365 Days with Ben Grimm, Day 360

Panel from Marvel Comics Presents #18 (Early May 1989), script by Glenn Herdling, pencils and colors by Richard Howell, inks by Joe Sinnott, letters by Jack Morelli

Saturday Morning Cartoon: Merrie Melodies "The Shanty Where Santy Lives"

Merrie Melodies "The Shanty Where Santy Lives" (1933), directed by Rudolf Isling

365 Days with Ben Grimm, Day 359

Panel from Fantastic Four #8 (February 1992), script by Tom DeFalco, pencils by Paul Ryan, inks by Danny Bulanadi, colors by Ed Lazellari and Christie Scheele, letters by Bill Oakley

And may you not only get what you want and you need, but discover the joy in what you already have.

"Every time a bell rings,
an angel gets his wings."—ZuZu Bailey

Panels from X-Men: First Class v.2 #12 (July 2008), script by Jeff Parker;
pencils, inks, colors and letters by Colleen Coover

Today in Comics History, December 24, 1967 and 1944: How Hitler Tried to Steal Christmas, or, Have Yourself a Furious Little Christmas

Every Belgian in St. Vith liked freedom a lot...
But Herr Hitler, up in Berchtesgaden did not!



And especially at Christmas he'd turn extra brutal
And vow to make holiday joy and hope futile.



He'd shout and he'd curse and he'd cause lots of mayhem
And order the Nazis to round up and slay 'em.



But why did he hate Christmas, A. Schicklgruber?
I'm not sure, but maybe his brain was a tuber.



I didn't do research, so don't call me lazy
But he was that mixture of evil and crazy



He hated the Roma! He hated the Jews!
If he lived above Whoville he'd hate all the Whos



He hated the Slavs and he hated the Poles!
Total mass extinction was his final goals.



The gays and the Soviets, he hated them all
But mostly the Belgians with their soccer balls



(Because legend has told it, if you listen close,
Herr Hitler was jealous, he had just one of those.)



So he met with Herr Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt
And plotted to wipe St. Vith out, cold stone dead.



In the snowy forests of Belgium's Ardenne
Invaded a half million German armed men



And Hitler's plan might have been a great prize
Were it not for the valor of all the Allies.



Those thousands of soldiers who marched through the snow
US grunts like Bill Mauldin's Willie and Joe.



And among them parachuting down through the flurry
Were the Howling Commandoes and Sergeant Nick Fury.



They landed on Nazis, attacked with a yell
And sent every one of those Germans to hell.




(Cause war isn't pretty and war isn't kind.
I'll expect you have to keep that fact well in mind.)



They snuck through the woods with orders to shoot
But sometimes you have to give Jerry a boot.



Snuck up on a tank, commandeered it. Voila!
With Gabe Jones's trumpet playing tah-rah! Tah-rah!



Drove it into the woods and across German flanks
And proceeded to blast the hell out of their tanks



Till the stolen tank finally ran out of fuel
Fury said "March!" (Mom Fury raised no fool.)



"Keep 'em movin'!" Nick grunted, and then soon forthwith
They were moving down into the town of St. Vith.



But the Howling Commandos had run out of luck
There were Nazis up on the road ahead. "Oh &#@%!"



And among the snow-covered Ardenne firs
Rounded up with a pack of American prisoners



Each one of the soldiers was condemned to death
How would they escape? Are you holding your breath?



Sergeant Fury came up with a plan that was awesome
And commanded the Howlers to lie down and play possum.



They survived to battle through the long winter night
Sgt. Fury wasn't leaving St. Vith with no fight.



Til the orders came down to stop the attack
St. Vith was lost, it was time to fall back



They marched through the snow, and can you believe
They'd nearly forgotten it was Christmas Eve.



All the Belgian kids came o'er the hills with a grin
There was Bernard, and Dieter, and Max, and Tintin



Each one was an orphan, without mom, without dad
Howlers determined to give them Christmas like they had



When up in the sky there arose such a clatter
The Germans were bombing! Duck, cover and scatter!



They blew up the chocolate! Blew up the coffee!
Why, those Ratzis even bombed Nick's Christmas tree.



The Howlers shot back on that cold Christmas Eve
(As Nick Fury says, 'Better to give than receive!')



They fought them with rifles! They fought with grenades!
They slammed 'em with weapons to stop the blockades



They each had a weapon or two, ev'ry fella
Dum-Dum's cannon turret! Percy's black umbrella!



On the cold winds the sound of jazz trumpet was borne
It's not really a fight 'til you hear Gabriel's horn.



When you fight against Fury, nothing goes just as planned
And the last battle's with Nick himself, just hand-to-hand.



With a boot in the crotch and a face full of snow
Fury struck at the Nazi with blow after blow



There's no law book to warfare, no Queensbury rules
And a soldier learns to use each of his tools



The Nazi grabbed for a grenade with a grin
"Was ist? Meine Güte!" Fury'd pulled out the pin!



His bones blew to bits and fell down with a rattle.
(He probably shouldn't have narrated his own battle.)



On a snowcovered hill in the chill Ardenne
At last it was Christmas for Nick and his men.



Fury survived the war, years later to divulge
This one heroic tale of the Battle of the Bulge



(What of Hitler, you ask? Well, he died four months later.
The Human Torch flame-broiled to death the dictator.)



So as you enjoy your Christmas with your tree
Just remember the men who kept your country free.



As Nick Fury was heard to yell "Hitler! $@%# you!
"Merry Christmas to all, and a howling WAHOO!"