




A blog featuring unique experiences from cartoonists, retailers, and superfans, involving comic books that may not necessarily be milestones of the industry but hold close personal significance to the authors of each entry.





Rob Liefeld was pretty close to God to me at the tender age of 10. His work really spoke to me. I loved the jagged lines, the fierce expressions on his characters faces, the exaggerated anatomy, the big ass guns, huge muscles, etc. I was also pretty serious about becoming a cartoonist around this time and his, Spike Lee directed, Levi's commercial was extremely inspiring to me, making comic drawing for a living a tangible goal.
...and most of the rest of the book was drawn by some guy I never heard of, Mike Mignola. I couldn't believe this guys work. It was awful. No crosshatching, no constipated facial expressions, blocky figures. It was terrible. This guy defiled a book that was sacred to me!
I made Mignola my enemy for years, never forgiving him for what he did to my favorite book. I vowed never to support his work, he was evil. Why would my boy, Rob, allow this no-name to ruin the coolest book on the racks?
It was heartbreaking that there wasn't much Liefeld art in this issue. At least I could settle for a few great pin-ups that exuded testosterone. Look at that art below! Not that's how you draw the goddamn zappy eye.
For the record, my Mignola embargo has lifted since then.
1991, I was 9 years old, and already a pretty devout fan of comics, though my tastes were predominantly skewed towards Marvel books at this point. I also was aware and very excited by the HBO series, Tales From The Crypt, which provided a great mix of T&A and Gore. I never bought comics from anywhere but the grocery store. I had no idea that comic shops existed and I'm not so sure I knew there were any other kinds of comics besides Marvel and DC.
So flash forward a bit, Milton wakes up from a nap and the story ends with the kinky bitch having tied him to the bedposts. The creep probably thinks he's going to get some freaky loving from the broad but we find out that he's really attached to a stretch rack (where a scorned, lovesick house-frau finds a stretch rack I don't know):
This is the only story in the book that has the antagonist still alive in the last panel. I couldn't imagine that the crazed lady would go forward with ripping the dude apart. That doesn't happen in comics. Usually Spiderman would swoop in and save the day, maybe trade quips with the villian and then go about his business. But I was confused as to who the villian even was in this tale, sure the stretchee was a bad dude but did he deserve to have his arms and legs ripped off? I mean look at that final illustration, that's some painful retribution, I felt like I could hear his muscles snapping and rolling up like one of those slap bracelets we were all playing with in 1991! I found the stretching to be a bit excessive and I villified Lorna a bit for getting so crazed and torturing the poor guy. All superhero comics ended with this sort of cliffhanger, it's sort of a bait-and-switch to get you to pick up the next issue. And in the next issue, thanks to some sort of Deus Ex-Machina, the cliffhanger is solved within the first few pages and you move on to the next tense moment.