Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
. . . or "It's My Site, and I'll Be a Megalomaniac If I Want To!"
I'm not as bitter about it as I used to be.
The brutish, cavalier fashion in which DC Comics, Inc. treated me, that is.
Well... me and my Dad, actually.
Maybe I'd better go back to the beginning, on this one. 
The first appearance of that dashing, devil-may-care costumed adventurer (and professional psychopath), the Ambush Bug, was in the otherwise inconsequential pages of DC COMICS PRESENTS #52.
The story was, by and large, a by-the-numbers affair, concerning the conjoined efforts of both Superman and the lousy late '70's/early '80's version of The Doom Patrol (i.e., "The Doom Patrol between Arnold Drake's version and Grant Morrison's version; the one nobody misses") to thwart the anti-social antics of said Bug.
This story was not a particularly memorable one, judged solely on its own
merits. The caperings of the Bug were more silly than they were
madcap (as, too, were they in a later SUPERGIRL appearance, with the character
involved in such low-wattage shenanigans as [say] attempting to "prove" that
Superman and Supergirl were -- in actuality -- one and the same being.
Oh, help. My sides.).
It wasn't until co-creators Robert Loren Fleming (writer) and Keith Giffen (artist) later essayed the character in a trio of critically successful issues of ACTION COMICS (#560, #563 and #565, specifically) that the formula was refined; perfected; and served up to an incredulous comics fandom, a la mode. [See panel reproductions, accompanying]
Wholly cognizant of the fact that he was, in fact, a DC Comics character -- and unabashedly reveling in the freedom said knowledge afforded him, re the ability to break what filmmakers refer to as "the Fourth Wall" -- the Ambush Bug blithely went about shattering every comic book convention known to man, and then some.
He'd stop in the middle of the storytelling proceedings, and make knowing, sarcastic asides to the reader.
He'd repeatedly remind stodgier characters such as, say,Superman (without question, his very favorite "foil") that they, too, were merely actors cavorting across a four-color stage. (Frequently, the other characters in these dialogues would acknowledge this, and make wry references to various and sundry plots and/or conventions ongoing within their own titles. [!!] )
The line of demarcation between "real" and surreal was blurred even
further, as time went on, by the frequent introductions of Fleming, Giffen and
editor Julius Schwartz, themselves, as (semi-)regular "supporting characters"
within the Bug's chronicled exploits. Scenes would shift and lurch,
every so often (regardless of which insanities were occurring at that
precise moment), and we'd find ourselves eavesdropping on drunken, corner bar
conversations between the writer and artist, bemoaning the fact that "the fanboys
are never gonna let us get away with this wretched sort of crap.
Not this time."
However the appearance on the stands, a few months later, of the first
issue of an AMBUSH
BUG mini-series [see cover reproduction, accompanying], offers
evidence enough to support the conjecture that not only did the aforementioned
fanboys "let [them] get away with this"... but actually did so in fairly
substantial numbers, as well.
Freed from the restrictions of having to compress his vaudevillian brand of cheery lunacy in order to squeeze into whatever seven- or ten-page berth DC saw fit to afford him, any given month...
... the Ambush Bug -- quite simply -- ran amok.
He attempted to bully his way into the Doom Patrol; the Teen Titans; and the Legion of Super-Heroes. He made clumsy "passes" at Wonder Woman. He rudely inserted himself into the plotlines of such (then-) current series' as ATARI FORCE and THRILLER, while mocking them for (respectively) their naked commerciality and their pretentious "artiness." He engaged in a battle to the death with a blow-up "Darkseid" doll. He made rude conjectures regarding the lust-propelled relationship between Silver Age comic relief character Bat-Mite and the buxom Starfire, of the TEEN TITANS.
In short he did pretty much anything and EVERYthing the reader
would have done, under similar circumstances.
The overwhelming bulk of the Bug's (dis)regard, however,was
reserved for that most loathsome of modern comics storytelling conventions the dread, anti-story spectre of "continuity."
By way of storytelling proxy (in the cartoon- ish form of the perpetually peevish and preemptory "Jonni DC Continuity Cop!"), the modern-day "continuity" shibboleth was giving the ripe, rude raspberry it had so long deserved... and then some.
All of the aforementioned -- the black, mordant sarcasm; the smug, smirking disregard for comics convention; the steadfast "All Continuity Must Die!" stance -- were good things.
The very best thing about the AMBUSH BUG mini-series, however, was this:
I was born. )
Admit it, now you honestly
thought I'd forgotten about that whole "Daddy" business earlier... right?
While I'd honestly like to tell
you that those initial weeks and months as an honest-to-Allah, full-fledged
DC Comics, Inc. super-hero were a time of bitter struggle for acclimation and
acceptance... the for real, no foolin' truth of the matter is I took
to it all as naturally (and readily) as would Michael Jackson to a Boy Scout
Jamboree.
By issue #2 of the first AMBUSH BUG mini... Daddy and I were practically running the place, for all intents andpurposes.
Certainly, my (admittedly) brief career as a genuine costumed crime- fighter was, nonetheless, a deservedly storied one. (Even if it did necessitate masking my roguish, rough-hewn and seething male sexuality behind a secret identity-salvaging mask, at the time.) [See panel reproduction, accompanying]
However the simple (to say nothing of simplistic) meta-fictive constraints imposed upon me by the dictates of fannish tastes (and mainstream comics custom) soon began to pall... and I was forced to find a different, more fulfilling avenue of heroic expression.
Thank God for World War
Two.
It was on the savage, war-torn battlegrounds of Europe that I finally found my true heroic calling that of a selfless and dedicated Savior To the Grievously Wounded and Afflicted.
In short I was... "COMBAT CHEEKS Frontline Medic!"
Yeah, yeah; laugh yourself sick, fanboy.
Just remember, though while you were bagging some homely hausfraus groceries during the graveyard shift at the local Piggly-Wiggly... I was "bagging" Demi Moore.
And your sister.
Sadly -- inevitably, perhaps; who among us can truly say? -- the hellish, headlong water slide downward from such dizzying, near- Olympian heights of power; acclaim; and easy sexual favors from the more attractive (or, at the very least, hygienic) elements of organized comics fandom came to Dad and myself, in turn, as fannish reading tastes underwent one of their periodic (not to mention unspeakable) sea changes.
The anal-retentive armies of the continuity, continuity, uber alles corps -- in sly, saturnine league, no doubt, with The Walking,Talking Evil Known As Rob Liefeld (let's pin this rap on him, too, so long as we're all up at an indecent hour anyway; sipping at our hot cocoas and gabbing like hens) -- breathed seduction and sedition into the tufted ears of various highly-placed muckety-mucks at DC Comics, Inc. Vile, scurrilous tales of other innocent (HA -- !), "misguided" DC characters being forced to down warm "Jell-O" shots, against their very wills. (DOUBLE "HA" !!)
Naked.
While composing rude limericks.
About Perry White.
... and... ummmmmm... "Ace, the Bat-Hound."
Look who are you gonna believe, anyway? Me... or a bunch of complete and total strangers who just happen to drive around in a 60 MINUTES van?
All we really wanted -- Daddy Dearest and I -- was to bring a little sunshine and gaiety back into modern-day comics.
Were we so wrong, then...?
GUILTY PLEASURES of the Silver Age
PAGE THREE (The Space Canine Patrol Agency)
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