<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681</id><updated>2012-01-23T11:50:06.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Radioactive Swamp</title><subtitle type='html'>Useless Information, pollutive and mucky, on the brand of comics I enjoy.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112540639510872552</id><published>2005-08-30T07:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T07:53:15.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>These are the days of Ted Kord’s life</title><content type='html'>I have always liked Blue Beetle and with his recent banishment to the reincarnation spinner rack in the sky, it seemed appropriate to do a review of one of his issues. Even though Ted Kord (Beetle’s alter ego) was a scientist, a business owner and a pilot of a really big bug, Beetle to me seemed quite the blue-collar hero. Like a mechanic he was not afraid to roll up his sleeves and stick his hands into the oily muck of a city’s dangerous crannies. Unlike the mechanic who recently worked on my car, however, he would have been sure to clean said grimy hands before he fiddled with my car’s radio volume knob. He also wouldn’t have left my doors unlocked on a busy downtown street or my windows open on a day with a 50 percent chance of rain (but I digress).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this issue of his book Blue Beetle is picking up the broken pieces of his Chicago business literally one dustpan scoopful at a time. Last issue The Madmen (five or so really cool psychedelically painted creeper want-a-bes) were hired by this issue’s villain Dr. Alchemy to trash the building. This diversion allowed Dr. A to swipe a bit of a material called Promethium that he needed to recharge the element rearranging stone that he uses as a weapon. With his stone repowered Alchemy proceeds to reign colorful havoc on the inanimate objects in Kord’s possession. Starting with turning a concrete floor to paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the Beetle is just hanging around Alchemy makes his escape by “transforming a steel worktable into a polymer shell filled with pure helium.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very inventive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the pages that fallow the story bogs down under the weight Ted Kord’s foreshadowed personal life. We sit through the inner thoughts of a kleptomaniac secretary who looks a lot like a hipper Velma of Scooby Doo fame. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ted’s run in with detective who likes to barge into offices and bask in the nourish shadows of Venetian blinds while accusing the innocent of heinous rockslide killings of golden age superheroes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panel upon panel of a jovial Al “the weatherman” Roker look-a-like who gets sucker punched in the Kord parking lot and tied up for seemingly no other reason than well, he looks a lot like Al Roker.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary Jane Watson then makes an appearance to tell Ted that she thinks that he is quite the “tiger”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last and least we get a page of side story featuring a nameless man searching a beach on a remote island for the body of Dan Garrett (the first Blue Beetle). He was contently picking up broken up bits of boat, turning them over and putting them back down again until he heard a beeping noise coming from a cave. In this cave, unbeknown to the nameless man, is a red killer robot who is awaking…BAUM BAUM BAUM! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will Velma steal next? Will Ted be placed in the pokey for the murder of Beetle  #1? Will Al Roker’s witty banter win over the dudes that keep socking him in the eye? Why is MJ dating Ted Kord? Will Peter Parker find out? Where is the body of the original Beetle? Did Velma steal it? What tropical robotic evil lies in wait? With the way that side plots in this book are hinted at and tossed around, seemingly only those who have purchased BB issues one through twenty-four can possibly know the answers to the above questions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I read another Beetle issue written by Len Wein? Only if it turned out that Shaggy was really one of The Madmen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I for one haven’t seen them together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writer Len Wein&lt;br /&gt;I use this issue as proof that he is the best Spider-Man scripter on DC’s staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Artist Paris Cullins&lt;br /&gt;Decent art. Nothing amazing nothing spectacular.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112540639510872552?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112540639510872552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112540639510872552' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112540639510872552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112540639510872552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/these-are-days-of-ted-kords-life.html' title='These are the days of Ted Kord’s life'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112532007964055272</id><published>2005-08-29T07:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T07:56:08.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The times they are a changin’</title><content type='html'>Wow the last month has been unexpectedly busy. Vacations, household reorganization, yard work, freelance work and work work have all caused me to spend what free time that I find decompressing instead of posting to my blog. This changes this week. Beginning this week I promise, nay I guarantee, a new post will be added to my blog every Tuesday and Thursday. From now until the end of time (or until the end of free blogging) a visitor to the site will be able to set a watch to my postings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112532007964055272?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112532007964055272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112532007964055272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112532007964055272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112532007964055272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/times-they-are-changin.html' title='The times they are a changin’'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112440481409629143</id><published>2005-08-18T16:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T18:06:22.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comic trends better left forgotten: Incomprehensible Teenage Pseudo Slang</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Using slang can be a lot of damn fun. I defy you to call your pet or child an ankle-biter or tell your significant other that you want head to the car to play some back seat bingo and not have a smile on your face. Thinking of new and interesting ways to say things, in my humble opinion, makes a conversation (or blog posting in this case) a bit funnier and a bit more descriptive. But slang can defiantly muddy the waters of discussion if the person on the receiving end has absolutely no clue what the hell a person is talking about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see this in practice we turn to Doom Patrol (vol.2) #4. In this issue we get introduced to a new (and I’m guessing hip) teenaged girl superhero named (I cringe as I type this) Lodestone. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She is strong, can fly and will load stones into the back of your truck like nobody’s business.&lt;/span&gt; All of this is well and good but it’s her constant spouting of slang that really bothers me. But don’t take my word for it let her tell you herself.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Man! Ten years learning acrobatics with The Carney and this dweez nails me first time off the bat!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Carney? Is that Art Carney the actor that she is talking about or the guy who runs the Tilt-A-Whirl? &lt;/span&gt;Dweez? Must be an update of the slang word dweeb with a Z added to the end to make it zip. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I’ll wrap it up fast with a shot of electromagnetic power right to his labonza!”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Labonza? I have no clue, I really don’t but here is the image anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/load.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/load.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For another dose of head scratching dialog we now head to Green Arrow (vol.2) #3. In this issue we meet Mia a street urchin with a heart of gold and a head filled with obscure pop-culture references. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;“You keep your voice down—or at least go for something throatier when you’re all sprouted-out.”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think I get this one. Green Arrow wears green (duh!) and so does the Jolly Green Giant’s little friend Sprout (man I feel old). &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It’s either that or a veiled drug reference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“It’s like he’s out of another time, or something. He sounds like a guy on an old TV show like ‘CHiPS. What up with that?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;How does one sound like CHiPS? Did Ponch have a catch phrase that I have forgotten about? “Hmmm, I might have to look that up, hold on a second.” (a computer modem starts in the background along with some keys clicking on a keyboard) “Nope no catch phrases to be found although &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ponch would do a wink/ tongue click/ fingers held like a gun, combo whenever he saw a foxy chick.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/point.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/point.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this what Ollie put you through Mia? Why that lecherous old man is all &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sprouted-out!&lt;/span&gt; You should tell &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Carney&lt;/span&gt; so that he can hit him in the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Labonza!&lt;/span&gt; What up with that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dweez? What up with that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112440481409629143?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112440481409629143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112440481409629143' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112440481409629143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112440481409629143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/comic-trends-better-left-forgotten_18.html' title='Comic trends better left forgotten: Incomprehensible Teenage Pseudo Slang'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112439097935824061</id><published>2005-08-18T13:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T17:52:25.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comic trends better left forgotten: Villainous Techno Dreads</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Each era is afflicted with its own bad hair style. In the 50s the crew cut was the way to visually say “I wear a hat mostly.” In the 60s the bee hive hairdo was well, the bee’s knees. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;In the 80s, which gave us two new dos, the Mohawk was “rad” while the mullet was just flat out bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; The 90s, on the other hand, forced upon us arguably the worst of the lot. The 90s gave us Villainous Techno Dreads.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;A warning for those who are faint prone or have weak hearts, what you will see below will not be pretty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/mojo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/mojo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh ironically named Mojo, the ladies will not love you with that hair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/worm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/worm.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Keith Giffen you were funny to be sure but why the five story arc starring a man who has metallic earthworms stuck to his head?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/spring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/spring.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hey crazy Frankenstein Elseworlds guy why the springs? Couldn’t you be content in the fact that you were a patchwork abomination to nature? Did you really need to look like a demented mattress salesman as well?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I miss the days when a villain truly had villainous hair. Take Medusa for example, not only did she have snakes on her head, which could leave quite a mark, but she could also turn you to stone if you looked at her for too long. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt;You could run screaming like a little girl from a nasty piece of work like Medusa and still keep your dignity intact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; It would, however, be extremely hard to sprint, with any terror what-so-ever, away from a man who looks as if he could at any moment ask you if you would like to take a hit from his bong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112439097935824061?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112439097935824061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112439097935824061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112439097935824061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112439097935824061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/comic-trends-better-left-forgotten.html' title='Comic trends better left forgotten: Villainous Techno Dreads'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112428859478113607</id><published>2005-08-17T09:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T07:55:31.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comic books taught me that I was wrong. Comics showed me that penguins are EVIL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;" &gt;I used to live my life under the assumption that penguins were cute little creatures. I once even had the thought that, if plane tickets could be obtained, I might hop a flight to Antarctica and help some of the tuxedoed flightless birds migrate south for the winter. I dare say that the winter blahs would melt away (so to speak) if during my commute to work I could see the winter birds doing belly flops down the icy sidewalks of my adopted hometown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit that I have had limited exposure to penguins and have only seen them from about twenty feet away, behind glass and in a zoo. So I am hardly an expert, a fact that came to light recently while reading Justice League Annual #4. It was in this issue that I learned that if I had met one of those same contently frolicking birds outside of the glass, outside of the zoo (say in a frozen back ally somewhere) things would have been very different indeed. Things would have been EVIL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/pen_feet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/pen_feet.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HOLY SHIT, THOSE FUCKERS HAVE TEETH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;I was blown away. My world-view was crushed like a soda pop can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/pen_attack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/pen_attack.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sure there was other stuff that happened in the book, the Injustice League did try to pull a heist but ended up screwing that up by stopping terrorists which in turn caused them to be hailed as heroes causing them to be anointed as the Antarctica chapter of the Justice League after they decided to go legit because maybe it paid better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;But really, can anyone care about all of that when there are killer penguins on the loose?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/pen_building.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/pen_building.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;And to think that I almost unleashed that ravenous hoard on the bit sized pets and infirm old folks of my community.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; This winter breathe an icy sigh of relief, nondescript little Indiana college town, that this comic book found me before Delta’s "underpriced cold weather fares" circular did. Know that you were lucky that comic books taught me that I was wrong that penguins are indeed EVIL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/pen_closeup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/pen_closeup.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eeep indeed!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112428859478113607?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112428859478113607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112428859478113607' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112428859478113607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112428859478113607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/comic-books-taught-me-that-i-was-wrong.html' title='Comic books taught me that I was wrong. Comics showed me that penguins are EVIL!'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112370954507026809</id><published>2005-08-10T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T07:55:28.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In the architecture of Venice there lies a menace</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/ddcov2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/ddcov2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The best thing about Denny O’Neil’s stint writing Daredevil is the art.&lt;/span&gt; Denny’s stories are so goofy, so head scratchingly huh, that it gives his artist free reign to create some wonderful backgrounds that they, when pared with another writer, (ones that oh say like to keep Daredevil in Hell’s Kitchen where he belongs) would never give them the opportunity to create. Daredevil #221 is a good example of this for in this issue double D finds himself in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Venice&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;. Why &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Venice&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;? Well…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;…the latest victim of Matt Murdock’s affection (Heather something) has committed suicide. The reason for her death, or her last name for that matter, is never revealed. What is revealed is that on the night of her death and while she is still swinging from a rope, her mansion’s safe is broken into and important documents are stolen. These documents, handed down from her industrialist father, turn out to be priceless patents. Daredevil learns that an Italian gang of neo-fascists known as the Council of Ten plans to use the possession of these papers to finance the overthrow of the Italian government. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Now I am no patent attorney but&lt;/span&gt; I’m pretty sure that the United States Patent and Trademark Office would have quite a bit of say in who receives royalties from said piece of paper. Otherwise what would stop me (besides the alarm system and blood thirsty guard dogs that is) from sneaking into Lee Iacocca’s bedroom, tickling his nose, causing him to talk in his sleep, learning the combination to his safe, opening the safe, pulling out the papers and yelling while holding them aloft. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Ha-ha Big Three, starting today you owe me big time! For today I have in my possession the patents for power door locks! Pay up suckers!”&lt;/span&gt; Possession is not nine-tenths of the law Daredevil; you’re a lawyer you should know better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Daredevil, throwing his diploma to the wind, decides that he must take a flight to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Venice&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; to rest the documents back. Touching down on Italian soil Matt decides to survey the area. It is here in the story that the art (by David Mazzucchelli, a favorite) starts to get really good. We get to see a stunning drawing of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/bridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/bridge.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;...gondolas with the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;Rialto&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Bridge&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in the background…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/boat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/boat.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;…neat Venetian architecture…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/swipe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/swipe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;…and a robotic suit of armor looking to turn Daredevil into a shish-ka-bob. What the…???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Taking a stab at keeping Daredevil at bay the suit of armor takes a lunge at him. It charges with too much force, however, and ends up getting a closer look at sidewalk below. Once inside the very nifty building Daredevil discovers an ornate chapel, a cage and a trap door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/church.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/church.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling through the tiled looking glass, Daredevil finds himself in a pit filled with pointy spears below him. Above he finds a stand-in James Bond villain dressed for Carnival who mocks him, tells him of evil plans and then seals him in the wall a-la &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Cask of the Amontillado.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Poe would be proud.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Daredevil, never one to accept his fate easily digs through the floor of his cell to find himself trapped in another cell one floor below. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hmm that didn’t get us far now did it?&lt;/span&gt; But Daredevil has yet to give up so he whips off his costume’s shirt (to give the ladies their 65 cents worth) and proceeds to knock out multiple centuries old stone from the centuries old stone wall. This sets the devil free into the yucky sewage filled dampness of the canal outside. This also begins the process of the historical building falling in and around the villain’s head. The villain dies; the house is ruined; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the Travelocity Roaming Gnome cries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Writer:&lt;/span&gt; Denny O’Neil&lt;br /&gt;Another globe trotting adventure from the man who likes his heroes to be interchangeable.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Artist:&lt;/span&gt; David Mazzucchelli&lt;br /&gt;More fine work from David. Very spooky, ornate and cool.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112370954507026809?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112370954507026809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112370954507026809' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112370954507026809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112370954507026809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/in-architecture-of-venice-there-lies.html' title='In the architecture of Venice there lies a menace'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112316323570447848</id><published>2005-08-04T07:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T16:58:59.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Marvel Comic could be worth $2,500 to you!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/capcov.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/capcov.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It isn’t…but the art is priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;John Byrne’s art kicks butt.&lt;/span&gt; Actually that is an understatement, John Byrne’s art rears back, puts the point of its shoe firmly on the butt and then kicks it with enough force so as to launch it over the goalposts for a sixty-yard field goal. That’s it. Really I could end the review right there. While I can’t attest to his writing skill (although it seems ok) or his personality (which from what I read leaves a little to be desired) his art is simply amazing and raises every project that he works on to epic proportions. For instance take a look at this splash page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/splash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/splash.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That page tells you everything you need to know. A dragon man is about to crush Captain America. How does it feel Captain? Judging by the look on his face it hurts real bad. Couldn’t he just whack the dragon with his indestructible shield? Nope it is way out of reach stuck in some rubble. Why is the dragon man doing this? Well it could be that the metal ball circling his head is controlling him.&lt;/span&gt;  One could do this throughout the whole book. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The art is so good at moving the narrative that you wouldn’t even have to read the words to have a complete dramatic story.&lt;/span&gt; For an example below are the next two pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/battle1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/battle1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;See what did I tell ya, that is just cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The story involves an inventor of robots that uses them to make life miserable for Cap. A small ball shaped robot (which emits high pitched electronic beeps) drives Dragon Man (which is quite a neat looking creature) into such a frenzy that he goes on a rampage throughout the city. The goal it seems is to get Captain America involved in the fray so that Dragon Man can squish him to dough. Cap, however, has other plans and smashes the beeping ball, which calms the dragon for a time. The dragon then remembers where the evil man who made the metal ball lives and begins fly back there so as to&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; tromp him silly.&lt;/span&gt; Cap tries to fallow but is having a hard time of it so he lassos the dragon with an available clothesline that he swipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/clothesline.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/clothesline.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somewhere a man has lost his favorite sweater.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cap rides the beast to a barn on a plot of farmland. Dragon man opens the door and Cap fallows him inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/barn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/barn.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside the dragon comes across the man who sent the beeping ball to pester him. The man named Machinesmith, who has a goatee like Ras Al-Gul and a haircut like Lex Luthor, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;welcomes the beast into his home by shocking it to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/shock.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/shock.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cap says hello by creating his iconic star symbol in a flurry of speed-lines and sound effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/star.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/star.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Try doing that Flash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Machinesmith says, “Ha-Ha, foolish human, I am a robot!” and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;his head promptly falls off.&lt;/span&gt; The head then rolls around on the ground and mocks the Captain. Then another Machinesmith appears and distracts Cap long enough for a robotic Thing (copyright mark) to take a swing at his shield. Captain America then fights a slew of Marvel characters, in differing states of mechanical disrepair. After a gratuitous amount of super soldier on robot action the Machinesmith beats feet down a darkened corridor; Cap catches up to him and makes him say uncle. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Besides saying mercy, uncle and “No! Not the purple nurple!”&lt;/span&gt; he also reveals part of his origin.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Robot who would become Mr. Smith began life as doomed run-of-the-mill costumed villain who put more time in creating his super-gadgets than he did field testing them. As a result, when the hero that he is chasing jumps on the hover-platform that he is riding high above the city, it becomes unbalanced and bucks the would-be supper villain onto the street below. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sure to die a mangled and painful high velocity death,&lt;/span&gt; Smith pulls the ace out of the sleeve that is now well below his ankle. That ace is a cult-like multitude of minion robots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; All of his robots, some of whom resemble men, work to put Machinesmith back together again.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back from our flashback the Machinesmith that Cap has tackled has its head fall off. A new Machinesmith appears and distracts Cap long enough for disembodied robotic hands to pummel the surprised Captain. While Captain America is busy shaking hands Machinesmith has time to continue his story.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When the helpful robots put him back together they went with what they knew and reassembled him as a machine. Newly formed and with a lot of time on his now metalic hands he creates more robots to sell to other villains as well as more that look just like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/smiths.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/smiths.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somebody is a bit of an egomaniac.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While fighting the Machinesmiths Captain America figures out that the wall-mounted computer bank is controlling them so he smashes it. To Cap’s surprise the computer bank tells him that it is the real Machinesmith and that the elaborate fights and Dragon Man run-ins were all an effort to get Cap to destroy him. Mission accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Writer:&lt;/span&gt; Rodger Stern&lt;br /&gt;Writing Captain &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;America&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; the way he should be; fighting robots and lovin’ it.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Artist:&lt;/span&gt; John Byrne&lt;br /&gt;Byrne-ing the &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="0"&gt;midnight&lt;/st1:time&gt; oil to create great art as per usual.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112316323570447848?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112316323570447848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112316323570447848' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112316323570447848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112316323570447848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/this-marvel-comic-could-be-worth-2500.html' title='This Marvel Comic could be worth $2,500 to you!'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112307602627430032</id><published>2005-08-03T08:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T17:06:14.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>“Daredevil, squeal like a pig, BOY!”</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/ddcov.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/ddcov.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The story starts promisingly enough. We join this comic, already in progress, on a highjacked commercial airliner where a man with a gun demands that the plane land. He wishes this Air Lingus (sounds pretty kinky) flight originally bound for Kennedy airport to instead land at a small airfield in New Jersey. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The gunman, as drawn here, bares a strong resemblance to the actor Tim Roth in his role as Mr. Orange in the movie Reservoir Dogs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/roth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/roth.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Another passenger, herself no fan of Tarantino’s work, tires of the incessant dialog and uber-violent gun play and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;decides to end this standoff kamikaze hand slap style.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/slap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/slap.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;But wouldn’t you know it her hysterics/ heroics only succeed in causing the highjacker to fire his gun into a conveniently placed, illegally smuggled and covertly boxed canister of NOXIOUS GAS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/pilots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/pilots.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;If only the story could end here. If it did we could rise up from or office chairs, rub our computer screen wary eyes and head to the water fountain/ water cooler/ coffee machine/ black tar heroin freebase closet, with a nice little conundrum playing in our minds. Will everyone in the plane be alright? Will the plane land safely? What type of gas escaped? Will Daredevil save the day? Instead we are treated to…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;…&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Deliverance Swamp!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;font&gt;Brother Drawley isn’t much of a ladies man, as one only has to take a look at the photo for his online personal ad to see why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/drawley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/drawley.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This all changes, however, when a plane crash-lands in his swamp. For with the aid of two other men plus the gun-toting highjacker (all related), &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tonight Brother Drawley is getting married.&lt;/span&gt; The object of his affection (she of the airborne karate-chop) is defiantly not enjoying her wedding day. Not only is she marrying a male model for paper bags but after the make-shift preacher pronounces them man and wife she gets treated to a honeymoon night on a straw mattress in the middle of the creepy swamp filled woods. If that weren’t bad enough, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;instead of receiving useful wedding gifts such as a pickle fork or a set of butter tongs&lt;/span&gt; the highjacker promises her a bullet in the brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Daredevil seems to be in this story only to make this a “Daredevil story” that and to get caught by the leg in a rope trap. Black Widow who is tagging along as Daredevil’s sidekick seems to be in this story for no other reason than to fall into quicksand (in a swamp? in New Jersey?). In their conversations they mostly repeat variations on the theme “We being city folk are way out of place here in this swamp.” To himself Daredevil mostly reminisces that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he and the Widow used to be in love (it’s a good thing that her husband is out of the way then).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Back at the Love Shack, the kidnapping brothers have found Ma’s old wedding dress in hopes of setting the occasion right. Everyone has a role, the brother that looks like Radar from M.A.S.H will be the minister. The brother that looks like the late Robert Stack (host of Unsolved Mysteries) will be the best man and the aforementioned brother that looks like Tim Roth will play the shotgun loving father of the bride. The only person then it seems without a role in this sick play is the old man who had the gas on the plane (he somehow survived the wreck and was for some reason also kidnapped). This is remedied, however, when the old man volunteers to handout h'orderves, the kidnappers agree that this is a sensible request and untie him. This turns out to be a mistake for as right before the last I Do is about to be said &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he whips out a fresh can of fear gas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/gift.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/gift.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The can gets opened, the wedding gets ruined and Daredevil almost gets stabbed by the bride, who is by now all hoped-up on the fear juice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/fear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/fear.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Those kids today and their fancy designer drugs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The story ends when the old man, who is running through the woods to avoid capture, trips, falls and breaks open one of his canisters. Fearing that he is going to have a massive heart attack by ingesting so much gas he promptly has a heart attack without ingesting any gas. It turns out that he had only broken open the canister that was shot on the plane. The canister that by this time was already empty. D’Oh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Writer:&lt;/span&gt; Denny O’Neil&lt;br /&gt;Goofiness from the Den.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Artist:&lt;/span&gt; David Mazzucchelli&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70’s psychedelic horror sheik.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112307602627430032?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112307602627430032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112307602627430032' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112307602627430032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112307602627430032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/08/daredevil-squeal-like-pig-boy.html' title='“Daredevil, squeal like a pig, BOY!”'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112286245845980289</id><published>2005-07-31T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T08:09:02.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s all over for the Unknown Soldier</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/unknown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/unknown.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Unknown Soldier has nothing to do with Jim Morrison, radioactivity or spooky swamps, it was however a 4 issue mini series written by Garth Ennis that DC put out in ’97 under its Vertigo imprint. Of the four issues I have only the first one, which is a pretty good place to start…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;…the story of the Unknown Soldier is one of espionage and intrigue. Rendered faceless in WWII by shrapnel (or fire) this CIA agent becomes the ultimate spy one who can assume any identity and is known only through whispers and shadows. In the modern day CIA field agent &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;William Clyde is getting a butt chewing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(ewwwww!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; by his supervisors for not shooting a couple of ten years old who accidentally witness a covert mission in Central America. Thinking that he is too soft for his job and vowing never to promote him, his superiors decide to show him what’s what by giving him a dead end of an assignment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A list of names appears on his desk of people with supposed links to a money front for a terrorist group calling themselves California First. The first name on the list that Clyde investigates brings him to a man living in a retirement community who has no ties what so ever to terrorists but he does have a story to tell. A story about a man with no face who rode into Dachau camps in a general’s jeep. A man who upon seeing the aftermath of German death that was visited upon helpless Poles snapped and grabbed a soldier’s machine gun to hand down a bit of death of his own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/2p.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/2p.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Unknown Soldier’s retribution ends only when one of his own comrades brings the butt of his gun down on his head. The flashback ends and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clyde basically thanks the old timer for the story and then goes on about his work.&lt;/span&gt; He thinks nothing more about it until he sees on the evening news that an “accidental” fire swept through the nursing home killing the man that he had recently talked with. Things get deadlier still when later that night a coworker of Clyde’s comes over to his apartment to invite him to a party. Clyde is in the kitchen fixing coffee for the two of them &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when a sniper’s bullet enters the kitchen window, a coffee mug and something else&lt;/span&gt; (BAUM BAUM BAUM).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Quite the cliffhanger 'ey? I have to say that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this is my first exposure to Garth Ennis &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(ewwwww!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I found this story of his to be quite an engaging read (the art does go a bit overboard on the facial wrinkles though). So how does this all turn out? Does Clyde die from the sniper’s bullet? Was the sniper sent to make sure that the Unknown Soldier’s killing of German prisoners remains a secret? Did the Soldier himself pull the trigger and are Clyde’s superiors in on it? The world may never know. Actually the world probably already knows the end of this story but I won’t unless I purchase the remaining issues. This I feel duty bound to do for the fate of Comic Book America may depend on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112286245845980289?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112286245845980289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112286245845980289' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286245845980289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286245845980289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/its-all-over-for-unknown-soldier.html' title='It’s all over for the Unknown Soldier'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112286242333523506</id><published>2005-07-31T21:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T10:06:56.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Horse wins a cookie. Predator shoots it with a laser.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/cookie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/cookie.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In the cover above, this 1991 Dark Horse Comics has a Proclamation to make. Under their logo is a small box of text &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;surrounding what suspiciously looks like the bastard lovechild of the Hulk and the Thing,&lt;/span&gt; the text reads “Dark Horse Comics, 5 years of Excellence!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;“Five years? Wow that’s really amazing”, I say while picking up the phone at the end of the desk and dialing a number. “Hello DC editorial, yes I was wanting to know how long you have been in business…hmmm really? Okay thank you.” Hanging up the phone I jot some numbers down on a blank piece of paper and dial another number. “Hello Marvel editorial...(talking continues in the background)…no, thank you.” Doing some math I come up with a total. National Comics changed its name to DC Comics in 1937. Timely Publications changed its name to Marvel Comics in 1939. So as of 1991 when these issues of Predator Cold War came out DC had been in business 54 years and Marvel for 52 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Five years though is still pretty impressive Dark Horse so I award you with…a cookie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112286242333523506?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112286242333523506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112286242333523506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286242333523506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286242333523506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/dark-horse-wins-cookie-predator-shoots.html' title='Dark Horse wins a cookie. Predator shoots it with a laser.'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112286152651950450</id><published>2005-07-31T20:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T10:09:56.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kobra Kaused Sssandstorm that Ssswallowed Metropolisss!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/kroba_clarkssm1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/kroba_clarkssm1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;" &gt;As an homage to the Kobra Week festivities that Dave is putting on over at &lt;a href="http://daveslongbox.blogspot.com/"&gt;Dave’s Long Box&lt;/a&gt; I thought that I would post a review of a Superman/ Kobra story I found lurking koiled in the dark ssshadows of my collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Clark Kent is having a bad day. He returns from a long day of spell checking and typo correction (damn you Perry!) only to be snuck-up upon while unlocking his apartment door by the evil supper villain Kobra. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kobra? Hey isn’t that spelled with a C?&lt;/span&gt; See that’s just how evil he is. He’ll spell a word any darn way he sssees fit. Once inside the 70’s bachelor sheik of Clark’s apartment, Kobra explains that he has come for the time teleportational gun that was stolen from him in a previous encounter. Cleverly Kobra had placed a homing device inside the gun that led him to Clark’s apartment. Also cleverly Kobra and his henchmen had arrived before Clark had gotten off of work (it pays to be an unemployed cult leader). While ransacking the joint not only does he discover the teleportational thingy in the underwear drawer next to the porn but he also finds extra Super-Suits hanging up in the closet. Thus &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kobra knows that Clark Kent and Superman are the same man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/suit_rip1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/suit_rip1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Interrupting a villain while monologing is never a good idea but Superman pays no heed to conventional wisdom. He decides to knock the gun out of Kroba’s hand with his Super-Breath only to find himself &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wrapped up in a really cool snake tongue lasso that comes out of Kroba’s hand.&lt;/span&gt; A nifty battle then ensues.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/battle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/battle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;After Kobra leaves and the fight is over, a neighbor knocks on the door thinking he heard a ruckus. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clark asks the neighbor if he can describe the ruckus&lt;/span&gt; but instead of getting to play tonsil hockey with the dishy Molly Ringwald as the credits roll he ends up getting dissed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/friend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/friend.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Clark you need better friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Lost in thought Clark recalls bringing up Kobra’s name in Batman’s presence and how &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Batman almost pisses himself in fear.&lt;/span&gt; Clark can’t help but to be a bit terrified himself.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/flashback.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/flashback.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;The next day at work Clark is ego-tripin’ watching news footage of Superman trying to catch a falling/ exploding plane filled with toxin gas (this info becomes important later). Lois decides that there is a bit too much hot air in the room and opens a window. Tons of sand instantly fills the room, spurring Superman into action. Outside Superman finds the cause of the sudden sandstorm to be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Korba and his giant metal SSSand SSSpitter of Doom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/sand_spitter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/sand_spitter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Superman makes a move to stop this nefarious plan when Korba pulls the ace from his scaly sleeve. It seems that Korba, that man of all seasons, that charmer of snakes and the ladies (oooooh Baby!), has gone back in time and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;kidnapped Ma and Pa Kent!!!&lt;/span&gt; He tells Superman that he will release them only if he does each and every thing that pops into his Kobra shaped head. First on the list of chores is cleaning up the sand mess that Korba himself had just made. Muttering under his Super-Breath Superman concedes and heads to the local junkyard to construct &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;really large vacuum cleaner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/vacuum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/vacuum.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;With his first trip back with sand, Sups discovers that the Kobra’s giant metal device was created to filter the toxin gas particles that had recently settled over the city (remember the exploding plane?) away from the sand particles. On his second trip back &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Superman replaces the real Ma and Pa Kent with figurines that he sculpted&lt;/span&gt; (does his talent know no bounds?), Super-Heats sand to blowup the machine and then proceeds to get beaten (again) in a fight with Kobra. Meanwhile Ma and Pa are safe. Meanwhile Kobra still knows his secret identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s recap. In two days of battle Kobra learns Superman’s secret, makes Batman knees knock in fear, covers the city in sand, kidnaps Clark’s parents, makes him his bitch, beats him twice in battle using over eight different snake themed weapons, and disappears without a trace. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kobra, Darkseid has nothing on you. You truly are a bad assss!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112286152651950450?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112286152651950450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112286152651950450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286152651950450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112286152651950450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/kobra-kaused-sssandstorm-that.html' title='The Kobra Kaused Sssandstorm that Ssswallowed Metropolisss!'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112265672173573734</id><published>2005-07-29T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:53:25.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass me the rock, I’m in the Zone!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/dcp.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/dcp.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Life is hard for the criminals of Krypton. Not only do they toil all day to make small boulders out of larger ones while singing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Swing Low, Sweet Chariot&lt;/span&gt; but they also have to contend with their cell being a limbo world in which not even their souls can escape after their bodies have died, talk about your cruel and unusual punishments. “Warden I’d like to call my lawyer, like now!” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In this story, that requires a black magic spooky word reference guide as well as every issue of Action Comics that even briefly mentions the Phantom Zone to decode, the criminals of the Zone try to escape. General Zod (who is imprisoned for trying to make himself dictator of Krypton) discovers that he and his other Zone comrades can manifest themselves into the subconscious of any person in a weakened mental state and control them. They are able to put this to use when Jor-El (Superman’s father and creator of the Phantom Zone) or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the Author of this story (more likely) is afflicted with a fever dream.&lt;/span&gt; With the aid of his sickness they are almost to the point of having Jor-El press the button on the device meant to return them to the tangible world when Jor-El’s wife awakes, sprints across the floor and slaps her husband silly to break their control.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/slap.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/slap.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Not one to be easily deterred, Zod moves to Plan B. In this scheme Zod tricks a mystic with a melted face and an affinity for Viking hats, to trick Mr. Mxyzptlk (after enhancing his prankster powers) into distracting Superman and sacrificing himself in order to free them. The now freed convicts then imprison the mystic and Mxyzptlk in the Zone, fly to Earth, rip it a new one, fight and beat Superman only to be rejailed &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;by a now all powerful Mxyzptlk who decides to torture them for awhile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Not very exciting in and of itself but there are a few detours the story takes that are actually quite fun. For instance at one point the story meanders to bizarro world and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;we get to see Bizarro #1 send his son to the center of their cube world before it implodes&lt;/span&gt; so that he can die first.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/biz_lrg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/biz_lrg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Also shown is a funny courtroom rant by Mr. Mxyzptlk who speaks for divorced husbands in custody battles everywhere when he says, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Look at ‘er—she’s a Drxbngle! Boring! Stupid! All she’s got is a nice body! You’re sentencin’ my kid to intellectual oblivion!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/mzy_lrg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/mzy_lrg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112265672173573734?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112265672173573734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112265672173573734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112265672173573734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112265672173573734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/pass-me-rock-im-in-zone.html' title='Pass me the rock, I’m in the Zone!'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112257097828490453</id><published>2005-07-28T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T13:10:16.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>“I’m a star, a big bright burning star!”</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/batcover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/batcover.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we last left Dr. Phosphorus he was stewing in his own juices (a fitting punishment to be sure) inside the belly of an offshore nuclear reactor. Is this the last of our favorite see-through radioactive man? Nope, he's back (and this time he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;swears&lt;/span&gt; he's gonna change baby) but before all that let’s touch briefly on his origin.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;As we learn in the latter pages of DC #469, Dr. Phosphorus’s began life as Dr. Alexander Sartorius a well-to-do medical doctor who although has his own practice, a penthouse in a very desirable part of town, fast cars, faster women and pencil thin moustache that would make Vincent Price very envious, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he wants more; he wants POWER!&lt;/span&gt; Behind the scenes backroom political power actually and to achieve it he joins Boss Rupert Thorne’s super secret shadow society The Tobacconists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As far as secret evil political group names go The Tobacconists is pretty lame. The Free Masons now that’s subversive, I can easy imagine them unlocking the jail cells of imprisoned stone cutters. The Skulls, that name is all about spooky flair, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the thought that both John Kerry and George Bush Jr. were running around in dime-store skeleton costumes, sacrificing kittens and drinking their blood and were still able to attain high public office gives me goose bumps.&lt;/span&gt; The name The Tobacconists on the other hand makes me think of scientists studying tobacco, that or a team of Golden Age chain-smoking supper heroes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;Boss Thorne, who is a member of the city council and thus has a bit of pull in city government, convinces Sartorius that he should invest in Thorne’s new nuclear power plant. Sartorius takes the advice, invests his money and is greatly dismayed when things start to go wrong. Boss Thorne it seems didn’t have quite as much power as he thought for when protests begin the other council members get cold feet and change the proposed on-shore power plant to an offshore power plant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dr. Phoshorus hates protesters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;With the plant being moved offshore costs to build it go up and Thorne decides to cut some corners on craftsmanship. Sartorius is onsite to oversee construction when the reactor goes online and the core cracks. The soon to be Dr. Phosphorus seeks cover behind a partial wall of sandbags only to be pelted with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Five million slivers of red-hot sand driven through my body!”&lt;/span&gt; Ouch. Below Dr. Phosphorus describes the fuzzy science of his creation.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/sand.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/sand.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p  style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dr. Phosphorus hates Thorne.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;Dr. Phosphorus, however, hates nothing more than being inside of a radioactive goo machine so he splits leaving behind glowing footprints for Batman to follow to shore. Taking the Bat-Boat &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Batman arrives at the Gotham pier in time to be shrouded in fog and shot at by the tenth rookie cop this year.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/shot.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/shot.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;After giving the rookie the evil-eye Batman meets with Gordon and learns that Dr. P has melted a hole through Arkham Asylum’s outer wall in order to meet with Rupert Thorne, who has for some reason gone criminally insane since we last saw him (Scarecrow I’m looking at you). Being a villainous good sport Dr. P waits for Batman to arrive before he runs off (at newly developed super speed???) spouting cryptic third-person talk.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/rant.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/rant.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;A pretty funny scene takes place shortly after when Batman asks Thorne what he and Phosphorus were talking about.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/madmen.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/madmen.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;Thorne also mentions something about a protest rally against the power plant that is being held that night. Batman decides to attend in full Bat-Gear and the sight of him milling about in the crowd in cape and ears is pretty humorous as well.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/milling.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/milling.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;The featured speaker at the rally happens to be none other than Barbara Gordon in her oft-times intentionally forgotten stint as a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Washington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;DC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; congress woman who doesn’t tow the party line. After her speech Bats and Barb talk, he tells her that Dr. P might show up and she tells he that the only thing that could ruin the rally would be the rain in the night’s weather forecast. He goes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" &gt;“Ah Ha! Reign? Rain! I must get to the airport!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; She scratches her head and goes “ooooo…kay?” changes into her crime fighting duds and hops on her Bat-Bike to follow.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;At the airport Phosphorus, somehow knowing how to fly a plane and somehow not burning through the seat of said plane, is about to take off when Batman rams him. This tares the wing off of the aircraft and flips the Bat-Mobile injuring Batman and leaving an unscathed Dr. Phosphorus very irritated with only an unprepared Batgirl left to challenge him. Batgirl jumps around a lot, runs over Dr. P with her motorcycle and then pulls the lead lined Bat-Cape off of Batman and hogties Dr. P with it. The end.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;It is unclear how Dr. Phosphorus hoped to make people ill this time. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Was he going to open the cockpit glass while his plane was doing upwards of 400 mph so that he could spit radioactive loogies at the unsuspecting crowd gathered below?&lt;/span&gt; To call his plan badly thought out is being generous. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112257097828490453?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112257097828490453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112257097828490453' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112257097828490453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112257097828490453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/im-star-big-bright-burning-star.html' title='“I’m a star, a big bright burning star!”'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112250322098854091</id><published>2005-07-27T17:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:36:58.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alfred is clumsy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/covers1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/covers.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…he falls like he has stepped on a banana peel, slap-stick style his feet fly up in the air and he lands head first on the floor, dropping a tray of food meant for Bruce Wayne’s mouth. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bruce Wayne is not amused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/tray.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/tray.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Coming to the aid of his fallen butler, Batman discovers that Alfred is comatose. He calls for an ambulance only to be told that are none to spare due to an epidemic that is quickly sweeping &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Gotham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;. He races Alfred to the Bat-Moble and hits the gas. Some moments later he arrives at the entrance to the ER dressed in his Bruce Wayne attire and carries poor stricken Alfred across the threshold to help. In the halls of the hospital Bruce, now dressed as The Batman, runs into Commissioner Gordon who hands him a note that a new whack-job had just sent into the police station.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/note1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/note.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Back at the Bat-Apartment (during writer Steve Englehart’s stint on the Bat-Books Bruce Wayne lives in a Penthouse in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Wayne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Tower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; and has a secret elevator that takes him to the Bat-Cave which is below the Tower in an abandoned subway tunnel) Batman paces the floor, checks behind cupboards and looks under rocks all to no avail. With head hung low our hero looks defeated and reaches for a cold tall glass of water to refresh himself. He has his mouth open about to drink when he suddenly exclaims “of course!” He rushes to the hotline to let the Commissioner in on his discovery only to learn that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gordon too has partaken of that sweetest of nectars the city drinking water!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/phonecall1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/phonecall.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Batman arrives at the Gotham Reservoir in time to see a glowing half-naked man putting down his luffa sponge. It seems that Dr. Phosphorus a man made up completely of radioactive phosphorus was skinny dipping in the town’s water supply in order to have revenge and make the townsfolk sick. I wish I were kidding. but wait it gets better. He later appears at the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Gotham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;’s Spring Memorial Arena where a 70’s hair metal band is putting their inspired touch on Little Richard's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tutti Frutti&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/singers1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/singers.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;But before the lead singer can tell us about his gal named Daisy, who incidentally drives him a bit crazy, Dr. P highjacks the laser light show to tell the crowd &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Even now, I am amongst you…my poisonous fumes have entered your air-conditioning system! The arena is sealed! You have three minutes to live!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/laserlight1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/laserlight.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;At this point I have to ask is Dr. Phosphorus a villain or a hobo?&lt;/span&gt; One doesn’t exactly need to be a supper villain to pee in a pool, dookie up the joint by standing in front of an air-conditioner vent or lay a log on the courthouse lawn do they? Dr. Phosphorus you can melt steel with your bare hands, your touch can kill a man but instead you spend your time playing radioactive frat pranks. You sir have wasted your talent. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Batman shows up at the Arena in time to free the freaked out concert goers but not in time to catch stinky the radioactive streaker. Back at the cave Batman is trying on his new lead radiation proof underoos when he gets a tip from Chief O’Hara that the not so good doctor might be holed up at the city’s offshore nuclear power plant. In the final confrontation Dr. P and Batman are jumping from metal beam to metal beam above an open-top reactor core (must have seemed like a good idea at the time) when Dr. Phosphorus doesn’t quite make a jump. He catches a hold of a beam using his hands but burns straight through it and falls into the core. Thinking that the doctor is dead Batman utters the obvious&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gotham&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; will breathe easier tomorrow!”&lt;/span&gt; So breathe deep &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Gotham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; for tomorrow night you smell not radioactive armpit but the sweet clean odor of justice.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112250322098854091?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112250322098854091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112250322098854091' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112250322098854091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112250322098854091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/alfred-is-clumsy.html' title='Alfred is clumsy...'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112248174282837396</id><published>2005-07-27T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:45:11.206-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Born on a Monday…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:georgia;" &gt;…Solomon Grundy is a creature who was created when the body of a criminally revenge minded man by the name of Cyrus Gold was dumped into the chemically contaminated (and oft times literally named) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Slaughter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Swamp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;. The newly formed monstrous confection was roused into consciousness when fleeing bank robbers or escaped convicts (I forget which) shot at the horrific sight that they encounter. The next day (a Tuesday) the lumbering and agitated form walks into a hobo camp at a nearby rail yard wearing the tattered clothing of one of its attackers and mumbling the question &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" &gt;“What’s my name?”&lt;/span&gt; One of the vagrants recalling &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solomon_Grundy" target="_blank"&gt;an old nursery rhyme&lt;/a&gt; tells the creature that its name is Solomon Grundy which calms it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Solomon later encounters the first Green Lantern (Alan Scott), reencounters Green Lantern, tangles with the Justice Society of America, gets sent to the moon, rides a meteor back to Earth (don’t ask), tugs on Superman’s cape, spits into the wind, pulls the mask off the old Lone Ranger, messes around with Jim and ends up in Gotham City which brings us to…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/sol_cover1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/sol_cover.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;…the review. In Detective Comics 523 (written by Gerry Conway, Penciled by Gene Colan) a head scratching police force arrives at the scene of a break in at a women’s clothing store. They can tell pretty quickly that this is no ordinary robbery for besides stolen fur coats, metal racks are twisted impressively and litter the street. Also foul smelling mucky goo-prints cover the floor. Batman who happens to be in the neighborhood swoops down to investigate. Back at the Bat Cave, microscope in one hand and a smooshed and grimy mannequin head in the other, Batman discovers &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“signs of pseudo-life, a condition associated with only one creature that I’m aware of…(BAUM, BAUM, BAUM)…the thing called Solomon Grundy!”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Meanwhile in an abandoned asphalt factory, criminals gather around a fire and admire their loot while a monstrous and shadowy figure sits by itself in a corner admiring a bald mannequin with come hither eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/sol_doll.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/sol_doll.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;A word here about the art and story, both are excellent. Gerry Conway (he of Justice League Detroit infamy) puts together a really taught well paced story where Batman is a detective and Solomon Grundy is a sympathetic figure, whose rage comes from its confusion with the world around it, and who, due to its child-like naivety, is easily led astray by the illegal intents of those around him. Later in Infinity Inc. writer Roy Thomas would pare Solomon with a good influence (Alan Scott’s daughter Jade) to interesting effect. The art really sets a moody and tragic feel for the story and the panel break downs are expressive and cool.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Back once again at the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Bat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:placetype&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Cave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;, Batman is sipping tea and reviewing a tape sent by Superman of a recent confrontation between him and Solomon (a reference to &lt;a href="http://www.crashtestdummies.com/images/grundysm.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;Superman #320 on the cover of which&lt;/a&gt; a perplexed &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Superman ponders aloud “Great moons of Krypton! Solomon Grundy is stealing my cape! But--why?”&lt;/span&gt;) when, a report of a break-in at a toy store comes over the police scanner. Springing to action Batman arrives at the scene to find broken toys and the broken necks of the criminals responsible. Surveying the damage of the toy store with his Bat-light Batman unfortunately shines a Bat-beam into the Swamp eyes of one very irritable Solomon Grundy. Solomon then proceeds to remodel the place with Bat-blood. Remembering the earlier Superman video and bear attack pamphlets he read as a kid, Batman enacts a desperate plan and plays dead. Solomon who by this time is cold, bored and sees no point in playing with something broken, tromps back to the warmth of the newly vacant factory. Batman recovers and notices asphalt residue in Solomon’s footprint muck. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;At the factory Batman combats the monster by taunting it to rage. The tragic effect of which can be viewed below.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/sol_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/400/sol_3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Solomon as a character is an almost always interesting and fun read, and is sort of a cross between the Hulk (victim of circumstance born into a confusing world who is intensely strong and indestructible) and Swamp Thing (mimic life-force of the swamp borne, who can resurrect itself and feels no pain). Pitting Batman up against such foes like Grundy and Killer Croc, I think, shows just how human he truly is and illustrates why I enjoy reading his books a lot more than I do Superman’s. To avoid losing to a being of enormous strength and being smashed to jelly, Batman has to use his agility to avoid their crushing arms and use his intellect to turn their rage/ strength against them. Superman on the other hand merely has to remember that he is all powerful and that by punching them hard in the nose he can send them &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;flying to Venus&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112248174282837396?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112248174282837396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112248174282837396' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112248174282837396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112248174282837396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/born-on-monday.html' title='Born on a Monday…'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112207546427589977</id><published>2005-07-22T18:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T13:50:27.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Pet Peeve</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I was looking at a new (new to me anyway) comics store the other day to see if they had any discount bins. I’m a cheep, cheep man and nothing soothes my soul in quite the way that an under priced back issue can. In the store, in the back, wedged under a table, I noticed that I was in luck for they had three short boxes cram-packed full of 50 cent comics. But as I went to flip through the first stack I saw something that made my heart stop and my eyes grow wide in disbelief. This store had stuck price tags on the covers of their comics! I know, I couldn’t believe it either that’s why I had to scan this image to document &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this heinous crime!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/1600/offending_sticker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5842/1338/320/offending_sticker.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;From time to time I’ll be in a used bookstore that will have some old comics stuck in uncomfortable crates that they will have invariably placed price tags on. I chalk that up mostly to the store stock clerks not knowing any better. But in a well-lit, well-staffed comic book store, someone putting a gooey sticker on the cover of an item that gains value due to condition, I don’t understand it. I know that they don’t want to waste a glossy sleeve on a clearanced comic but what happened to the days of writing 50 cents in barely legible ink pen on the end of a box? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112207546427589977?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112207546427589977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112207546427589977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112207546427589977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112207546427589977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/pet-peeve.html' title='A Pet Peeve'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14696681.post-112197099534168704</id><published>2005-07-21T12:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T18:10:03.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why a blog?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I’ve been reading and enjoying various comic book blogs for a while and finally decided to give it a go. Seems like a good way to reminisce and rediscover my collection.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why Radioactive Swamp?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I have a fondness for spooky type horror comics of the 70’s, and in those comics it seems like every third creature or hero in this time period was either being dunked in a radioactive pit (like the Batman villain Dr. Phosphorus) or was crawling out of the muck of a swamp (like the Swamp Thing and his Marvel brother Man-Thing). The name I think gives a good theme to work off of when I’m not being distracted by shinny objects or running off on editorial tangents. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What kind of posts can we expect to see?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I have probably a 5:1 ratio of DC to Marvel comics so I’ll be covering those characters a bit more. Of the Marvel that I have, I have quite a few Spider-Man issues which conveniently fits the radioactive theme of the site quite well. Old Batman issues dominate the DC side of the collection so I’ll concentrate on the era when he was fighting guys like the Spook, the afore mentioned Dr. Phosphorus &amp; the ever so villainous and see through Gentleman Ghost. What Doom Patrol, Weird War Tails &amp;amp; Deadman comics that I have, will also garner some space. Plus many other tangents as yet undecided.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:100%;" &gt;So that’s post one, hopefully I’ll be posting on a somewhat regular basis and more hopefully the posts will entertain.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14696681-112197099534168704?l=radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/feeds/112197099534168704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14696681&amp;postID=112197099534168704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112197099534168704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14696681/posts/default/112197099534168704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://radioactiveswamp.blogspot.com/2005/07/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10508888893777832722</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
