Showing posts with label Kal-El. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kal-El. Show all posts

Monday, February 9, 2009

Kara Zor-El







Well, OK, Jimmy Olsen's up to his crazy antics at the bottom. Dig the face on that cab driver, though. Earlier, I had been up north reading, warmish night, rained a bit, but its after 1 and I need to be up by 7. Plus, I should have some photos developed, hopefully a few from tonight's full moon reflected in the rain were a success. Crazier things have happened with me and my disposable cameras. I'd rather write a nice and slow rundown of events.

Instead, I'll finish my (sort of) comic posts with my personal favorite, Supergirl. She's my favorite because I like anything created in 1959, so that goes for Green Lantern, too. As you can see, though, 1959 was a goofy time in the era Mort Weisinger edited the Superman line. The horse at the top, that's Comet. He had a crush on Supergirl, while he was still a horse, until he was able to turn into a centaur whenever a comet flew past the Earth. I'm not certain how the transformation occurred, or why Kal-El is hitting on his cousin, but again, two words: Mort Weisinger. You worked for him, you could pull an idea out of your @$$ and he'd OK it. Ah, to have been in comics back then...

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Thy Will Be Done





It'd be nice if we had a couple of guys up there looking out for the best interests of the average guy on the street, but who am I to judge?...Wayne

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Chicago At @$#^*% Night




Spooky Chicago, my ass. Aw crap, its Holy Week, I'm doing another 52 years in purgatory, ah well. No, I did not write about the goth dead chicks, I had an article about all of the hallowed haunting grounds in this sinful city. It was 70 degrees on Sunday, and it is currently 28 and dropping. What the Geronimo H. Bald headed Christmas is going on? Who has my slice of the global warming pie? The only saving grace from this frightening return to semi-winter is the wonderful panel of Superman--ahem!--trying to explain to Supergirl why they can't have sex. Or go see a movie. Or read Roald Dahl stories aloud to each other as they sat from opposite ends of a big, giant bubble bath. Wearing fedoras.