Mild-Mannered Reporter Paul Sterling

  When I was very young the local authorities offered a service in which they would take video footage of your child to have on file in the horrific event of their abduction.  My sister and I stood in front of a chart which gave our height and we were asked to state our names and answer a few questions.  The last question they asked was what you wanted to be when you grew up.

I said I wanted to be a superhero and here, twenty five years later, I still do.

Comic books are not the obscure corner of Americana that they once were.  Superhero movies have dominated the box office for years now and mainstream publications and websites now include reviews of comic books alongside film, music, literature, and television reviews.

The next time you're out and about count how many superhero t-shirts you see people wearing.

I was in an extreme minority as a youngster, being a comic book afficianado.  I had a crush on Lois Lane and Kitty Pryde from the X-Men.  I learned from these comic books my morality, such as it is, and despite their glaring unreality, these heroes and their adventures were very real for me.  The fact is that I didn't live near any of my friends growing up, and summertime was very long indeed.  I needed friends and these four-color pages filled that need nicely.

Some people, knowing of my misspent comic book youth, have seemed amazed that I haven't seen the Avengers nor any of the other movies leading up to it, except Captain America.  The fact is the past is very much in the past, and these movies are a decade or two too late.  

As for Cap, he and I go way back.  Only his close friends call him "Cap".  He helped me through many a lonely summer and seeing his movie, well, it was the least I could do for an old friend.  

The following are brief bits on comic books and their lasting effects on my life.

You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry

I took an online "What Superhero Are You?" quiz and was surprised that I am, at least according to this particular source, the Incredible Hulk.  I had my heart set on Superman.  The more I though about it the more it seemed fitting.  I, too, have a lousy temper and am prone to blow-ups.  My communication skills could use a little work, and my wardrobe is a pretty shabby.  

I only read the Hulk comic briefly as a boy, but remember in particular several issues in which the Hulk underwent a weird sort of psychiatric treatment by the green-haired super-powered therapist Doc Samson.  The troubled mind of the Hulk's alter-ego Bruce Banner was explored, and only now can I see myself as akin to him in that we both suffer from self-esteem issues and should probably talk about our feelings more at the outset rather than bottling it all inside.  This first issue climaxed with Bruce accepting the Hulk as part of himself, eventually transforming in a graphic way.  Rather than simply growing and turning green, the Hulk actually tore through the skin of Bruce Banner, shredding his flesh like newspaper.  It was bloody and strange and I've had dreams about it ever since.

As we all know, Bruce is in love with Betty Ross, but the two have never really been able to work it out, being as he was the Hulk and her father wanted to kill the Hulk. Her father was just generally a douche.  Another issue ended with Bruce rushing to a train station from which Betty was leaving for an unknown place.  Being just plain human Bruce, he couldn't run fast enough to catch the train before it left and for the first time in his life actually wanted to become the Hulk.  He slapped himself and tried to make himself angry with painful childhood memories, but it didn't work.  Betty, as it turns out, got off the train somewhere down the line and was walking back when she saw Bruce.  The two of them embracing joyfully is another image burned into my mind.  

Just because I'm the Hulk doesn't mean I can't be sentimental, too.

Rooting For the Bad Guy

A friend from Barnes and Noble told me once of a regular customer of hers, a young boy who preferred villains to heroes.  He would pick Doctor Doom over Captain America and looked forward to Halloweens in which he'd dress up like his favorite bad guys.  

This is interesting to me.  Despite my love for Superman, the fact is I resemble Lex Luthor more closely and, let's be honest, have more in common with a bald sociopath than a super-powered alien.

Villains aren't emotionally involved with anything beyond their own success or failure.  The Joker shows maniacal glee up until the point at which Batman defeats him, and then he shows despair or furious frustration.  Batman, however, remains stoic and constant throughout.  Again, I can relate more to someone prone to failure than someone who never encounters it.  

I know what it's like to get my ass kicked.

Villains are indifferent to feminine charms and rarely let women dupe them or ensnare them the way heroes sometimes do.  Both the Joker and Lex Luthor typically have attractive henchwomen about, gun molls who either love them and are spurned for it or scoff at their fiendish plans while filing their nails.  More often than not, when the hero arrives, the women turn on their "masters" like rabid animals.  Rarely do you see a villain in a loving and committed relationship with a woman who stands by his side as Superman hauls him off to jail.  I suppose this a weakness as well.  

Superhero/supervillain relationships are the ultimate in dysfunction.  "I'll get you next time" the villain says, thwarted though he may be.  Though I love the heroes, sometimes I wish that threat would come to pass.  But if the hero was dead, what would the villain do?  Get a job?  Can you imagine the Joker selling real estate?  No, they need each other.  Love and hate and that invisible line between the two and buy the next issue because we never know for sure.  

It could happen.

Whatever Happened to the Blue Beetle?

I'm sure you've never heard of the Blue Beetle and I won't bother you with a biography.  Suffice it to say, he was a favorite of mine.  The Blue Beetle was one of the only superheros I know who had a weight problem. He had to work that much harder than his peers to stay in tight spandex-friendly shape and I can relate.  It's hard to avoid baked goods after a long week of fighting crime.  Sometimes you need a sugar rush to stay in the game, but the Blue Beetle had to abstain.  This must have sucked for him, because I know it sucks for me.    

You'll notice I'm speaking of him in the past tense.  That's because in an issue some years ago, The Blue Beetle was shot in the head and killed.  This upset me and it was then I started to realize that comic books had changed.  Or maybe that I had changed.

Comic books were, when I was a kid, geared towards kids.  Mostly to young boys.  Comics are now geared towards guys my age or a little younger.  There is more intense sex and violence now, and I won't get into that being right or wrong, but I don't think that kids that are now the age I was when I discovered comics should be reading comics at all.  

If these kids knew what they were missing they would be ticked off.  Can you imagine being a child, going to the park, and not being able to get on the swing set or the monkey bars because a bunch of twenty and thirty year olds were hogging all the fun?  That's kind of what it's like.  Comic books have been hi-jacked from the kids who deserve and need them by a bunch of guys who just can't seem to grow up and shake the habit.

Guys like me, I guess.  

I love the comics of my youth more now than ever.  I talk about them and blog about them.  Probably too much.  But turning my back on them would be like turning my back on an old friend that doesn't fit in with my new friends.  

It would be like not being upset that the Blue Beetle is dead.

I wish that all the kids running around today could have the joy that I had when I was their age.  Loving and appreciating the heroes of my past is the right thing to do, and what little I know of the right thing to do I learned from those heroes.

That's corny, I know, but what can I say?  

I grew up reading comic books.

This blog is dedicated in loving memory to Ted Kord, a.k.a. the Blue Beetle.