Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
... and Why Unca
Cheeks Will ALWAYS Do This Stuff For You People, By Golly!
It'll all tie together, by the time we reach the very end.
Scout's honor. 
As most of you doubtless know: Unca Cheeks found himself severely herniated -- double, even -- a month or so back, as of this writing (2/21/00).
A double hernia counts as one of the most singular and (trust Unca on this one, people) purely unforgettable physical experiences one might conceivably undergo, short of attempting to peristalt a live ferret.
The sensation is not much unlike that which might be achieved by looping several lengths of piano wire around one's scrotum -- you ladies out there are just going to have to do your level best to work with Unca, here -- and attaching an eighteen or twenty pound weight to the other end.
And then attempting to walk normally.
Or stand.
OR breathe, for that matter.
Suffice it merely to say, campers and camperettes:
Unca Cheeks was one pained, put-upon and self-pitying S.O.B. for weeks
and weeks, there.
During the period of his protracted post-operative convalesence, then: the absolute last laster lastest thing Unca felt very much like doing, really, was attempting to hunker, arch-backed and gargoyle-like, over his keyboard, and thrash out brand new pages for this here web site.
Unca was able to mollify himself somewhat, however, with the certain knowledge that -- push come to shove; tire slap tarmac -- his indulging in a short-lived and (admittedly) unplanned sabbatical from all things Silver (or Bronze) Aged wouldn't materially alter or diminish the fundamental life force of the universe, overall; and that -- c'mon, now -- nobody'd probably even notice, really.
As it so happened, however: Unca Cheeks was (as has often proved to
be the case, in this life) only half-right.
Over the last four, six weeks or so: Unca Cheeks has been the wholly unsuspecting (and inexpressibly touched) recipient of more spontaneous expressions of genuine sympathy; charity; and kindness than any might be willing to readily credit, sans hard'n'fast visual confirmation of same.
There was, for instance, the sasint-in-residence who -- all unannounced, mind; solely out of the goodness and decency of his own heart -- gifted Unca with pristine, hardcover editions of both Les Daniels' SUPERMAN and BATMAN volumes.
There was the marvelous present, arriving but scant days later, of the gorgeous and invavluable THE ART OF NICK CARDY retrospective; signed by the inimitable Mister Cardy, his own splendid Silver Age self.
There were the separate, spontaneous presents made of such worthy (and much coveted) volumes as the DAREDEVIL Marvel Masterworks hardcover; the MIGHTY THOR Masterworks hardcover; and the GREEN LANTERN ARCHIVES, Volume Two (among others).
All of these, in generous (hell: eye-popping) display of fannish largesse -- in and of themselves, solely -- were enough, and more than enough, to gladden the heart; elevate the spirit; and --
... and --
... AND --
... well: it's scarcely as if Unca Cheeks' ever taken to mincing words
hereabouts prior to this, really, is it...?
They were enough to remind Unca that -- no matter what this site's humble and obsessive origins -- it has (someway; somehow) morphed its crazed, curmudgeonly self from embittered monologue into free-form (and oddly reciprocal) dialogue.
In support of this (again; admittedly) pop-eyed and wacky-seeming premise: Unca Cheeks would like to submit all of the foregoing...
... and: issue #4 of CHEEKS-A-THON, as well.
Advertising itself as "A Get-Well One-Shot For Kent "Cheeks" Orlando, From His Adoring Fans: this extremely limited edition found its way into Unca's hands just a few days ago; borne hither on an ermine'd litter, with buxom and scantily-clad slave wenches catering and kowtowing all about, in merry abandon.
Either that... or else it showed up in the mail. Unca forgets.
Devised in cunning homage to Ross Andru's and Mike Esposito's classic cover for the immortal METAL MEN #4, the scene details Unca's lascivious and single-minded attempt to "score" with one (or -- God willing -- more) of the Silver/Bronze Age cuties depicted therein, in the time-honored manner of his simple, nomadic, As-One-With-The-Flowers-
And-The-Trees mountain peoples.
Mainly: by feverishly pumping quarter after quarter into the appropriate
arcade-style gumball machine.
(The shrieking and terriffied maidens fair, in this particular instance,
include the immortal Jet Dream [re:
JET DREAM AND HER STUNT GIRL COUNTERSPIES]; Platinum
[of THE METAL MEN fame]; Archie Comics' Fly-Girl;
Marvel Comics' The Dazzler; and -- Tonight's
Big Score, apparently -- notoriously dopey femme sidekick Fleeta,
from the '60s Dell Comics DRACULA series. What: no Hawkgirl,
f'cryin' out loud? No Black Widow?
No Shanna the She-Devil,
even...?)
Dragging one's self (reluctantly) past the cover, then: we find ourselves confronted by an actual, for real, no foolin' Table of Contents page:
This provides the careful reader which a much-needed service; in
that it allows him (or her) to contact the appropriate authorites, armed
with real, true names and addresses and suchlike.
We discover, at this juncture, that the previously referenced cover was the depraved; demented; and falling-down-funny handiwork of the estimable Jack Selegue: super-scientific proprietor of the (deservedly) highly regarded and renowned CHEMICAL COMICS: A Comic Book Periodic Table web site, which you should all only be checking out on an every-
other-week basis at the very least, for the luvva Will Magnus.
Unca Cheeks would like to take this opportunity to favor Professor Selegue
with an imaginary, online "high five"; and caution him, once again, to
stay the holy hell away from his pre-teen daughter.
At the bottom of said page... we find the following addendum
awaiting us, in turn:
.
Well... good golly, people.
At the very real risk of coming off sounding like some unholy amalgam of Fred Rogers and Carol Burnette: Unca Cheeks' eyes are feelin' all... y'know... funny, like, here.
As God is my witness: I scarcely know how to appropriately respond; except (possibly) to murmur a simple, heartfelt --
"... no, no, fellahs.
"Thank you."
Hurriedly turning the page yet again: Unca Cheeks experienced still another mind-blowing moment, with the following:
Homina homina homina.
The shapely, spandexed dameisele dangerous pressing a deliriously
happy Unca Cheeks to her ample super-bosom is (of course) the legendary
Lady Spectra: one of the many, waycool comics characters created
by J. Kevin Carrier; who is to well-written "mini"- and
independent comics as Grant Morrison is to regular and ongoing
presecription pharmaceuticals abuse.
(Y'know, troopers: if only the comely Ms. Spectra had thought to position her arms a scant few inches lower, in the picture provided... she might well have had occasion to find out just why we [seemingly] innocent and whey-faced plush beings are commonly referred to as "squeeze toys" in the first place.
(I'm just sayin', here. That's all.)
The page after that, we've got --
... "KRYPTO, of the SCPA!"
No. Seriously.
"Forgotten by most," the introductory caption helpfully provides; "... he still wanders the spaceways, alert for trouble! He is... KRYPTO, of the SCPA!"
"... and tonight," we are further informed: "... he is a dog on a mission: Find CHEEKS!"
Oh. My. God.
"What's that?" the Pooch of Power ponders. "My SCPA signal! There's an emergency back on Earth! CHEEKS is missing!"
Rocketing planetwards with all due doggy dispatch, then: the oddly adorable ubercanine is next shown sniffing the city streets of a horribly... faniliar-seeming setting.
"With my super-scent," the Mutt of Might... errrrrr... doggedly observes; "... I should be able to track him down, here in St. Louis!"
What follows next, people -- really and truly -- had
a suddenly sweating and terrified Unca Cheeks checking and re-checking
the deadbolt locks on both front and back doors, as the Pup of
Persistence proceeds to sniff his out his chosen prey; namely, moi.
"Hmmmm," Krypto muses, sniffing around outside a movie theatre showing a Catherine Zeta-Jones triple feature. "He was here several nights in a row..."
(This is funny, to me, on two levels, in that it both invokes
Unca's well-known Zeta-Jones fixation; and actually utilizes the
name of an actual, honest-to-goshin' theatre within driving distannce
of Casa del Cheeks. And Unca isn't sure he even wants to
know how the resourceful Martin L. Shoemaker -- in
whose depraved and cunning intellect this feature found its genesis --
was able to dope that one out.)
"Smells like fanboys," the Detective Doggie opines, outside of a comics shop blaring the hellish announcement GUESTS TODAY: Marz and Liefeld. "Won't find him here..."
(... and now,Unca has taken to peering cautiously out
from the windows, in frightened prospect of seeing a mysterious, trenchcoated
figure lurking in the shadows across the street, scribbling down the minutiae
of his day-to-day existence in a carefful, methodical hand; for here,
the diabolical Mr. Shoemaker has ferreted out the name and location of
a nearby local comics retailer, as well! Great God Almighty!)
The story ends with Krypto being distracted, ultimately, by the clarion
call of brute biological necessity; a decided mercy, in that Unca was
becoming decidedly unsettled by the notion that the estimable Martin had
been rooting around in his socks-and-underwear drawer, of late.
Boyoboyoboy, but Unca loves that strip!
"Per'fesser" Quentin Long -- whose outstanding work you've all been enjoying on this very site, over the past few months -- weighs in with a Hostess-style advertisement, utilizing characters and concepts from the film THE MATRIX --
(... Unca would've been willing to wager quite the pretty little penny,
prior to this afternoon, that he'd never be tapping out that particular
sentence; under virtually ANY circumstances...) (
-- which merits (and shall receive) reproduction in full:
This may well be the first recorded instance -- "may well be," hell; IS -- of the phrase "Cartesian insights" being utilized in the context of either:
a.) mass produced junk food advertising; OR --
b.) a comics-based web site.
Once again, then: the Per'fesser ventures where both angels and smart-alecky plush toys (quite rightly) fear to tread.
When this man is lording it over the rest of humanity, twenty years from now, post-atomic holocaust:
... all bets are off.
The final feature to be found within the pages of CHEEKS-A-THON #4 -- a title, to be certain, which will forevermore rank within the minds and mem'ries of men, everywhere, with Bob Phantom's House-O-Bondage and Li'l Johnny Constantine's Xmas Grab-Bag Special -- is a fumetti-style funny sporting the truly inspired title: PILE ON KYLE!
Dredged up from the dank and Stygian sub-consciousness of Nicolas Judza (a.k.a., "The Hanson Brother No One Ever Talks About"): this wholly berserk and admirable one-pager gleefully eschews regularly-
shaped panel borders -- the man's another Sienkiewicz, I tell you -- and the accompanying hand-lettered dialogue is (regrettably) too teensy-tiny to make reproduction of the page entire feasible, sans a concomitant sacrificing of legibility...
... but: that doesn't mean we can't all enjoy a good-ish sampling
of some of the individual panels thereof, eh, wot...?
Sorry, any/all of you Kyle-fanciers, out there...
... but: any story opening up with a shot of the Batman choking
the life out of that geeky li'l wannabe rates way, waaaaaay "up
there" on Unca Cheeks' personal Laff-O-Meter.
Kyle Rayner is abused; man-handled; brutalized; and (ultimately) slaughtered, in visceral, vicarious turn, by Unca's three all-time favorite super-heroes: the Batman; Captain America; and the Black Panther.
Now, here -- right HERE, by God and by damn! -- is a Marvel/DC
crossover "event" Unca would be willing to pony up way serious dinosaur
bucks for, you betcha -- !
Here's where Unca finds out whether or not Kevin Dooley has
been "lurking" about this site, unannounced, one supposes.
The saga reaches its epic, soul-stirring conclusion with The Star-
Spangled Sentinel and The Darknight Detective summing up this site's True Purpose and Goal Ultimate, in ringing, defiant tones:
You're a good man, Brother Nicolas.
I don't care what your parole officer says.
... oh: wait -- !
Did Unca Cheeks forget to mention the waycool accompanying trading
card -- ?!?
The heroic end result of the Good Lord alone knows how many man-
hours of grueling, candlelit slave labor and self-sacrifice: said trading card is a dead-ringer duplicate -- in style and format -- of those issues by DC Comics, back in the early '90s.
It is a thing of beauty; and a joy, forever.
There is -- insofar as Unca knows, at any rate -- one, and only one, of these babies in existence.
You all have no idea whatsoever how much it cheeses off Unca's POKEMON-besotted girl child, knowing that Daddy's card is evcen scarcer (and more valuable) than the hard-to-find "Charmander."
Or "Charizzard." Or whatbloodyever.
"Da Grand Poobah Of The Silver Age," huh...?
You know...
... I like that.
Unca also wants to thank goodguy emeritus KURT BUSIEK, for the swell gift of the signed SUPERSTAR ashcan preview (see reproduction, at top of page).
Every single, last one of you, out there, reading these words:
If Unca's tastes and/or critical judgment have come to mean ANYthing.
At.
ALL.
... over the course of the previous two years-plus:
For God's sake: PICK UP THIS HERE COMIC WHEN IT COMES OUT, already!
SUPERSTAR is precisely the sort of four-color fare this site has been championing and extoling and waving its plump little arms about, all this time.
It is a series lovingly cast in Bronze; limned and filigreed in Silver; and purest storytelling Gold, every step of the way.
Buy it. Buy it. BUY it.
[SUPERSTAR, incidentally, is copyrighted the property of Kurt Busiek
and Stuart Immonen. Just so Unca doesn't have to amend the
standard boiler plate legalese, at the bottom of the page.]
Special thanks, also, to The Most Beloved Man In All Of Comics: the one...
... the only...
... TONY ("Da Pope") ISABELLA, for tirelessly (and graciously) promoting this site, on his own TONY'S ONLINE TIPS one; for gifting Unca with a weighty and welcome box of comics, from his very own personal "review pile" (remind Unca, somebody, to clue you all in to this nifty CAPTAIN GRAVITY thingie, someday real soon)...
... and: for the signed copy of an actual, no foolin' Tony
Isabella SCRIPT, to boot.
I swear: you guys.
Unca long ago swore off the whole "message board" thing (with one brief -- and quickly regretted -- sojourn anew, onto the terra-not-so-firma of one of these, a month or so back), right around the same time this here site first got itself kick-started into fitful, fumbling "life."
Basically: he just got fed up all the way to here, and PAST here,
with the same tiny, professional trolls and "flamers" and cheapshot artists
giving him grief and tsursis over being (in their own poorly-spelled
phrasings) "a dinosaur"; "a worthless old fart"; an "ageist" (whatever
that ungainly neologism is/was meant to convey); and -- from one
particular writing wannabe, in especial -- "a poor man's Ronald
Colman." (A name said troll misspelled, by the by, in the
course of his mewlings. Unca got quite the little chuckle
out of that, he did.)
Basically, because: he's been having way, waaaaaay too much fun hanging out with you scruffy and unwashed lot, quite frankly.
It's been a dialogue, you see.
Ladies and gents; Silvers and Bronzes and even the occasional hopelessly lost and befuddled NOWers --
... Uncle Cheeks thanks you; one and all.
"MORE COMIC BOOKS," YOU SAY...?
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