Tales to Astonish!

I am too exhausted by this week to write. Instead, I present you with this image of the greatest comic-book team-up of all time:

This…this can’t be…

CAPTAIN AMERICA: DEAD!

Even though I’m a DC fan at heart — since they have Batman and at several points had The Shadow — I’ve always been a fan of a special few Marvel Comics characters, and Cap was one of them. He was sort of like Marvel’s answer to Superman, being the patriotic boy scout straight-shooting capital-H Hero, the kind of superhero that other heroes looked up to. Except he was better, since he wasn’t nigh-unkillable, making his heroic actions more meaningful than the whims of an invulnerable super-strong space alien.

I know that he’ll be coming back soon enough, because the only people in comics that stay dead are Uncle Ben, Gwen Stacy, Jason Todd and Bucky — damn, I guess no one’s safe in the comic afterlife — but it’s still sad to see him go. I may be mistaken, but I think this is his first death. May he resurrect and have many more exciting demises!

EDIT: This isn’t the post I was talking about in the previous post.

EDIT: The comic book Heaven must be a really lonely place.

EDIT: Hey, Barry Allen is still dead!

EDIT: Hey, Barry Allen is still dead!

I’ve said for a long time that I don’t want to have children — and it’s true. They’re expensive, they smell bad, they break your shit, and they’re only going to grow up into warped mental screwballs that loathe me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. I’m too happy the way I am to adjust to a life of “caring about others” and “buying other people food.” That would completely warp the spy-like debonair lifestyle that I’ve grown accustomed to, and I don’t think I could take that loss. On the other hand…

…there is one reason that I can think of to kids. And that reason is:

I CAN DRESS THEM UP LIKE BATMAN

I mean, c’mon, how CUTE is that? My boy would totally terrorize the criminal element in his nursery school, and believe you me there is a criminal element in nursery schools. He’d be the dark vigilante of the local pre-school, stalking through the shadows with his adorable little utlity belt filled with jelly beans and those little koala erasers that grip the top of pencils.

Sure, people might start asking questions about why he didn’t seem to have any other clothes, but we can take care of those people, can’t we, my little Brucey? Yes, a quick stop in the batcave I dug in my backyard usually makes people stop asking questions. FOREVER.

Besides, I totally need a sidekick, or at least someone to mentor in the ways of crime-solving and martial arts. I didn’t spend all that time in the Orient to let my skills go to waste, and if I can pass my knowledge of obscure poisons to just one young person, I know that my mission will continue long after my crime-busting days are over.

Or maybe I just need a dog. They don’t ask to go to college.

Found on the Bat-Blog:

I remember when these “Commissioner Gordon has a heart attack” ads started to run in the pages of DC comics way back in the day. I listened faithfully to their anti-smoking campaign, trying to get my dad to quit smoking, and even managed to refrain from taking up the nasty habit myself — until I stopped reading comics regularly, at which point I started smoking like there was a prize at the bottom of every pack of Lucky Strikes. And there was a prize! Hidden in every pack there was a shiny new “desperate compulsion to buy more Lucky Strikes.” Made in the USA!

I guess the point is that you should never stop reading comic books, because if you do YOU WILL GET CANCER. I’m pretty sure that’s what they’re saying.