Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
EXHIBITION TWO:
"Lame and Lamer: SUPERMAN
and BATMAN Style"
(Part Two)
(This section of the DC HALL OF SHAME is dedicated -- with eternal gratitude
for new technologies, and their ability to reunite those long since parted --
to Al and Barb Schroeder... and their in-house equivalents of
"the Fox, the Shark and the Vulture.") 
If you've just now come straightaway here from the previous exhibit in "The DC Comics HALL OF SHAME" (the Batman wing of it, to be precise)... you may well be excused for wondering: "... well, good lord, Cheeks! Could any comic ever have had as many el lame-o moments as did that one...?"
... to which, by way of gentle and solicitous reply: "Never read any
of the Silver Age SUPERMAN comics, huh, buddy...?"
Now, before any of my fellow Silver Age aficionados jump down my throat for
that last comment: the Silver Age SUPERMAN family of comics was -- make
no mistake, here -- w-a-y c-o-o-l, and then some. I mean...
super-scientist Lex Luthor. The bottle city of Kandor. The Phantom
Zone. Red Kryptonite. "Imaginary Stories." Lois Lane being
drawn by Kurt Schaffenberger, even -- !! Any way you wanna slice
it, man... them vittles is Good Eatin'. Or "readin'," I suppose.
Whatever. I really am much better at animal stories, come to think.
(Anyone who wants to hear the one about a drunken Babar and a very lonely
Curious George: raise your hands.)
Well... anyway. The point I was trying to make, here, is simply this: the very self same elements of the Silver Age SUPERMAN canon which we all cherish and revere so mightily, and which lent the stories of that period their unmistakable, never-successfully-duplicated "flavor"... are (if we're all being perfectly honest, here) the very same aspects of the "super"-mythos which most readily serve as perfectly stunning examples of Too Silly For Words, as well.
Take -- just as a "f'rinstance," mind -- the series of (mercifully) infrequent "Superbaby" stories which kept popping up in the hindmost pages of various SUPER titles whenever you least expected it.
Now, I will readily concede the point: if we accept as a "given" that the young Kal-El had his own complement of super-powers with which to get into deviltry of various stripes... then it is not too much to grant, in addition, that Hijinks May Well Ensue.
However: this is not -- in and of itself -- sufficient guarantor
that said frolickings will make, per force, compelling enough reading
to warrant their inclusion in any comic book not specifically designed
and intended for the psychological torture of enemy P.O.W.'s, during wartime.
In the above-referenced "Smallville's War Against Superbaby," the diminutive doofus gets green cake frosting smeared alllll over his adorable li'l alien kisser; flies around town (for no reason which would make any sense to you -- trust me -- unless you were a holdover disciple of, say, Timothy Leary); and convinces various assorted clodhoppers and chuckleheads that Smallville is being invaded by teeny tiny aliens in red shortie pants.
That is just so wrong.
Wronger, still, was the two-part "Imaginary Story" (a turn of phrase which -- even as a wee shaver, my own self -- always fuddled me, somewhat. I mean... weren't they all "imaginary"...?) in LOIS LANE #64 and #65.
Okay: hold on tight to something. This is gonna be fast...
and: it's gonna HURT.
Lois Lane falls Truly, Madly and Deeply in lust with the dashing and villainous "Lexo" (Lex Luthor, in the sort of spandexed regaliawhich he had always -- up to that point, at any rate -- had the good sense to leave to others). She likewise assumes the similarly togged identity of "Lola"; marries her new bald-headed beau; and embarks on a criminal career every bit as goofy as you're probably thinking, believe you me [see panels, accompanying. "Stole the Batman's utility belt," my red plush hinder -- !].
Eventually, the Devious Duo decide that Metropolis simply isn't big enough to contain both them and the erstwhile Man of Steel... and, so: they hatch a scheme by which they may "off" their red-and-blue nemesis, once and for all.
Remember a few paragraphs back, when I said this was gonna hurt...?
Look out; here it comes.
Tricking the big alien goober into attending a concert recital being staged by Lex and Lois in their "secret identities," they perform a specially-written "Dirge for Piano, Accompanied By Xylophone"... and (last chance; bail out now, if you're gonna) said xylophone has kryptonite bars on it, see...?And the resulting vibrations from a kryptonite xylophone, being repeatedly banged upon by a tackily-dressed Lois, send Superman into the Kryptonian equivalent of a catatonic vegetative state.
... and there's absolutely no cause whatsoever for you all to be making
those Wounded Puppy faces at me, all right? I warned you three times.
Well... one thing leads to another (thank the Lord this wasn't one of the "80 Page Giants" of the period), and Lois is incarcerated for various vixen-y type doings. A desperate "Lexo" (say what you will about the man...but: he's loyal as he is bald, and then some. Give him that much, at least.) stages a daring daylight prison break attempt, in order to liberate his Lola fair from the nightmare unimaginable of having to stump about in the sort of prison duds which have never existed, outside of various Kurt Schaffenberger-drawn DC comics of the 1960's.
"Lexo" is, unfortunately, rata-tat-tatted by an over-zealous prison guard [see panels, accompanying], who mistakes the former's attempt to stun a just-arriving Superman (he got better) for an assassination attempt upon same. The story ends with a bent and broken Lois -- now released from prison -- walking, slump-shouldered, away from Superman in a truly hideous little yellow pillbox hat, which...
... but now I'm just trying your patience, surely.
Things were scarcely any more coherent, over in that comics title dedicated
to the other great romance of Superman's life: JIMMY OLSEN.
In the tongue-trippingly titled "Elastic Lad Jimmy and His Legion Romances,"
that redheaded scalawag poses the musical question: "Darn it all!
Why must I be so irresistibly appealing to beautiful girls?????"
[See picture, accompanying] It is, I think, an eminently fair question,
considering the querent giving it utterance.
I'm still uncertain which of the two is the more inherently appalling, in this
instance: the sight of Jimmy Olsen's anything-but-buff self, in those
ludicrous "Elastic Lad" Underoos of his... or the forever traumatizing sight
of three Legionnaire beauties, having a good old-fashioned cat fight over the
territorial rights to same. We might as well call it a draw, until wiser
heads than ours take up the question, several millenia from now.
What can not be disputed, however, is the stop-and-starehideousness of the wholly deranged double entendre indulged in by former LEGION stalwart "Triplicate Girl," on the cover of the comic in question [see cover excerpt, accompanying].
To which manifest unspeakableness, the sane man may only whimper, by way of
reply: "Puh-leeeeaaaazzze, Triplicate Girl...!"
... and -- speaking of particularly shameful moments from the otherwise impeccable LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES canon (which I believe we were, just now) -- there is the equally moronic example provided by yet another red-tressed hanger-on from the SUPERMAN books who managed to (you should only pardon the expression) "worm" her way into the pages of those 30th Century stalwarts: noted small-town virago "Lana Lang."
Having gained sole possession of a magic ring, bequeathed unto her by a dying and inconceivably stupid alien (Hal Jordan fans: note the theft, please)... Lana could transform herself into the demonstrably dopey "Insect Queen."
Her putative "super-power" -- that of mimicing the natural abilities of any member of the insect kingdom -- were not (in and of themselves, that is) the problem, here. The requisite physical manifestation of said power, on the other hand (i.e., Lana's hindquarters always transformed themselves into a jumbo-sized replica of whichever buggie's schtick she was appropriating, at the moment), most assuredly was [see picture, accompanying].
However: even this singular, all-but-blinding attempt at bohunk High Fashion wasn't the absolute nadir of DC comic book visuals.
No; for that particular bit of incandescent awfulness... I'm afraid there's no choice but for you to repair, forthwith, to Exhibition Three of this: the DC Comics "Hall of Shame."
No pushing. No running. Please extinguish all smoking materials
at the door.
The DC Comics HALL OF SHAME
PAGE ONE (Batman, etc.)
"MORE COMIC BOOKS," YOU SAY...?
The DC Comics Sub-Directory
The Marvel Comics Sub-Directory
The Miscellaneous Comics Sub-Directory
The "Gotta Find That DC Character" Menu
The "Gotta Find That Marvel/Miscellaneous
Character" Menu