000/minute) [ToS #41, .pdf 3]. It also shows us that Iron Man fights both criminals and communist spies (as he throws a set of airline stairs at a taxiing communist charter flight, foiling their getaway). The key villain this time is Dr. Strange – not the Sorcerer Supreme, but a rather disposable villain who arrived a few months earlier than Marvel’s top magician – and he somehow takes control over Iron Man through the power of the mind and some device, forcing the hero to break him out of prison. (He almost reads like an undistinguished early appearance of Doctor Impossible, but without the killer jokes.) Anyhow, this Dr. Strange is doing all of this to patch things up with his daughter, and he assembles a group of accomplices (“the most cunning scientists and power-mad military men on earth!”) who do nothing of note in this issue. (Of note, however, is the glimpses of JFK and Krushchev that are given on the ninth pdf…) Since this was the A-story, it ends very quickly – Iron Man comes in from the sea (“Even a super-genius like Dr. Strange can omit an important detail, like extending his force field underwater!”), knocks out the main power source for the island but is incapacitated by the effort, is gloated over by Dr. Strange, and is renewed by the gift of flashlight batteries by Dr. Strange’s daughter.

[Again, the C-story is kind of worthy of notice – a depressed loner in the year 3000 is tapped to travel faster-than-light to the edge of the universe! Once there, he discovers something that makes him happy – but he can’t say anything other than “I know!” It’s much, much more annoying than the video for Radiohead’s “Just.” Still, at least people still wear fedoras in the year 3000…]

Finally, issue 42 features the spymastering of the Red Barbarian, whose efforts are continually thwarted by Iron Man. After having lost out on a new atom bomb design, the Red Barbarian turns his attention to the disintegration ray that Stark is developing for the military. His only chance is send in “The Actor,” a spy who is a master of disguise; the Actor not only finds the plans, but also uncovers the secret identity of Iron Man. Iron Man sets off to the Red Barbarian’s headquarters by rocket – accurately, in spite of his concerns, and safely, in spite of the optics for an ICBM launched at the USSR from the US – and catches the Actor. Once in control, Iron Man then brazenly walks into the compound, pretends to be the Actor, and then left once he’d set the scene for the Actor’s return. Once the Actor returns without the plans, he is summarily shot before he can spill the beans on the Iron Man/Tony Stark connection. It’s… kind of bloodthirsty for early Iron Man, I’d think.

Employment

I'll get on the "Scientists in the Classroom" followup in the next couple of days, as it's been busy (sub work as a proctor for exams), annoying (clogged bathtub), crashing (car, not computer - everyone's fine), and gratifying (employment).

I'll start work on Monday in a 50% English teacher position (i.e., two blocks of English in a school on the four blocks per semester system). Tomorrow'll reveal what the blocks are (two of eleven or one of eleven and one of nine), as well as what books are in the bookroom, but for now it's just joy.

It was about eight years ago this week that I started my practicum. Frankly, that's just weird to contemplate.

...there is a limit to the frustrations which any men can endure -- even communists!

(It was either the title above or "Hey! Nothing I like better than a circus!" but the latter really needed the image of Rick Jones saying that in The Incredible Hulk #3 to make it work...)

Titles today - Fantastic Four #6-10, The Incredible Hulk #3-6, Tales to Astonish #39, Amazing Fantasy #15, and Amazing Spider-Man #1

This assortment doesn't quite get through 1963 - there's several issues of Fantastic Four to go yet, plus the Avengers' introduction - but it is a good start on catching up. Thankfully, this week marks the end of the first term of studies here in BC. This means two things - there's a bit of spare time to permit me some expansive blogging, and that openings for the second term need to be filled. The Globe and Mail online reminded me that prospective employers google candidates, and a quick check of my name yielded up my name at Old is the New New... and reminded me to blog. And so!

Today the selection of heroes increases substantially on this blog. I know that I've already done a fair bit on the X-Men, but I decided last year to go back and try to work through the titles from the sixties more or less as they appeared. Now, I don't have every title out there - I'm not sure where Ant-Man first appeared, and I'll probably be able to get by without Thor - but I'm pretty sure that I've got much of the Marvel that I'll need. But until these issues start to feature monthly checklists, ads for other Marvel titles on newsstands that month, or a full complement of 12 issues in a year on the DVD-ROMS, I'll have to guess for a bit. (Basically, it's all good once we get out of 1963.)

Briefly, Fantastic Four #6-10 feature Dr. Doom and the Sub-Mariner teaming up, Kurrgo (the Master of Planet X) kidnapping the FF to force them to save his planet, the introduction of the Puppet Master, Namor's attempt to lure the FF to their doom... in Hollywood, and Dr. Doom's return (in the offices of Marvel Comics)/identity switch with Mr. Fantastic/reduction to subatomic size.

"Scientifically," though, things are happening in most of these issues. Doom plays on the Sub-Mariner's heartstrings (cliches are contagious, sorry) by reminding Namor that "the glistening towers of your once-great civilization" were destroyed when "the barbarians from the surface [conducted] their underwater H-bomb test in this particular area..."(#6, page 8) Doom then demonstrates his a miniaturized supermagnet "grabber" ("Magnetic force is unlimited! And when it is amplified, it has the strength of giants!"), and Namor agrees to plant it in the Baxter Building. (When he flies free from the ocean, Namor is mistaken for an American Polaris missile test by a passing jet. We'll take up the mistaken military-industrial complex/superheroic later on.) Once the magnet's planted, of course, Doom turns on all of them and tries to hurl the entire skyscraper into the sun. (I'll accept the supposition that this tin-can sized device can effect such force, but it's just odd that it'd seamlessly unfix the building from its foundation.) Anyhow, Namor and the FF team up, Doom's hurled off into space by a speeding meteor, and the Baxter Building returns to earth under the cover of darkness. (Narrator's breathless commentary: "...and the stray individuals who later witness the silent return of the Baxter Building from the skies write it off as a bad dream... an hallucination resulting from the anxieties that plague our nuclear society..." (#6, page 23)

#7 features our only early counterculture dig for today: the Human Torch daydreams about the hash he'd make of a swanky tribute dinner in DC - "That reminds me of a joke I heard about two beatniks... or, ah, er, maybe you've already heard it?" (#7, page 2) Mr. Fantastic's not much happier about going to the dinner, since it means that he has to abandon a rocket fuel experiment that's just about to reach fruition. Anyhow, Planet X is about to be destroyed by a rogue planetoid, and Kurgo, the Master of said planet, sends his robot minion and one of the two starships they have to bring the Fantastic Four back so that they can save Planet X. (I'm hoping that more things take up such naming. I'd love to live in Housing Development X.) An American satellite notices the approaching alien craft, and it's first assumed that it might be "an attack by the Reds" before someone else comments that "no earth nation ever built a ship like that!" (#7, page 5) We'll ignore the hostility ray that turns the world against the Fantastic Four (used to blackmail the team into the plot... and somehow ineffectual on this infighty team...) and move along to the close. With the fate of five billion innocents in the balance, Reed devises a shrinking gas to miniaturize the entire population so that they can all travel to another planet and then use the antidote to restore themselves. Kurrgo, of course, plans to save the antidote for himself but instead is left behind when he is unable to decide between power and safety. (And there was no antidote! Oh, the irony!)

#8 is only really notable for two things - the Puppet Master uses "radioactive clay" to make small sculptures of people which permit him to control their actions, and the 22nd page where he describes his plan to destroy the United Nations and make himself king of the world (complete with a panel that shows Khrushchev, Castro, Mao, and perhaps Franco serving him dinner). The means of control is poorly explained - apparently, he has to manipulate these sculptures like marionettes in scale models - and the origin is left untold. ("But what would she say if she could know that ever since I discovered this quantity of radioactive clay, I have been carving it to gain power for myself!" - #8, page 7) But I suppose that's why there are recurring villains. This issue introduces the blind sculptress Alicia Masters as the Thing's love interest. (She's blind but sees the goodness in him!)

#9 is really quite funny. The FF are broke, and an offer of a movie deal delivers them into the plans of the Sub-Mariner! (He found out about their money woes on his undersea television set - apparently, a standard tube encased in a splatter of green algae-like material.) No science here, but there is the real Cyclops and an African tribe that has a potion which protects them from fire. Yeah, let's move along.

#10 brings back Doctor Doom. He uses Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, who are forced to call in Mr .Fantastic to "work out a plot iwith 'em!" "Strange," Mr. Fantastic muses, "we just finished discussing a new plot yesterday!" (#10, page 6) [Yep, the boldfaced emphasis was put on yesterday.] It turns out that Doom was saved from the vastness of space by the Ovoids, an alien race with "science and culture... a million years ahead of ours!" Able to control events around them by thought and to transfer their consciousness into new bodies when they age, Doom learned their secrets and returned for revenge. Before the rest of the Fantastic Four arrive to rescue Reed, Doom transfers their bodies... and assumes leadership. They imprison Reed (trapped in Doom's body) in a cell that will run out of oxygen (designed by Doom, of course, to be a death trap for Reed) and Doom gloats about the brilliant plan that will destroy the rest of the team.

Pages 15-16 of issue #10 are simply some of the funniest, oddest, and most Calvin and Hobbes of all the FF pages I've read so far. [If the link to www.transmogrifier.org doesn't provide the strip, just search for "F-14" to get the flavor.] Doom's stolen zoo animals and shrunk them, and all the tiny animals escape. But it's not the work of villainy - he's going to increase the FF's powers! See, the dinosaurs prove how this will be done: "...ages ago, the dinosaurs were the lords of Earth! But, unfortunately for them, their bodies grew too large while their brains remained the same -- until they simply grew themselves out of existence! But what if they have [sic] been smaller? If their bodies had been a fraction of their natural size, then their brains would have been much larger by comparison! Today, the dinosaurs might still be the rulers of the earth!" This explanation takes up two panels - the first, your standard image of tyrannosaur and triceratops about to throw down; the second, an image of tyrannosaurs with four-fingered human-like arms in space suits on an alien planet. There's a spaceship in the background and odd celestial bodies in the sky, and the foregrounded tyranno-man has a huge, spacey movie camera on a tripod. (This will lead to accusations that even these hypothetical tyranno-men faked the moon landing, of course.) Anyhow, Doom claims that he'll shrink the FF and then re-enlarge them - and in doing so, they'll retain their powers at a tiny size and then have them increase porportionally when they're enlarged. On page 17, Doom's thought bubble reveals that this little bit of "scientific double-talk can fool almost any other unsuspecting victims" since Reed wasn't there to call B.S. on Doom's patter. (I would like to read a story where Reed has to correct this lesson for Johnny. "Who taught you what about dinosaur brains?") Anyhow, Reed escapes, Doom's focus on the body-switch fades and the two scientists trade back to their own bodies, Doom's shot misses its target and switches on the shrinking ray... which shrinks him to nothingness. It seems that the science of evil beings always turns on its inventors in these tales.

Incredible Hulk #3-6 - issues 3-5 feature two stories per issue, and the 6th was the last issue for the first volume of the comic. (He gets moved over to Tales to Astonish later on, and it changes its name to The Incredible Hulk in 1968.) #3 has General Ross trick Rick Jones into tricking the Hulk on board an experimental rocket because "there isn't a man living who could stand the forse of its G-pull... we want the Hulk to ride that rocket, in the interests of national security!" (#3, page 3) Of course, the rocket's set to send the Hulk off into the depths of space. But once in space, the light of the sun changes the Hulk back into Dr. Bruce Banner... and the unshielded space craft enters a radiation belt "and once again Bruce Banner's body is subjected to thos mysterious, powerful rays about which so little is truly known! Rays of intense radiation, with the power to effect the most fantastic changes upon anything that lives!" But Rick discovers that this was all a plot, sidles up to the control panel and turns the payload back to earth. The signal, though, is affected by the radiation and ends up linking Rick to the Hulk - effectively putting the Hulk under the control of Rick. The rest features Rick and the Hulk dealing with the villanous Ringmaster - he hypnotizes towns so that his circus of crime can ransack a city! (No, I'm not kidding. Yes, Snake said it best in the Monorail episode - during the jam-packed town meeting - when he asked another looting criminal if Springfield could be any stupider.)

#4 has a few nice science-y moments. Page two has Betty Ross mooning over a picture of Bruce Banner and reminiscing. (When introduced to Banner, she unabashedly states, "It's a pleasure to find that America's most famous scientist is also so young -- and handsome!" (#4 page 2) You hear that, kids? You can become a famous young scientist! It helps if you're handsome! Hope you like chaste relationships with general's daughters!) Banner's helping the military-industrial complex along nicely, though, even when he's not there - on pages three and four, Ross is overseeing the testing of the "iceberg rocket" which will capture the Hulk. (They test it on a jet-powered copy of the Hulk, of course. It makes Betty shriek, of course.) Rick is brought in for questioning by the military, is saved by the Hulk (who runs amok a bit, including a brief bit of fun on a movie set), and then uses the gamma ray machine in the hidden lab/Hulk holding pen to turn the Hulk back into Banner. Rick messes up a little - he can't turn off the rays in time - but the weakened Banner tells him that it's not Rick's fault ("You're not a scientist!"). But Banner re-adjusts the machine and produces a Banner-controlled Hulk which is angrier and more impatient. That's fine in the second half, "A Gladiator from Outer Space" - an alien warrior called Mongu lands somewhere in the continental United States and challenges "Earth's mightiest warrior to met me in hand-to-hand combat!" (#4, second story, page three). Naturally, the Hulk and Rick Jones charter a mini-jet and fly to the Grand Canyon to meet his challenge. But it's a trap! Mongu was merely a robotized costume worn by Boris Monguski, and his squad of Soviet soldiers plan to bring the Hulk "back behind the Iron Curtain ... [where] our great scientists will learn the secret of your great strength and build for us a whole army of warriors such as you!" (#4, second story, page six). They brought an "ear-splitting sound-gun" with them which "doesn't affect normal ears... [but] prove torturous to the super-sensitive ears of the Hulk!" (#4, second story, page seven) I can't help but wonder if he has super taste, too.... Anyhow, this challenge is bested, Hulk forces them to surrender (since there is "a limit to the frustrations which any men can endure -- even communists!"), and sends them packing in their helicopter (and if they don't immediately set course "to Vodka-land by the time I hit earth, I'll be back!") (#4, second story, page 9). Newspapers, of course, assume that this was all a hoax perpetrated by the Hulk and he remains a pariah. (SNL circa 1976: "General Francisco Franco is still dead, and the Hulk is still a pariah.")

The first story in #5 can mostly be left aside - an immortal wizard called Tyrranus, imprisioned underground by Merlin, kidnaps Betty Ross and temporarily forces the Hulk to be a gladiator. Instead, we'll take up the next chapter of the Hulk as Red-buster. In "The Hordes of General Fang," the "iceberg rocket" is used upon the Hulk. It successfully finds its target and encases him in ice, but "the one thing "Thunderbolt" Ross did not take into consideration was the intense body heat of the captive Hulk! For, like an atomic pile, when the Hulk expends his almost limitless energy and power, his temperature rises to an unimaginable degree!" (#5, second story, page 2) And so he escapes. An urgent bulletin from the small nation of Llhasa informs us that "the bloodthirsty scourge of Asia, General Fang" is about to invade with his evil plunderers. (#5, second story, page 4. He's also atop a slave- or POW-borne litter. How decadent and evil.) Anyhow, the Hulk and Rick travel to "the Orient" on a jet for no reason other than the fun of watching Hulk rage at a clumsy stewardess spilling coffee on him. They escape over Formosa, though, and move along westward to Red China. (Ah, pre-1973 comics.) Hulk dresses up as the abominable snowman, wreaks havoc on the hordes, is captured, is freed by Rick, captures Fang, and drops him off in Formosa. Fang gets a chance to demonstrate his evil - he orders a soldier's execution for daring to counsel retreat in the face of the yeti - and his tactics - he employs a sophisticated projector which displays a massive lavender dragon (#5, second story, page 9). (The dragon looks kind of like Fin Fang Foom - which I think was a 50s Marvel monster before it was added to the Marvel universe. And Massive Lavender Dragon would be an excellent prog rock band name.)

#6 isn't terribly noteworthy except for three things. One is that the villain, the Metal Master (an alien conqueror) melts Banner's "space probe rocket" with its powers, and the second is that the reader letters in this issue were not impressed with Mongu-the-communist-plot. The third, though, is the most excellent. Hulk, defeated by the Metal Master, is summarily imprisoned by Ross, and blames it on Rick. Rick is "hurt, bewildered" and asks Ross where one would enlist in the army. Rick, only sixteen, is too young. "But I'm tired of bein' just a nothin'! I wanna be where the action is!" Ross knows how Rick feels, but tells Rick that if he "really [wants] to serve your country... the best thing to do is stay in school! America needs trained men, in every field -- even in the army! And then, when you're old enough..." (#6, page 12) Rick's dejected by this. Some unknown person in a brown suit argues that Rick should "just stick to [his] education! That's what the rest of us are doing!", but Rick ruefully thinks, "Sure, it's okay for him to talk! He was never the Hulk's partner! How can I go back to being an ordinary kid after something like that!" (#6, page 13) Rick immediately finds the answer, though. His cool friends show him the ham radio set they're playing with, and Rick sets up the Teen Brigade - a setup of "cats like us, all over the country" working together to "help the army, the police everybody" - and "they can't stop us on account of our age!" (#6, page 13). And, of course, they help the Hulk trick the Metal Master and save the earth - and the Hulk gives them most of the credit for helping to assemble the fake gun that the Metal Master couldn't destroy. (Is there anything that plastics and cardboard can't do?)

So that addresses the issues for the established heroes. Two new ones are introduced around this time.

Tales of Suspense #39 presents the reader with Iron Man's origin story. This'll be all over the media this year, so I may as well do it right by its Cold War origins. (I shudder to think about the likely War on Terror origins for the movie incarnation, but so it goes...) Tony Stark is a wunderkind inventor visiting Vietnam to demonstrate and field-test his industrialized magnets. Naturally, he needs to be guarded - "the commies would give their eyeteeth to know what he's working on now!" - but he's also a millionaire playboy bachelor (#39, pages 2-3). But all is not right in Vietnam - there's an evil warlord whose plundering hordes are marching through the countryside and wreaking havoc. (No, not General Fang, but good guess.) Wong-Chu likes to wrestle, plunder, and... be victorious. And he's mean. (Not much characterization, but I don't think any hero's expected to be set against their nemesis in the first issue. There was a great What If...? issue in the 80s that examined a different story for Iron Man and made Wong-Chu more important, but not necessarily more developed as a character. But, as Nigel Tufnel would remind me, "that's nit-picking, isn't it?")

Anyhow, the general in charge in Vietnam has a staggeringly painful time understanding the nature of guerrilla warfare ("Our heavy artillery could defeat them, but we can't transport such big weapons through the dense jungle!"), but Stark's midget transistors will allow US allies to carry mortars that aren't any heavier or larger than flashlights (#39, page 4). (Er... I thought he was testing magnets, not miniaturized mortars... continuity editor!) Brief skirmish ensues, Stark treads upon a booby trap and injures himself (and apparently kills his guards), and is captured by the red guerrillas. (That's all they're ever called. I wonder if things change later for Marvel.) Anyhow, the shrapnel's near his heart and inoperable (he's only got a week to live), and so Wong-Chu tries to trick him into inventing a superweapon by promising a surgeon for Stark if a new weapon's designed within the week. Stark sees through the lies, but agrees so that his "last act will be to defeat this grinning, smirking, red terrorist!" (#39, page 5) Wong-Chu, naturally, laps up the fact that Stark "would not hesitate to betray [his] country to save [himself]!" (ibid.)

The next day, Stark is given some help - the great scientist, Professor Yinsen, had been forced to work as Wong-Chu's "lowly manservant" but now would assist the inventing process. Stark, of course, read Yinsen's books in college, and thought that Yinsen was the "greatest physicist of all" but everyone thought he'd died. (#39, page 6) Once told of the plans for the Iron Man armor, Tinsen throws himself into the effort. It is full of transistorized, electronic goodness - and it features a device to keep Stark's heart beating. But! Once Stark puts on the armor it needs to be charged - and the guards are coming back early! Yinsen quickly acts to save Stark and the work that they've done, but is killed in the process. Iron Man hides in the rafters, and Wong-Chu decides to go wrestle peasants. (No, I'm not kidding.) Iron Man picks up a handy white smock and blue fedora and heads out to the wrestling ground to challenge Wong-Chu. (What is it with superheroes and wrestling in their origin stories?) As he holds Wong-Chu aloft, Iron Man states, "You are not facing a wounded, dying man now... or an aged, gentle professor! This is Iron Man who opposes you, and all you stand for!" (#39, page 10)

Naturally, Wong-Chu calls in his hordes, and they open fire with small arms and then progress to bazookas and grenades. The bullets "Kapow!" and "Painng!" away, and a reversed charge on a transistorized magnet repels the heavy stuff. Iron Man next hacks the PA loudspeaker to tell the hordes to desert and run away, and he reflects that "In panic, and without leadership, they'll soon be captured by South Vietnam troops!" He chases after Wong-Chu, and, because the latter is about to order the execution of all the prisoners, Iron Man ignites a stream of oil which leads to the ammo dump to end the threat. He liberates the prisoners, sends the reds running, and then puts on the hat and smock and walks away, David Banner-like.

(David Banner, of course, was the name used for the 1970s "The Incredible Hulk" TV show, and he always walked out in the midst of the sad song at the close of the show. This list is not about the close, but rather the ways in which the Hulk got his Hulk on. Again, we're not yet at this stage for the Hulk yet in the comics. Anyhow, if my schoolyard memories are accurate, his TV name was changed to "David" because someone thought "Bruce" wasn't a manly enough name. As I'm pretty sure MAD magazine noted in their parody, it's pretty odd that, in the decade of Bruces Jenner and Springsteen, NBC execs/TV writers/whoever would make such a change.)

Anyhow....

We close with Spider-Man today. I'm sure everyone knows this one by now - either due to Sam Raimi's films or the 1960s cartoon with the awesome theme song - but here goes again. Peter Parker, a nerdy wallflower being raised by his aunt and uncle in NYC, is bit by a radioactive spider and given amazing powers. But! When he fails to halt a thief who soon thereafter kills his beloved Uncle Ben, he learns that with great powers comes great responsibility. (Seriously, I could recite that one in my sleep. I probably have.)

Anyhow, Spidey first appears in the final issue of Amazing Fantasy - which was rebranded as The Amazing Spider-Man at the end of 1963 - as the main story. (Just like in Tales of Suspense, this was an anthology comic. I'll take up a couple of the B stories later.) I could say a lot about the art - Ditko's really astonishing, especially as an artfully gawky yin to Kirby's dynamic yang - but I'll comment on the text instead. Naturally, Peter tries to talk a girl into going to the Science Hall with him (just "Sally" - no MJ or Gwen Stacy yet), but is mocked: "Give our regards to the atomsmashers, Peter!" (#15, page 2) The fateful experiment doesn't make much sense - radiation sent from orb to orb like electricity, I guess - but Peter's post-bite swoon is mocked by the older science types. Nothing worse than lab bullies, really. I really like that one notes that "our experiment unnerved young Parker!" and the other replies "Too bad! He must have a weak stomach!" (#15, page 3) This works in many ways: one, the scientists have an attractive young woman with them, so even these scientists are cooler than Peter. Two, even these men of science who aren't Banner, Richards, or Stark conclude all of their sentences with exclamation marks. Three, and best of all, they seem to be making their science even more elitist and distant. Rather than concern themselves with the lack of stomach for radiation research - and, perhaps by extension, nuclear research in general - that a nerdy youth displays, they chalk it up to some deficiency of Parker's character or ability. It's a fairly effective tactic - Peter's set up as someone who knows science but is an all-around outcast, but he'll mostly stay out of the lab and not scare away the readers. This reminds me of a passage from Scientists in the Classroom... I'll have to look for that tomorrow.

Anyhow, Peter effortlessly designs webcasters (no organics here) and starts on his road to fortune. His just-looking-out-for-himself ethos is only relaxed for his kindly Uncle and Aunt - who get him the microscope he's always wanted on page 8 - and by page 11 he learns the shortcoming of his philosophy. Still, money is needed. In the first issue of Amazing Spider-Man (generally to be abbreviated as ASM), Aunt May's trying to find a way to make ends meet and Peter goes looking for work. Peter offers to drop out, but Aunt May won't hear of it: "Your uncle always dreamed of you being a scientist some day!" (#1, page 3) Peter decides to go back under the spotlights, but finds that he can't cash the check made out to "Spider-Man." By that point, J. Jonah Jameson has started his editorial campaign against Spidey, and there's no chance of further stage work. (JJJ also starts stumping for the heroism of his son John, a test pilot.)

In spite of all this, the story has Spider-Man save John Jameson from a guidance system failure on his test space capsule. Really, this is a ludicrous story - there's no real sense of the orbit that Jameson's in, there's several rescue attempts made which don't make much sense, Spidey convinces a pilot to fly him up to the area with the capsule, and then web-slings his way over to the capsule with a spare guidance system. But! There's no way to get in JJJ's good books, as he chalks up the crisis to Spider-Man's sabotage of the situation so that he could present himself as a hero.

The second story has Spidey try to get a job with the Fantastic Four and defeat the Chameleon. Wanting to make a good impression, Spider-Man goes right to the top of the Baxter Building and ends up fighting the Fantastic Four before Mister Fantastic gets around to asking what Spidey wants. When they state that they're strictly non-profit, with all their after-expenses funds directed into the development of "the most effective super-crime-fighting apparatus we can create!", Spidey goes off in search of other opportunities (#1, second story, page 4). We then run into the Chameleon sneaking into a defense installation to steal plans to sell to "the Iron Curtain countries," he then plots a frame-up for Spider-Man when he goes after the second half of the missile defense plans. (Again with the missile defense schema... I'll have to look into early SDI soon.) By the by, the Chameleon just uses a lot of really good disguises; he's not a shapeshifter or anything.

Anyhow, Chameleon somehow is able to broadcast messages on the same wavelengths that spiders communicate (must have been some angry spiders in NYC that night...) and he draws Spidey out to the scene of his next heist. As the Chameleon escapes by helicopter, Spidey's able to use his Spider-sense to "tune in" the chopper and hone in on it. (Nope, none of those fancy Spider-tracers yet. I wonder if the Chameleon will get the credit for that one later on?) Spider-Man jams the hatch of the Soviet sub shut and he then commandeers the Chameleon's helicopter back to the scene of the crime. But! A smoke pellet provides the Chameleon with time enough to run off and disguise himself as one of New York's finest. Luckily, Spider-Man manages to help nab him, but he still feels abused by the world.

The B-stories for Amazing Fantasy and Tales of Suspense are odd. In TOS #39, there's "the Last Rocket" - with all but two humans fleeing the planet in the face of impending solar collapse. The two that stay dig the earth, love nature, and don't want to leave their homes. The sun nears its end, and then a new star explodes into place - and Adam and Eve talk about how they're going to populate this new earth. (I'll take Larry Niven's "How About Chocolate Covered Manhole Covers" instead - which does a nicer job of this, thanks.) And #39 ends with "Gundar!" - where the shipwrecked descendant of a Viking captain who'd cursed his mutinous crew frees them from the curse. (Yep, I've told that one back to front - they reveal his name at the end. I'm sure I've ruined that story for dozens now.)

In Amazing Fantasy #15 there's another religious parable - this time, in "The Bell-ringer!", the old man who stays on a volcano-imperiled island is taken heavenward from the chapel which he'd not deserted. (And yet it takes three pages to tell it!) Two sub-EC "surprise twist" tales round out this issue - in "Man in the Mummy Case!", a thief is offered refuge from the police by a mummy... only the refuge is through time, working as a slave on the work gang for the mummy's pyramid! And in "There are Martians among us!" a UFO crash-lands and the nation is alerted to the likelihood of human-sized martians among them. Weeks pass, and a quiet domestic scene of paranoia is shown - with the husband daring to go out, and the wife told to not admit anyone - but when the wife realizes that there's no coffee for after dinner, she dares to go and buy some... only to be surprised by footsteps and then captured! And when her husband comes home to find her missing and calls for help - if she's gone, then she's been caught and they'll know she's a Martian... and they'll come for him next! And as he says this, one hand is holding the phone to his head... another is mopping his cheek... and two others are held out in either surprise or jazz-hands! Quel surprise!