Richest Fictional Characters

Forbes Magazine has come out with their annual list of the richest fictional characters (you'd think they had better things to do with their time...but hey it's fun) and this year the list is led by the grouchy and stingy billionaire Uncle Scrooge McDuck (see above) with an estimated net worth of $28.8 billion dollars (from mining and treasure hunting) .

The rest of the top 10:

Ming the Merciless ($20.9 billion from technology, slavery, and domination of the planet Mongo)

Richie Rich ($16.1 billion; trust fund baby)

Mom ($15.7 billion; owner of MomCorp, the future's biggest conglomerate)

Jed Clampett ($11 billion; oil man/Beverly Hillbilly)

C. Montgomery Burns ($8.4 billion; ruthless energy tycoon)

Carter Pewterschmidt ($7.2 billion; steel baron/media tycoon)

Bruce Wayne ($7 billion; heir/owner of Wayne Enterprises/caped crusader)

Thurston Howell III ($6.3 billion/owner of Howell Enterprises/castaway)

Tony Stark ($6 billion/defense and technology contractor/armored Avenger)

One Dark (Christmas Eve) Night, Part 2

As the snow continued to fall, the Batmobile prowled the streets looking for trouble to right. "This snow's gonna send everybody running home tonight to wait for Santa," Robin said tugging his hat down to the top edge of his mask. "Don't think there's gonna be much for us to do tonight, big guy."

Batman stared resolutely forward. "Maybe not. We'll see..."

They cruised past the uptown shopping district. All of the shops there were already closed for the holiday. Bored, Robin was glancing absently about when a movement caught his eyes. "Circle the block, Batman," he said pressing his nose to the window to look back.

"What's up?" Batman asked as he turned at the corner.

"Don't know, " Robin replied. "Probably nothing...but I thought I saw somebody sneaking around that gift store back there."

Batman dimmed the lights as the Batmobile came back around the corner. They pulled up to the store, both of them half-expecting to find a burglar trying to break into the store. What they found instead was a little girl sitting in the doorway shivering and crying.

Robin jumped out of the car first knowing that Batman's appearance would no doubt frighten the girl. "Hey, little miss," he said with a bright smile, "what are you doing out here at this time of night?"

The little girl looked up. "I know you," she said wiping her nose and standing up, "you're Robin! I saw you on TV!"

"That's me, sweetie!" Robin replied taking a short playful bow. "What's your name?"

The little girl looked over at Batman who had gotten out of the Batmobile and was watching from the other side of the car, then she looked back at Robin who had knelt down to her level. "Sara, " she said shyly. "My name is Sara."

Robin pulled off his Santa hat and placed it on her head. "What are you doing out here alone, Sara?"

The little girl looked down kicking a bit of the gathering snow around with the toe of her boot. "It's almost Christmas," she said sadly, a hot tear forming in her eye, "an' I been so busy playin' an' stuff that I...I forgot to get Mommy a present..."

"So you came out here to get her one?"

Sara nodded. "I sneaked out and came down here with my own money," she rattled her pocket full of change, "to get her one. But everything's closed...an' it's cold...an' I'm lost...I don't know how to get home..."

Sara leaned forward into Robin's arms and he picked her up. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll get you home." Robin carried her into the Batmobile. settling her on his lap in the passenger seat. Batman climbed back into the car and reached for the radio microphone.

Sara glanced doe-eyed over at Batman. "I'm sorry to be botherin' you, Mr. Batman," she said in a tiny voice.

Batman looked thoughtfully at her face for a moment. "It's okay, little one," he said looking up to meet Robin's gaze," this is why Robin and I are out here...to help people..."

Robin pulled another candy cane from his vest pocket and gave it to Sara while Batman called police headquarters to see if anyone had called in a missing persons report on Sara. And indeed someone had he was told.

"She lives a few blocks to the west," Batman said as he returned the microphone to its cradle. He turned the engine over and pulled out onto the now snow-covered street.

Soon, the Batmobile pulled up to a small house a few blocks away. There was a Gotham City Police car parked in front of the house.

"That's it, Mr. Batman!" Sara said excitedly. "That's my house right there!"

"I know, honey," he said pulling in to park in front of the house.

Robin carried Sara, who was still wearing his Santa hat, up the walkway; Batman hung back a few steps. The front door opened and a policeman stepped out. "...yes, ma'am, we'll let you know as soon as we..." he stopped in mid-statement as he noticed the newcomers.

"What the...?!?"

Another cop and a teary-eyed woman in a bathrobe came through the door.

"Mommy!" Sara cried as Robin handed her into her mother's outstretched arms.

"Sara! Oh baby, where have you been!?!" her mother cried as she hugged her daughter tightly to he chest. "I was so worried! Oh God!"

The first cop nodded to his partner. "Go call it in, Mitch," he said with a broad grin. "Another gold star for the Caped Crusaders! Good work, guys!"

"Just luck, officer," Batman said quietly. "We just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

The policeman looked over at the mother and child hugging and crying in the doorway. "Whatever works, Batman."

"I guess..." Batman replied wistfully. "C'mon, Robin, let's go."

Sara noticed the two of them leaving and leapt down from her mother's arms. "Robin, wait!" She ran up to him holding out the hat.

"You forgot your hat."

He took it and promptly put it back on top of her head. "You keep it, gorgeous, I think it looks even better on you than it did on me! Don't you agree, Batman?"

"Without a doubt."

"Thank you for bringing me home," Sara said. "I'm sorry I caused everybody so much trouble. I just wanted to get a present for my Mommy..."

Batman glanced over at the woman standing in the doorway with the policeman. "I think you just did, sweetheart. Merry Christmas."

Batman slid back into the car. Robin bent down and gave Sara a final hug. "Be good, kiddo," he said with a jaunty grin.

"Merry Christmas, Robin!"

The Batmobile pulled away from the house and back into the night. "Snow's really coming down now," Batman said. "Guess we might as well call it a night. The Commissioner can give a call if we're needed..."

"Yeah," Robin agreed as he stifled a yawn. "And besides, I'm all out of candy canes."

Batman allowed himself a fleeting smile. "At least you got rid of that silly hat."

"I knew you'd say something like that." An impish grin blossomed on the boy's face as he reached under his seat and pulled out another red-and-white Santa hat, this one with a tinkling little silver bell on its tip. "Boy scouts and Boy Wonders are always prepared! Now home, Jeeves, I think I hear them sleigh bells a-ringin' in the distance!"

"You're incorrigible," Batman said as he turned towards the highway that would take them back to the suburban mansion they called home.

Robin nestled back in his seat and closed his eyes. "If you think that now," he said ominously, "wait 'til you see what I got y ou for Christmas..."

"I shudder to think."

Robin shrugged again and pulled his cape around him for the ride home. He smiled and began to hum, "...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...Batman!"

Batman sighed and gunned the Batmobile through the gathering snow towards home.

Batman and Robin are © 2006 and ™ DC Comics

One Dark (Christmas Eve) Night, Part 1

The cave was, of course, cool and dark and still...only the soft hum, and attendant glow, of a bank of sophisticated computer and video monitors disturbing that eerie stillness until the doors of an elevator hummed quickly open. The man in black strode out of the elevator and walked purposefully towards his forbidding black sedan. The sun was hours gone and it was time to go back to work.

Bruce paused to look at his reflection in a full-length mirror hanging near a soft spotlight. There was, he realized once again, something both eminently forbidding and sublimely ridiculous about the costume....the skintight body suit, the flowing black cloak with its jagged edge, the sinister black cowl...but the whole ensemble played nicely into his theory of the inherent cowardice and superstition running rampant in the diseased criminal mind. He realized, once again, that wearing the costume...indeed that going out into the night risking his life in the name of "justice"...was not a completely rational thing to do.

He knew that. But he didn't care as long as he continued to show results in his drive to be the right hand of righteous justice.

Bruce's reverie was shattered by the noisy entrance of his ebullient young friend and partner. The boy's bright red, green, yellow, and black costume was topped off this night with a fuzzy red-and-white hat that sat jauntily atop his head haloing his bright smile.

"Tim," Bruce said patiently, "why are you wearing that hat?"

The boy paused at the mirror to fuss with his headgear. "It's Christmas Eve, Bruce," he replied brightly, "I though I'd spread a little holiday cheer among the thugs and other assorted riff-raff we might run into tonight!"

Bruce repressed a smile and said sternly, "We're about serious business tonight as always, Robin, I'd really prefer it if you..."

The boy ran, jumped, and turned a perfect forward somersault landing precisely where he wanted to...next to the passenger door of the great black car. "Don't be such a grinch, Batman," he said unperturbed by his partner's characteristic gruffness. "C'mon, let's roll!"

Batman fought back yet another smile and walked slowly to the driver's side of the car. He sometimes wondered why he took the boy...as capable and valuable as Timothy was...out with him on his nocturnal forays against Gotham's lowlifes. The truth was that the boy's light...his irrepressible joy for life and living...balanced his more dour outlook on things and kept him in touch with the basic goodness of most people (this being something he tended to doubt in a world like his that was populated with murderers and rapists and thieves and psychotics.) Robin, he realized, kept him from letting his formidable dark side run rampant...kept him from becoming in effect that which he himself hated most.

As Batman slid into the car, Robin began humming the theme from the TV show that had so irked him years ago. "Doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...doo...Batman!" the boy sang mischievously.

Batman pointedly ignored him and engaged the Batmobile's mighty engine. Robin, still humming the song, reached into his bright red vest's inner pocket and pulled out a candy cane. He unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth as he settled back for the ride into town to begin.

Batman glanced over at the boy who was contentedly sucking on the red-and-white stick of candy and, not completely able to curtail a slight grin, said, "Do you have to...?"

"Do I have to what?" Robin replied disingenuously loudly slurping the candy cane in the process.

Batman shook his head and gunned the engine. The concealing doors at the far end of the Batcave raised silently and quickly and the Batmobile roared out into the Christmas Eve night heading towards the sparkling lights of Gotham City in the distance.

There was a light dusting of snow on the road leading into the city. "Looks like we're gonna have a white Christmas after all." Robin commented not expecting a reply from his friend.

The city itself was alive with bundled up citizens out and about doing their last minute shopping. Batman knew that the number of honest people out there spending money and carrying tempting packages would bring the vultures out even on a brisk Christmas Eve night. Of this he was sure.

Almost as if on cue, his thoughts were interrupted by a scream from behind them. "Stop! Thief! Stop!"

Robin spit his candy into the litterbag at his feet, his face now focused and wary. Batman wheeled the Batmobile around and roared back to where the cry had come from.

In front of a department store, a flustered woman was being helped to her feet by some passers-by as the costumed duo leapt out of their jet-black car. Batman noticed two new paths in the snow leading from where the woman had fallen down the street and around the corner into a darkened alley. A Salvation Army collection kettle stood untended just outside the doorway of the store.

The crowd of onlookers gave way for the tall man in black...a feeling of awe, coloured with more than a little apprehension, sweeping over them.

"Batman!" the woman cried. "He stole my purse! He ran into the alley!" she said pointing down the street.

Batman nodded and sprinted away, his great black cloak fanning out behind him. Robin paused long enough to say, "It's okay, ma'am, we'll get him!" He winked at her and she smiled; then he ran after Batman into the alley.

Robin, true to his rigorous training, stole cautiously into the alley, his every sense on full alert. He crouched low as he heard a voice from deep in the dark alley.

"Wh-who are you, man?" he heard a nervous voice cry out.

Robin rolled his eyes and muttered, "Jeez, everybody's a straight man..." But then he noticed Batman, standing silent and still, almost invisible in the shadows, against the far wall of the alley listening intently. to the proceedings further down the way.

Then who...? His thought was interrupted as two figures suddenly walked out of the alley. One was a boy about 16; the other was a ruddy-faced man in a Salvation Army uniform, holding a large black pocketbook in his left hand. His right arm is across the boy's slumped shoulders. Both of them drew back wide-eyed as Batman and Robin stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the alley.

The boy's eyes stayed wide with fright but the older man quickly regained his composure. "Evening, Batman," he said pleasantly. "Everything's okay here...young Robert here is quite remorseful about his actions..."

Batman said nothing. He nodded and let them pass. Down the street back in front of the store, the crowd had grown and the woman who had been mugged was standing at the front of it apprehensively.

As Batman and Robin watched from a few yards behind, the old man handed the pocketbook to Robert, who in turn walked over to the woman.

"I'm sorry, ma'am...I..."

She took the purse warily and glanced through it. "It's all here I think," she said looking up at Batman who'd come closer.

Robert, tears streaming down his eyes, looked into her eyes. "P-please, lady...y-you're not goin' to send me to jail, are you? Please...my Ma she'd..."

"I don't think he's a bad child," the old man said to Batman, "just a little misguided..."

Batman frowned coldly. "Aren't they all?"

"Lighten up, Batman," Robin said in a stage-whisper, "it's not like this kid is the Joker or anybody like that..."

All eyes turned to the grim Dark Knight. Batman turned to the woman. "No real harm done," she said somewhat daunted by his dour demeanor. "And it is Christmas after all..."

Batman nodded and turned his withering gaze on the boy. "Go," he said tersely.

The boy nodded to Batman and then to the woman and then he started walking quickly down the street. The crowd dispersed and the old man plucked his bell out of the kettle and began ringing it once more. "Merry Christmas, Batman," he said as the Caped Crusader walked slowly towards the Batmobile. "And to you too, son," he said with a smile towards Robin.

Batman nodded almost imperceptibly and disappeared into the car; Robin paused and reached into a compartment on his utility belt. He brought out a $20 bill and dropped into the old man's kettle.

Batman honked the Batmobile's horn impatiently. Robin smiled and said, "Keep the faith, old-timer!", as he sprinted for the car.

"Always, son," the old man said. "Always."

The Batmobile revved up and sped away into the night. Batman circled the block and came back around until he found Robert walking swiftly along a quiet sidewalk. He pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. Robert stopped, his eyes once more filled with apprehension and fear.

"This is your only pass, boy," Batman said evenly. "Next time you do something like that I'll be worst that your worst nightmare. Do you understand me?"

Robert nodded. "Y-yes, sir..."

Robin reached into his vest pocket and pulled out another candy cane. 'Yo, Robert!" he called out. "Catch!" He tossed the stick of candy past Batman out the window and into Robert's startled hands. "In the meantime," he said as he unwrapped another candy cane for himself, "have a good Christmas, dude!"

"Th-thanks!" Robert replied with a nervous but grateful smile.

Batman rolled up the window and drove away.

"You had to get the last word in with that kid, didn't you?" Robin said glancing out the window as the snow began to fall once again.

"I didn't get the last word in this time, did I?"

Robin shrugged. "Why give the kid bad dreams on Christmas Eve?"

He Sees You When You're Sleeping...

He came, soaring gracefully, from the North...an almost imperceptible blur of blue and scarlet knifing through the brisk winter's air.

A child, being half-dragged and half-carried by his preoccupied mother, spied the fleeting blur as it whizzed past a crowded shopping mall parking lot. "Mama!" he cried incredulously scanning the heavens for another glimpse of the bright night traveler. "Didja see him?!?"

"See who?" The boy’s mother said absently as she fumbled around in her purse for her car keys.

"I saw him! Up there!" The boy said, wide-eyed and giddy, pointing to the sky.

His mother opened the car door and stuffed her purchases into the back seat. "That's nice, honey," she said as she lifted him into the passenger seat and secured him with the seat belt. "You can tell me all about it later."

She went around and got into the driver's seat. She started the engine and looked back for a chance to pull out. "Right now we've got to hurry home and get everything ready for the big day..."

The boy sighed dejectedly. "Okay, Mama. But I really did see him...flying over the city..."

The woman, warmed by a sudden realization, smiled. "Oh..." She turned and took his face gently into her hands. "Well of course you saw him flying over the city, Michael...it is Christmas Eve after all and that's exactly where he belongs on this night of nights."

She kissed his forehead and then turned back to drive. Michael smiled and pressed his face to the window searching the dark skies for the traveler as the car pulled out into traffic for the short ride to the warmth of home.

The blur came to rest upon the top of the tallest building in the city. The blur became a man...a tall and powerful man...his burnished red boots softly crunching the fresh snow on the roof.

He looked out over the festive, dancing lights of the city...of his city. (He paused and smiled at that thought knowing full well that all the cities of the fragile blue Earth were his cities...so many responsibilities, all freely accepted.)

His kind, knowing eyes grew softly opaque and, randomly, the lives of some of the citizens of the city were fleetingly known to him: shoppers scurrying through the stores one final time...parents cursing and laughing and cursing again as they struggle to assemble magical wonders with only perseverance and arcane instructions to guide them...children sleeping and trying to sleep and pretending to sleep with visions of reindeer dancing in their minds...the faithful gathered in the myriad houses of God reaffirming their continuing gratitude for His gifts.

He saw them all...heard them all...discreetly glancing past each life but feeling that much more content and reassured for having shared even a fleeting instant with each of them.

The twinkle returned to his eyes as his field of vision contracted. It was a good night, he thought, a soft and peaceful night.

His thoughts drifted to his mother...the warm and wise woman who had taken an orphaned child as her own and raised him with all the love her abundant heart had to give. She was, he was certain, fussing with pies or some such at that very moment.

A glance across the miles confirmed this almost instantly. His father and his wife were trimming the stately tree in the living room...his father was telling a story with uncustomary animation (no doubt an embarrassing tale from his son's childhood) and his lady love was laughing that magical laugh of hers.

The crowning star was waiting patiently in its padded box for the tall man's arrival (that he would place the star was lifelong tradition...his father would have it no other way.)

The tall man smiled and drew a measure of bracing air into his mighty lungs. And then, with nary an afterthought, he leapt boldly into the night, his great scarlet cloak billowing gracefully behind him. He cruised slowly, silently, around the city once more chuckling warmly whenever the inevitable "Look! Up in the sky!" reached his all-hearing ears.

"Merry Christmas, Metropolis," he murmured affectionately as he turned towards the west and flew, straight and true, to the comforting warmth and love of his boyhood home and another blessed Christmas with the most important people in his life.

(for Kal)

The Captain and the Kid

Okay, I am here to confess that when I was a boy I played with dolls. Well actually I only played with one doll (I’d like to call it an “action figure” but that term hadn’t yet come into vogue back in long ago youth) and that doll was, of course, Captain Action.

G.I. Joe never interested me but I loved the idea of Captain Action the first time I saw a commercial on one long lost Saturday morning. The good Captain was not only a hero in his own right but he could become other heroes…Superman, Batman, the Lone Ranger, Aquaman, Captain America, Flash Gordon…simply by switching into different costumes and masks (all sold separately, of course.)

I can only remember two times in my childhood where I actively hounded my poor mother for a specific Christmas gift (I would hint strongly at other times…) once was in my teen years when I just had to have the four-LP set of Chicago at Carnegie Hall (Chicago was a relatively cool band before they let Peter Cetera turn them into the schmaltz factory they were during the 80’s) and the other time was when I was 10 and I just had to have Captain Action.

Mom came through.

I got the main Captain doll…sweet!...and the Superman and Aquaman accessory costumes and I was one happy camper. Never got Action Boy…he seemed a bit lame to me for some reason…but I loved the Captain.

I even bought the 5-issue Captain Action comic book series that DC put out (great Gil Kane and Wally Wood art with stories by Jim Shooter…I still have them, yellowed and dog-eared, in a box somewhere in the garage) though the adventures I came up with on my own seemed a hundred times more interesting.

I’m not sure why I thought of Captain Action today but the memory still warms the imaginative little boy who still dwells somewhere deep inside the cynically optimistic soul of the old man I am today :-)

O Captain, My Captain?

This then is the new Captain America. He doesn't debut until January's Captain America #34 so we won't be sure who is in this shiny uniform (designed by Alex Ross) until then. Bucky Barnes...the Winter Soldier...seems the most likely candidate but we shall see.

The pistol and the knife make it unlikely that it is a resurrected Steve Rogers in the red, white, and blue (and black) togs but, again, we shall see.

Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting have made Captain America an enormously entertaining book even after they killed off the title character (the post-death cast...including The Winter Soldier, The Falcon, Sharon Carter, the Black Widow, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, and Nick Fury...has picked up the slack admirably) so I'm in for the long haul (though I am still hoping and expecting that Steve Rogers will return to the book and the uniform at some point in the future.)

...instant karma's gonna get you, gonna knock you about the head...

Sometimes I’m a petty, petty man.

Ever since they firmly established Iron Man as the deacon of super-dickery during Civil War (yes, I know that ol’ Tony has been campaigning for that title for a long time but his manipulative, duplicitous, and smug actions during CW sealed the deal for him in my mind) I’ve been waiting for him to get a little karma slapped upside his arrogant head.

Asked and answered :-) First, he had his ass handed to him by the Hulk and now (I’m not sure where the new Thor series falls in regards to World War Hulk continuity) he got himself a serious beat down from an unamused thunder god in Thor #3 (our recently revived pal Thor apparently not being at all happy that Stark stole his genetic material and used it to co-create the Thor clone that killed Goliath…go figure.)

I presume that Marvel will at some point set about to rehabilitate the image of the comic book Iron Man/Tony Stark (especially with the movie coming out next year)…though they’ll have a long way to go to get me to see the character as likeable again…but for now I’m jazzed to see Shellhead get punked as hard and as often as possible.

Like I said, sometimes I’m a petty, petty man :-)

Gonna Wait 'til the Midnight(er) Hour...

I’m of the opinion that had The Authority ended when Warren Ellis decided to leave it would be regarded with the reverence given to super-hero comics like Watchmen. It was an absurdly over-the-top, cheeky, cynical, audacious, and fun send up of the conventions of super-hero groups with the team…all ridiculously powerful and full of hubris and snappy quips…battling a mad scientist with an army of supermen, an invasion from another dimension, and, ultimately, “God”. The 12 issues of The Authority (following the lead-in from the old Stormwatch series) were pure, almost perfect pop insanity.

But The Authority was a hot commodity at the time and DC/Wildstorm was not going to let it just go after Ellis left. Unfortunately, every writer who has followed has beaten the concept to death, making The Authority pedestrian and…worst of all…dull. But then once you’ve beaten “God” how much juice can you get from smacking around analogues of the Avengers or even becoming temporary totalitarian rulers of the world?

Of all of the Authority members the one who I found most dull was the Midnighter who became a surly joke…the gay (the seemingly insecure writers after Ellis seemed to need to keep that at the fore as one of his most important character traits…Ellis presented the relationship between the Midnighter and Apollo with respectful subtlety while the writers who followed him treated it with self-conscious oafishness which included every opponent the Authority faced firing off homophobic jibes) Batman/Punisher analogue who likes hurting people and who can kill you in one zillion ways before you can blink an eyelid (or something like that.)

I gave up on The Authority a while back so I was kinda of surprised when I decided to give the Midnighter solo series a try. But I’m glad I did. In the first few issues…a odd, amusing time-travel story involving an attempt to assassinate Hitler…Garth Ennis brought some much needed humanity, humor, and reflection to the character.

Keith Giffen has taken up the reins as the new regular writer starting with issue #10 where a victim was so afraid of the Midnighter that she threw herself out of a window. “You killed God”, the girl said after the Midnighter had brutally dispatched her captors. The Midnighter, shaken to his core, reflected on what he was and then he sat off a mission to discover the man he used to be.

Giffen gives him an assistant to play off and delves into his prickly relationship with his adoptive daughter before sending the Midnighter off to a seemingly normal…but frighteningly abnormal…town that may or may not be where he came from before being brainwashed and turned into a killing machine. At the same time, Giffen doesn’t soft-pedal what the character is as evidenced by his brusque dispatching of a computer nerd/pedophile he drafts to help him in his quest to rediscover his original identity.

In his first two issues, Giffen makes the Midnighter more interesting than he’s been in quite a while while not scrimping on the action. The book is further enhanced by the sterling storytelling of artist Chris Sprouse (in #10) and ChrisCross (in #11).

Midnighter is a comic worth checking out…and who’da thought that :-)

Benny Goodman - All The Cats Join In

Cool tune and cute animation.

A Comicbook Orange: Green Lantern, Thor, Olivier Copiel

...and yet we remember...

The years pass...the pain recedes...and yet we remember. For all of the blood and sweat and tears shed on the day...shed on the bloodied streets and battlefields since that day...attention must be paid.

The years pass...and yet we remember.

The years pass...and yet we must remember.

All politics are Local...

Indeed. That old saw is, of course, right on the money. All politics…especially the intimate politics of the heart…familial, passionate, emotional…are achingly local. Local…written by Brian Wood and featuring evocative art by Ryan Kelly…explores these politics through a series of 12 self-contained stories about people coping the politics of the heart in different communities in the US and Canada. Each of these locations informs the stories with such unique vibes that they are, by design, characters in the stories being told in their own right.

Local, published by Oni Press, has a (kind of) focal character in the form of Megan McKeenan, who we first meet as a restless 17-year-old in Portland, Oregon as she is contemplating the consequences of trying to score drugs for her strung-out boyfriend using a forged prescription. By the 12^th (and final) issue of the series Megan will be 30 (and fairly well-traveled.)

It’s Megan’s journey but it’s not always her story.

In some issues, Megan is in the forefront…issue #2’s “Polaroid Boyfriend”, for example, she is in Minneapolis and engaging in an odd “relationship” by exchanging instant photos with a guy who breaks into her apartment every day while she’s away at work. Issue #4 finds Megan living out myriad identities (maybe searching for one of her own) while she works in a rundown movie theater in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

In other issues, Megan is a peripheral character in the stories of other characters we meet along the way. She has a poignant cameo in the 3^rd issue, set in Richmond, Virginia, when she has a disillusioning encounter with a member of a defunct band that she was a fan of. The band…Theories and Defenses…and the reasons for its breakup is at the heart of that issue. In the 4^th issue, Megan is an unwilling bystander as an awful…horrifyingly mundane and inevitably violent and tragic…Cain and Abel tales plays out in a roadside café outside of Missoula, Montana.

Each issue tells a bittersweet…but obliquely hopeful…story of characters trying to make their way in a world that they don’t completely understand. Brian Wood has a gift for naturalistic dialogue and for fleshing out characters and drawing you inexorably, compellingly into their lives. Ryan Kelly’s artwork is a wonderful compliment to Wood’s writing beautifully with impeccable pacing in the storytelling and with wonderful detail and strong pencil and ink work that is, as I said early, incredibly evocative.

I’m sure that this series will be collected when it finishes its 12-issue run (10 issues are out as of this writing) but I think that Local is best savored one issue…one town…one compelling story at a time.

Powers: Who Killed Retro Girl?

The acting is a bit stiff but this is still a clever short film adaptation of part of the Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Avon Oeming story.

Until death...or continuity reboot...do them part...

Rumor has it that the marriage between Peter (Spider-Man) Parker and Mary Jane Watson-Parker is about to come to an end (someway, somehow, it’s comic books they can do whatever they want to get to where they want to be.) If true, I think it’s too bad.

Spider-Man has never been my favorite character…I like him well enough but I don’t follow his solo titles on a regular basis (in fact, I rather prefer him in guest-star, team-up, and team member roles…I think him being an Avenger is extremely cool)…but I was pleased when he and Mary Jane got hitched (yep, ol’ Pete really hit the jackpot there :-) and I think the marriage…through all of its ups and downs…has made the character stronger and more interesting.

It’s been argued by some…including Marvel Editor-in-Chief Joe Quesada…that the essence of Spider-Man is that he’s a sadsack loser despite the fact he has cool super-powers and a classic costume…that having a happy marriage to a gorgeous redhead (who is an actress and model to boot) is not what his life was supposed to be. I think that’s silly. The idea that the character should be in the same emotional place now that he was in 40+ years ago when Stan Lee and Steve Ditko created him seems absurd to me.

But then I’ve grown up with super-hero comics…I was 9 years old when I got into them seriously…and now that I’m into my 5^th decade I have no problem with characters growing up, growing older, getting married, having kids, yadda, yadda, yadda.

But as someone (I believe it’s attributed to Jim Shooter) once said, super-hero comics from the big 2 are not about change but rather the illusion of change so that they’re always welcoming to new readers (every comic could be somebody’s first comic after all.) I guess that would still make sense if there were hordes of kids taking up the hobby but that just isn’t the case. The audience, for better or worse, is largely adult and (hopefully) able to cope with the fact that characters age and grow…albeit VERY slowly.

Most super-hero marriages come a cropper sooner or later: Aquaman and Mera, Hawkman and Hawkwoman, Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne, the Sub-Mariner and Dorma, the Sub-Mariner and Marrina, the Atom and Jean Loring, the Vision and the Scarlet Witch, Hawkeye and Mockingbird, Donna Troy and Terry Long, Lightning Lad and Saturn Girl (pre-Crisis), the Human Torch and Lyja, and on and on. Through death, continuity reboots, or just plain “irreconcilable differences”, the dissolution rate among super-hero couples is much higher than it is out here in the real world.

Ralph and Sue Dibny, maybe my favorite super-hero couple ever, were ripped asunder in as ugly a way as possible (with having it revealed that Sue was raped by a super-villain in the past and then killed and incinerated by an insane Jean Loring and later Ralph sacrificing himself to contain a demon) and then reunited in the afterlife as ghosts (again, it’s super-hero comics so I guess that qualifies as a happy ending.)

Granted some marriages do endure…that of the Fantastic Four’s Reed and Sue being one that has survived through good times and bad (and hey, their kids are still alive…super-hero offspring don’t usually fare any better than super-hero marriages) with Clark Kent and Lois Lane as another couple that make each other stronger…but they are few and far between.

The Black Panther and Storm were recently married and they seem happy together (at least until some writer comes along and decides that Storm should be back with the X-Men full time) and the union of Luke Cage and Jessica Jones (hey give that kid a name already!) has been interesting and fun so far. Green Arrow and Black Canary are supposedly about to get married but, if it happens, that doesn’t seem like a match that will stand the test of time…though I’m willing to be proved wrong.

Maybe there’s a shift in the way comic book creators think of married super-heroes. But I rather doubt it.

And Pete? MJ? Hey, it’s been real, kids…good luck getting back into the dating pool.

Get Us Out from Under, Wonder Woman....

Hell's "Angel": Batman #666

Given constant reboots…nothing sells like a #1 after all…it’s quite unlikely that very many titles will ever make it into the 600’s, much less actually reach the so-called “number of the beast”, 666.

That said, some of DC’s most venerable titles have managed, through thick and thin, to hang on to their issue numbering and to actually reach that “dreaded” issue number (both Action Comics and Detective Comics passed that number long ago.) Superman #666 deals with the milestone by literally going to hell while Batman #666, already published, took a slightly more symbolic route.

In a dystopian future, Gotham City is protected by a new, more brutal Batman: Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, who has taken up the mantle after the death of his father. The world is turmoil…global warming has the city baking in 120+ degree heat, millions are dead in an epidemic in China, Mecca has been irradiated by a dirty bomb, and criminals are meeting grisly ends at the hands of a false Batman who thinks that he’s the Anti-Christ.

Batman, who is at odds with the Gotham Police Department and Police Commissioner Barbara Gordon (who bears considers Damian a “monster” who is somehow responsible for the death of a “good friend” of hers), lives a solitary, almost ascetic, life with only a cat…archly named “Alfred”…as companion.

Grant Morrison’s story is taut and fast-paced even as tantalizing threads are left dangling (perhaps to be picked up at some point in the future) and Andy Kubert’s art is kinetic and engrossing (the redesign of the Batman uniform with an overcoat…rather than a flowing cloak…as its focal point is an inspired idea that works very nicely.)

Batman #666 is…if you’ll pardon the expression…one hell of a comic book.