Flea Market Finds: Cars, Cards & Comics

Back to brag!

I've returned to show off all the goods I scored this morning at the flea market, well before revealing the stuff I promised to share several weeks ago. That's just how we roll here, I guess, with the false promises and always pulling swerves. It is probably a good thing that no one cares about anything going on here. Not even me.

Here's some things, non-existent readers.

One of the booths that I've been passing by for years belongs to an older gentleman and it consists entirely of "vintage" sports-cards and various long-boxes of comic books. I usually skip on flipping through bins of comics at the flea market, mostly because I have my local comic shops with their dollar-bins to peruse on a regular basis. However, my collecting has transitioned lately to completing runs of titles, something I've never been concerned with before, so now I have a reason to dig through any boxes of books I stumble upon.

Of course, only a handful of the dollar books that I picked up today add to the particular runs that I'm aiming to finish off. The rest were a series of single issues that caught my eye with their bizarre subject matter. Most notable, and my personal favorite find, is DC Special #27, dated May 1977, which features characters like Captain Comet and Tommy Tomorrow battling both traditional dinosaurs and oddly-dressed dino-men hybrids.

Also, dig that Archie Meets The Punisher.

I don't really have much to say about these Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wax-packs. I have a fondness for anything TMNT, and my love and adoration for trading cards is well-documented.

Cowabunga..?

What hasn't been mentioned here before on the blog is ReBoot, one of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons from the mid-'90s. A Canadian-produced series, it was the first to feature entirely computer-generated animation, and was the result of over a decade's worth of hard-work and dedication from Mainframe Entertainment. It originally aired on ABC starting in 1994 and ran for four seasons.

I was nearly a teen when the show first started, so the idea of collecting action-figures based on it was far from an appealing one. Of course, here we are, two decades later, and I have zero reservations when it comes to picking them up now. In fact, I was pretty psyched when I discovered Bob and Megabyte sitting in a box surrounded by various other loose figures. There was no way that I was going to leave them behind, especially where they were only a couple bucks each.

Here's a few more of their box-mates that I rescued.

I'm not ashamed to admit that all three of these items are duplicate purchases; I own or did own every single one of these guys at some point. I've actually picked up Panda Khan six times over the course of my life, though nearly all of them have found other homes. This one is no exception. He'll be going out in a package shortly, part of the prize for a contest I'm running over on Instagram [@itstrashculture].

Weed-Killer is staying with me, since he's a replacement for his duplicate "older brother" that I had before. My original was gifted to Brian from Awake Oh Sleeper, one of my favorite artists/bloggers, and a genuinely friendly and extremely generous dude. Go check out his site [if you don't already] and admire his unique and totally rad aesthetic sensibilities. Seriously, I am always in awe and envious of his work.

And no, your eyes do not deceive you, that third item is a McDonalds Happy Meal toy from Batman: The Animated Series. I am not going to reveal which one, though, because it is also part of my prize-pack giveaway and I don't want to risk ruining the surprise should the winner read this.

Even though I can almost guarantee that he/she will not.

The same vendor that I scored those loose figures from also had a set of Ertl Dick Tracy collectible cars. They were released back in 1990, the same time as the feature-film, and there were four different vehicles to choose from. The only one of the quartet that I cared about was Dick Tracy's patrol-car, but here I am several hours later and I'm starting to regret leaving behind Itchy's car.

I can't reenact a chase-scene with only one car, can I..?

This was the big score, the main reason that I walked away with anything from the seller's booth. I can't recall the last time I ran across a sealed box of Marvel Universe trading cards, never mind the several that this particular vendor was offering. Series one through three were available, so naturally I split the difference and picked up 1991's Series II.

I was already a dedicated Marvel Zombie when these cards were originally released, and discovering the more obscure characters featured in this set was the real draw for me. Instead of the pages of their comics, it was Marvel trading cards that first introduced me to characters like Death's Head, Sleepwalker and The Grim Reaper. My friends and I must have spent hours pouring over and trading this particular series, trying to be the first of our group to put together a complete set, including the much-desired Limited Edition Holograms.

I plan on taking my time opening the thirty-six packs within. Some I'll tear into later today, sure, but the rest I'll leave for days that I need a nostalgic pick-me-up to chase away a grey or lonely day. And it will probably be a few years before I work up the nerve to open the last one.

Journey Into Mystery Boxes

Remember when I would occasionally blog about comic books?

Remember when I would occasionally blog..?

I promised to show off some of the goods I picked up at JC's Things a few weeks back, but before I get to bragging about decades-old crayons and Dolly Parton Christmas albums [spoilers], I wanna gab a bit about one of my many weaknesses. There are a number of Kryptonites in my life, but none as enticing and dangerous-to-my-wallet as the comic book grab-box. My local comic shop never has a shortage of them, and it seems like I fall victim to their siren song more often than not.

Let's see you try and resist 50 different comics for a mere $11.99, though.

I've mentioned before that I'm a total sucker for mystery packs and grab-bags, blind-box toys and random packs of trading cards. The idea of opening a package, not entirely knowing what treasures could lurk within, is so appealing to me. There's the risk of discovering nothing worthwhile, the contents within could all be a total wash. It's a gamble, I know, but that thrill of anticipation and uncertainty before digging in is what always draws me back.

Enough yammering on, it's time to get to the comics.

THE BREAKDOWN:

Titles and publishers always vary in these grab-boxes, and so does the initial release-date for books. I've picked up several that featured books from the '70s and '80s, but this particular one didn't date back quite that far. The earliest issue included is cover-dated November 1993, and a majority of the books included are from the last several years.

Marvel Comics made up the bulk of the box, one single issue over half its contents, at twenty-six books. DC was a distant second at sixteen, and the remainder was comprised of several small publishers, including Dynamite, Dark Horse and Valiant. That's about par for the course with the boxes I've purchased in the past.

The real risk is acquiring duplicate copies, books I'd picked up in the past either as monthly purchases or something dug out during my frequent dollar-bin splurges. It's unlikely that I'd ever find a box that didn't contain at least a couple dupes included, and this one was no exception. Of the fifty books lurking inside, I already owned seventeen of them. Not the best turn-out, but the extras make for good trade fodder or little extras in my giveaways.

THE BEST:

My definition of best is pretty unique, because I doubt most collectors would consider mid-'90s DC titles like Extreme Justice or The Book of Fate as great finds. I would never argue that these were top-quality books, but that particular era of comics was when I really started getting into them, so I have a total nostalgic fondness for anything released at that time. Bonus points if they featured C- or D-list characters like Maxima, Guy Gardner or Speedball.

I've not-so-secretly admired third-tier heroes more than their ultra-popular contemporaries since I was a kid, and it's a trend I don't see bucking any time soon. Further evidence of this can be found at my long defunct Tumblr account -- Grade-Z Heroes.

THE WORST: 

Sovereign Seven issue number one, dated April 1995, wins this superlative with ease.

Somehow, in some strange turn of events, I've already owned several copies of this particular comic, despite having no strong positive feelings for the works of Chris Claremont. I can appreciate, and even enjoy at times, his work on Marvel's The Uncanny X-Men title for so many years, but there's almost nothing else in his body of work that I admire. One of the few creator-owned books to sorta' reside in the proper DC Universe, it featured a team of original characters and a very unique interpretation of Darkseid, ruler of Apokolips and one of the most powerful villains in comic history.

I'm not sure what compelled me to pick it up fresh off the stands when it was originally released, but we'll chalk it up to the wildly fluctuating hormones and moods of a recently teenaged Trash Man. I mean, seriously, look how hot their team-leader, Cascade, is.

Ignore the part where her code-name is a brand of detergent.

THE VERDICT:

It certainly wasn't the best grab-box I could have scored, but it contained enough small gems and old favorites to justify pissing away twelve-bucks. There were a handful of really solid books, the type of stuff I'm looking forward to reading and sorting away into my collection. A few to throw in with a large stack of trade-in material, and a few that I'm hoping to share with friends sometime in the New Year.

The "One Man's Trash..." Anniversary Giveaway

It seems to be a recent San Diego Comic Con tradition that I don't even humor the idea of attending, and instead, I turn my attention to this blog in the attempt to lighten my load. Giving away so much stuff, all the odd little collectibles that have been piling up over the days and weeks and years. The idea that you can never have enough toys or comics or DVDs, well, it's a great one, but it's totally false. Limited space to store it all, limited time to enjoy those things, sometimes you exceed those limits and find yourself wondering how things got so bad. So yes, it's time to lighten my load.

That's good news for all of you, because it means that we're hosting the latest "One Man's Trash..." Free Giveaway. And this one is the big one. Celebrating a year of blogging, and a year of giving away my trash to other people. Some of you have been here before, but there may be a handful of new readers lurking that don't know the score. Let's quickly rehash the rules, shall we?

You don't have to follow the blog, but I'd definitely appreciate it if you did. There hasn't been a whole lot of content lately, but I'm hoping for that to change in the very near future. We're getting into my favorite time of year, already anticipating the leaves turning orange and rust, cooler nights and the howl of wolves in the distance, but maybe they're closer than you think. I'm totally getting off track, but the idea that Halloween is drawing near will do that to you.

So, anyway, there are two ways to enter this month's giveaway-- you can leave a comment below, something breezy and light, maybe having to do with your favorite episode of The Golden Girls or the time you rented Killer Instinct for the SNES and didn't return it for three weeks. The other way to enter is to send an email to itstrashculture[at]gmail.com. Simple enough, sure, and completing either of those things is all you need to do to maybe, possibly, win a box full of things. Incredible things, even though I never hesitate to refer to it all as trash.

You've got a week to enter; I'll randomly draw the winner's name next Friday, August 1st, and we'll work out the details from there. Best of luck to everyone, and thanks to all who took the time to check out the blog!

Image is Everything: An Introduction

A couple weeks back, I made an appearance on an episode of Geek Fallout: The Comic Book Episodes where we discussed Image Comics. You can listen to it here.

As a young comic reader in the early to mid-nineties, the formation of Image Comics was an absolutely mind-blowing event. Top talents from Marvel, my one true love at the time, jumped ship to form their own company without all the Comics Code restrictions and editorial interference. Regardless the quality of several titles, I still dove right in and devoured most of the books that this newly founded publisher put on the shelves. But my love and admiration for everything eXtreme had to start somewhere, right?

Yup, that's Spawn issue number three, dated August 1992, and it's the first Image comic that I ever picked up. It's not the exact copy; the original is tucked away in a bin somewhere, but I found this second copy in the dollar-bins at my local comic shop the other day and couldn't leave it behind. It's not a particularly thrilling issue, but I suffer severe bouts of nostalgia just flipping through it. Something that's worth the price of admission alone.

Obviously, this is -very- early in the title's publication, a time when Todd McFarlane was at his absolute best. Hot off a super-successful run on Marvel's The Amazing Spider-Man, his new venture was easily one of the most anticipated of Image's announced books and would serve as one of the company's two launch-titles [along with Rob Liefeld's Youngblood]. The promise of occult-based ultra-violence and heavy melodramatics, paired with McFarlane's uniquely gritty art-style, was all that was needed to catch my attention.

Like many of those early Image comics, this particular issues doesn't hold up very well. That's okay, though, because it served its true purpose all those years ago. It hooked me, reeled me in to this world of grim anti-heroes and cyborg-mutants, alien cops and edgy vigilantes, and it's refused to let me go, even two decades later.

Stay tuned, true-believers, because there's a lot more style-over-substance to come..!

Deathlok Wants to Live at Your House: The Results!

Hey, I'm a day late on posting this.

That's par for the course around these parts, so apologies to any newcomers that were expecting me to be prompt. It rarely happens because I'm the worst. Except when I'm the best and giving away free stuff like comics and junk. You get used to it, I guess.

Right so, thank you to all for taking the time to check out the blog, and for leaving comments and entering the contest. Basically, everything that you do and for everything that you are. It turns out that I can't be the best after all, because you beat me to that top spot. You're the best.

And because you're all top of the heap, a-number-one, king of the hill, I've got a little special something for each and every one of you.

Comics for everybody..!

I did mention before that I buy a lot of comics. So many, remember? And since I've got more than enough already, and am buying more all the time, well it only makes sense to part with more than a handful. That means that everyone that entered into the contest is gonna end up receiving a small assortment of back-issues. Floppies for all, I say.

All you have to do to claim this consolation prize is send me an email to itstrashculture[at]gmail.com with an address where I can ship 'em out to. Feel free to include a small list of favorite characters or titles, and I'll try to dig up something good and specially chosen for each of you.

Of course, unfortunately, while everyone is gonna walk away with something, only one of you can actually receive the Deathlok Lives trade that was pictured in the original contest-post. I randomly drew the winner's name earlier today, and that lucky participant was none other than Patrick C.

So, Patrick, if you could please send me an email to claim your prize, I'll get that out to you ASAP.

Again, thank you all for visiting the blog, and be sure to keep a look out for next month's special One Year Anniversary Free Giveaway..!

Deathlok Wants to Live at Your House

I buy a lot of comic books.

Like, so many of them.

Sometimes this means that I end up with duplicates; issues I had forgotten I'd read before purchased for a second [or even third!] time. Part of my attempt to avoid becoming a comic-related hoarder has been stuffing random floppies into the free giveaways and consolation prizes from previous contests.

Yeah, you might have noticed that there haven't been a whole lot of giveaways/contests lately. I mean, really, there hasn't been a whole lot of content here on the blog these last couple months, so it only makes sense that the freebies would have fallen by the wayside, too. Next month marks the one-year anniversary of my first "One Man's Trash..." Free Giveaway, though, so I'm gearing up for a Godzilla-sized contest to commemorate and celebrate the occasion.

For now, I've decided to run a little comic-related giveaway to hold you all over until then.

If you follow me over on Twitter [@itstrashculture] or Instagram [also, @itstrashculture], you've probably noticed that I've been splurging quite a bit on books from my local comic shop's dollar-bins. I've found tons of ridiculously great issues to add to my collection; the type of stuff that I plan to hold onto forever and ever.

But there's the occasional books that I have no real use for that prove to be too good a deal to pass on.

Like the Captain America: Deathlok Lives trade paperback that you see above.

Published by Marvel in 1993, it collects issues #286, 287 and 288 from the original Captain America series. The three-part story arc finds The Star-Spangled Avenger flung into the far-future and teaming-up with the first incarnation of Deathlok, Luther Manning. It's an awesome little tale that I'd recommend to any fans of Cap [or Deathlok!], and I'm giving someone a chance to win this very copy.

Oh, and I'll definitely be throwing a few more random floppies in the "prize-pack", as if you needed any more incentive to take part in the giveaway.

All you have to do is leave a comment below, or shoot an email to itstrashculture[at]gmail.com. Feel free to talk anything comic-related, whether it's a favorite time-travel story or the first Captain America issue you ever read or whatever.

I'll be announcing the contest's winner next Saturday, June 14th, so you can enter any time between now and next Saturday morning. Keep your eyes peeled here for that announcement, and hopefully some fresh content will make an appearance in the meantime!

Trash Culture Tribute: The Ultimate Warrior

You didn't have to grow up a devout follower of the WWF or professional wrestling in general to have heard about The Ultimate Warrior. One of the top talents in the industry during those peak years of the late '80s and early '90s, the man formerly known as James Hellwig was known more for his intense and bizarre behavior than any in-ring abilities. He was a larger-than-life personality that captivated fans, and nearly dwarfed the superstar status of his legendary peer, Hulk Hogan.

He died yesterday at the age of 54.

Despite some severely controversial [and quite possibly deranged] statements in the years following his retirement from the ring, I've chosen to celebrate the life and the career of one of my childhood heroes. From a time when I only knew him as the single most electric and ferocious wrestler of all-time. Whether it was watching him feud with the likes of "Ravishing" Rick Rude and Andre the Giant. Going over to my aunt and uncle's house to watch WrestleMania VI, where he would defeat Hogan for the WWF World Heavyweight Championship. Or the one time I was able to see him in person, a show at the Boston Garden circa '91, where he battled against a then-heel Sgt. Slaughter in a steel-cage match.

I owned the "classic" Hasbro action figure of Warrior, along with trading cards and WWF magazines that featured him, and a t-shirt that I wore to the point of disintegration. I can't claim that I ever painted my face in his likeness, but I certainly tried to live those pre-teen years with the same wild energy that he displayed week after week on my television screen.

It was announced a short while ago that Warrior, no longer legally known as anything but, had made amends with Vince McMahon and others within the WWF/WWE. He appeared in a commercial for their latest video game, and he was the first announced for the WWE Hall of Fame's "Class of 2014".

Knowing that The Ultimate Warrior was coming back, it seemed like the perfect time for me to go digging through the quarter-bins at my local comic shop in search of the short-lived, self-published comic book that Warrior wrote back in the mid-'90s. I remember a friend buying a copy off the racks when it was first released, which I casually flipped through at the time, but nothing about it really stayed fresh in my mind. Thankfully, I guess, I was able to locate a copy of issue number one in those neglected long-boxes at the back of my shop. The idea was to include it in a new feature I was looking to cook up for the blog, but hadn't yet gotten around to. So, I filed it away with a few dozen other books for a later date.

The WWE Hall of Fame induction was this past Saturday, the day before WrestleMania XXX. I didn't watch the event, mostly because I haven't been keeping up with professional wrestling this last decade plus, except for a best-friend who still watches religiously and can't help but gush about the latest news. Likewise, I missed Warrior's appearance on Monday Night Raw two days ago; his first time on the program since 1996.

Sadly, it would also be his last appearance on Raw.
 

I had originally intended to poke fun at the Warrior comic, due to the tragically-dated, super-exaggerated '90s art. Its confusing and strange philosophies concerning destrucity and the "Terrain of Testament" that Warrior includes in the introduction and the narrative of the story. How it's difficult to follow, all this muddled and vague nonsense about BELIEFS and the "Spirit of the Warrior", and I realize now that Warrior or James Hellwig or however he chose to identify himself through the years, that he believed in something. That he believed in himself and in those around him, and that he built a family and worked these last few years to make amends with those he felt he had wronged. Despite what seemed like decades of inane and weird ramblings, strong and polarizing opinions, he was a man who lived his life with a raw and ferocious tenacity that I find myself envying.

He spoke often of immortality, up to and including his appearance on the latest episode of Monday Night Raw. I wanna include a little excerpt from that last promo he gave, because it really and truly feels like he knew that it was his final time in the spotlight.

Every man's heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe a final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse through the body of others, and makes them bleed deeper, and something larger than life, then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized. By the storytellers, by the loyalty, by the memory of those who honor him and make the running the man did live forever.

Here's to you, Warrior.

Thank you so very much for being such a huge part of my childhood.

Adding to the Trash Pile: Super Savers Saturday Edition

There's a couple big posts coming down the pipe-line in the very near future, but I wanted to break up the rhythm here a little while we're waiting. Sprinkle some small posts in between the weekly Bogdanovich Challenges, so it doesn't seem like I'm just half-assed reviewing classic cinema these days. Thankfully, a quick visit to my favorite thrift shop this morning proved to be fruitful. A regular fruitful station, minus Michael B. Jordan or regular Michael Jordan or any of the other guys from ProStars.

Generic He-Man and the Masters of the Universe action figures..!

That's probably the first thing you thought of when you saw the two fellas up above, and really, you're not too far off. These two Adonises, muscles sculpted from plastic-marble, are, in actuality, "The Nature Boy" Ric Flair and Rick "The Model" Martel. Part of Remco's AWA [that's the American Wrestling Association] toy-line from 1985. I never owned either of these as a kid, despite being a huge fan of professional wrestling, because my heart and soul belonged to the House-that-Hulk-Hogan-built, The WWF.

Flair, I remember fondly and best as the ultimate heel; tormenting poor Miss Elizabeth and trying to tear apart her romance with "The Macho Man" Randy Savage, who was [and still is] one of my all-time favorite wrestlers. Flair betraying his former advisor, Mr. Perfect, and losing to him in a "Loser Leaves Town" match on one of the premiere episodes of Monday Night Raw. Flair leading the Four Horsemen, and epic battles with Sting and Lex Luger over in WCW.

I feel less strongly [weakly?] about Rick Martel. First off, his toy is absolutely the most plain-looking action figure I've ever seen. Before I locked down his true identity thanks to various websites, I toyed with the idea that he might be Ricky Steamboat or Tito Santana or Larry Zbysko or or or...

You get the idea.

So, besides having difficulties in identifying a mid-card talent like Martel, he also earns some red-marks for being, well, a mid-card talent. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved guys who weren't in the main-event; guys feuding for the Intercontinental Title or forming random tag-teams, because why not? But Rick Martel was best known [to me, at least] as the narcissistic heel who brought an over-sized bottle of his own "perfume" to the ring, and spraying his opponents in the eyes and blinding them.

The best thing to spring from that was him being forced to compete in a "Blindfold Match" against Jake "The Snake" Roberts at Wrestlemania VII.

I sorta' miss when I used to feel passionately about grown men wearing speedos and tights battling one another in the squared circle, but then I don't at all.

Actually, here's another two from the same AWA wrestling line. I'd never heard of "The Fabulous Ones", a tag-team consisting of Stan Lane and Steve Keirn, before today. Wikipedia informs me that they were credited with being the first team with the "Pretty Boy" gimmick, made famous by later tag-teams like The Rock 'n Roll Express and The Rockers.

God, now I wanna watch Shawn Michaels super-kick his former partner, Marty Jannetty, and then throw him through the window of "The Barbershop".

Wrestling is dumb.

I'll tell you what isn't dumb, though, and it is totally VHS.

Fred Ward portraying The Destroyer in Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (1985) is perfection. I haven't watched the film in years, but plan on rectifying that as soon as possible. Maybe once I'm finished showing off this ridiculous junk. Don't be surprised if I can barely muster the energy or enthusiasm to say more than a few words about Disney's Darkwing Duck: His Favorite Adventures.

Actually, I guess the correct title is "Darkly Dawns the Duck", and it's an origin tale for the most beloved caped-and-cowled fowl. That ties it into the Remo Williams film better than I could have planned it to, which is equal parts awesome and really, really stupid.

I take back what I said before about VHS not being dumb. Sometimes it can be, especially if it features Launchpad McQuack.

Also, here's some comic books that I bought. They came from the dollar-bins at my local comic shop, and I didn't need to buy them at all, since I already own thousands and thousands of floppies. Unfortunately, I'm a sucker for Mike Allred's Madman riding an atomic bomb, Mark Waid-written issues of The Flash, and random, awful titles from the '90s, like Malibu Comics' Rune.

There's also a single Spider-Man book, because I definitely needed more of those.

My name now is Bo, and Bo knows nothing about saving a dollar.

The League: I'm Feeling Blue

There's not much to say about this week's challenge from The League of Extraordinary Bloggers. It's one of their photo-specific topics, so be prepared to be underwhelmed by what the lousy camera on my phone is capable of capturing. Am I ever blue?

From the mouths of babes or, at the very least, our babelicious leader--

It’s been a while since we’ve had a photo assignment for the weekly League of Extraordinary Blogger’s challenge. We’ve done green, and we’ve done red, so how about this time we do: 

— 

Blue.

—

From The Invaders #5, March 1975. Art by Rich Buckler and Dick Ayers.

From The Flash #278, October 1978. Art by Alex Savivk.

From Grimjack #28, November 1986. Art by Tom Sutton and Paul Guinan.

From The Secret Society of Super-Villains #15, June 1978. Art by Mike Vosburg and Bob Smith.

From The Death of Captain Marvel graphic novel, 1982. Art by Jim Starlin.


Meanwhile, with the rest of The League--

Neato Coolville's Collection of Blue.

Don't forget to color Stunt Zombies blue.

Boo Bobby talks blue, but I can't help but think of Boo Berry.

You'll never feel blue after a visit to the Happy Haunted Sunshine House.

The Goodwill Geek's blue makes me green with envy.

Miss M and Fifty Shades of Blue Hair.

See some of my all-time favorite movie posters [yes, Videodrome!] over at Vikki Verka.

And for all the rest, go check out Cool & Collected..!

The League: Knock It Off..!

Straight from the mouth of our fearless leader, Mr. Cool & Collected, here's the latest topic we're gonna tackle-- 


This week’s assignment for the League of Extraordinary Bloggers was an idea sent in by Poe Ghostal. Poe originally wanted the topic to be “third party toys, yay or nay,” but I thought it would be fun to open it up even further, so here goes…

–

Bootlegs, knockoffs, and third-party products.

–

I had originally planned to follow in the footsteps of other League members and take a look at some trashy pieces of bootleg toys that clutter my collection. However, somewhere over the years, I'd traded away or sold most of my favorite Transformers and Gobots knock-offs. It didn't leave me with a whole lot to share with you. Actually, I managed to only have one piece left and then this guy went and stole my third-party thunder! The nerve!

The Goodwill Geek's favorite Space Defender, Garth Nadir, is nothing more than a glorified Robot Spacebot and I have the proof. In both of the two colors available!

Sigh.

So, now what is a poor Trash Man to do?

Yup, that's right. It's time to take a peek at some comics.

I could easily churn out a quick post by taking a look at all the rip-offs and cash-in duplicates of old favorites like Superman and Batman. Maybe a little history lesson on how, at one time, a cheap knock-off by the name of Captain Marvel [that's Shazam! for all you youngsters] was actually outselling the Man of Steel's books. It's been done before and by far better writers than myself. Plus, sometimes I like the B- and C-level imitations better than the originals.

Then I remembered a local comic convention I attended with an ex- a few years back. Digging through long-boxes of cheap back-issues for forgotten gold together, we found quite a few treasures that reminded us of a much more well-known property. A pop culture giant that spawned all sorts of imitations and pretenders.

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Again, I could share a long-winded, poorly-written history lesson with you about the creation of the title by Eastman and Laird and how it became an absolute juggernaut that would conquer the shelves of toy-stores, movie theaters and home television screens around the world. Instead, I'm just gonna pick a handful of small-press/independent titles from the mid-80s that attempted to recreate the magic and success of TMNT. Or at least poke fun at it.

First up is the original spoof of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and probably the most recognizable. Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters was published by Eclipse Comics in 1986. Created by writer Don Chin and artist Parsonavich [seriously?], it followed the exploits of four normal hamsters who were shot into space by NASA in 1977. Their experimental rocket was doused in radioactive cosmic jello, which mutated them into human-sized creatures that crash-landed in Tibet. There, they mastered martial arts, attaining their black belts, and ventured out into the world to combat evil, like thugs and gangs and stuff.

The series ran for nine-issues and supposedly there was talk of a revival as recently as 2008.

Pre-Teen Dirty-Gene Kung-Fu Kangaroos is actually my favorite of the bunch. Lee Marrs handled both the writing and the art. And Blackthorne Publishing released it at the end of Summer 1986. Where the Turtles and Hamsters both told tales of humanoid-animals in a more real-world setting, the Kung-Fu Kangaroos' world was inhabited by nothing but animals. They were six "normal" kangaroo-students from Australia who were caught in an explosion at a bio-tech lab while on a tour and granted fantastic powers.

There's actually a very brief appearance by Donatello that Peter Laird himself illustrated in a single panel. Something the cover is all too eager to mention and who can blame them? This was just prior to the Turtles' exposure on TV and the release of their action figure line by Playmates.

Here's another book released by Blackthorne Publishing the very same month, Cold Blooded Chameleon Commandos. Billed as "Genetic Mutation at it's Finest", it's the adventures of four ordinary chameleons subjected to government experiments to create the ultimate fighting force. The cover reminds me a lot of the far superior satire, Dinosaurs For Hire, which actually wouldn't be published for another two years.

It's by far the worst I've seen of these knock-offs, with crude art and awful jokes. The only redeeming thing from the entire issue is a battle with a mantis-man adversary. That they then dispatch with a can of RAID in a predictable, cliched climax. Stupid.

I don't have much to say about Mildly Microwaved Pre-Pubscent Kung-Fu Gophers. It came out a month before the two previous entries, released by a company called Just Imagine Graphix, and was created by George Macas and Jim Molina. The heroes are four hamsters caught in the blast of a Microwave Bomb the government was testing, not entirely unlike a certain Rampaging Green Goliath, who cross paths with a camping kung-fu master named Kung. Naturally, he decides to take them under his wing and train them in the ancient arts of fighting.

Which they use to beat up some old ladies and get into a pie-fight. I take back what I said before about the Chameleons' title. This is the worst of the bunch.

The best lookin' of the books is easily The Bushido Blade of Zatoichi Walrus. I almost didn't want to include this one, because it really owes more to the epic film series, Zatoichi the Blind Swordsman and to Stan Sakai's brilliant comic creation, Usagi Yojimbo. This one was published by Solson Publications, written by John Holiwski and illustrated by Chuck Wojtkiewicz.

You might be asking why, prior to TMNT's toy-line and screen success, there would have already been so many imitations and I'm gonna leave the answer in the form of this panel from the original Turtles' knock-off, Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters.

Which, sadly, I doubt any of these made. 

Meanwhile, with the rest of the League--

The man who stole my original idea for a post, and subjected you to all this nonsense, is none other than The Goodwill Geek. Be sure to thank him.

Miss M shares a sad story of having to resort to collecting Power Ranger bootlegs. Also, there's talk of Golden Girls, but no mention of Bea Arthur? Go cry foul.

Pop Rewind looks back at a lifetime of bootlegging VHS, so how could I resist?

I never had that Street Hawk G.I.Joe when I was collecting them, which I totally regret knowing I missed, so thanks to Rediscover the 80s for ruining my life.

And for all the rest, be sure to check out Cool & Collected..!

The League: Feels Like the First Time

It's time again for The Trash Man to dig up old memories and forgotten treasures in the name of The League of Extraordinary Bloggers. I've got a real challenge ahead of me, "hanging ten" on a wave of nostalgia that could threaten the entire Eastern seaboard, because this week's topic is--

Summer is a time of first loves and first-run movies, and sometimes those two things can be one and the same! This week’s assignment for the League of Extraordinary Bloggers…
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It feels like the first time… Write about your first experience with something. 

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Something could mean anything and I've experienced a lot of first times after three decades on this planet. There are favorites holidays and first loves and Sonic Youth concerts and traumatic viewings of Night of the Living Dead at age four that I could share with you, but it seems that I will once again slip into my comfort zone and talk comic books. Or more importantly, my first comic book.

And it just so happens to be the premiere issue of Eclipse Monthly, published August, 1983.

I was only a little less than two years old when this book was originally released and a copy of it wouldn't come into my possession until the summer of '88. Just prior to summer vacation, actually. My first grade teacher decided to treat her students to a parting gift during the last week of school. All the boys in the class received a random comic book [I honestly don't recall what the girls got] and I'm sure Mrs. Monahan didn't know what she was starting when she gave me this gorgeous, small-press anthology book.

Up until this point, I was only familiar with comic book heroes through other mediums, cartoons like Super-Friends, Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends and Defenders of the Earth, or live-action fare like The Incredible Hulk. We were still a year away from absolute "Bat-Mania" thanks to the theatrical release of Tim Burton's Batman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles still hadn't made their true mark on the pop culture landscape. A six-year old Trash Man needed heroes and this single issue would provide several that he would never, ever forget.

 
Cap'n Quick and a Foozle was the first feature and naturally it appealed to me because the story's "hero" is a young boy who, while tinkering with electronics in his basement in an attempt to become a costumed adventurer, is transported into another dimension, full of menacing creatures, "Santa Claus" and a Foozle named Klonsbon. The story was written and illustrated by Marshall Rogers, best known for runs on both Detective Comics and Silver Surfer, and was a continuation of the Foozle's misadventures in the pages of the black-and-white Eclipse Magazine two years prior.

It also marked the first time in my young life that I would witness a bizarre, long-legged creature utter the word, damn, while chasing after our heroes. This single event would inspire me to become a foul-mouthed, track-star later on in life.

The second feature to grab my attention was The Masked Man, by B.C. Boyer. This was more a throw-back tale, paying homage to non-powered, masked crime-fighters like Will Eisner's The Spirit and The Green Hornet. Told from the point of views of a reporter, Barney McAllister, and a young boy named Delbert, it's a simple story about a bank robbery turned hostage situation and how The Masked Man appeared to save the day.

Oh, and Delbert's mom.

She's wounded during the ensuing battle and whisked away to safety by the costumed hero. It's actually a pretty wonderful moment in an otherwise serviceable but bland story, and it went right over my head at that age. I guess six-year olds are more interested in colorful costumes and biff-bam-pow hijinks.

Which leads perfectly into the book's final tale, Static, illustrated and written by the legendary Steve Ditko. I have mentioned him here a few times before and this also serves as my first time with his work, despite not knowing who he was at the time or what he was responsible for creating. Since then, I've become a huge fan of his [second only to "The King", Jack Kirby], admiring everything from his Dr. Strange stories in the pages of Strange Tales to Shade, the Changing Man to his run on Rom, Space Knight and the creation of Speedball.

Here, he creates another oddly-detailed and brightly colored superhuman, one who is granted special abilities after an experiment gone wrong. All thanks to a few meddling criminals who look like they stepped out of one of his Amazing Spider-Man panels from the '60s. Ditko's dialogue can be stiff at times and his characters extremely outdated, but it's his unique visions and iconic figures, not his ideologies that will always take center-stage.

Meanwhile, with the rest of the League--

G.I.Jigsaw visits his local comic shop, Friendly Frank's, and picks up far better books than my first.

I always knew The Goodwill Geek was a kindred spirit. I like trash and he digs Garbage [Pail Kids].

Over at Nerd Rage Against the Machine, Big J shares the many mishaps of owning his first car.

And Miss M reveals the mostly true origin of her obsession with a certain Princess of Power.

Death and Comic Books: What If... #25 (May, 1991)

I've owned this comic longer than most others in my collection and I honestly can't recall how it came into my possession. It's not one that I picked up off the rack, so I can only assume that it was acquired through a trade with one of my childhood friends. And unlike a majority of my comic collection, this particular issue has seen a lot of wear and tear. The spine is noticeably cracked. The pages yellowed and torn from being handled over and over again. I must have read and reread this single issue dozens of times and despite having not looked at it in years, I remember so many moments from it vividly.

Of course, it was probably all the carnage and death and destruction that traumatized me as a kid.

Those unfamiliar with Marvel's What If... series can probably grasp the core concept just by looking at the covers. Each issue took a key moment in the history of the Marvel Universe and re-imagined it occurring with different results. What if the Uncle Ben hadn't been murdered? What if Captain America had never joined the Avengers? These alternate tales featured major characters changed in some way, sometimes drastically and sometimes not, and almost always ended badly. Issue number 25, which rewrites the crossover event, Atlantis Attacks, ends very badly for the entire cast of Marvel characters.

Let's take a look at some of the more gruesome and dramatic demises and please remember that I first read this when I was nine-years old.