Happy 4th of July, Jack Flag

When the patriotic vigilante Jack Flag showed up in Thunderbolts post-Civil War a few years back, I imagine many figured the red, white and blue-haired hero with the American flag Grifter mask to be a cobbled together Warren Ellis creation dreamt up for the purpose of giving the T-Bolts a disposable “good guy” to demonstrate their new status quo against. I was among those who not only recognized Mr. Flag, but both gave Mr. Ellis a serious kudos for raiding Marvel’s truth depths obscurity and smiled a bit to see the return of a character from my youth who both seemed ridiculous at the onset and yet to possess some intangible coolness about him.

The year was 1994, I was 12, and it was tough to ignore the dude with the jingoistic dye job wielding what appeared to be a boom box leaping at me from the cover of Captain America #434, particularly with his name emblazoned graffiti style to the side. The introduction of Jack Flag was part of the year-long “Fighting Chance” storyline by Mark Gruenwald and Dave Hoover that saw Steve Rogers’ super soldier serum begin failing on him and Cap embark upon a mission to settle his affairs before he had to hang up his shield.

“Fighting Chance” was an extremely 90’s storyline that certainly seemed to sit in the shadow or the Death of Superman or Knightfall, taking another iconic hero and doing the previously unthinkable by laying him low and potentially putting him out to pasture. There were some eye-rolling moments like Cap’s battle vest or his Iron Man-designed armor, but because it was Gruenwald, who loved the character like few others and always tried to have fun with whatever he did, there were quite a few bright spots and cool stories too. One promising aspect was exploring how the idea of the America hero had changed with a new Super-Patriot, the ultra-violent Americop, the female-empowering Free Spirit and, finally, Jack Flag.

Jack Harrison was introduced as a guy who was a member of Captain America’s computer hotline network—a Gruenwald creation established in the 80’s as a sort of nationwide Bat Signal or network of informants for Cap—and alongside his brother Drake decided to take a more active role, forming a citizen patrol. Hard times fell on the Harrisons when Drake got crippled attempting to break up a robbery and then the Serpent Society moved into their hometown, buying off local law enforcement and forcing folks out of their homes, including Jack’s parents. Inspired by Cap, Jack began wearing a costume and went after the Serpent Society; he ended up not only helping his hero and Free Spirit take down the Serpents, but helped save Steve Rogers’ life when his super soldier serum finally crapped out.

For a few issues after “Fighting Chance” wrapped, Jack Flag and Free Spirit hung around as Cap’s support squad and possible successors, but then vanished after Mark Waid took over for his own acclaimed run, shuffled off to limbo with hundreds of other characters from the 90’s.

As I mentioned up top, Jack Flag returned over a decade later in the pages of Thunderbolts, where Norman Osborn had just taken over the team and populated it with super villains who were responsible for enforcing the new Super Human Registration act. Jack surfaced as a street level hero who continued to do what he felt was his duty despite it now being against the law because of his innate goodness as well as a lingering obligation to and admiration for Captain America, who had opposed the Act and then apparently been assassinated. He saves an innocent girl from a gang attack and then is swarmed en masse by the T-Bolts.

Two things from this story are a testament to strengths in the Jack Flag character I didn’t even really know existed despite getting a tingle of excitement at seeing a trivia question I knew the answer to resurface on the national stage: First was that he represented the type of unfettered hero with a Cap-like strength of character Ellis needed to hold up against his new Thunderbolts and demonstrate how nasty and immoral they were. The respect Ellis showed by having Jack tear through his more powerful pursuers, including Moonstone and Venom, before being felled and paralyzed by nothing less than a Bullseye sneak attack makes a statement of legitimacy for somebody who could not have been reasonably considered anything but D-list to this point.

Second, cover artist Marko Djurdjevic and interior artist Mike Deodato do not change Dave Hoover’s original costume design even a little bit, they just do it up in their respective ways and show that it was a bold, memorable collection of stylistic choices; I kinda want to start a Jack Flag sketchbook.

Most would assume that would be it for Jack Flag—and for a character who only had a few appearances to his credit prior, taking on some of the Marvel Universe’s bigger bads and getting nailed by Bullseye while doing the right thing wouldn’t be a shabby send-off—but he would return in of all places Guardians of the Galaxy, courtesy of my pals Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning. When Blaastar attempts to take over the Negative Zone prison where Jack is being held, despite being wheelchair-bound, he leads the other inmates to resist the alien tyrant, impressing Star-Lord in the process; Peter Quill gets Jack the heck out of jail and has the science whiz types on Knowhere fix up his spine so he could join the Guardians.

It always blew my mind a bit reading Guardians of the Galaxy and realizing that among cosmic powerhouses like Drax and Adam Warlock there was this footnote of a character from when I read Captain America as a kid standing shoulder to shoulder, but so much of the joy in reading DnA’s work is they love comics minutiae as much as any fan and jump at the chance to elevate characters with potential. They made Jack a fairly integral member of the team, even having folks who would know like Kang tout his grand potential in the universal scheme of things.

That a guy who called Captain America’s hotline in the 90’s and took the time to evenly separate three bizarre colors into his hair would eventually become an intergalactic champion for good is pretty much as good a representation that anything can happen in comics as you’re going to get; it’s also proof in point that the best creators in our industry not only make their own mark, but are never bashful about going back into the seemingly infinite backlog of those who came before to mine everything they can from the most forgotten of creations.

I Would Like to Know More About Maelstrom

Next to my desk at work, I’ve got this poster looming over at me, depicting the entire Marvel Universe as it was back in the mid-to-late-80’s. Most of the characters I know, a couple I don’t and a few hover in between, where I am aware of who they are, but would like to know more about them. Today my gaze settled on a purple-and-blue-hued, weird-helmet-wearing fellow who I know to be named Maelstrom.

The first time I remember seeing Maelstrom outside of a Marvel Handbook was in Dan Slott and Paul Pelletier’s GLA limited series. He was a maniacal type with those ever-lovin’ ambiguous “energy manipulation” abilities and seemed wicked powerful, way above the pay grade of the generally-played-for-laughs Great Lakes Avengers. There wasn’t much insight into his origin or anything there, but I was intrigued by the fact that this was a seemingly big-deal bad guy—yeah, he was getting his ass handed to him by Mr. Immortal and Flatman, but Slott made it pretty clear that they got real real lucky and this was indeed a baddie to be taken seriously—who I had no knowledge of. I figured he was in the same league of Graviton: a villain earmarked for the A-list but who didn’t quite have the staying power to become a Magneto or Doctor Doom, so he got dusted off from time to time and I must have missed his previous campaigns.

I didn’t see Maelstrom again until just last year when Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning brought him into Guardians of the Galaxy, confronting Drax and Phyla-Vell during their quest to reclaim Moondragon from the realm of Oblivion, manipulating the latter into slaying the Dragon of the Moon and in the process becoming the new avatar of Death. Those machinations are still playing out today in the Marvel cosmic books as Phyla’s actions led to Thanos’ resurrection, seemingly another goal of Oblivion and thus Maelstrom.

This piqued my interest.

I’ve been intrigued by Oblivion since I picked up that 80’s Iceman mini where he first appeared. He’s so weird-looking and mysterious, but besides that, I have very little idea what his deal is. The big conceptual entities in the Marvel Universe are generally pretty easy to figure out: Eternity embodies everything, the Living Tribunal is a judge, Death is Death and so on. You’ve got other guys like the Elders of the Universe who are totally defined by their crazy hobbies listed in their names (Collector, Runner, Gardener, etc.).

Then you’ve got Oblivion—what’s his story? Does he want everybody dead? Everything gone? Why? What would he do if he got what he wanted? Why doesn’t Thanos want to make sweet sweet love to him?

Anyways, from what I’ve gathered, Maelstrom has some sort of tangled history with Oblivion and was his avatar—essentially his Silver Surfer—at some point. I’m not sure how that synchs up with Deathurge—Oblivion’s other flunky who gets his jollies convincing people like Hellcat to take their own lives—but it definitely ups his stock to me.

Digging deeper, Maelstrom is apparently a Deviant Inhuman, combining two major Marvel U sub-races in a formula I’ve never heard of. If that Inhumans are weird humans and Deviants are weird Eternals, does that make Maelstrom a super-weird Inhuman with some connection to the Eternals? Crazy. I must know more.

Maelstrom was also co-created by one of my favorite writers, the late Mark Gruenwald of Squadron Supreme greatness, as well as the non-Karate Kid Ralph Macchio, the long-tenured Marvel editor whom I still greet in the halls.

The Gruenwald involvement explains why Maelstrom seems to have made a lot of appearances in the Quasar ongoing series, where Oblivion was always a presence as well. I’ve really been meaning to check that one out as I used to have a real Wendell Vaughn aversion, but have conquered that, I think. For me, if Nova was Coke, then Quasar was Pepsi, so it was my duty to stay loyal to my cola, but as the two have proven able to co-exist in recent years, I’m willing to concede Wendell is Root Beer and give him a try.

On a related note, I don’t drink soda.

But regardless, Maelstrom seems like a cat with some potential and a crazy hat—more please.

Collect This: Marvel Visionaries

One reason I love being a part of Marvel is our incredible Collected Editions department and our immense backlog of trade collections, both because I can fairly easily access some of the best comics ever and because that in itself is something to be proud of.

In particular, I’m a big fan of our Visionaries series, devoted to collecting the key works of marquee creators on characters that made them famous (and in many cases vice versa). Again, the folks responsible for these fine books have done an excellent job covering a significant breadth of Marvel’s immense history, but the pursuit of perfection is one that never ends, so thusly here are a few more classic runs I’ve both read and want to check out that I think merit Visionaries status.

SILVER SURFER VISIONARIES: STAN LEE
Of all the numerous characters that Stan Lee has had some hand in creating, he has often cited The Silver Surfer as his very favorite, and it shows in the laborous love “The Man” applies to Norrin Radd’s pathos and prose. Now you can get Surfer’s debut by Lee and Jack Kirby in the classic Galactus Trilogy in several Fantastic Four collections and pick up his origin by Lee and Gene Colan in Essential Silver Surfer, but it sure would be neat to have both those tales, plus some more Kirby FF goodness, as well as the early Surfer solo stories Lee wrote topped off by his classic collaboration with Moebius all in one handy set.

ADAM WARLOCK VISIONARIES: JIM STARLIN
I got to see cosmic kingpin Jim Starlin play plenty with Adam Warlock as well as his friends and foes with the Infinity trilogy in the 90’s and other subsequent follow-ups, but I’ve longed wanted to check out the gonzo stuff from the 70’s that established both the character and creator as mainstays. Gimme the stuff from Strange Tales and that kooky Warlock ongoing that transformed him from tossed-off Lee/Kirby creation to put-upon interstellar messiah and introduced The Magus as well as ignited his feud with Thanos.

CAPTAIN AMERICA VISIONARIES: MARK GRUENWALD
The much-beloved and greatly-missed late Mark Gruenwald spent a whopping 10 years chronicling the adventures of Steve Rogers and company, and as one would expect, had his ups and downs as anybody would over the course of a decade on one title. Gru’s swansong, Fighting Chance, has been collected, but I want to see the goods from his first five years in particular, including the establishment of the second Baron Zemo, the Sourge saga, the introduction of Flag Smasher, and of course Rogers’ replacement by John Walker and stint as The Captain; cherrypick for a first volume and then we’ll see what’s left for a second.

AVENGERS VISIONARIES: ROGER STERN
A lot of folks know Roger Stern for writing one of the very best Avengers stories of all time in Under Siege, but the guy spent 75 issues with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, starting with the trial of Hank Pym and ending with an assault on Olympus itself. In between, he brought some wild members like Starfox and Doctor Druid onto the team, established both The Wasp and Captain Marvel as impressive female leaders, and crafted some fine stories alongside one of my favorite artists of all time, John Buscema, that I’ve love to see all in one place.

SHE-HULK VISIONARIES: JOHN BYRNE
John Byrne already has one impressive multi-volume Visionaries collection to his name displaying his awesome run on Fantastic Four, a tenure greatly aided by his bringing the boisterous She-Hulk on the team as a replacement for The Thing. Following the end of his FF sting, of of Byrne’s next opuses was a lengthy period on Shulkie’s solo series—albeit one broken up by a hiatus of 22 issues. From all I’ve heard, it was Byrne at his funniest and She-Hulk at her sassiest, but no decent trade exists and I’d like to see that change.

BLACK PANTHER VISIONARIES: CHRISTOPHER PRIEST
For 62 issues over five years, Christopher Priest’s Black Panther was widely hailed as one of the most critically-acclaimed comics on the racks, yet despite every effort on the part of both creator and publisher, it never quite achieved commercial success and always hovered near cancellation level before finally caving. It’s a shame, because having read all 62 of those issues, I can assure you it’s one impressive body of work from start to finish; a true epic with a great beginning, exciting middle, and satisfying end, albeit one that came a bit too soon. With the Panther enjoying some renewed success in print and on the small screen, it would be great to get Priest’s work out there, as he’s responsible for introducing so many characters and components contributing to that resurgence and left an indelible mark on Wakanda.

Our Comics Decade: 2003

Ben
By the time 2003 rolled around, I had picked up a lot of the “landmark” comics I had either missed during my hiatus from the medium or that I had never read in the first place because in the early 90’s we didn’t have a great backlog of trade or we did but I didn’t know about them.

However, when I refer to “landmarks,” I’m really limiting my definition as I more or less mean the big super hero comics, and that’s about it.

For a long time, I felt a bit intimidated and even ashamed of my self-imposed ghettoization to the super hero corner of comics books. You have to understand that I was a fan weaned on stuff like X-Force and Superboy circa 1993—no disrespect to those comics, which I love to this day, but I recognize, as I believe the creators would, that they were more in the realm of fun, less in that of high art.

The indie section of my local comic store freaked me out. Fuck, the Vertigo section of my local comic shop freaked me out. The idea of reading something like Sandman or a mini comic just took me back to my Intro to Film class freshman year of college where everybody had these high-falootin’ theories on what the German midget flicks we were made to watch represented and I just thought they were funny because they featured little people.

No, better to stick to super heroes where nobody could make me feel stupid.

So I read Kingdom Come, I re-read Marvels, I tracked down The Golden Age and I picked up The Infinity Gauntlet.

Then I came to Watchmen. That was a big deal. Watchmen was right on the very edge of my “too smart” line, but everybody said it was the best comic ever, so I had to read it. I dug it. It was really really good (still is). But it did somewhat reinforce my fears that I was too dumb for truly intelligent comics as there were all sorts of essays and articles online breaking down every detail and allusion and much like that film class I still just thought it was cool.

I also read Squadron Supreme. And you know what? Of everything it was that book that made me start to think “Hey—I actually do get this stuff. Fuck the haters!”

Why? Because I realized a lot of the high brow, “cutting edge” stuff that people attributed to stuff like Watchmen, Marvels, etc., Mark Gruenwald did them first back in 1985 in the most super hero-ey super hero book of them all.

For those who don’t know, Squadron Supreme is about a group of Justice League knock-offs introduced in the Avengers back in the Silver Age. At first it was just Hyperion (Superman), Nighthawk (Batman), Doctor Spectrum (Green Lantern) and The Whizzer (The Flash), but every time an Avengers or Defenders writer brought them back, they added new members until every Leaguer up through Firestorm had been given a counterpart.

The Squadron had always been played mostly as an in-joke good for a chuckle every couple years or a plot device to prove Marvel’s characters could beat DC’s. However, Gruenwald, who had always been a big JLA fan despite also being a life-long Marvel Zombie, saw potential for more. He saw an opportunity to tell a very sophisticated story about what happens when a group of really powerful super heroes decides the world might be a better place if they were running the show.

Sound familiar? That’s because it’s been done a zillion times since, often quite well, but again: Gruenwald did it first. Also, because the Squadron didn’t live on Marvel Earth, Gruenwald could wreak more havoc on the sights and citizens of their world.

Other stuff Gruenwald did in Squadron Supreme you may recognize? He had the heroes create a mind-control device that they used to alter villains for the “better” but which split the good guys over the ethics. He had the Squadron revealing their private identities to the public and suffer consequences as a result. He had a powerful hero accidentally kill an opponent and agonize over the burden of his incredible abilities. And he wrapped it all up with a “civil war” of sorts between two factions, heroes and villains on each side, over whether superhumans should rule the world or not.

He also had a super-scientist trying to cure cancer and facing a deal with the devil, one “hero” brainwash another into loving him, an evil clone incapacitating his counterpart then “accidentally” killing a senior citizen to win the affection of said old dude’s super heroine mate (basically it’s “What If Wonder Woman stayed with Steve Trevor even though he got super old and then Bizarro posing as Superman suffocated him in his sleep and she still kinda dug him even after?”), a mentally-challenged villain becoming one of the purest good guys of them all, and a lot more.

It was heavy stuff and I’m barely scratching the surface.

The thing is, Mark Gruenwald was a super hero guy just like me. I knew from reading interviews with him that he had that same sense of wonder for simple “guys and gals in tights” stories I did. He wasn’t really thinking about deconstruction of any sort when he wrote Squadron Supreme or anything else, but a lot of times it just kinda happened.

Basically, Mark Gruenwald had big idea and didn’t let the fact that he was “just” a super hero fan stop him. So why should I? Thus another step in my ever-evolving path towards appreciating all comics and wanting to be a part of the machine that made them was taken.

Sadly, Gru died in 1996 at a young 43 from a fatal heart attack. If there’s any guy I regret never getting to meet, work with, or at least talk to in this industry, it’s Mark Gruenwald.

I’d say thanks.

Rickey
Just beginning my mature love affair with beer and having ZERO FUCKING IDEA what I wanted to do with my life, the summer of 2003 between sophomore and junior year of college was when I started at Wizard as an intern for the first time. I'd been a reader of the magazine since the mid-'90s, so I took a chance and applied along with a few intern programs at places such as Mad Magazine and IDW. Matter of fact, Ted Adams, President of IDW, GAVE me the non-paying IDW internship in San Diego, and I'd accepted and started planning what my dirt poor living situation would be out on the west coast when I got the call from Wizard saying the internship was mine if I wanted it. A family friend lived about an hour north of the Wizard offices near West Point, so I wouldn't have to live off eating cardboard and ice and BAM BAM: I took Wizard.

The internship was amazing, blah blah blah, I may save this story for another time. The important thing is that at the end of the summer, all Wizard interns were flown out to lend a hand at Wizard World Chicago, a show that, at the time, I believe was the 3rd largest in the country. The biggest convention I'd been to at that point was a 12-guy baseball card show at the Ramada Inn off Interstate 35 back home, so when I walked into WWChicago I basically shit myself and then went blind from all the sensory overload and then shit myself again on the hour for 3 days straight.

It was at THAT show that I first met one of my absolute comic book idols (Jim Mahfood) and began my first sketchbook (one of those random jobbies before I realized a theme book was the tippy toppy rad plan) and fainted at the sight of a quarter bin (I'd never seen one before!). But the most exciting thing for me was Artist's Alley. Just the collection of RANDOM-ass creators in one place - most of whom I'd never heard of - totally floored me. That show's crop of exhibitors was a ripe batch of future creative juggernauts, too! From WWChicago 2003, I still own a sketch of an angry anthropomorphic penis from Paul Mayberry (Aqua Leung), a minicomic called Lint that Patrick Gleason (Green Lantern Corps) used to do, and a copy of Meat Haus Volume 7 with contributors such as Nate Powell, Brandon Graham, Dash Shaw, Becky Cloonan and MANY others. RIPE.

But the big get for me came from a publisher I'd never heard of before that show - Young American Comics. Their table was manned by a young nerdy couple with glasses, and being a young nerdy dude, I attached myself to their display and discovered a minicomic called Snake Pit. It was a true-life, daily diary comic that collected 3 months each issue and was about a young rocker kid living in FUCKING Austin. I was from the Austin area! How did I not know about this book?! I grabbed all the issues they had immediately and devoured their 3-panels-a-day genius. The creator, "Ben Snake Pit," lived in a shitty house (the Snake Pit) before moving into a shed in someone's yard in issue #5. His adventures involved daily updates on how drunk/high he would get, what party he was going to, what movies he watched at home from his job at the impossibly eclectic "I HEART Video" video-store in Austin, and other equally inane things. But the FUN he invoked and the spirit of just LIVING and having a good time that welled up inside me when I read the issues was so powerful!

When I got back home, I noticed (and purchased books from) several local artists (including now-renowned poster artist Tim Doyle) who openly borrowed the 3-panels-a-day technique for their own minicomics. So you know what? I did it, too. And for over a full year, I did a book called Diary where I'd just open up and spill the joys and sorrows of being a dude. I eventually went on to submit to the Not My Small Diary series, I grew closer than I've ever grown to another guy with my buddy Josh by working on diary comics together, I did a Diary comic on the Wizard website for a while after I was hired on a few years later, and I generally immersed myself in the style of life Ben Snake Pit lived - a happy one.

Young American Comics has since VERY SADLY gone out of business, but Microcosm publishes yearly collections of Snake Pit now. You can also get collected editions of the early years here. I eventually met Ben at the first Staple convention in Austin. He just seemed like a regular guy who'd probably be a lot of fun to hang out with. He never accepted my MySpace friend request, but you know what? That's what regular guys do. God bless us.

Kiel
2003 was unspectacular in the best possible way. I was living off campus for the first time in an apartment complex across the courtyard from my girlfriend Jami, enjoying domestic and comic bliss with little responsibility outside going to class, working 12 hours a week as a tutor and sometimes calling home. Jami made me a decoupage comic box covered on the outside with images she clipped out of an issue of Wizard that included a color shot of Fone Bone and some bad ass old Walt Simonson X-Factor art with Apocalypse on it. Each Wednesday I'd go to the comic shop with the roommate I'd found through the school paper, buy just whatever jumped off the shelf from Johnny Ryan comix to The Sandwalk Adventures to Gun Fu and then go back to Jami's apartment to cuddle up with her and zone out with comics for a few hours.

It was pretty college-y and pretty great.

Somewhere around this time, I really got into Teenagers From Mars from Rick Spears and Rob G, and I'm not sure I can explain why. I mean, it was (probably) the last truly independent, self-published "floppy sized" comic series I followed before that model finally collapsed in favor of OGNs or handmade mini comics. But I wasn't even cognizant of that at the time. More so, I was drawn along by an extremely fun comic that moves with a lot of blatant "Kiss My Fucking Ass" energy.

For anyone who hasn't read the book, Teenagers tells the story of Macon – a comic loving punk rocker who teams up with the girl of his dreams and a coalition of grave-robbing kids looking for Civil War memorabilia to flip to collectors in order to get rare back issues. It wears its influences – from omnipresent middle America comic shop culture references to adolescent zombie art to the Misfits song title – right out on its sleeve. And really, I should've hated that. I've never been a fan of comics that spend too much time up the ass of comics culture or history (example: the whole "dot matrix printing for kitschy flashback effect almost never works for me), and even though I've been a longtime superhero guy, anything that chucks subtly for confessional "this character will say exactly what they mean" dramatics strikes me as frustratingly stupid ("Star Trek" excepted).

Still, following the slow release of this little series that could as new issues landed at 21st Century every few months had me captivated. Maybe it's that from the first issue's opening sequence where Macon throws himself not just into telling his boss to fuck off but slugging the bastard in the face on through, the series knowingly slid into the rarest kind of teenage wish-fulfillment. The characters in Teenagers From Mars act with damn near total certainty in their passion for comics, their belief in young love and their increasingly unrealistic acts of public disruption and vandalism. Though it's meant to be set in a kind of Anytown, U.S.A. setting right down to the power-tripping sheriff's department and the tubby comic shop clerk who grasps on to the Pulitzer win of Maus as a justification for his own life choices, the book could never, ever fucking happen in the real world. It's an outright fantasy whose central thesis is "What if David and Darlene from 'Roseanne' decide to fuck shit up with shotguns," and I dove into the illusion feet first.

Looking back, I'm not sure how the series holds up today, and I just re-read the damn thing. It's certainly more entertaining and engaging that the dozens of other churned out "new mainstream" series meant to drive interest to comics with straightforward stories built around more casual readers (i.e. punk rockers and people passingly familiar with genre entertainment). At the same time, it doesn't carry the innovations or the punch of something like Street Angel, which have carried on over the years and led their creators to wider acclaim. Spears and G have certainly continued to produce comics, but outside the few projects I remember from MoCCA 2006 or so on their Gigantic Graphic Novels label, a Batman backup about Joker's hyenas and that Pirates Of Coney Island book that'll probably never finish, they've definitely receded.

But in that moment, there was nothing more I wanted to do aside from lie on a couch with my feet in my girlfriend's lap and letting a stark page of inky violence entertain me for a minute while I waited for life to get more complicated. Teenagers From Mars ends with a tease of a Bonnie & Clyde-esque sequel, and even then I wasn't sure if the creators were being serious about future installments or just winking at the reader as if to say, "Yeah, we know. It's supposed to be this ridiculous." Still, if it came out tomorrow, I'd buy issue #1, roll back the cover and enjoy the distraction for as long as I could.