Superman Vitamins, An Idea Whose Time has Came and Went

Here we have some of the Superman Vitamins promised yesterday. We have boxes and bottles, that is. Not the vitamins themselves.

If you still had a few of these, they would be 20 years old! If you munched 'em, you might find yourself eroding, like Rudy the Parasite in the one-shot "The Pernicious Parasite" Filmation Superman cartoon from the 1960s. In that tale, Superman figures out that the way to handle the Parasite is to let him get his fill of Super-energy, whereupon the Parasite...explodes!


Commments the Man of Steel, "He forgot that the body of a human could not contain the energy of a man from Krypton!"

Paper Ephemera

This is a fancy term for things that were designed to be of transient interest, and then discarded. Used to be, this applied to comics books too. Not any more!

However, other examples are promo advertising things like the things pictured here. The Wolfman Sticker came with Doritos, and is from roughly 1990.

The Superman III stickers from Ziploc are from 1982. As you can tell, these are not from that film at all, they are simply more poses of Reeve taken to promote the first Superman movie.

Tomorrow! Superman Vitamins Ahoy!

Curt Swan Gave Us the Finger(s)

Well, figuratively!

One of the trademarks of this great Super-Artist’s work was his occasionally quirky method of drawing characters’ hands with the middle finger and ring finger touching, and the index finger and pinky finger separated from this grouped pair.

The top three rows are from covers drawn in the 1960s.

The bottom three examples are from later on. Even though Curt had died earlier in the year, 1996’s Superman: The Wedding Album still was able to print some of his art, drawn from an earlier, unprinted tale. It was printed in the Wedding Album as a flashback. In this way Curt’s great artwork was able to appear in this landmark in comics history.

Speaking of landmarks in comics, the last two examples are from the Alan Moore tale printed in 1986, “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” which was printed in the “final” issues of Superman and Action. Alan Moore’s deep, resonating-with-history story was perfectly accompanied by Curt’s penciling, inked by George Perez in Superman 423 and by Kurt Schaffenberger in Action 583. The covers were both inked by another DC great, Murphy Anderson.
Ah, when the arts of adulthood are thus applied to memories from childhood, great and moving, even inspiring pieces of art can be created, and absorbed, by the young in spirit.

Growing Up with Halloween

AT LAST IT CAME. The gang had been waiting since the first of September, as the air turned chill for the first time, and mothers had joked that it would snow any day now, and the trees’ summer whispers had become autumn whistles, and the leaves were not quite green any more, and the sun had begun to come in through the school windows that faced south.

At last it came. They had been ready long before the grocery store had set out the pumpkins; and before the ten-cent store had stocked the masks, noisemakers, and little peanut-butter taffy twists wrapped in black and orange paper; and before the teachers had put up the bulletin board with black cats and jointed paper skeletons. At last it came.

Halloween.

Tommy sat at the supper table impatiently. The sun had not yet gone down; but it didn’t look as bright outside as it had a moment ago. The trees cast darker shadows. He squirmed a bit in his chair and kept his eyes on the window.
Mr. Gregson smiled as he seated himself across from Tommy. He said, “Don’t worry, Tommy. We’ll be through eating before it gets dark.”

“But, Dad,” Tommy exclaimed fervently, “I’ve got to get ready. And Mitchell and John Eric will be over in only fifteen minutes!”

“You’ll have plenty of time,” his father reassured him, “you’ll see.”

It was nothing short of torture to sit still through supper. More than once Tommy suspected his mother or father of spooning out more macaroni onto his plate when his head was turned looking fretfully out the window. But he survived the meal somehow, blurted “Excuse me, please,” and dashed for his room.

He threw himself onto the floor, stretched under his bed, and pulled out the much-wrinkled grocery sack that held his Gypsy costume. He dumped its contents unceremoniously onto the floor and rummaged through them. Eyepatch, torn pants, bright purple-dyed shirt, overvest, shoes from his dad half-packed with newspapers, rubber knife, a false moustache: It was all here.

Tommy put it all on, except for the eyepatch. He headed back down the hall to the living room and through it to the kitchen where his parents were cleaning up the dishes.

“Which eye should I cover up, Mom?”

“Just a second, dear,” Mrs. Gregson replied. “Oh -- Glenn, could you help Tommy?”

Mr. Gregson turned from putting up the plates, closed the cupboard door, and squatted down, wiping his hands on his towel. “Wow, you look good!” he said.
Then, “Let’s figure it out. Where’s your knife, Tom?”

“Here,” replied Tommy, pulling it from his belt. He offered it to his father.

“No, you hold on to it,” responded Mr. Gregson. He placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and gave his son a half-turn so that the boy faced the table at the other end of the kitchen. Dad pointed to one chair, still pushed back from the table. “Now, see that chair?” Tommy nodded. “Now just imagine,” Dad continued, “that that chair is a man who says you’re not the best violin-playin’ Gypsy that ever lived. So, you pull out your rubber knife and get ready to throw. Aim, aim carefully,” Dad half-whispered with his eyes on Tommy’s face, “and throw!”

Tommy threw, from the shoulder. The knife passed between two slats in the chair back, its rubber hilt striking the wall with a clear thwack! sound, and fell to the floor.

“Got him in the ribs,” Mr. Gregson commented.

“Glenn!” exclaimed Mom, properly disapproving.

“It’s all right, Suzanne. He missed the window by at least six inches.” Dad turned to make sure she knew he was joshing her. They exchanged a smile. He bent back down to Tommy and said, “Go get it and come on back.” The boy did. “Now do it again, but just aim, don’t throw it.” Tommy complied. “There,” said his father, “what are you doing right now?”

“Well, my hand’s in the air, I’m squinting my -- no, I’ve got -- my left eye’s closed!”

“Then,” summed up Dad, “that’s the eye you can cover up. You aim with your right eye, so you need it more, yes?”

“Yeah! Thanks, Dad!” Tommy turned to his mother. “Now, Mom, you said I could use some of your old pancake stuff --”

“Yes,” said Mom. “How dark a Gypsy do you want to be?”

“So no one can guess who I am!”

+ + + + + +

It was six o’clock. The dusk was growing deeper. Tommy sat on the couch, impatiently drumming his hands on the cushions, watching alternately the clock on the living-room wall and the window, through which he saw grey trees shaking their arms in the wind. His parents were sitting together in the big double rocker. His dad was reading the doubled-over newspaper and trying not to stick it into Mom’s face, while she looked through the TV Guide.

“And now, until the late news, have a good evening -- and a safe and Happy Halloween.”

The doorbell rang.

Tommy sprang up and ran to the door, yanking it open.

On the porch stood two figures, one taller and the other about the same size as Tommy. The taller was Count Dracula, replete with painted widow’s peak, pale skin, black cape, and sharp teeth. The other was in a Frankenstein’s Monster costume from Kresge’s.

The duo chorused, “Trick or treat!”

“Come on in, you guys, I’m just about ready.” Tommy held the door open for them, ushered them into the living room, and left them there as he headed for the bathroom.

“Hello, boys.” Mr Gregson smiled at them from the double rocker. “Let’s see. You’re John Eric,” he said, pointing to tall Dracula, and you’re Mitchell,” he said to short Frankenstein.

The monster giggled. “Nope, we fooled you,” said Dracula. “I’m Mitchell. He’s John Eric.”

“Really?” Tommy’s father scratched his head in puzzlement. “You hear that, Suzanne? I would’ve sworn ­--” and then he winked at Tommy’s mother.

At this point the bathroom door slammed open and Tommy emerged. “Ready to go?” he asked the pair.

“Yeah. G’night, Mr. and Mrs. Gregson.”

“Goodnight, boys.”

“See you later.”

Dad walked with them to the front door. “See you later, son. Don’t be out too late, and be careful.”

“Yeah, Dad.”

And they were gone. Mr. Gregson let the screen door close and flipped on the porch light.

Dracula, Vordak the Gypsy, and Frankenstein’s Monster turned right and began working their way down the hill in the early night darkness. There was just enough of a breeze to catch their empty Trick-or-Treat bags and billow them open behind them like parachutes. They ran to the first house down from the Gregsons’, the Rices’. Tommy-Vordak pressed the lighted doorbell twice.

The door opened, and before Mrs. Rice had appeared from behind it, the three called out, “Trick or Treat!”

“Hello! Hello! Just a minute!” Mrs. Rice turned and picked up a wicker basket from somewhere out of Tommy’s sight. She opened the screen door, held it open with her left hip, and dropped one white popcorn ball into each eagerly outstretched sack.

“Thanks! G’night!” the three boys called over their shoulders, already following the trail of more candy treasures, already hurrying down the driveway and down the slope to the Abrahamson’s house.

Just as they were leaving the Abrahamson’s porch a minute later, haloed by the porchlight over their shoulders, they met two more souls. One was in a plastic step-in astronaut’s costume; the other was a fairy princess; both were in Tommy’s class at school.

“Hi, Stevie,” said Mitchell-Dracula.

“Hi, Mitchell,” replied the astronaut.

“Hi, Tommy,” ventured the fairy princess.

“Oh -- hi, Jennifer,” responded Tommy-Vordak. Sheesh, why did she single him out to say hi to? Even if Stevie was her brother, she was a girl.

“Where ya been?” asked Stevie.

“Oh, we just started up at Tommy’s house,” answered Mitchell-Dracula.

“I got a popcorn ball,” asserted John-Eric Frankenstein proudly, holding open his sack. C’mon kid, grow up! Tommy thought, then felt pride that he and Mitchell were adult enough to put up with the little kid.

“That’s nice, John-Eric,” Stevie answered with similar indulgence. See you guys later!” He and Jennifer headed up the Abrahamson’s porch. Gee, Stevie was always a good sport about being stuck doing things with his twin sister. But, sheesh, now she’s --

“Bye, Tommy,” called Jennifer, singling him out for her attention.

“Bye, see ya later, g’night!”

The trio continued down the hill. They had just left the Dornmans’ house at the foot of the hill and were beginning to cross the street back uphill the other side when they were confronted with the bane of any nine-year-old’s existence: the big kids.

Dan Berry was a pirate with a black beard and big black boots. Gary Andrews was a clown with a red rubber nose and a greasepaint frown. Freddie Spencer was a Martian with green skin and wire antennae. Jimmy Trent was a bent-over hunchback with a pillow hump and mascara scars. They were all 12, except Dan was 13, and sometimes wore their ages like a license to kill.

“Arr, avast there, maties!” Dan spread his arms and his three companions stopped with him.

“Ahoy, maties! Who be ye?” he called to Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, and Vordak the Gypsy.

“Hello, Dan,” said Mitchell. “Gee, you guys look neat.” This was a safe thing to say.

“Sure’n don’t we now? We’ve planned many a long week for this night, right me lads?”

Somehow, on this night of nights it did not seem at all out of place to see a clown, a Martian, and a hunchback raise their arms in salute and cry together, “Aye, Captain!”

“Well,” growled the placated captain, “ye’d best be behavin’ yerselfs tonight, or else ye’ll hear from Cap’n Kidd -- and ye’ll walk the plank! D’ you hear me, lads?” he snarled, leaning over towards the three younger friends.

Tommy wasn’t sure how much Dan was joking, or if he was. Ever since September, when he’d gone to junior high, Dan had been acting all grown up and only noticed the others with disdain.

Tommy looked at Mitchell, who was also unsure of what to do next. They nodded and said, more or less together, “Aye, aye, sir!”

“Good lads!” responded Cap’n Kidd. “Well, mates, let’s shove off!” The quartet headed on past them, and vanished into the shadows under the trees.

Trick or Treat!

Have I got a long-suffering, wonderful family, or what!

This is a NEWSpaper, Vincenzo! We print NEWS!!!!

Ah, yes. Carl Kolchak, iconoclast supreme.

I first met him on ABC-TV, on January 11, 1972. The Night Stalker was an ABC Movie of the Week, which were shown every Tuesday night. These were the original made-for-TV movies.

Doubtless after a week of heavy promotion, The Night Stalker aired. I wasn't the only adolescent who wanted to watch a movie about vampires on TV: after the ratings came in, The Night Stalker had posted as the Number One rated TV-movie of all time.

I next met ol' Kolchak through TAB, the Teen Age Book club, a month or so later. I saw that title in the catalog, and knew I had to have it. I also ordered the second "official" Kolkchak book, The Night Strangler, which promptly showed up as an ABC Movie of the Week about a year afer the first one.

The Night Strangler's January 16, 1973 showing was just as cool as the original's, with the added character roles played by Wally Cox (aka Underdog) and John Carradine (Dracula in House of Frankenstein, and loads of other horror roles) making it more fun.

As you can guess, these are the front and back covers of those paperbacks. You sure can't entice an adolescent male any better than with the salacious blurb on the back cover of Strangler: "A Belly Dance of Death." Hmmm.

Check back tomorrow, kiddies, on Halloween itself, where a piece of fictional prose will attempt to depict for you the magic of Trick-or-Treats and fun, safe, American Halloween in the 60s. 1960s that is.

Scary Monster from the Past

Anybody remember having to read Beowulf in English class? For some of us, it wasn't a *groan* chore. We saw behind the forced reading to find the adventure.

Dude, Beowulf went swimming with sea monsters! As an old fart, he killed a dragon! And in the main part of this poem, he plays dead while a giant bigfoot-type monster (named Grendel) prowls through the room, and then jumps up and wrestles the beast, yanking its arm out of the socket! Then he follows the trail of blood underwater to the hellhole Grendel came from, and fights the critter's even meaner mom!

First is the paperback cover of John Gardner's Grendel, which tells the Beowulf tale (part anyway) from the monster's point of view, in first person.

It made a big impression on me in high school, as evidenced by this relic from the past -- a version of the cover that I drew in 11th-grade art class.

See you tomorrow in our countdown to Halloween with some characters created by Jeff Rice (that's a hint) that were an inspoiration for a TV show last season (another hint).

The Secret Origin of Something Wicked This Way Comes!

And no, I'm not talking about the short story "The Dark Carnival." This is from Guideposts magazine, June 1991.
See you later, Kiddies, for some more Halloween hauntings!

Something Wicked Is a Great Achievement

Welcome back, my little fiends …

We continue our Halloween peek at Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, which not only is deliciously fun and powerfully emotional, it also looks great sitting on a bookshelf right next to Agatha Christie’s book By the Pricking of My Thumbs.

This image is the “original” cover art for the hardback.

One great facet of this great book is Bradbury’s depiction of the relationship between Will Halloway and his father Charles Halloway, library janitor and knight in arthritic armor. Will and his dad love each other, but don’t express it much. Will’s failing is the typical youth’s self-centered outlook that “nobody ‘old’ can understand the turmoils of my life.” Dad’s failing is that his melancholy temperament inhibits his remembering the joy of living, and sharing that wonder with his son.

The conflict they (and Jim Nightshade) must face will force them to pull together, reexamine themselves and each other, and ultimately break down the wall of reserve between father and son.

A personal note … like Will and Charles Halloway’s relationship, my growing-up wasn’t filled with warm, happy times with my father – huh, my dad’s name is Charles, too! That is, I was loved as a child, but my dad’s main expression of love was going to work every day, and taking a second job in the evenings to pay the bills. Of course, he threw balls and Frisbees with me, and I sat on his lap eating popcorn Sunday nights and watching Bonanza.

But although I was (and still is) the emotional show-off type, Dad was more reserved. It wasn’t until about college time for me that he began to show on the outside the love he had always held on the inside.

The first time I read Something Wicked was in the Spring of my Senior year in high school. Soon afterwards, I asked Dad into my bedroom to listen to Harry Chapin’s song “Cats in the Cradle.” As I turned the record off at the end of the song, I sensed that Dad was wondering why I wanted him to hear it. But I gave him a hug and said, “I just wanted to thank you for NOT being a dad like that!”
More meanderings tomorrow, my little graveyard rats, along with Bradbury’s OWN recounting of the inspiration of Something Wicked This Way Comes !

Another Brad-Burial

If you love Halloween...

If you had a best friend as a kid but you grew apart...

If your relationship with your father was ever "love from a distance"...

If you grew up feeling that Halloween is the BEST holiday of the year ...

And if you believe in right and wrong, and that you should do your best to do right...


Then this is a book for you!

As the cover says, a long awaited major novel by Ray Bradbury. This is the cover of the paperback first printing. Pretty allegorical, huh? I'm assuming that the mirror-maze panel on the left symbolizes the evil "drinking damnation unto himself," or however the quotation runs. The panel on the right symbolizes the gamble that interaction with Cooger & Dark's carnival proves to be. The tall reflection in the middle may symbolize Jim Nightshade's desire to be "grown-up," too soon. Note the carnival's flyer blowing across the gambler's face.

The smartest thing this kid could possibly do would be to turn and run away, eh? But, I believe you can glimpse that this fellow has blond hair--his hair seems a light color. This means that he's Will Halloway, and in turn, this means that his friend Jim Nightshade has probably just run into that treacherous maze ahead of Will.

What other choice does Will have? He has to try to help his friend!

(more tomorrow, kiddies!)

More Creepy Goodies Abound

Well, only one today, kiddies.

Some of you may not have heard of how horror comics from EC "borrowed" some of Ray Bradbury's stories without permission and printed them in their comic books.

That's just what happened! And, when Bradbury found out about it, did he scream and yell and threaten to sue? No, that's not what a gentleman would do.

What he did was, have a meeting with some editors at EC about their "accidental" omission of his story credit and payment. EC wised up real quick and actually worked out a deal for more stories, actually mentioning Bradbury's name as a blurb on several covers!

Now, that's a win-win situation, kiddies!

In 1965, the nice fantasy fiends at Ballantine Books collected Bradbury's EC tales and reprinted them in paperback (black & white, natch!) as "The Autumn People." Stories are:

There Was an Old Woman -- The Screaming Woman -- touch and Go -- The Small Assassin -- The Handler -- The Lake -- The Coffin -- Let's Play Poison.

PLUS ... A foreword by the brave Mr. B himself.

With art by "Ghastly" Engels, Davis, Crandall, et alia, this book was quite a find for youngsters such as ourselves in the way-back times.

Stay tuned for more Brad-Burials tomorrow!

Count Floyd Is a Genius

Ooh, very scary kiddies!

Our first image of Halloween madness is the world's first "instant paperback," produced in 1969 on the death of Boris Karloff (aka William Henry Pratt), the California truck driver and acting stand-in whose "interesting" face was noticed by Jack Pierce, the prima donna of Universal's makeup department, as an interesting face upon which to build the ghastliest monster yet attempted for the silver screen...

Frankenstein's Monster! Karloff died on February 2, 1969, and this book, an anthology of Famous Monsters of Filmland articles, reminiscences, and interviews, came out within a month.

Even more so than the monster craze started by FM and stoked by all the other film magazines; by Eerie, Creepy, and their ilk; more so than the tattered EC comics handed down from uncle or big brother; -- this book legitimized monsters to our parents.

"Junior, why don't you stop reading those monster rags, they'll rot your mind!"

"But mom, this is a serious book about the makings of a complicated movie, with make-up tips and everything! Look! IT'S A BOOK!"

"Well, then, if it's printed in a book ..."

STAY TUNED, KIDDIES, FOR MORE MONSTER MADNESS ...

15 Years Later in STAR TREK

Compare this slick concoction with the Lincoln Enterprises photocopied/mimeo'd cataolg in a previous post. Evidently Paramount learned which side to butter the fannish bread.

This newsletter/update was sent out to fan clubs nationwide. Ever since the early 1970s, when the fan nerds began graduating from college and *gasp* earning a living, their newfound status as money-spenders gave weight to the growing chorus: We want STAR TREK! We want STAR TREK! We want STAR TREK!

Forgetting (if you don't mind) the Animated Series, the on-again, off-again status of the property frustrated fans to no end. So, when the contracts and stars were FINALLY all lined up in the right row, Paramount began stoking the greedy little hearts of fans worldwide with offerings such as this one.

And like a good husband discovering that his beatiful bride snores or laughs funny or .... , we sat there in the audience and took what came, because it was ....STAR TREK.

Back in the Day

Yes, before instant publishing and home computers, before cable TV and video recording, there was a world where you had to actually be home to watch a TV show when it aired.

On the plus side, back then there were also about 8 minutes more TV show and 8 minutes less commercials/station IDs.

And if a TV show became popular, based either on ratings or on fan mail, then a little cottage industry might spring up, put together by a star's studio, agent, or even fan club. These folks would handle mailing out autographed photos, etc.

And if a show became REALLY popular, there might be some money to be made by selling film off the editing-room floor, or extra uniform patches, or ... well, look at the pix.

This Lincoln Enterprises catalog came along after STAR TREK's cancelation. Inside all scripts are offered, up to the end, for $5.50 each. Anyway, have a look at another piece of fandom from the past.

Notice how the text is mimeographed typwriterese? And how the art was just scotch-taped on? This is how it was done in the age when men were men, and women were babes.

You also might notice that the "logo" on the front page (center panel of first image) was actually scissored out from the STAR TREK letterhead and taped onto the catalog page. You can see the original color letterhead below.

Back when sci-fi was a dirty word and STAR TREK had about the status of the Followers of the Sun in "Bread and Circuses," this is how the word got around.

Wanna Be a Member?

That title is taken from the great Betty Boop cartoon, "Bimbo's Initiation." But we're not here to talk about sweet Betty, are we?

Nope, it's time for another Super-Button! It's got an early rendition of ol' Supes by Wayne Boring, from before Wayne went off on his own barrel-chested, "The Chin"-style tangent.

Here's the teeny-tiny writing around the back edge of the button:

BUTTON WORLD MFG. INC. B'KLYN 36 NY OFFICIAL LICENSE COPYRIGHT NATIONAL PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS 1966.
Hey Kids! print it on a sticker and wear your own button! Show how proud you are to be an Official Member Superman Club! (that's what the button says, anyway)

Star Trekkin'

Back when there was only ONE "Star Trek" (was there ever another one?), you could buy this nifty letterhead paper & envelope. I trimmed the scan -- the envelope is really a standard #10 size.

Who Remembers Shrinky Dinks?

For all of the silly-minded out there (like me), NO! "Shrinky Dinks" are NOT what the male members of the Polar Bear Club have 30 seconds after jumping into subfreezing water.

No, Shrinky Dinks were an emotionally charged, high-action, highly involving toy! Y'see, you took these pieces of special paper, colored them, then put them into a hot over, and ...

...they got smaller. Wow, huh. Check out the box. "Provides hours of fun," it says so!

And they say kids never had fun in the old days!

More Fun Food in OKC

Here are a couple of more relics from the distant past when eating places were fun, but did not cost the equivalent of a car downpayment (are you listening, Outback and Hideaway?)

JB Nimble's was the ice cream parlor who offered the Kitchen Sink award featured a couple of days back.


Fred Gang's Meat Market is only a dim memory now, but it really existed -- I stole a couple of napkins!

A Couple More Buttons

In 1956, Republicans wore this button, "I Like Ike and Dick." Note that the back of the button has some kind of union logo.

Could IPEW stand for International Petroleum and Electronics Workers?
Back when you got premiums with cereal, you couldn't beat a Superman pin! found only in Kellogg's "PEP" cereal, a name that has gone away into the sunset, like "Sugar" Frosted Flakes and "Sugar" Smacks.

Lost Treasure of Oklahoma City

When we came to Oklahoma City in the mid 1970s, there were lots of fun places that no longer exist. I didn't even get to visit some of them, such as Molly Murphy's. Others, because we went to OCU in NW OKC, we were more likely to visit.

Shakey's Pizza Parlor was at NW 39th Expressway & May Ave. This yo-yo is electric! It holds a double-A battery, copper contacts, and a small flashlight bulb in each half. When the yo-yo rotates, centrifugal force propels the contacts to connect, making the yo-yo light up! Of course, now the contacts have corroded, and the lights don't work, rats!

J.B. Nimble's Ice Cream Parlor was where NW 63rd St and the Northwest Expressway intersect. Right now I think the site is a car dealership! At any rate, J.B. Nimble's was a "destination," with bright lights, parties going on, and the infamous "Kitchen Sink." This concoction arrived at your table in a roughly 4 x 12-inch dish, said dish being upheld above its base by a miniature U-trap (plumbers take note). Just as it sounds, the Kitchen Sink was a LOT of ice cream, nuts, and toppings. If one person could finish the whole thing, they received the famous Kitchen Sink Award. The mists of time forbid me from remembering which of my cohorts earned the honor.

Wonder Woman Puzzle

Well, if you're like me and can't figure out women, at least here's one that may be easier to figure out.

Super Books !

The Gospel According to Superman is by John T Galloway and came out in 1973, published by A.J. Holman Company, a division of J.B. Lippincott. It covers the familiar equations of Jesus with Kal-El, with the plus of having lots of B & W reprint pages within its small covers.

In Search of a Superman is by Frank Allnutt, "author of the best seller, THE FORCE OF STAR WARS." I'm sure all of us are familiar with that one too. This one isn't even from a "label" of a major publisher, like the first book. This one is "An Omni Book," published by Omni Distributors. It came out in 1979, on the heels of Superman: The Movie.

Both of these books, like the similar 2006 The Gospel According the the World's Greatest Superhero by Stephen Skelton, enunciate (sometimes to tedious length) the intented, and more likely accidental, likenesses and differences between the two.

Readers of National Lampoon in the 1970s may remember the Neal Adams-illustrated Son-o'-God comics that sometimes appeared there.

Of course, similarities are there in nearly every hero tale, since it seems that people have always looked for a hero to rescue them from the trials of this Earth.

I hope you find Him.

Super Cheese!

If you’re a reader of Dial B for Blog --http://www.dialbforblog.com/ -- then you might remember Robby’s “Month of Superman,” wherein he showed off lots of different stuff. When he features “Super Cheese,” he was displaying something I had sent him.

Yes, Superman Imitation Pasteurized Cheese Spread really DID exist. It was produced by the Clearfield Cheese Co. of Curwensville, PA. Although you might not have heard of Clearfield Cheese Co., I guarantee you’re familiar with one of their inventions.

Clearfield Cheese Co. was the dairy that invented single-wrapped cheese slices!

Hey Kids! Here’s how to make your own Superman Cheese box! Copy the picture and paste it onto a legal-size page in the graphics program of your choice. Resize the image to 7 ½ by 13 ½ inches. Print it out, cut and tape it, and voila! Your own Superman Imitation Cheese Spread box!

(cheese sold separately)

That's My Dad

I can never be prouder of someone, or more thankful for someone, than my dad (also called Dad). He was the Hand with the Paddle when I was younger, and the Guy Who Knows Things when I got a little older.

When we were expecting for the first time, twenty-some years ago, I asked him for suggestions on Dad-hood. He told me, "The best way to be a good father is to be a good husband." Word!

As the "baby" of the family, I got the "mature" Charlie, not the volleyball champion or the guy who had black hair but whose beard was bright red (I've seen the photo!).

But I'm so thankful that I still got the man who loved us enough to slay bookkeeping dragons every day, and took a second accounting job too. He loves to pretend to be scandalized by my "wacky" mom. Every Christmas Eve for a decade or more, he would read us a story aloud, "The Birthday of Little Jesus," which told of 8-year-old Jesus going into the hills to find a lost lamb. All three of us kids knew that Dad would do that for us.

Now he has to have an oxygen tube hooked to him, and use a walker. My dad, the same guy who excelled at sports all his life, hitting his last hole-in-one in his 70s (age that is), who used to run 2 miles a day at lunch when working, is now tethered to a machine and can barely walk the length of the house.

But now, as things wind down physically for Mom & Dad, I have never been prouder of my parents. Getting older, becoming dependent on friends, strangers, and relatives, has got to be galling. But, with dignity and a sense of humor, Dad is still dispensing wisdom and love.

Thank you Dad!

Super Watch!

Purchased in 1997 at a Warner Bros. Store, this splendilicious Fossil© watch is proof that sometimes corporate goofs can get it right! It was well worth the $45.
Besides being “Water 100 Resist” – whatever THAT means – and having a fun retro-industrial look to the silver case and setting knob, look at the Superman figure.
That little ol’ Supes is attached to the end of the second hand. That means he makes a complete Super-circuit every minute! Now look at the close-up. Rather than looking like a WB or Silver Age superguy, I’d say that this Superman looks a lot like the guy on the cover of All-Star Superman #1. Don’t you?

The Last of the Super-Pets !

The fourth Super-Pet is a friendly, telepathic blob from Antares named Proty II. He's Chameleon Boy's pet, and has the same shapeshifting powers. He's Proty Number Two because the first one croaked bringing Lightning Lad back to life. Look it up!

Our last Super-Pet is Streaky the Super-Cat, who like Comet is a "pet" of Supergirl. As revealed in a storyline in Action Comics, Linda Lee, still incognito as Superman's "Secret Weapon," was trying to come up with a Kryptonite antidote by, basically, pouring a series of chemicals (long-distance via super-tongs) onto a piece of Green K.

Now, this must have been MUTANT Green Kryptonite, because, unlike EVERY OTHER piece of Kryptonite in the univers, THIS PIECE was reduced by atmospheric friction to marble size. Since Super-Creator Jerry Siegel wrote these tales, I guess nobody told him that DC had a "Kryptonite continuity rule," as stated in Superman #130: When passing into our atmosphere, Kryptonite "didn't burn up in Earth's air like ordinary meteors because Kryptonite can't combine chemically with oxygen, which cause combustion."

So, when this marble-sized piece of mutant Green K was experimented on by Kara Zor-El, nothing happened. That she noticed, anyway. Actually, "by a strange twist of fate," the Green K's properties were changed to turn it into "X-Kryptonite." Another strange twist of story-telling fate got that small piece of Green K (oops, "X=Kryptonite") into a ball of yarn that -- just by coincidence, mind you -- was being played with by the stray cat adopted by Linda Lee, which she'd named "Streaky" because of the zigzag on his side.

And now we come to the end of this subhuman tale. The art for the Super-Pets is from a story with art by Pete Costanza. The Superboy cover was drawn by the NEVER EXCEEDED Curt Swan.

More Origins of Super-Pets

Our recaps of the Super-Pets' origins from Adventure 364 continues with perhaps the only two critters who could (technically anyway) REALLY be called "Super."

Lentils and Germs, I give you ... Krypto the Super-Dog, and Beppo the Super-Monkey!

Now, Krypto was baby Kal-El's pet pup, and was launched by dad Jor-El into space to orbit Krypton and return safely. However, a passing meteoroid whacked Krypto's rocket into deep space, and .. by a strange twist of fate ... it landed on Earth around the time that Clark Kent/Superboy became a teenager.

On the other rocket fin, Beppo was actually a hitchhiker on Kal-El's ship! As revealred in Superboy 76, he was one of Jor-El's experimental monkeys who hopped into the ship just before takeoff. Hmm, mayb e that's why there wasn't room for Lara?!?

In the origin story of the Super-Simian, he is never named. In fact, "Beppo" is the name of an organ-grinder's monkey that is "aped" (sorry) by the Kryptonian critter. He sees that the organ-grinder's monkey, named Beppo, is dressed in a uniform, and then steals Kal-El's super-playsuit, causing his ensuing mischief to be blamed on Kal-El.

At the end of the tale, the super-monkey flies into space, still wearing the playsuit! so, I guess that this means that Superboy's and Superman's outfit is the SECOND suit made by Ma Kent from the Kryptonian blankets also in the rockets. What a trivia question!

Beppo the Super-Monkey was given that name later on, in a later story.

Secret Origins of Super-Pets!

This GRRR-E-E-E-A-T-T-T !! Curt Swan cover is from Adventure 364, cover-dated January 1968. It shows four of the five members of the Legion of Super-Pets. Who's the fifth? Proty II, of course. Why he is "number two" is something for you to figure out. HINT: It involves lightning rods.
Anyway, in this story the Super-Pets feel unappreciated and go shopping for more appreciative masters. Along the way, they recap their origins, which I'll share with you.
First up, Comet the Super-Horse! After reading this recap, you will understand why some uncharitable souls have made the comment that it's creepy to think about Supergirl making out with her horse.

Yes, Comet's human form is called Bronco Bill, and as a rodeo star in Midvale, Supergirl's home town, he has dated and smooched up Linda Lee Danvers (this is in the Silver Age "real" world, of course).
And like Cinderella at midnight, Bronco Bill sometimes has to cut their dates short when the comet that's transformed him fades away.
Stay tuned for our next Super-Pet, another "faux" Super, Streaky the Super-Cat. He also is "owned" by Supergirl. who therefore has a 40% interest in the franchise name.

Sites to Have Fun With

One is "Let Them Sing It for You," at http://www.sr.se/p1/src/sing/index.htm# -- where you type in words and you hear your message sung word-by-word from various pop songs. Don't forget that if your word is too complicated, you can often achieve success by breaking it down phonetically. That is, "sooner"+"can" sounds remarkably close to "SoonerCon."

Another fun one is "#9", http://www.escape.com/~dario/beatles/number9/?NF=1 -- which lets you mix-n-match 12 different snippets from the Beatles' "Revolution 9" (from the White Album, of course!) to create your own version.

And don't forget "The Earth Is Not Moving," http://www.fixedearth.com/ -- guaranteed to set back the IQ of any Christian (or non) who reads it.

A wonderful site is "I Used to Believe," http://iusedtobelieve.com/ -- where folks from all over can share the silly (?) things we believed as children -- from the commonplace (inside the core of a golfball is an acid that will melt your body to mush) to the, umm-- odd: "When I was little I thought that videotapes worked by sending a signal to the actors who would then quick get ready and perform the movie for you. If you pressed pause, they would stand totally still, and if you pressed rewind they would do it all backward."

Me? I used to believe that by 25 I've have several successful albums. Poetry published. A TV show with Mark Barragar (aka Ranger Roger for you OKC types). I used to believe that the people who got angry with me would get over it, since I am personally incapable of carrying evil feelings or grudges around.

Now I believe that the only way I can help people who are mad at me is to try not to make them more crazy, by trying to leave 'em alone.

But, back to fun websites, "Ugly Christmas Lights" http://www.uglychristmaslights.com/ -- will put you in the Holiday mood, since tonight I just saw my first Christmas commercial (September 29, people!).

Have a swifty nifty weekend!

A Couple of Ruminations on the Disciple Peter

Several times I've read about brash, loudmouthed Peter, who loved Jesus but kept shooting his mouth off. I'm a lot like that too.

I've often also found it challenging to write in the rhyme scheme I stole from Emily Dickinson, the same kind of scheme as the hymn "Amazing Grace." I find that the restrictions of syllables and emphasis challenge me to try to pack a lot into the simple structure. So, here goes:

Peter
July 19, 1981

I lived with him for three long years --
Together -- dust and rain --
Yet at the crux -- I choked on fear --
I disavowed his name --

And yet when once again we met --
At dawn -- beside the sea --
His eyes no condemnation held --
He slew -- forgiving me --

+++++++

May 7, 1995

My master was so generous --
With Peter -- by the sea --
Against denials triplicate
He drew -- I love yous -- three--

And when he meets me -- face to face --
They say -- "beyond the veil" --
How many loves must I declare,

To balance out my scale --

Working on a New Design

I've spent most of today trying to learn Microsoft Front Page so that I can use it to redesign the STAR OKC website, which is at www.starokc.org. After I did what I thought I wanted, I asked My Son the Genius to help me "upload" it to my Cox space.

Whereupon he informed me that I was stupid and was doing it all wrong, and he had to fix it.

Well, between this and that we have SOMETHING there at www.starokc.org.

WHY, you ask? Basically because the domain name is paid-for for another year or two. And it doesn't need to chronicle the happenings of a defunct SF club. No, it can instead be used for SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE, I hope!

Here's my crazy dream: Use the site as a bulletin board for OKC fandom. Whether the Mirage, Jedi OKC, Serendipity, or whoever! Pretty soon I'll have more stuff up, but I want to have email addresses, links, and updates for area cons, stores, clubs, and any other interest group.

Why not?
So, any OKCers, please have folks send me info on any happenings, and we'll get it there. For now, send to them to blog@starokc.org. And I sure hope that folks can understand that there's room for everyone in the OKC fandom umbrella!
Thank you and good night!

The Left-Out Super-Power

Though it had its problems, Superman Returns was a pretty fun movie. The fanboy in me was tickled and thrilled to see him use Super-Breath to blow out a fire.

However, as I read through some of my Superman comics from the late 1950s, I see the Man of Steel often using a super-power that seems to be mostly ignored by today's comic writers...

The Super Head-Butt!
Check out these examples from just three issues! The boulder smash-up (art by Wayne Boring) and the cannon panel (also by Boring) are BOTH from Superman 126. The gong-shot (Kurt Schaffenberger) comes from Superman 128, and the helmet crunch (Al Plastino) is from Action 251.

Boy howdy! If more people knew about the Super Head-Butt, then the Ugly Superman might choose a different moniker to wrestle under.















Maybe it's time for a little Super-Aspirin!

Rejected Again!

Anybody else remember the magazine The Twilight Zone? It was a pretty good conglomeration of media-type stuff and fiction. At least once they had an amateur fiction contest, and I got six of seven of these in the mail over stories I submitted.

For some reason they were nice enough to send me two! (The original really is blank on the addressee side.)

You know, if they had accepted a few of my stories, they would have gotten enough readers to keep from going out of business. Right?

Another STAR TREK Plot

I think the people of Athens of 40 AD were a lot like American politicians and media types of the 21st century.
According to Acts 17:21, "For all the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell, or to hear some new thing." (King James version)
Nowadays, we have whole TV channels (E!, CNN, FNC, MTV, etc) devoted to nothing else!
Now, in my storyline for ST:TNG, Riker, Troi, and Data would be leading an Evaluation Away Team on an undercover visit to a planet whose technological level is roughly half-way between ours, and Picard's Federation. The job of Riker's party is to surreptitiously evaluate the social development of the planet's (single) culture. The planet has had contact with the Federation over the past couple of centuries -- off and on -- but only to a small extent. The decision whether or not to offer Federation membership to these people will depend, to a large degree, on Riker's report.
Now, all this is background. The conflict is, somehow Riker & crew are discovered, unmasked, and it falls to the Continental Administrator to decide what to do with them. Local laws may be construed as to call for the Death Penalty. It's up to the ConAdmin to decide.
Picard, on the Enterprise, becomes mostly a spectator, arguing like a defense lawyer with the ConAdmin's staff that his ship (and Federation) have only good intentions in SPYING on the planet.
The problem is, this planet's society is TOO MUCH like Earth 21C (21st-Century Earth that is). Specifically, too much like the worst side of the Media/Politics interface of 21C America. The people of the planet have solved their material needs, so their worldwide economy is mostly driven by the vampirelike spectator audience at home. This planet's culture is the logical extension of 21C-America's Survivor-E! Entertainment News-CNN-Entertainment addiction. The entire culture and political system is built on watching, "waiting for the latest tidbit on mostly anything," as The Message's version of Acts 17:21 states. It's a nightmare combination of YouTube and Entertainment Tonight. George Clooney and Charlton Heston are running the planet! Metaphorically.
So we have a bunch of interplanetary spies -- Riker and crew -- being held captive, on trial for their lives, before a global audience. And the "judge" of this "really big show" is a career politician who is AFRAID TO MAKE A MOVE until he hears the latest polls and focus-group interviews (sound like some politicians we've heard of, yes?).
At the crux, some BIG BAD THING happens -- maybe an asteroid coming in to smite the planet-- and Riker very bluntly takes over the "show trial" as a bully pulpit to make suggestions (ACTUALLY MAKING DECISIONS) that somehow avert the disaster.
Riker's decisiveness impress so much of the worldwide audience that they vote that they would like a leader who actually will lead without asking permission first. They vote to drop the whole polling-goverment thing and take a moratorium on it.
At least, that's what Picard says in the debriefing of his released crew, back on the Enterprise. Also at the debriefing, Troi notes that earlier Federation estimates of this planet's citizens are right in line with what she observed: Very influenced by new ideas, and very imitative. They seemed to seize on Riker's quick man-of-action behavior as a new planetary ideal.
Picard observes, "Well, if they can make such well-implemented decisions as yours, Will, their planet will soon be eligible for Federation membership."
Data puts in, "I would imagine that any administrator could govern more efficiently if he weren't in the habit of sharing the decisions with his subordinates first."
The briefing room goes strangely silent. Data doesn't understnad what the others, and the TV audience, do -- that Picard's Captaincy style is, exactly, one of "sharing the decisions with his subordinates first."
FADE OUT, END OF SHOW.
In case you hadn't figured out, this episode would be a sequel (without saying so) to the ST:TOS episode, "A Piece of the Action," which ended with the inhabitants of Sigma Iotia II finding the communicator left behind accidentally by McCoy. Here we see that the Iotians used it to establish a worldwide communications network, whose instant communications led them to a govermment paralyzed with indecision as at "refreshed" its latest screen with the latest poll numbers.
Also, of course this was framed to make a caustic comment on 20C-21C American media frenzy-style politics, of course.

My Dad's Almost Younger Than Me

A few months ago, in June, my dad had a big ol' birthday. He turned 80!
And if not for the inattention and criminal negligence of some staff members at the Muskogee (OK) VA hospital, Dad would still be playing 9-18 holes of golf the way he did until about three years ago. It's a long story, and I won't go into it here, except to report that under VA treatment he went in for a colonoscopy and came out only after threats from our hometown physician. In the meanwhile, due to lousy care, he woke up all doped up, pulled out all his IVs, had at least one ministroke, and went FOR HOURS without being helped.
Not a good way to treat a WWII veteran, the son of a WWI veteran.
However, as I said, Dad turned 80, and when we drove up for the day and attended his party (organized by a bunch of old gold cronies), I wanted to come up with something "special." So I rewrote Irving Berlin's "Grand Old Flag." If it appeals to you, feel free to share it with your Grand Old Dad.

If I Could Change Some Systems

Sometimes, I wish I could "take over" and peremptorily change a few things. Keep in mind that some of these changes are impossible, given our current technological status. These are just pie-in-the-sky wishes! My main intent is to "force" personal responsibility on people -- a feat impossible in our free-will world!
FOOD AID RECIPIENTS: Anybody who was receiving "food stamps" or the equivalent would , as a condition of the program, submit to up to 12 UNSCHEDULED and UNANNOUNCED Surprise Checks during the year. These checks would test the receipient for traces of alcohol or tobacco consumption. If the recipient showed recent consumption of either (much less any illegal substances), they would be barred from the program for a specified time. RATIONALE: Since alcohol and tobacco must be purchased with cash, their presence in the recipient's system indicates that the person had cash with which to purchase these items. If they have cash to pay for cigarettes and alcohol, then they don't need MY MONEY paying for their food. They have some money, but they're spending it on alcohol or tobacco, not on food!
Similarly, "food stamps" or their equivalent should NOT BE ALLOWED to purchase any forms of "soda pop," or candy/snack items. These are luxury items (by my personal fiat, remember), and "food stamps" should not be used for luxuries.


SPEED LIMITS AND DRIVING: In this section I assume a lot of technology we don't have, so bear with me anyway.
Cars would automatically sense the speed limit (ESPECIALLY SCHOOL ZONES) for any street. They would be allowed to surpass that limit by up to 10 MPH for a total of one minute per hour (in case of needing to pass a slowpoke, etc). The next two further attempts would lead to a 30-second automatic triggering of the car's horn and all lights would flash for 30 seconds. The 3rd attempt would result in the vehicle being automatically locked at 2 miles below the speed limit for 5 miles.

Well, kiddies, that's all the evil, repressive ideas I have for tonight. Tune in next time for more "if I ran the world" ideas.