Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!

The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMANStories of the Silver Age (Part Eight)

"The Day Candid Camera Unmasked Clark Kent's Identity!" [ACTION COMICS #345; January, 1967; author unknown; Curt Swan, artist (?)] opens up with with DAILY PLANET big shot Perry White hunkered in front of his television one Sunday evening, giggling like a schoolgirl over the merry, madcap hijinks of that wacky and irrepressible TV funster Allen Funt's CANDID CAMERA.

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE For those of you out there, reading these words, who were born any time after -- oh, say -- 1970, or thereabouts CANDID CAMERA was this (inexplicably) mega-popular television program, whose "gimmick" was, basically, that pranking and/or humiliating wholly innocent and unsuspecting passers-by -- and then broadcasting said cruelties for the visceral enjoyment of jeering millions, nation-wide -- was actually Pretty Darned Funny, reeally.

[Unca would have liked nothing better, really, than to close this parenthetical aside with the grateful observation that, my goodness, we've certainly grown up some since then, haven't we...?

[... but, then he remembered WHO WANTS TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE? And MTV's REAL WORLD. And SURVIVOR.]

"Smile, friend!" a gleeful Allen Funt chirrups to his latest victi -- errrrr... I mean, contestant, dammit! CONTESTANT! -- post yet another one of his antic little ambushes. "It was all a gag! You're on CANDID CAMERA! And we'll play the tape of you on our show, next Sunday night!"

"That Allen Funt is a riot!" a grinning Perry White (who probably thinks old HEE HAW re-runs are a real "hoot," if he goes in for this lame sort of crap) observes. "But he couldn't fool me with those CANDID CAMERA gags... oh-oh! The phone!"

"What?" an incredulous Perry exclaims. "There's been a spectacular hold-up at THE DAILY PLANET? Thanks for the tip, sir! I'll rush right down!"

Vaulting athletically into his streamlined and turbo-charged PerryMobile, then the Geriatric Galahad races off to the scene of the reported crime, musing "With my whole staff off for the weekend, I'll have to handle the story by myself!" (Apparently, the world-renowned DAILY PLANET was one of those major metropolitan dailies without a regularly scheduled weekend edition. Mebbe. I s'pose.)

"Wonder what loot the hold-up men got away with?" Perry further ponders. (I've got an even better question for you, Mr. Big Deal Crusading Newshawk, sir what sort of hopeless feebs would knock off a freakin' newspaper office in the FIRST bloody place, f'cryin' out loud? You know what the average, typical, garden variety newspaper reporter is carrying in his or her pants pockets, on any given day? Lint. And a couple of nekkid pictures of Mike Royko, mebbe.)

Scant heartbeats later, the Aging Ace Newsguy arrives upon the scene of the putative crime...

... only to discover that hey! Some fershlugginer wiseguy made off with the whole blamed scene, already!

"Great Caesar's Ghost!" a stunned and flabbergasted Perry goggles. "The PLANET building... it's gone! Vanished! There's nothing left but a hole in the ground! Am I having a nightmare, or simply losing my mind?" As if the two were mutually exclusive, or something.

Frantically flagging down a passing police patrol car, a gibbering and nigh-hysterical Perry rushes up to report the complete and total absence of a thousand-foot-skyscraper. Solely on the off-chance that nobody's... y'know... noticed it, yet, or nothin'.

"Oh, officer!" the panicked Perry offers, by way of conversational prelude. "I know you won't believe this, but I want [Pick One] --":

A.) "... to report a missing building!"

B.) "... to give myself up! I'M the so-called 'Mad Bomber' whose lethal handiwork has held this terrified city in a grip like unto that of cold iron, lo, these many months! I was gonna do Macy's, next week! MWAH-ha- ha-haaaaaa!"

C.) "... want to... want to..." [eyes glazing over; a fierce, lunatic grin creasing his wrinkled countenance; Perry suddenly breaks out into a wild, frenzied buck-and-wing] "... wanna DAAAAAANNNNNNNNCE!"

[Before the startled eyes of the gaping patrolmen, the aging adventurer segues more-or-less seamlessly into a drunken, dervish-like series of soft-shoe whirls; hooting and grunting red-faced self- exhortations, all the while.]

PERRY (well and truly in His Own Little World, by this point) "UNNGHH! Ev'rybody Footloose! FootLOOSE! Hup! Hup! Hup -- !" [Shifts, spasmodically, into the "chug-chug" movement from the Madness video, "One Step Beyond."]

OFFICER (turning calmly towards his partner, whilst unholstering his pistol) "Wait until he moonwalks. 'Warning shots' to the head are legal, that way."

"You mean THE DAILY PLANET?" one of the officers inquires, all affected innocence. "There's been a temporary change of address! Just look straight up, sir -- !"

This, the palsied paladin promptly does; only to be rewarded, in thunderstruck turn, by the sight of none other than Superman himself hoisting aloft the entire frickin' DAILY PLANET building, by one corner; and bearing said enormous edifice (as the saying goes) "up, up and AWAAAY -- !"

"Superman, you idiot!" an all-but-apoplectic Perry rages, shaking his fist. "Put that building back at once!"

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE ... although, I'll tell ya, boy you sure couldn't pay Unca enough to stand there, smack-dab at Ground Zero, and call The Man of Steel "you idiot!" Especially not while the latter was hovering directly overhead with this great, honkin' slab o' reinforced concrete in his sweaty, alien li'l mitts, neither. I'm just sayin', really.]

"Relax, Perry!" a grinning Superman chuckles, good-naturedly. "No harm done! I'll fix everything as good as new, once I reconnect the wires and pipes at super-speed!"

(This was, of course, the hugely important First Mention Ever Made of Superman's casually reconfiguring THE DAILY PLANET's wiring and plumbing in accordance with his own unsettling -- and nigh- incomprehensible, really -- alien standards; serving as a sort of storytelling "springboard," ultimately, for such fondly remembered Silver Age SUPERMAN fodder, in latter years, as "What Lurks Within the Company Cafeteria?"; "The Amazing Story of Cleaning Woman Red and Cleaning Woman Blue"; and the (deservedly) immortal "The Day the Zero-Gravity Toilets Ran WILD!")

"Okay!" a wholly unamused Perry blusters before the still sappily- grinning Superman. "It's not Halloween or April Fool's Day... so what's the gag?"

"It's simple, Perry," the (visibly) smug super-doer smirks, by way of response. "I just wanted to see how you'd react to a super-emergency! And now... smile! You're on CANDID CAMERA!"

Yup it was all but an elaborate, property-devastating, myocardial infarction-inducing scam, cooked up betwixt the ever-ebullient Allen Funt (whose smarmy and hideous grin, as rendered herein, resembles nothing so much as that of some helpless, rictus'd victim of the Joker's notorious "Joker Venom") and that gay little gamin himself Superman.

"Mr. White," a not-all-that-convincingly-rendered-really Allen Funt chortles; "... we're running this film on next week's show! Millions of TV fans will howl when they see your reaction to the spectacular hold-up!"

"I get it!" a grinning Perry lies, smoothly. "Superman was holding up the DAILY PLANET building! Ha, Ha!"

Ah, Rabelais! Ah, Algonquin! Ah, Carrot Top!

Well, sir the aired "Portrait Of The Crusading Editor As A Senile Old Doofus" CANDID CAMERA clip, the following week, generates several goodish-sized mountains of appreciative fan mail, in turn; leading Herr Funmaster Funt and his hard-bitten, hand-picked film crew of recently released criminal sociopaths to go to the well one mo' once, and plot deviltry at the expense of yet another highly public PLANET staffer.

"Our stunts are usually filmed in advance," Funt -- who's beginning to look more and more like that "The Chief" fellah from those old GET SMART! shows, as we go along -- explains. "But I'm planning a gag sequence featuring Clark Kent, the PLANET reporter! And, as an added twist, I'm going to put his segment on live! I'll call up Kent's boss, Perry White, and set it up!"

Meanwhile, Over At THE DAILY PLANET Perry's staff is busy teasing and tormenting him as cruelly as anything ever seen this side of one of the more horrific Bosch daubings.

"Fish... in the water cooler!" the much-dismayed M.E. exclaims. "Am I going out of my ever-loving mind?"

"Ha, Ha!" a malicious Lois Lane cruelly gloats, capturing her employer's startled countenance for all posterity, via film exposure. "You're on CANDID CAMERA!"

"Relax, Chief!" the demonstrably mongoloid (each freckle represents one full and complete chromosome; little-known secret of the Silver Age, there) Jimmy Olsen chirrups, brandishing an acetylene torch and waving it about alarmingly. "Here... let me relight your cigar!" (... and why, oh why does Unca suspect that "knock-knock" jokes were the order of the humorous day over at THE DAILY PLANET, I wonder...?)

"I know," a fed-up (and who can blame him, really?) Perry growls, exasperatedly. "I'm on CANDID CAMERA! Get back to work, you clowns!"

"I may be a clown," Lois sniggers, crossing one gigantic, floppy foot daintily in front of the other; "... but Allen Funt could never fool me with one of his capers!"

"Me, neither!" Jimmy yup-yup-yups in agreement, nodding so emphatically as to send his red, bulbous rubber nose flying halfway across the room.

"Nor me!" Clark Kent concludes, smiling genially and absently fondling a rubber chicken.

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE Two words, Lois "secret" and "identity." And don't even get me started, "Giant Turtle Olsen."]

Moments later, however a chipper Allen Funt is already chirruping at Perry, over the phone; with the latter's well-worn features taking on an increasingly cruel and saturnine cast with every sly syllable spoken.

"Perry!" The Dark Prince of Television cackles. "This is Allen Funt! Would you help me put over another of my CANDID CAMERA gags? I have a dilly in mind... starring Clark Kent!"

Well what would you do, folks...?

The next three or four pages are taken up with more knee-slappin', gut-bustin' exhibits from The Allen Funt Memorial Wax Museum of Hew More; including one in which a hysterically shrieking and blubbering gas station attendant is shown fleeing in panic as one of the cars parked by his pumps levitates straight up INTO THE AIR! (OmiGAWD! Allen Funt is THE LATHE OF HEAVEN! Run, for chrissakes! RUNNNNNNN -- !)

(Okay. All right. Whatever. All the Ursula K. LeGuin fans out there "got" that one, anyways.)

Meanwhile we peep in, voyeuristically, as PLANET reporter Clark Kent trudges his stolid way over towards the Metropolis Fairgrounds, where a vengeful Perry White has assigned him to cover a mysterious "special event" slated to take place at said gala's Gay Nineties exhibit, at or about 10:15, P.M.

Wandering lonely, like a clod, amongst the eerily lifelike waxen displays of such pivotal "Gay Nineties" figures as k.d. lang; the Indigo Girls; Rita Mae Brown; Melissa Etheridge; and That Guy That Plays ANGEL On Television, the disguised super-snooperhero is taken completely unawares by the sudden entran --

... ohhhhhhhhh, what now, for pity's sake?

Lookit, people you define "the Gay '90s" your way; and kindly allow Unca to define the term his way, all right...?

Well, in any event whilst ambling his bemused way amongst the eerily lifelike waxen displays of such pivotal "Gay Nineties" figures as bareknuckle pugilist John L. Sullivan and noted gangster "Diamond" Jim Brady, the disguised super-snooperhero is taken completely unawares by the sudden entrance of a trio of armed gunmen; said malefactors having hidden in plain sight, earlier, costumed as the "actors" in the aforementioned John L. Sullivan display (!!).

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE Newspaper offices. State fairs. People would try to rob damned near anybloodything in Metropolis, really, back in the Silver Age day. And this, mind you, was the city where S-U-P-E-R-M-A-N hung his cape; where your average gunsel or pickpocket just had to know he was gonna end up experiencing the joy and wonderment of the Metropolis Penal System first-hand, from the wrong side of the iron bars!

[I mean... what? Are we seriously supposed to believe that your typical, ordinary conversation between even two of the all-time dimmest second-story men or muggers in the DCU, entire, just naturally ended up something along the lines of (say) this, ninety-nine times out of every hundred...?

[BERT "Awright, then, Ernie what'cha got on tap fer our big score, this comin' weekend...?"

[ERNIE (beaming, idiotically) "Well, Bert I was thinkin' maybe we could make a play fer that invitin'ly isolated old rich lady's mansion, in that city where the only existin' DC Comics characters are Sugar and Spike -- "

[BERT (scowling; disapproving) "IIIIIIIIIIII dunno 'bout that one, Ernie... sounds kinda high-risk, t'me..."

[ERNIE (one step ahead of him) "... but then I 'membered hey! There's that li'l kid's piggy bank over in Metropolis... just, y'know, sittin' there -- !"]

"As Clark Kent," the intrepid investigative reporter soliloquizes, inwardly; "... I can't attempt my heroics! I'd better head for that old-time phone booth! This is my cue for a costume switch!"

Unbeknownst to the Extra-Human Exhibitionist, however his little bitty "man of steel" isn't the only thing just scant seconds away from receiving a more disastrous public airing than anything since the ill- considered Will Smith version of THE WILD, WILD WEST.

"Hissst!" a leering Allen Funt stage-whispers, hammily, for the benefit of the viewers at home. "Kent doesn't know that robbery was a phony... and so is the telephone booth! When he tries to report the scoop to THE DAILY PLANET, he'll find he's talking into a dead phone!"

Allowing the (presumably) perplexed newsman just enough time to fumble the requisite coinage from his pants pocket, then vapid voyeur Funt (did anyone ever even considering giving this psycho's bridgework a good, brisk retaliatory flossing with the fat end of a lug wrench, f'chrissakes?) announces:

"Okay, folks! We've given him enough time! Would you like to see the picture of a frustrated reporter? Here he is -- a newshawk with a scoop, and no way to phone it in!"

"Smile, Kent!" a gleeful Funt yodels, swinging wide the phone booth door. "You're [Pick One] -- ":

A.) "... on CANDID C-CAMERA -- !"

B.) "... on CANDID CAM... CAM... CAAAaaaa -- " [Trails off, stunned and disbelieving, at the sight of a sweating and startled Clark Kent still half-shrugged into an obviously home-stitched Wonder Woman costume.]

"Great Hera!" the star-spawned transvestite shrills, in panicky, unconvincing falsetto. "You've uncovered my Amazonian secret identity! Suffering Sappho! I -- I -- I -- " [Plumps down heavily on the floor of the phone booth, hot tears of shame coursing down his cheeks.] "... oh, gawd... look, just don't tell the Batman about this, all right? Please? He... he still thinks that night... after the Justice League meeting... just the two of us, alone in the robot plane -- " [Tugs a wadded Kleenex from his star-spangled bustier -- the latter of which sags, appreciably -- and blows his nose into it, noisily.]

C.) "... on CANDI -- ohmyCHRIST!" [Stares, wordlessly, at the sight of the coolly contemptuous Kent; the latter with his pants pooled about his ankles, and something thick-veined and tri-headed and pulsing still clutched in one sweating, white-knuckled hand.]

"I suppose it's just as well you saw this, Allen," an oddly unruffled Man of Steel observes, his alien features stark and implacable. "I have been alone on this dismal, backwater world of yours for far, far too long a time, now... but now -- "

[Reaching out with blinding speed, the Man of Steel grabs a goggling and gagging Funt by the throat; and -- effortlessly dragging the entertainer into the phone booth with him -- concludes with the chilling pronouncement]:

"... NOW my long-hoarded seed... shall finally find dread purchase."

Ah, well. Allow Unca his harmless little fancies, anyway.

... and, all across the nation television viewers gape, ashen and agog, at the once-in-a-lifetime sight of a plainly nonplused Clark Kent, caught squarely in mid-costume change.

"So Clark is Superman," a wide-eyed Lois Lane marvels, staring at her television screen; "... just as I always suspected!" (Yup. Uh-huh. And never, ever managed to convincingly prove, incidentally. After spending a good thirty years in so attempting, by the by. Matt Drudge is a better, abler reporter than this ninny newshen, all right? I'm just sayin'.)

"Superman!" an (inexplicably) still-grinning Funt apologizes. "That robbery was a fake! I was planning a hoax on Clark Kent! I never suspected -- !"

"Relax, Allen!" an even-more-inexplicably unperturbed Kent soothes; tell-tale blue bodystocking and big, red "S" still plainly visible, for all the whole wide world to see. "Don't press the panic button!"

"Relax, he says!" a miserable Funt contritely observes; thinking (doubtless) of just how absurdly easy it would be for him to suddenly... you know... spontaneously combust, mebbe, whilst ambling down a city street or alleyway, someday; yes, and with no one reasonably able to demonstrate the obvious complicity of alien-spawned "heat vision" in the occurrence said conflaragation, either. "I have news for you, Superman! This was a live telecast! 40 million people saw you switch from Clark Kent to the Man of Steel!"

(... and, boyoboyoboy are all the big dummy losers who elected to tune into that re-run of THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW on the other channel that night ever gonna feel stone stooooooooopid the following morning, after everyone tell 'em what they missed out on -- !)

(... and what's with this "40 million viewers" crap, anyways? According to Unca's invaluable copy of THE COMPLETE DIRECTORY TO PRIME TIME NETWORK TV SHOWS, Funt's squalid little exercise in video voyeurism didn't even rate amongst the top thirty network programs for that period, f'chrissakes! Wanna know what the top ten were? In order:

1.) BONANZA

2.) GOMER PYLE, U.S.M.C. [there is no God]

3.) THE LUCY SHOW

4.) THE RED SKELTON HOUR

5.) BATMAN

6.) THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW [God is dead]

7.) BEWITCHED

8.) THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES [we are abandoned, here in Gomorah]

9.) HOGAN'S HEROES [there shall come great, purging fires, in His name]

10.) GREEN ACRES

(... and to think you all think network programming pretty much bites the fabled, hairy sack now -- !)

"Really?" an amiable Clark grins, by way of response. "What makes you think I'm Superman?"

"Don't jump to any rash conclusions until I finish switching!" the ace reporter coolly counsels, peeling away the remainder of his civilian outerwear. (Was ACTION COMICS editor Mort Weisinger ever married, incidentally? Unca keeps forgetting, is all.)

"Why," an amazed Allen Funt stammers, upon the completion of the Man of Steel's "Super-Chippendale" routine (complete with a few easy, practiced bumps and grinds); "... you're wearing Batman pants, boots and a utility belt!"

"So I am, Allen," an indescribably goofy-lookin' Man of Steel concurs. "I could be Superman... or Batman... or just plain Clark Kent, wearing parts of two costumes! Take your pick!"

(Yeah, yeah... Unca knows, all right? Just be good and bloody grateful the big goober didn't take it into his pointed alien head to tart himself up a la -- oh, say -- Hawkgirl. Or "Ma" Kent, even. Circa the latter's years as a caged "go-go" dancer, on the Vegas strip.)

"I get it, Kent!" Funt chuckles, good-naturedly. "You discovered I was going to rib you on television, and decided to turn the tables on me! But who let the cat out of the bag?"

"You did!" the Man of Steel chortles, reaching into the pocket of his discarded "Clark Kent" jacket. "Because you forgot one thing [Pick One] -- ":

A.) "... that, like millions of other Americans, I'm one of your fans! I had this miniature television set tuned in on your show, and was listening to the sound while I carried it in my pocket!"

B.) "... that full-paged advertisement you took out in this week's TV GUIDE... remember? The one with the bold-face, two-inch-high lettering proudly proclaiming "Tune In Tonight, And Watch Us Put The Screws To That Big Sissy DAILY PLANET Reporter, Clark Kent!" [Puffs chest out, slightly] "Remember, Allen I am a trained and seasoned journalist, after all."

C.) "... that I'd recognize that zany, madcap sense of humor anywhere, 'Allen'... or, should I say BATMAN! Bwah-ha-ha-haaa! Ohhhhhh... you and those silly, fershlugginer rubber face masks of yours, for Rao's sake! Give it here, ya big spandexed cornball, you -- !"

[Reaching out, Superman slips two incomprehensibly powerful fingers into a fold of 'skin' at the base of Allen's neck, and tears away.]

ALLEN FUNT (shrieking in mortal agony) "AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE -- !" [Promptly pitches face-

forward, stone dead; the naked, bloody expanse of his skull gleaming wetly in the harsh, focused lights of the network cameras, nearby.]

[Superman stares wordlessly at the results of his horrid handiwork for a silent and elasticized moment; the red, pulpy... thing still dangling and dripping in his alien mitts.

SUPERMAN (slowly turning towards the cameras, then; waving sheepishly) "... ummmmmmm... hi, Mom..."

(... and, hey check out the teensy-eensy li'l antenna on that "miniature television set," there. Boy... bet that really pulls in the ol' electro-magnetic signals from a good three, four feet away, by golly, by jingo -- !)

"Don't tell me!" Funt laughs. "You did it during the commercial! You bought those costume parts and put them on to hand me a surprise!"

"That's right, Allen!" the Man of Steel agrees, much relieved (as who wouldn't be) to ascertain that he really and truly is dealing with the end result of an unlawful marriage between first cousins. "This time, you were 'caught in the act of being yourself!' Smile! You're on CANDID CAMERA!"

No, no, no. Wait just a moment, though.

The real answer is even goofier, actually.

Brace yourselves, now.

"I thought the theft was the real thing," a relaxed Clark Kent later reminisces. "I was in the booth, switching to Superman, when -- "

"*ULP*!" a much taken aback Superman gulps, frozen in the midst of his typically accelerated change in accouterments. "Thank heavens I kept my super-hearing tuned in to the hold-up!"

"Hmmmm," the Man of Steel muses, as the sounds of Allen "The Human Megaphone" Funt's breathless exhortings of the television audience carries clearly through the wall and straightaway to his pink, pricked ears. "I'm trapped! I could make a lightning switch back to Clark Kent -- "

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE ... which probably would have been the comparatively sane and rational way of handling things, yes...]

"... but it'll be more fun to give Allen Funt a taste of his own medicine!" the spiteful star-thing concludes; forgetting, momentarily, how this sort of thing sure seemed a whole helluva lot funnier just so long as it was being done to poor ol' dopey Perry White, just a week or so ago. The big blue hypocrite.

"I have only a split-second," Mr. I-Can-Dish-It-Out-But-I-Sure-Can't-

Take-Even-So-Much-As-A-Freakin'-Teaspoon-Of-It super-intuits; "... so this calls for hyper-speed! I'll bore through the bottom of the booth, and drill my way out [...]! I'll have to be back, with the floor repaired, when Funt opens that door!"

[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE ... orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr we could just... hell, I dunno... switch back into our street clothes at SUPER-SPEED, mebbe! As opposed to... y'know... making a big, hairy, freakin' federal case outta things, for the love of Allah! That'd probably work, too, most likely. Wouldn't it? Huh? Wouldn't that work, too -- ?!?]

Zippety-zapping his hyper-accelerative way over towards pal Jimmy Olsen's apartment, the Man of Steel soliloquizes, thusly:

"I have a fool-proof alibi for Funt! Jimmy isn't home, so I'll borrow his miniature TV set and this Batman costume from Jimmy's disguise trunk!"

(... ohhhhhhhhh, yeah. Now there's one JIMMY OLSEN comic Unca would've ponied up good money to see, by golly, by jingo the one in which that brain dead, freckle-faced little trog ponced all around Gotham City for the evening, tarted up as T*H*E* *B*A*T*M*A*N*. Like even Solomon Grundy woulda been fooled by that one, f'chrissakes.)

So. Okay. Let's review, then:

1.) He SMASHES his way right through the floor of the phone booth; hoping like mad (apparently) that both Allen Funt and his film crew have all gone unaccountably just DEAF enough not to hear the Richter Scale- type cacophony of The World's Most Absurdly Powerful Being smashing his way into the freakin' EARTH --

2.) ... sets off sonic booms all across the city in his frantic and unthinking dash towards "the Batman costume from Jimmy Olsen's disguise trunk." (As if anything that shameless li'l brown-noser could slither into might even conceivably fit HIM, mind -- )

3.) ... super-REconstructs the floor of said phone booth, on his way back in. (With what, f'chrissakes? Some spit, and a few of Jimmy's old nylons, mebbe? And you'd haveta think even Helen Keller would be able to decently pick up on the sort of noise a major operation the likes of that would entail, wouldn't you? I mean is this Allen Funt, or Pete Townsend's TOMMY standing directly outside, microphone in hand...?)

"That was a clever stunt you pulled on CANDID CAMERA, Clark!" an admiring Perry White confides, the following morning. "For a minute, I almost believed you were Superman!"

"Clark... Superman?" a disdainful Lois Lane scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, Perry!" (Oh. Well. So much for that "just as I always suspected" garbage, a mere two pages earlier in the very same story. Some editors actually catch little things like that every now and again, I hear.)

"I'm glad that's settled!" a confident Clark grins, by way of reply.

"... or is it?" a worried Man of Steel adds, inwardly. "I have the feeling Lois is planning another identity hunt!"

A.) Yeah. Well... maybe if you weren't still using that faux "Batman's Utility Belt" to hold your pants up this morning, that wouldn't be a problem for you. Ever think of that, Mr. Smarty Boots...?

B.) Next time out, Mr. Obsessive-To-The-Point-Of-Mania-Over-This-

Whole-Silly-"Secret-Identity"-Business try just buttoning your freakin' shirt back up again, whenever you hear someone stumping leadenly towards you.

Be here next time out, campers'n'camperettes.

SUPERMAN #204.

"The Case of the Lethal Letters."

Very, very cool.

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE ONE

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE TWO

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE THREE

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE FOUR

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE FIVE

"The Thirteen All-Time Coolest SUPERMAN Stories Ever" PAGE SIX

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