Today in Comics History, May 23, 1751: Pedantics of the Eighteenth Century

from "Death and Venice" in The Sandman: Endless Nights (DC/Vertigo, November 2003), script by Neil Gaiman, pencils and inks by P. Craig Russell, colors by Lovern Kindzierski, letters by Todd Klein

Today in Comics History, January 8, 1880: Emperor Norton has fallen and he can't get up

from The Sandman (1989 series) #31 (DC, October 1991), script by Neil Gaiman, pencils and inks by Shawn McManus, colors by Daniel Vozzo, letters by Todd Klein
I think that the following page-and-a-bit is my favorite single scene of them all from Neil Gaiman's Sandman.



Where have you gone, Emperor Norton?



Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.


from "Sure as Shootin'" in Desperado #4 (Lev Gleason, October 1948); text, pencils, and inks by Claude Moore

Bully and His Pals: She...she's right behind me, isn't she

365 Days of Defiance, Day 205: And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. — Dylan Thomas

"You get what anybody gets — you get a lifetime." — Death
"Not Lex Luthor. — Lex Luthor




Panels from Action Comics #894 (December 2010), script by Paul Cornell, Death's dialogue by Neil Gaiman, pencils and inks by Pete Woods, colors by Brad Anderson, letters by Rob Leigh

Today in Comics History, June 21, First Day of Summer: Here's your big summer annual crossover.

from Ambush Bug Nothing Special #1 one-shot (DC, September 1992), plot and pencils by Keith Giffen, script by Robert Loren Fleming, inks by Al Gordon, colors by Anthony Tollin, letters by John Costanza

365 Days of DC House Ads, Day 352: Neil Gaiman Wants You to Die This Christmas

House ad for "Death Month" (November-December 1993); printed in Sandman Mystery Theatre #10 (January 1994)

Today in Comics History, December 12, 1834 and 1957: Men of indeterminate but probably Italian ancestry are born but later die

from "The Eighth Deadly Sin, Part Two: Original Sin" in Detective Comics Annual #11 (DC, December 2009), script by Fabian Nicieza, pencils and inks by Tom Mandrake, colors by Nathan Eyring, letters by John J. Hill


from Bill & Ted's Excellent Comic Book #3 (Marvel, February 1992), script and pencils by Evan Dorkin, inks by Stephen DeStefano, colors by Robbie Busch, letters by Kurt Hathaway

Ten of a Kind: Ten Roles for Christopher Lee

(More Ten of a Kind here.)

He's not only merely dead, he's really most sincerely dead

Hey kids, let's read Avengers #15!



Uh, no. Not that Avengers #15. I mean the one...



No! Absolutely no cheap Skrull alternate cover rip-off parodies...!



Look here, are we going to get to read a classic, regular issue of Avengers #15 or not? Because if you...



Now cut that out!



That's better.

Great cover by the late, great Jack Kirby, huh? But tear yourself away for just a moment from the dramatic figures of Captain America, Thor, Iron Man and the teeny-tiny itsby-bitsy Wasp and take a big steaming gander at those cover blurbs. "The thriller you never expected to see!" "Now By My Hand, Shall Perish a Villain!" "The world's mightiest super-heroes in mortal battle with the world's deadliest villains!" "The M.M.M.S. wants you!" Oh wait, you can ignore that last one. Despite what Benjamin Grimm tells you.

There's a few key words here that look like they might just be hyperbole: perish, mortal battle. Take these literally at their word—which, to be fair, is never a good bet with the covers of comic books that promise "nothing will ever be the same again!"—and you just know one of Stan 'n' Jack's colorful cornball characters is going to be crooning the choir celestial (and I think we all know how painful that can be!)

Every time you see a cover like that, especially in the Silver Age, you're entitled to think "Yeah, sure...like that's really gonna happen. Mind you, it's not only in the cover. In the previous issue's blurb for Avengers #15, Stan gleefully proclaimed that only one person was gonna walk away from this fight under his own steam...and to quote Steve Rogers..."And it won't be me!"



Whoa. Heav-ee, man. So, somebody's gonna die, huh? Let's read carefully, panel by panel through the issue, gathering up all the clues and foreshadowing, to try and detect who will...

Oh, heck, let's just flip to the last page and see who buys the farm.


Panels from Avengers #15 (April 1965), script by Stan Lee, layouts by Jack Kirby, pencils by Don Heck, inks by Mike Esposito (credited as Mickey Dimeo, letters by Artie Simek

Ah, it's Baron Heinrich "Ach, Mein Mask ist Verstucken" Zemo, Nazi super-scientist and inventor of Chemical X, the secret ingredient that created the Powerpuff Girls Adhesive X, the mega-muselage so powerful that you can never, never get it off. Pity the poor Baron—had he only lived into the 1990s, he coulda made a mint selling Adhesive X on late-night TV infomercials: just hire Vince Shamwow to hawk the stuff and you'll be rolling in it in no time! (Which would be a bad idea, because you'd be stuck to the carpet.)

Anyway. Baron Zemo's dead. Well, yeah, but this is Marvel comics, where people come back from the dead so fast it makes Captain Jack Harkness dizzy. Zemo'll be back in ish #20 or 25 or so, right, Stan?



Wow! Mighty strong words from The Man in the letters column header of Avengers #15. From what Stan says, dead means dead...Zemo ain't coming back!

But surely...sooner or later...he's gonna pop up again, right? Give Stan a couple months and he'll realize that he could bring Zemo back by saying he was trasported away just as the rockslide hit, or that it was a clone or a robot who got trapped, or even that Zemo's still alive under that pile of rubble, living large with the Mole Man. Isn't that correct, Stan-writing-in- a-letter-column- in-Avengers-18?



Holy cow. You know, I'm beginning to think Mister Lee meant business when he snuffed the Baron. Herr Zemo not only merely dead, he's also most sincerely dead. This...is an ex-Zemo!

And here's the amazing thing: not a single Marvel writer has overturned that story. Sure, Baron Zemo appeared in Avengers #353, but he's a rotting zombie trapped in hell (ergo, still dead):


Panel from Avengers #353 (Late September 1992), script by Len Kaminski, pencils by M. C. Wyman, inks by Ariane, colors by Rob Tokar, letters by Chris Eliopoulos

Poor guy. His flesh rots from his face and that darn mask is still stuck on with Adhesive X. That's some great glue!

Oh ho, wait a minute...what the Sam Scratch is goin' on here in Captain America #362?:


Panel from Captain America #362 (Mid-November 1989), script by Mark Gruenwald, pencils by Mark Bright, inks by Don Hudson, colors by Bob Sharen, letters by John Morelli

Blast you, Mark Gruenwald—overturning the decision of Stan Lee to kill off Baron Zemo permanently! Why, haven't we already got his son, Baron Zemo II: Electric Boogaloo in the Marvel Universe and this very storyline, the haunting tale of a young supervillain in our modern age trying to recapture the memories of his deceased father by building a monument which will return him from the dead? Why, it's almost a Nazi version of Field of Dreams.



Oh, wait a minute. Clever, clever Mark Gruenwald! That isn't Der Baron after all, but simply an evil life force inhabiting the exhumed corpse of Zemo. Why, that happens every week in the Marvel Universe. Twice a week in Garth Ennis's The Punisher versus Resurrected Nazis.

Speaking of whom, here's Marvel's very own "I'm pretty much like the Punisher except I wear my skull on my face, hah, bite me, Frank Castle": Crossbones!:



You know Crossbones is a man of his word, because when Crossbones declares that this "son of a swirly star saturn shazamsymbol moonknightsymbol must die!", he means it:



Oooh! He can't take it there! And for those of you keeping track, this is the second time Cap's shield has killed Baron Zemo. That thing's just darn unlucky to have around if you're a Nazi, I think!

So, some surprising comic book history there, I think. Baron Heinrich Zemo goes down in the Marvel Universe Hall of Fame not for his invention of Elmer's Guide Extreme, not for his snazzy all-weather stripey ski mask, but for the distinction of being the only person in the Marvel Universe who died and didn't come back.

Except for Uncle Ben. Who, you gotta admit, you never saw at the same time as Zemo. And hey, you never saw Zemo's face...huh! And, when Zemo fought Spider-Man in Spider-Man and His Ginchy Gal Gwen #7 (September 1964), Baron Zemo did utter this immortal dialogue "Peter! Don't you recognize me! It's me, your Unc... AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" before falling into a pit of tigers swimming in corrosive acid.

Baron Zemo: he was a rotten, no-good, dirty, murderous, Nazi dog. But unlike the rest of the Marvel Universe, at least he had the basic human decency to stay dead.

That's right, Hawkeye...I'm lookin' in your direction.

"You get what everyone gets, you get a lifetime."

So spoke Morpheus's sister, the Death with the spunky, can-do attitude, a character who gives us all hope that one really cute goth chick will hold our hand at least once in our lives. Or, more accurately, once right after our lives. Death is not only part of life, it's a hefty part of the comics I picked up this week; each of them has a character death or reference to death or even just a solid tempus fugit tone to it. I'm not a morbid little stuffed bull—rather, my days are filled with Pixy Stix and Rock'em Sock'em Robots and Pepperoni Cheese Goldfish and Gilmore Girls reruns and my pogo stick and my Bender the Robot action figure, but even on a bright sunny summery day a little bull's thoughts turn to carpe diem and where we all go after we leave this place.

Me? I'm goin' to Disney World. Otherwise, I ain't goin'.

Let's talk about this week's comics, shall we?

RUNAWAYS #19: This comic is fun but sad. The title of this story? "Dead Means Dead." As comic book fans, we don't tend to believe that, do we? Dr. Doom/Superman/Phoenix/Bucky/Robin/Uncle Ben die...but in the revolving door mythology of the Marvel and DC Universes, more often than not, they're just away on a short life-challenged vacation. (Peter David even had a funny bit about it concerning Banshee in a recent X-Factor). We're used to that, but the Runaways aren't, and the death of one of their team hits them hard in one of the most affecting and personal issues of superhero comics dealing with death I've yet read. Even Leapfrog is called on to discuss the nature of death as the kids react to their loss. Rest assured: this is not twenty-two pages of the Runaways moping around and feeling sorry for themselves; there's a solid beginning of the next big adventure plotline and a dandy monsteriffic cliffhanger. But I've said it before and I'll say it again: how the Runaways react to their situations and circumstances make them the most realistic of a large bunch of superteens; this is simply one of—maybe the—best-written and pitch-perfect portrayals of teens in superhero comics. Ever.


NEXTWAVE #7: This comic is fun. Look, I've told you enough times: buy Nextwave. If you're not going to pay attention to me, move along, buddy, there's nothing to see here. I hear and understand some of the criticisms: it's a one-joke premise, Dirk Anger runs thin after a while, I'm not believing the way Machine Man and Captain Marvel are being written. But you're denying yourself not only one of the most rollicking fun gonzo experiences in comics every month—a caffeine-laden palatte-cleanser for oh-so-serious superhero adventure—but you're also denying yourself some of the funniest dialogue in modern superhero comics, including a week that's full of death's best reference and Best Line of the Week: "X-Men come back more than Jesus." To paraphrase the cover of Jimmy Olsen #141: Bully says: Don't ask! Just buy it!


MANHUNTER #25: This comic is fun. A little voice keeps whispering in my head: Buy Manhunter. Buy Manhunter. Buy Manhunter. I've been to several specialists and had a dozen CAT scans (well, actually I just rode back and forth through the X-ray machine at LaGuardia Airport several times) and all specialists agree: I'm not crazy. They also suggest: Buy Manhunter. So, in accordance with my weekly mission to Pick Up One New Comic Title I Haven't Been Reading, I bought Manhunter. And whatdaya know, it's a heckuva lotta fun. Great characterization, sharp dialogue, solid art, strong supporting characters, and a dandy of a last-page guest star: it's everything I love in fun comics, plus the best scene about the impracticalities of changing into your superhero costume I've seen since Christopher Reeve couldn't find a boxed-in phone booth! But if this is "Death Week," you're asking, where's the death? Quite simply: this was very nearly the last issue of Manhunter: it was cancelled, and like a last-minute cliffhanger where the hero cheats death, there's more to come: five issues starting in December. Isn't that the way it usually works in superhero comics: back from the dead at the last minute? I won't be ignoring the little voices in my head again: I will buy Manhunter, picking up the trades and back issues so I can get up to speed on Kate Spencer and company (although for a "final issue," #25 is remarkably accessible), and I will be standing in line outside my comic book shop ready to buy Manhunter #26 when it goes on sale on December. Don't make the same mistake I made: Buy Manhunter.


52 WEEK 15: This comic is fun but sad. Let me end this week's round-up with the big death: like his pal Ted Kord, Booster Gold is dead. C'mon, stop scolding me: no spoiler alert needed: it says it right up front on the cover. After several weeks of acting like a self-centered ass (and more painfully, a self-centered criminal ass), Booster went out the way a hero should (a death we the fans won't be completely up in arms about, the way DC treated Blue Beetle), and I sniffled more than a little bit at the last couple pages. Sure, it's comics. Sure, it's a time-travelling superhero. Sure, there are umpteen ways to undo this story, from resurrection to time travel to Church of Superboy to Wein's Law (hey, we didn't really see the body...). Skeets's reaction is heartbreaking: in the words of Roy Thomas, even a robot can cry. And I'll go on record right here and now: I no longer trust Supernova. Dude's got a secret, and I bet it's not a good one. He's up to something; he has his own agenda, and I ain't trusting him, he can't borrow my pogo stick, no way. But in the end, this is DC Comics, and I don't care what Mister Didio says, Booster Gold will be back somehow, you can bet on it. That doesn't make this issue any less sad, but the sadness doesn't make it any less fun: sacrifice and change is part of what makes superhero comics entertaining. In homage to the fun and joy I've gotten from Booster Gold and his adventures, from his self-titled series to Justice League, through the Superbuddies and 52, I award 52 WEEK 15 the most fun comic of the week.

Still, I think this story needs a coda, a closure, a goodbye. The Vertigo Universe doesn't seem to be part of the DC Universe anymore, but the realm of the Endless was never restricted to such mortal boundaries anyway. Like they say, if you want it done, sometimes you have to do it yourself. So I did. I hereby present a little bit of bullish creative fan-fiction about what happens between panels one and two on page twenty of 52 WEEK 15. Call it...

52 Fifteen-and-a-Half

"I'm back, baby!" Booster Gold tossed back his head and smiled, and declared to the skies over Metropolis: "I am back!"

It felt good. It felt right. It felt...

There was a quiet soft snap somewhere above him, and he felt the rush of fire against his face, and the roar of the wind, and somewhere far below him, a robot cried his name, but it faded quickly, so quickly it might never have been there.

“Hullo, Michael. Why’d you do it?” asked a female voice.

Booster spun around—aware for the first time that he was no longer on the deck of the submarine hovering over Metropolis. He wasn't floating, however: he was standing on nothing at all, but the nothing was solid beneath his feet, an invisible floor of grey mist. If that was surprising enough, then it was instantly surpassed by the woman who stood before him, smiling at him. She was dressed all in black—black leather jacket over a black lace camisole top and black puffy skirt, shiny black skin-tight stockings down her shapely legs and scuffed black motorcycle boots on her feet. Her hair was even blacker than her clothes, a tangled yet artful mop that stuck out in all directions around her pale, pale, white as snow face, but her eyes were warm and violet. Around her neck she wore a fine filigree chain with a silver ankh pendant that dangled between her breasts and set off the silver colour against her pale, pale skin.

She was, Booster thought, quite possibly the second-most-beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Why did I do what?” he asked her.

“Well, y’ know,” She smiled and spun on her heel playfully. “You were out. You were safe. You'd made your mark. You didn't have to prove yourself to anyone. You didn't have to prove yourself to Supernova, or the city. You'd done your best. You could have walked away, flown away. But you came back, and you let him live instead.” Her eyes twinkled. “I had a bet with my brother. He said you wouldn’t come back, wouldn’t do it, couldn’t do it, wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. I was sure I could prove him wrong. Again.”

Booster shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt I had to.” He hesitated. “J'onn once said...”

The woman in black said nothing, just waited for him to gather his words.

“J'onn once said...if you can't be a hero...be human.”

There was a long silence.

“Was I right?” Booster asked, expectantly. “Did I do the right thing?…for the first damn time in my life?”

“What do you think?” she asked.

Booster shrugged, and fell wordless again.

“Hey, cool googles,” the pale woman broke the silence with an enthusiastic grin. “Can I try them?”

“Sure,” Booster said, amused at her, much to his surprise, and peeling his goggles off his face, he handed them to the woman, who slipped them over her violet eyes and peered up at him with a sparkling smile.

“Way cool,” trilled the woman, squinting through the golden lenses. She regarded him thoughtfully. “Ready, Michael?”

“You aren’t at all what I expected.”

“I never am.”

“I sort of thought the skeleton guy in the robe was…”

“Oh, him.” She clicked her tongue and tilted her head in amusement. “Not the real thing at all, you know.” She ran her free hand through her tousled raven hair and regarded him carefully, a smile line creasing through the curlicue tattoo below her right eye, shining through the golden goggles. “It's me who turns the last page in the story every week; it's me who closes the cover and puts the book away in a bag.” She took his hand and inclined her head towards the far grey horizon. “Ready?”

“Uhh…”

“C’mon. I’ll walk with you.”

He hesitated. “Will Ted be there?”

She smiled. “Come and see.”

So he did.

Michael Jon Carter
Booster Gold
24??-2006
Rest in peace