In our continuing adventures, we must be wary my travelers for there are traps abound. Some are pits, with sharpened stakes at the bottom and carefully placed leaves on top. Some are, if you can believe it, even more subtly destructive. I recently found myself ensnared in the most social of tripwires, the conversation.

But I was ready for this one, oh yes. Though traditionally traps are to be escaped from, or else are to lure others into, there are some are so well oiled and cleverly wrought that one cannot help but throw oneself in to their snapping jaws. I kept that in mind as I emerged from the Gentleman’s basement, reeking of delinquent substances, knowing that as a host of the Engagement, he was surely lying in wait at the top of the stairs to drown all that crossed in a rich sauce of a discussion. Having been a party to similar discussions with similar Gentlemen at similar Engagements prior, I knew that such an interaction would surely take the better part of an hour and would be about oh just whatever was on hand.

I headed him off! Sidestepping rolling inquiries I plunged in to the thick.

“Say now, I noticed you’ve archived quite a few books and radio shows down there. Was that, by any chance… The Shadow?”

The Gentleman’s softly nodding chin snapped to attention. His toes could practically be heard to flex. The world was struck with a distinct sepia tone, an unseen organ played a stilted chord. We were well in business. Leaning in conspiratorially, he slipped a message out from under his mustache.

“Why yes, I wasn’t aware you were a fan. Though you know of course… tricky thing… The Shadow is not Lamont Cranston!”

Envision the raised eyebrows! Imagine the templed fingertips! Picture the stroking of chins! Yes, when you place any two fans of pulp mystery in the same room and set them off, we are just fucking unbearable.

He had made a study of the original paperback serial pulp novels, and spoke disparagingly of all the re-imaginings which had come thereafter. Bastardizations, he named them. Saying at length that they had sacrificed the grim gritty spirit of the original.

“The Shadow, who aids the forces of Law and Order, is in reality Lamont Cranston, wealthy young man about town. Years ago in the Orient, Cranston learned a strange and mysterious secret: the hypnotic power to cloud men’s minds so they cannot see him. Cranston’s friend and companion, the lovely Margo Lane, is the only person who knows to whom the voice of The Shadow belongs.”

This intro to the radio drama describes the basic lasting understanding of the character which has prevailed throughout the years. A dark, sinister figure whose vaguely Asian psychic powers enable him to wreak ruthless justice upon the criminal element. Yet that description applies to but a scant few of the forms this story has taken.

Orson Welles was cast to voice The Shadow from '37 to '38. You are not safe in your bed.

The Shadow Magazine, the original pulp novel started on april 1^st 1931 by Walter B. Gibson, had no trace of these supernatural aspects. A distinction that the Gentleman was quick to point out through his bristling scowl.

“He never had the power to ‘cloud men’s minds,’ or any of that nonsense. The Shadow had this uncanny ability to avoid notice and blend in with the darkness. He was a master of stealth and could infiltrate just about any location while avoiding detection. And an expert marksman, he had these two big 45’s that he carried, and wasn’t shy about using. As the novels went on, and I believe there were about 325 published of which Gibson wrote 282, it became clear that Lamont Cranston was an entirely different person! The identity of Cranston was one that The Shadow would assume while the real Lamont was off on adventures of his own in some distant lands. And Margo Lane, she wasn’t brought in to the stories for some time. Only late in the novels, after the radio show started, did she make an appearance. But that radio show… they shoved her in right from the beginning as if she was some main love interest.”

Look at this man. He is Orson Welles. He is glaring at you because he is mad at you. He is mad at you because you are wrong. You are wrong because you are not Orson Welles.

Gibson wrote the bi-monthly novels under the pen name of Maxwell Grant, and so great was the demand he was said to write “10,000 words per day” in order to produce the 24 novels per year. These novels featured a Shadow who’s true name was Kent Allard, a World War I aviator who fought alongside the French. Allard decided he needed a new cause after the war, decided to turn his energies against crime, faked his death in Africa, returned to New York, and by coercion convinced Lamont Cranston to allow him use of his identity.

The Gentleman expressed anger and bewilderment at how much the Shadow franchise deviated from the original canon. I was amazed at how little had changed. That original story was a pure iteration of the noir antiheroes of the time. His abilities were “uncanny,” because there was little in the way of a supernatural mythos to explore at the time. In 1937 the radio drama started broadcasting, and I don’t think it’s at all unreasonable for them to have taken the original identity of Cranston from the early publications, and pair him with the plucky, wry, feminine voice of Margo Lane; a more recent addition to the cast of characters who would give the brooding vigilante someone pleasant to speak aloud to for the audience’s benefit. To expand upon stealth, which would have been impossible to convey over the radio, they gave him the power of invisibility; am effect which can be reacted to by voice actors and a narrator, but directly requires very little in terms of effects to sell to an audience.

After a syndicated comic strip that ran most of the 40’s, The Shadow (like almost all comics or pulp) tripped over the ten cent plague of the fifties and landed on it’s face. The comics were lightweight as all hell in those days but nobody holds it against the titles. Not until 1973 did some dignity get restored with a 12 issue critically acclaimed series that ran under DC Comics and was written by Dennis O’Neil.

Brandish them barrels. Brandish them at the unsuspecting city so hard.

Just to be sure we’re on the same page, O’Neil is the same writer who picked up The Question and The Creeper after Steve Ditko; and he’s the same writer who made Green Arrow the radical leftist street hero we know and love, got Speedy on heroin, and put out a fantastic run on Batman that included the introduction of Ras Al Ghul.

It was here that more modern audiences saw a return to what can be considered the spirit of The Shadow. O’Neil’s comics were more along the lines of the novels. Stilted language, no Oriental ju-ju getting in the way of a dynamic depiction of some ruthless noir adventures.

At last we come to 1994. The year of Alec Baldwin. A high budget, feature length film that this Gentleman could only refer to as an “abortion.” I disagree. Just cause this baby didn’t come out like you wanted, doesn’t mean it didn’t get born. Perhaps not a healthy child, not a child you really make a big deal about getting in any family photos, but boy howdy could it sing. Felt like the director had listened to every single recording of the radio show he could find all in a row, then took the entire budget in his left hand, Alec Baldwin in his right, and just plunged ever deeper in to the crevasse.

Jack Donaghy, Vice President of East Coast Television and Microwave Oven Programming for General Electric.

I’m afraid that no, that is not a hint of sarcasm you detect. Lamont Cranston started the movie as a 1930s MONGOLIAN-FUCKING-OPIUM WARLORD, seemingly just for laughs. Then he gets kidnapped, fights a flying knife which bites him, and somehow comes out of that as The Shadow. Supernatural to the nth degree, Margo Lane’s a telepath who gets kidnapped ’cause that’s her job, even Tim Curry makes an appearance just to be a honey voiced creep until Baldwin drives him insane with a smoldering look. This movie was insane, sure. But it was still a natural progression of the story’s premises. It skirted and at times went over the edge of what works, and that’s what has to be done with ideas or else they get stagnant and die.

Fiction is compelling because it allows the writer and the reader to create worlds. Over time these worlds are explored and expanded, the characters given life through experiences. We as an audience become invested in developing canon. And when creators try and alter our worlds, our people, we get up in arms because they’re not doing the original justice, or they’ve clearly missed the whole point, because they don’t know it, not like we do. But the ecstasy of recognition does not lend itself to progress. The Shadow, this powerful echoing meme that has reared it’s head throughout our collective consciousness again and again over the 20^th century didn’t even start out as a character. Not even as a novel. Originally The Shadow debuted July 31^st, 1930 as a narrator for the Street and Smith program Detective Story Hour. In the past the narrator had always been a friendly figure; a comrade to the audience, who lead them through the story by the hand. The Shadow was a dark, antagonistic figure who told crime dramas to his listenership as if he was threatening them with the dire fates found within. People began demanding to read about this character who honestly had not been written, so Walter B. Gibson got to work. The entirety of this character’s spirit, this franchise’s atmosphere, is conveyed in the haunting, sinister laugh of The Shadow. And that has never faltered.

Earlier I spoke of traps. There is no trap more attractive than familiarity. Weep not when your names are changed and your histories unwritten. We made it all up before, I can’t wait to see those stories told anew.

“Yes Margo, and this will be a warning to the others. That even the best laid plans of criminals shall all go to ruin.”

Glee speaks to people that, like the rest of us, can recall the awkward state that was high school. Sure, the nerdy ones of us were able to get the hell out and fly the hell out of that town with our middle fingers raised high in the air. But many of us (who weren’t the members of that 5% social elite) can certainly relate to these events. We were down in the dumps, ostracized by everyone else — but wait, here in this show we’re presented not only with a smidgen of hope, but it’s coupled with song, dance, and pep! Though Glee presents some similar dramas to those that we initially encountered in high school, each episode closes with a clean and clear messages — I have friends, I have people who support me, social status doesn’t matter — it’s your friends who count.

Modern family similarly presents this idea. Many of us can easily relate to the narrative of the show because of the awkwardness and actual reality that it presents (for me, this was encapsulated in the scene where the quirky son gets his head stuck in between the banisters of the stairs). Much like Glee, each episode closes with a heartwarming message. Characters talking directly to the camera, stating reasons why their family works, and why they love them. In the end, it shows you that despite how infuriating or aggravating you find your family to be, they’re still the best friends that you’ll ever had.

I find this transition in television to be interesting, and in some ways more stimulating than the traditional narrative of television. Maybe this is because I’ve never found the traditional sitcom to be thoroughly entertaining (I’ve always been more attracted to Sci-fi storylines), and perhaps I tend to be more attracted to these “warm and fuzzy” storylines because I’m of the (oft quoted as) “more sensitive” gender. Who knows? What are your opinions on the advent of these kinds of shows? Will we re-enter a sterile period like the 50’s and 60’s? Will more shows move in this way? Will it not last because the lack of drama will fail to attract our interests?

“You’ve been referred to by some as the world’s greatest boy scout, fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. As if that were some inseparable holy trinity. Truth? That’s in the teller. Just calmly messaged words that very well may be nothing but carefully finessed lies. Justice? Belongs to the judge, who sits above those who put him there because they can’t trust themselves. And the American Way? It constantly evolves out of something that proves to be true and a lie, just more and more…

All men are created equal. All men. You are not a man. But they’ve made you their hero, and they worship you. So tell me, what redemption do you offer them? Those red eyes, I’m sure they look right through me, like I am nothing more than a nuisance. But when I see you? I see something no man can ever be. I see the end. The end of our potential. The end of our achievements. The end of our dreams. You are my nightmare.” -Lex Luthor, Man of Steel, issue 1

Brian Azzarello

Lee Bermejo

Superman is an unquestioned force of good. Truth, Justice and the American way. Although American way wasn’t an original part of his job description. That got added, like unto the “under god” in the pledge of allegiance, in an effort to distinguish our US of A from them dang communists. This, just like the primary colors in his costume, is nothing more than an effort to make the people forget what the Man of Steel is. A supremely powerful alien. He is good, yes, but Superman’s good is not the good of man. Superman is a god, and a god’s truth and justice are absolute. The American way of defining guilt is ultimately up to a jury of your peers. Kal El is no man’s peer. Even among the holy orders of superheroes, he was the first. He is eternal and uncompromising in his very nature.

In Superman: Red Son, the elseworlds comic that posited a DC universe where the last son of Krypton crash landed in soviet Russia instead of mid west America, the people of the Soviet Union beg their hero to take over leadership of the country after Stalin is poisoned. He refuses, saying that to do such a thing would invalidate the equality inherent of a true communist nation. He’s right. Superman invalidates human achievement, human rights, just standing still.

#2: POWER TO THE PEOPLE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imbHrryqhMA

“Do you know the story of Prometheus? No, of course you don’t. Prometheus was a god who stole the power of fire from the other gods and gave control of it to the mortals. In essence, he gave us technology, he gave us power. You see whoever controls technology controls the world. The Roman empire ruled the world because they built roads. The British empire ruled the world because they built ships. America; the atom bomb. And so on and so forth. I just want what Prometheus wanted…

…Gods are selfish beings who fly around in little red capes and don’t share their power with mankind. No, I don’t want to be a *God*. I just want to bring fire to the people. And… I want my cut.”

-Superman Returns, (2006)

The pursuit of knowledge is paramount for an individual such as Luthor. In the Justice League animated series, he follows the path of this knowledge past the mysterious Source Wall, and in doing so achieves something that can be only thought of as godhood. This is some time after he spends a season following a rock around deep space just because he thinks he can hear Braniac talking to him through it. He sees knowledge as progress, data is the only wealth that truly means anything.

In story after story he works to make humanity transcend itself. “The science spire” he constructs, a modern day tower of Babel. Luthor sees evolution as a process that must be cultivated. He’s not a villain, but a challenge. Power, wealth, influence, these are things to be taken by the most fit. That is how he contributes to the progress of human civilization. By taking it by force. Superman is a force to preserve the status quo, to make people feel safe. In Luthor’s eyes, to make them useless.

Luthor is building the way to the next stage of evolution. Superman is god’s intervention, coming down to topple his tower, to confuse the tongues of man. To keep us from achieving, progressing, learning to fight for our place in the universe.

#3: THE DECEPTION OF PERFECTION

“’It’ has a name. A name that we gave him, an attempt to humanize him. As pointless as naming a hurricane.”

-Lex Luthor: Man of Steel issue 3

Brian Azzarello

Lee Bermejo

The modern Superman/Batman comic once briefly touched upon an idea that made Superman’s perfection much more probable. It was a brief redrawing of his shuttle’s discovery by the Kents. Ma and Pa stumble on their bumpkin legs to press their bumpkin faces against the glass and peer at the delicious chewy nougat of divinity that must needs rest inside.

What is peeled out of this celestial tin can is not the rosy faced baby we traditionally see landing in a cornfield, but a twisted, sinister looking alien baby, with gnarled teeth and cruel eyes and rough hideous skin. The country folk recoil in horror, this is not a thing to be taken back to the farm and raised up proper, not a creature that can be expected to understand the complexities of Truth, Justice, and the American way. This is an alien. An ugly alien. But then the creature reaches out with it’s mind, and soothes the skittish cattle in overalls that now decide it’s fate. It takes from them what they want it to be, a newborn savior, and takes that form unto itself. With white skin and black hair and all the right number of fingers and toes this is now a perfect little dream child. Here to save us.

This concept can be expanded to serve as a metaphor for how Superman’s character developed in accordance with it’s publication history. We define him quite essentially as a hero. The one who’s here to save us all. Whatever characteristics we the readers have thought necessary for this ultimate savior to possess have found their way in to his stories, his mythos. Such big eyes, all the better to watch over us. Such big ears, all the better to hear our cries for help. Such strong muscles, such fast feet, such a hero, just like we wanted. Just for us.

The most important part of this concept is the fact that it is a lie. The Kryptonian shows us what we want to see, a face of absolute good to justify a body of absolute power. Even if this new god is benevolent through and through, it is us who have made him that way, and he who allows it to be true.

#4: TRANSHUMAN ROMANCE

“My Futura, my more than metal Marta, I have brought your ultimate identity to you… her name is Lois. She is not like you Futura. You are colder than ice… and harder than any stone. The tip of your finger cuts through a diamond as though it were water. Yet that hardness must be hidden beneath a deceptive veneer of soft skin and loving features. I shall become a thief of you, my Lois. And that which I steal from you I shall place within this vessel made of a metal that fell from the stars. I do not believe that base lie about the first human on earth being a man. If a male God created the world then he certainly created woman first… as I created you, my Futura. But you are not yet finished, are you? Not until I have created you a second time… as the new Lois!”

-Superman: Metropolis

Written by R.J.M. Lofficer & Roy Thomas

Art by Ted McKeever

Lex Luthor was a much simpler character once. Time was all it took to make his eyes light up was building a robot to fight that guy wearing his underpants on the outside. That hasn’t drastically changed. Whether he’s portrayed as a hand wringing mad scientist, or a multibillionaire monster of business, Lex’s bread and butter continues to take the form of a next gen robot which will inevitably run amok. However over time the concept of exactly what he’s attempting to achieve with these multitudes of machinations has evolved considerably.

Luthor is a man of tremendous passions. And those have manifested themselves in his creations. Seeing himself as a god of intellect, he then seeks to bring others to his level. Clark says of his search for extraterrestrial life in Superman Birthright, “I think he just wants someone to talk to.” In DC’s year long event, 52, Luthor succeeds in defeating Superman not with destruction, but with obsolescence. He makes Superpowers mass produced, bringing humanity up to the level of the super, though powers do not make a hero.

Both Lex Luthor: Man of Steel, and Superman: Metropolis feature Luthor constructing a female godhead in the Kryptonian’s image. These are the only creatures a man such as Lex can love. Surpassing all, he creates angels born of man’s invention.

#5: HUBRIS, FICTION’S FAVORITE FALLACY

“Your arrogance may actually be greater than your abilities. You profess a love of humanity, but that is an emotion you can’t possibly know. Because those same abilities make it impossible for you to know it’s opposite… fear.”

-Lex Luthor, Man of Steel, issue 5

Brian Azzarello

Lee Bermejo

The old Superman radio drama describes Krypton as a planet where the species have evolved to an ideal form. Their powers are not excessive or an unexpected reaction of sunlight. Rather than flight or even jumping, they describe themselves as simply walking, one stride taking them from point A to point B. Over the decades, the story of Superman has been continually retold. He has been brought up by popular demand from a basic science-adventure hero to an ultimate force of good. Perfection in blue tights. Such is the Kryptonian way.

Only Lex Luthor recognizes this Utopian nature as wicked. Angels were not meant to walk the world of men. In characters like General Zod we see the true Kryptonian tradition. General Zod differs from Superman not in aggressiveness or goodness, but in standards. He looked upon humanity and applied not the unquenchable forgiveness of our Kal El, but the same expectations he set for himself. And immediately found us all lacking. Why then did Superman never come to the same conclusion? Could it be that in all the years growing up on earth, in all the time spent in nigh-omniscience, he never noticed humanity’s failings? But that begs the question, failing at what? Failing to be human? We’ve got that down. Failing to be Kryptonian is more like it.

Yet that is what is asked of us by the mere presence of Superman in our society. In naming him “man” at all, we beg to be peers to the infallible. An impossible goal. No runner can ever be as fast, no weight lifter as strong, no face as beautiful as the one adorned by the imperial spit curl.

And yet, there is a flaw. The oldest one in the book. The Kryptonians that now thrive under our yellow sun, soar through our air, fight for our justice, are only here because of their own ultimate failure. Krypton, the distant paradise orbiting a red star, was destroyed. And these perfect creatures allowed it. Yet how could such an obvious issue as their world crumbling under their feet escape the notice of Kryptonian scientists? Prophets? Leaders?  Lex Luthor sees every one of these aliens as fallen angels, who, having burned down their heaven, seek to take the reigns of the living world from man.

This is how we can surpass these gods who shine and dance just out of reach. We can succeed where they failed, we can have the wisdom to see our own doom. And it is very difficult to notice the planet falling to pieces under our feet, if we keep our gaze focused on the aliens which have claimed our sky.

Half Japanese. All Rage.

1. Daken
The Son of Wolverine who not only inherited his father’s gift of healing, but also his temperament.  Though his origin story is touched on during the larger story arc of Wolverine: Origins, his character (with a penchant for violence, a distinct lack of morality, and overwhelming desire to separate himself from his father) makes the perfect fodder for a one-off trade of some kind. His childhood is torn — having never known his father and having lived with foster parents who, after the birth of their own child, plot to get rid of him. Daken is a character on par with Phoenix in terms of psychological instability, and that my friends is what makes him so great. If you want to see some previews of his character in action — Marvel has recently added some memorable scenes in the latest of the Dark Reign series, that’s just a taste of what he can truly be like.

Medusa, always smokin'

2. Medusa
Okay, so Medusa did get “Ultimate Medusa”, but for one that’s part of the Ultimate universe — something totally different, and two, it’s only because Black Bolt had one. Medusa, queen of the Inhumans and wife of the ever-silent Black Bolt has an interesting story to tell. Only partially revealed during the Secret Invasion set, the love shared between herself and her silent husband is one seemingly beyond human comprehension. Though she has no psychic abilities, she is able to communicate with and on behalf of her husband. This choice of her character is not simply based on their love story, but actually because I feel that the Inhumans have one of the most interesting “other worlds” that the humans are in contact with (the others being of course Atlantis and The Savage Land) with a diverse culture and complex political society. In my opinion, Marvel more often than not ignores this part of their canon. Why? I have no idea.

Do you feel the badass just emanating from this picture?

3. An Atlantean that’s not Namor

Did you ever notice that we’ve never seen any focus on Atlantis outside of the controversial reign of Namor? Sure, we saw a bit of storyline in the death of his betrothed, Dorma. But what about what the everyday life of an Atlantean is like? Perhaps some sort of plan for mutiny, stories of civil unrest, the next great hero?! Nothing. It hasn’t been since the beginning of the Bronze age that we’ve even scratched the surface of other possible character or rulers (I’m looking at you, Vashti). Atlantis is a kingdom that is filled with advanced technologies and genetically enhanced peoples, surely there’s some fodder for a story in here somewhere.

This is the woman I'd aspire to be, if I had a constant black eye.

4. Domino

Again, please remember that I’m talking about characters that deserve their own book, not a paltry limited series with 4 issues, this woman is a firecracker. Domino, a major player in the beginning pieces of the Civil War, the now-sometimes lover of Deadpool, and the smokin’ hot merc that can alter  the odds of anything. So, if you shoot a bullet at her, the 1 in 1000 chance that you will miss is altered in her favor. Talk about a girl that I’d love to take on a gambling mission. Though her origin story is interesting, she has the potential to gain her own storyline in the role as the head of some sort of super mercenary team. Deadpool gets the luxury of standing alone, why can’t she? I lament that there are far too few strong (badass) women at the head of Marvel. I will be the first to  admit that Vertigo does a much better job at this.

Powers: hyper-agility, shape shifting, and all kinds of hot.

5. Mystique

Actually portrayed incorrectly on the side of Magneto during the X-Men films, this woman has a lot more to offer than scaly skin and a penchant for nudity. Surprisingly enough, in her storyline she’s the mother of Kurt Wagner (the one that we’ve all come to know and love as NightCrawler), and at one point in time has played foster mother to the indelible Rogue. That said, though she has played a major  character throughout the X-Men storyline, there has yet to be a book that focuses strictly on her, part of her origin story have been tucked away in issues of Sabretooth (of all things — who really wants to read that?). Why don’t we break this gal out and show her from a different perspective, eh?

The DC Universe is peppered with interesting characters, ripe for the picking! Why not have an “event” where you throw some decent writers at these characters, give them reign to make lasting changes, and go from there? Here is my list of DC characters who deserve a turn in the Wednesday Pages.

Mine? Mine mine, mine. Mine mine? Mine, Mine, Mine.

1. Larfleeze

Who is he?

When Larfleeze – or, “Agent Orange” – was introduced, he was a verifiable bad-ass; the entirety of the Orange Light power of Avarice contained in a single being, he is arguably one of the most powerful beings in the universe – he was able to slaughter a group of Controllers, who are descendent’s of the Guardians. His ring produces constructs of every member his corps has killed, which is a terrifying proposition.

Why write about him?
Well, as scary and bad-ass as he has come off, he has also come off as pretty hilarious. In the last issue, he took on an almost Deadpool style humor, his greed telling him he wanted “an entire forest of Christmas trees!”, despite not knowing what those were. He is also apparently illiterate, not knowing how to read “STOP” on a stop sign. The DC universe has missed the mark on humor in the past, and – assuming that nothing utterly awful happens to him – they have a chance to do better with Larfleeze.

What does the book look like?
A mad cap series of adventures, starring Larfleeze and his various constructs -particularly Glomulous, the tiny little glutton that was highlighted in at GLC backstory. Let his greed take him across the worlds, running into folks who don’t understand exactly how powerful  he is – he certainly doesn’t. Give him witty banter, let him play with death, let him grace major storyline’s in obliquely requisite ways.

Yes, I am suggesting we turn Larfleeze into Orange Lantern Deadpool. I would read it, wouldn’t you?

2. Brother Power The Geek
Who is he?

Hippies were known for their moisture.

Brother Power the Geek is an odd character; originally a mannequin that was doused with some manner  of magic/science, he became an Avatar of the 60’s hippie subculture. His inspiration was clearly Frankenstein; he has a simple brain, and was very protective of his hippy  brethren (last seen being shot into space by Reagan of all people). He had a brief resurgence in the 90’s, appearing next to Swamp thing as an Elemental – an elemental of dolls.

Why write about him?

His recent appearance in a non-canonical Brave and the Bold issue brought forth an interesting idea: what if Brother Power the Geek was an avatar of subculture in general? What if he soaked up the will of the downtrodden and became a champion for them? In the sixties, this was clearly the Hippy – but who is it now? I think this solves two problems: the chunky name and his new subculture. I think we just call him “The geek” and unleash him in the DC universe.

What does the book look like?
This is the book that gets College kids reading comics. He is a “Wandering Philosopher” – similar to what made the silver surfer so popular in the day – and his attitude adjusts over time to adjust to the times. He is spoken of in hushed tones on college campuses – the ever-present champion of an ever-changing underdog. The Geek is the outcast that comes out on top, the defender of those who would be oppressed. His interest is in the little guy, because he is literally animated out of their dissent.  For added texture, give Garth Ennis a go at it.

3. The Broker

Who is he?
This is a small character that Paul Dini has flirted with recently in his Gotham titles (Sirens, Streets). The Broker fills a very important role in the metahuman universe. He buys “White Elephant” properties – old amusement parks, abandoned factories – and sells them to supervillians for a profit.

That is Fucking Awesome, to be honest.

Why write about him?
…Are you serious? Think about it: This is the man who makes a serious job of super-villainy. This is where money trades hands. This is a businessman, who puts on a suit and sells things to people who kills people. This is like “Thank you for Smoking” meets “American Psycho” (actor wise, that movie was actually called “The Dark Knight”).

What does the book look like?
This book is clean cut and very much cold. This is about the business, the trials and tribulations of dirty money. It need not even be recent: how long has he been in the business? How did he get into the business? What does he do to keep the capes off of his back? I want slang, I want cheese, I want Donald Draper in the DC Universe, and his name will be the The Broker. Paul Dini, give me this comic book; I have dollars to spend on it.

Yes... Yes... the latest Ubuntu partition pleases me.

4. Calculator

Who is he?

Well, I’ll admit. This is not the fan favorite. The Caculator has sort of been tossed around the “Birds of Prey” canon like a sock puppet. Essentially, he is just a super-hacker, like Oracle (hence his familiarity with the aforementioned title). In the final arc of that book, Calculator combined with Kilg%re, a viral, mechanical being… only to have it summarily forgot in the “Battle For the Cowl: The Cure” miniseries.

The man behind the man behind the mask.

5.Alfred Pennyworth

Who is He?

Personally, I’d been hooked from the beginning because I noticed some key events that happened in my life being played out here on the silver screen (namely, getting my head stuck in a staircase and my parent’s penchant for an eye-for-an-eye punishment methods). But the nature of the show I think could make anyone giggle a little bit. If you think about it, the show packages all of the awkwardness of family reunions without having to actually be there. These are the stories that are playing out which would take many of us 6 months to be able to laugh about over drinks and dinner (heck, I’m still bitter when my parents tell the bologna sandwich story). Not only does this show cause laughs amongst all ages, the warm message at the end (yes, those fuzzy family messages where perhaps someone has “learned a lesson”) leaves everyone feeling just a bit closer. This, coupled with it’s distinct sense of reality in a world filled with all-too-fake reality TV and overly dramatic releases like Trauma make it the most appealing new family comedy on the circuit. I know that my family for sure has signed on board.

This week, the Input/Outcast crew explores the very nature of love, be it Human/Human, Human/Doll, or Robot/Lizard. Clearly, the bitter winter brings fond remembrance for our intrepid, sad, crew.

Shot rather brilliantly in first person perspective, the show stars you, yes you! Dear viewer in this dreadfully confused generation of stubble faced children begging to be told where they are and what they’re doing, at last we are told. We are there, on the television, just behind the camera. This will at first feel alien to a people so accustomed to aligning their greasy visages in the crosshairs of a webcam’s unblinking gaze, but Secret Girlfriend offers no respite in which to remove the viewer from the silent protagonist; provided of course that we can imagine ourselves as a post-adolescent white male living with disgusting friends and relentlessly seeking solace between a woman’s thighs or at the bottom of a bottle. I think, I believe, I trust, dear viewer, that you can.

The show moves at a fiercely schizophrenic pace, sprinting from depravity to depravity without pause. Scenes of excess are cut short to be replaced with essentially the same scene. The other characters vary from an obese monstrosity of depression to a scraggly construct of lechery. These are your best friends. They are shallow and stupid and unattractive and they live only to swim in your wake, to be foils for your unquestionable beauty and success. The female characters are either skinny painted nymphs who flit and twitter and fawn at your every implied advance, or non speaking roles. These people live and die for your approval, they are thin shadows of humanity. They are stupid and weak, but the show forgives them. For what else could they hope for? Next to you, dear viewer, the unspeaking paragon, all are wretched and low.

The camera takes you through a life of tireless pleasure seeking and eternally you are reassured that “Yes, YES you are handsome,” and “Yes YES they like you,” and “No, no don’t say a thing, don’t utter a single word but yes, yesss, dear viewer, yes.” Your eternal consent is all that’s required. It asks no precious thought for such tasks as the following of plot, the comprehending of character. This is escapism at it’s most base. The purest iteration of wish fulfillment usually found only in pornography. Because that’s what it truly is.

What’s ultimately terrifying about this show is what it says about you. The show describes you quite thoroughly, though perhaps unintentionally. You are a monster. No getting around it. You use people in horrifying ways, and because the show is all in the name of the viewer, it is completely unabashed in giving you everything and leaving the others with nothing. If you saw the events from any other perspective, then surely you would despise the character you embody. An eternal opportunist who is loved by all and contributes only a judging gaze.

I try and envision that Secret Girlfriend is a look in to the young life of one Stuart Smalley. This was the character portrayed by Al Franken on Saturday Night Live. Vacantly spiking the camera, Stuart would cry out “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” His segments would involve the hapless self styled motivational speaker trying desperately to encourage celebrity guests who usually had no need for him. Inevitably he would break down and find himself at the mercy of his guest, until he frees himself from so called “stinkin’ thinkin’” and hits his thoughtless stride once again. Surely Stewart could hope for nothing better then the relentless self affirmation of Secret Girlfriend. And this is really the only way to justify yourself in the confines of the show. To assign a tragic persona at the figurehead of such terrible acts. However as always in this monstrosity, the persona is your own. Why gear media in such a way? Is the intended market of this show us? A generation of low self esteem and chronic failure that longs for only the most instant of gratification.

Now there’s a certain amount of escapism inherent in most of the media we approach here. In all speculative fiction we attempt to escape the confines of what can happen and explore what should. Art is a vessel by witch man can sail to the height of his dreams. Daring to imagine greater, we should be describing nuance and adventure, discovery and fulfillment. However a surrealist look at the world that never was, this ain’t. Why aspire so low? Why is it that in the most self indulgent media, you live in squalor, franticly running from one scene of absolute ruin to the next?

F. Scot Fitzgerald said “What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.” This show explores instead wretched impulses we are ashamed for. I subscribe to the idea that a good story is truth in the guise of fiction, however more and more there is media thrown at us in the form of nonsense fiction styled as truth. The Office, Parks and Rec, even the youtube persona of Lonelygirl15. Reality television. Callow and pathetic. All describe fictional characters lowering themselves to the mundane existence of reality in an effort to relate with an audience that can aspire to no greater.

This program is not art but entertainment, and if you strip bare entertainment you get pornography. This is self esteem porn, and just like real porn, Secret Girlfriend leaves you feeling empty and weak. Your surrogate eats, but you gain no sustenance. Drinks, but you fail to get drunk. Makes love but you feel no soft touch or warm embrace. Laughs, but there is no joy in your heart. Ultimately it is an experience of continuous false approval. An endless parade of characters telling you that you are just the best. That everything will be OK, that you can do no wrong. Thus does an original and innovative concept for a show allow itself to be executed in the most lowbrow of manners. And what could have been the most engaging of programs succeed only in providing it’s viewership with Hogwarts’s Mirror of Erised so that we can paw hopelessly at our own wet dreams as they smile and dance just out of reach, hypnotic and insubstantial.

To quote Wizard People, Brad Neely’s re-imagining of Harry Potter, “When Ron the Mighty is stood before the gate, he begins to denounce it. Heaven is for those too scared of nothingness, I will go no further than my flesh will carry! This mirror is the sickbed of heaven, Harry. The eternity of pansied lives!” And upon Dumbledor’s entrance, “Come away from the light of heaven’s easy life. We need such a valiant, beautiful warrior as yourself here, to live and to hack the serpents of evil in two. Hell, in to twos, in to threes and fours! Your life will be the very envy of heaven and it’s slobbering inhabitants. No Harry, you were meant to stride with us, the living! To course with us, and our blood. You are meant to end, when your share of blood turns brown on the rocks of glory. You and I shall drink tonight Harry. We shall drink to life’s confines, to life’s pearly end which is the nothingness of death, not the perpetual pansiness of heaven!”

Take heart my children, we are capable of achieving far more than imagined pats on the back, more than an eternity of pretending to enjoy the juice of plastic fruit. There is nothing in the swamp of Secret Girlfriend that you cannot take for your own. So take it, and when you lay yourself down before your flickering screens to dream and to want, imagine ever greater. Goodnight.