Tuesday, July 11, 2006

If it's Tuesday, it must be Space Ray Day

One of the earmarks of the Silver Age (and even the made up so-called Bronze Age) comic books is how characters accept the most bizarre transformations and fantastic occurrences with remarkable aplomb. In this scene from Adventure #293 (Feb 1962), Lex Luthor takes being targeted by a beam of unknown origin and purpose from space in stride. Sometimes Lex is cooler than Bond.

"You must be new here. Idiot."

The prison guard holding the Daisy BB Gun seems concerned (he'll probably lose his job if Lex escapes, "What do you mean you didn't stop Luthor from teleporting? You're fired!") and the other inmate is quickly distancing himself from the master criminal (Lex is notoriously hard on his disposable henchmen). This is mostly for exposition, though. While Luthor leads a kind of life that makes being zapped by rays at random moments seem like an expected part of a daily routine, most DCU dwellers are also jaded when it comes to weird events.
"Superman just turned into the King of Ants and took over the city."
"Meh. The bus is late."

"Yesterday, the Flash ran faster than a death-laser beam and still had time enough to paint a building silver to reflect the beam away from it."
"No wonder his official tie-in book is getting cancelled."

"Hey, you feel that? Did the universe just reboot again? I hate that."
"No kidding. Every time it happens my wife gets fatter."


  1. Ha! That last one is a winner. The next DC movie should have it!

  2. The Flash story that happened in was one of the worst I ever read.

  3. did you ever read that astro city story about the guy whose wife died because the universe was rebooted and the hanged man came to explain it to him? i always thought he ought to have given the guy a new wife.

  4. Nice lavender muu-muu, Lex. Really shows off your figure. By the way, what exactly does a federal supermax prisoner need four pockets to hold? Death-ray components, perhaps? If I were the warden, I'd keep all the hyper-genius tech-heads butt naked in individual plastic cubes and they could eat mashed potatoes with their bare hands while loud Harrison Bergeron random noises kept them from concentrating on anything.


Moderation enabled only because of trolling, racist, homophobic hate-mongers.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.