Unca Cheeks Silver Age Comics Site: Slow12 Silliest DC Comics Stories 3

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THE 12 SILLIEST DC COMICS EVER PUBLISHED
...OR: "SECRET SHAMES OF THE SILVER AGE OF COMICS"
(PART THREE)

Sometimes...

Sometimes: it's just so darned easy.

"Lois Lane Weds Astounding Man" (which was -- if memory serves -- the title opted for in lieu of the more controversial [if no less accurate a barometer of auctorial intent] "Superman Sez: 'Girls Are Just Plain Stooopid' ") opens up with a shot of the white-gloved, fur-lined-hat-

wearing Lois Lane hunched adorably over the engine of her inexplicably stalled car, and thinking: "My car's engine went mysteriously dead! What's that strange whistling sound from above? OH, NO -- !!!"

"That strange whistling sound," as it turns out, is not the whoooshing of any/all hope(s) on the part of the readership that this story might not presage the onset of Truly Savage and Unnatural Migraines, vacating their weary souls like unto the air from a punctured pigskin. (Give yourself five extra "CheeksPoints," however, if that was your guess. Seriously. You came thisdamnedclose to being right.)

No, and no: said sound is, instead, the surrealistic swoosh of a shoddily-rendered flying saucer, settling down within a stone's throw of the nonplussed newshound.

"As an opening appears in the vehicle's side" [the following caption helpfully provides] "Lois responds in a typical manner." (This is, of course, standard late '50's/early '60's doublespeak for the more straightforward: "Women. Heh. You just gotta love the sweet, addle-pated little dears, don'cha? Say... check out the new honey, over in the steno pool!" I'm just sayin', here. That's all.)

With nary a thought as to the almost certain consequences inherent in traipsing her way blithely up the now-proffered gangplank... Lois enters the spacecraft...

... and -- of course -- said saucer promptly hightails itself the heck out, OUT and AWAY from Earth's atmosphere.

"The next instant, a strange, unearthly music pervades the inside of the saucer," effecting a calming influence on the panicky penswoman. ("MMMMmmm... with a rebel yell... she cried more... MORE... MORRRRE -- !!")

... and -- immediately after that -- this blandly handsome John Agar-ish alien-type guy comes from out of nowhere and introduces himself thusly: "I love you! Please marry me!"

No. Seriously.

(In the interest of scientific verification only: I tried a little experiment to see if this sort of approach was actually a... y'know... workable one or no. After approaching several different women at random, and flatly stating without preamble: "I love you! Please marry me!"... the results were as follows:

Response #1: "We're already married, you nitwit."

Response #2: "Ewwwww, Daddy! That's gross!"

Response #3: "Love, schmove. You got fifty bucks or not, sailor...?"

Response #4: "Hey! You! Get away from those nuns, you freak -- !"

Response #5: "You have the right to remain silent..." )

" *Gasp*!" Lois gasps. "This c-can't be really happening! Handsome spacemen don't 'kidnap' girl reporters, and propose the first instant they meet! It isn't d-done!" (Which kinda sorta sounds to me as if Lois' objections, in this particular, rest more upon some peculiarly "Miss Manners"-ish principles of intergalactic ettiquette, rather than the perfectly understandable concern[s] which might be occasioned by the prospect of being forced to bump uglies with something which -- let's face it -- might just as easily have been a giant, ambulatory zucchini in a big, pink laytex bodysuit. But: maybe that's just me.)

As it turns out, however: that (apparently) pretty much is "how it's done" where this big goombah -- one "Astounding Man," by name -- hails from. Informing the startled scrivener that he has been "worshipping you from afar," and that "your beauty and loveliness of soul enchant me," he all but drops to one hammy knee while comparing himself favorably to Superman. ("I am handsome, and have super-powers, too! Marry me!")

The lovesick Astounding Man pleads with her thusly: "Lois... come to my world for fourty-eight hours! If, at the end of that time, you won't voluntarily marry me... I will return you safely to Earth!"

"I'll do it!" the plucky newsgal chirrups, by way of reply. ("At the very least," she adds, inwardly, "I'll get a scoop for The Daily Planet!") (I'm thinking that Our Lois, here, is mebbe just a weeeee bit too much wrapped up in this whole His Girl Friday/I Cover the Waterfront trip, here, myself. I mean... heck... what if he is really a giant zucchini...?)

In no more time than it takes for the artist to square off another panel, Astounding Man and his bride-elect arrive on the former's homeworld of "Roxnon," where Lois is stunned by the imposing sight of a magnificent, towering marble palace... surrounded by dozens and dozens of life-sized graven replicas of herself!

"Why... this is a... a Lois Lane palace," she stammers, slack-jawed.

"I built it in worship of... you!" the alien Bob Villa responds, with appealing modesty.

(Meanwhile -- in the alien garden, nearby --- row upon sentient row of alien zucchinis all begin to chant, in unholy unison: "... a bride... The Master has found a briiiiiiiide...!")

(Okay. I'll stop, now.)

The Grand Tour proceeds apace, with the relentlessly fawning and worshipful Astounding Man laying it on thicker and heavier than a southern television evangelist in full-bore Jesus-says-you-don't-really- need-what's-in-that-wallet mode. Portraits and busts of Lois and her bust, stretching out and away into virtual infinity; a "Lois Contemplation Room," where 3-D movies featuring You-Know-Who play and play, on eternal tape loops; and a library filled with "hundreds of volumes [written] in your praise!"

(Guys: do not not NOT allow your respective ladyfriends to read this page. Stuff like this can only make you look just plain ol' chintzy by way of actual comparison, depths-of-devotion-wise. Bet you're feeling pretty blamed lousy about that book of McDonald's "gift coupons" you gave her last Valentine's Day, huh...?)

After another page or two of this stuff -- which finally reaches its unfortunate (yet inevitable) nadir when Astounding Man informs Lois that: "Your laughter is like the tinkling merriment of a mischievous fairy queen..." (oddly enough, my own Scout Master said the very same thing to me, that one time we'd gotten separated from the rest of our troop during a nature hike. Funny ol' world, ain't it?) -- Astounding Man pops the question yet again...

... and Lois accepts. (!!)

The gold-digging glamour gal's newfound ecstasy, howver, quickly curdles into shock and horror when she discovers that her space-faring Sugar Daddy is, in fact, nothing more than (essentially)...

... a zucchi --

[Slaps self. Hard.]

[Again.]

[Starts to like it, actually.]

... ummmmm... I meant to say: a big, honkin' space Muppet.

Yup. Seems that the too-sappily-perfect-to-be-true "Astounding Man" is, in cold point of fact, an amazingly life-like android, owned and operated by this incredibly shriveled'n'nasty old gnome by the highly unlikely (even for an alien) name of ""Oogamooga."

"You promised to marry him, no matter what!" a gleeful Oogamooga wheezes and chortles. "If you don't go through with the marriage, you'll break your promise! And if you do marry him, you will, indirectly, be marrying me!"

(Just what sort of sick, vicarious kick ol' Ooga is supposed to be getting out of watching his personalized... ummmm... "action figure" Doin' Da Nastee with a shuddering [and involuntary] Earth bride is the sort of thing which I, for one, Really and Truly do not wanna even think about. I mean: couldn't this twisted freakazoid just make himself a shapely, compliant female android -- an "Astounding Woman," if you like [and I'll just bet you do] -- and pick up a few stray jollies that way...?)

Terrified (apparently) by the unwelcome prospect of spending the next eight or ten years entangled in some whacked-out alien judicial system, defending herself in a truly bizarre "breach of promise" suit: Lois meekly agrees to go along with this odd romantic (quasi-)extortion.

"I will... keep my promise," she pledges (albeit grudgingly). "Lois Lane will marry Astounding Man!"

So bursting with good-natured merriment is Oogamooga over this welcome acquiesence on Lois' part, that the joyful and genial gent launches a small rocket towards Earth; one bearing as its payload (in the words of it's Big Blue Recipient) "An invitation to attend the wedding of Lois Lane and Astounding Man, on another world! A sketch shows where Roxnon is located!"

("... a sketch"...?)

Pausing just long enough to find out where Lois' silverware pattern is registered, the Man of Steel promptly super-speeds his all-but-omnipotent self towards the aforementioned Roxnon, there to confront a (strangely) unperturbed Lois Lane on the eve of her impending nuptial.

Displaying the unfailing charity and acceptance of those different from himself which has always been his hallmark in especial, Superman asks Lois: ""... and you're going through with this marriage to Astounding Man... knowing he is really... *ugh*... Oogamooga?"

"Yes!" a smug and (plainly) self-satisfied Lois replies. "And this is why..."

(I've often wondered -- in that idle, waiting-for-the-nurse-to-show-up- with-those-gosh-darned-pills way that I have -- if what Lois really whispered to her Big Blue Boyfriend, at this juncture, was something along the lines of: "Lookit, dopey: the dude is seriously O-L-D. He's gotta be... what?... a million and six, already? He's gonna die soon. Lemme spend the next six-months-to-a-year... ummmm... amusing myself with Mr. Plastic Fantastic over there... and then all of this will be OURS, bay-bee! Lock, stock and castle --!")

Alas (and alackaday): the uncredited author of this tawdry little exercise was blessed neither with Unca Cheeks' invention, nor his complete and utter lack of meta-fictive scruple.

After a really abbreviated matromonial ceremony staged at what appears to be to my (admittedly) untrained eye the alien equivalent of a Reno "Quickie-Hitch" wedding chapel, a suspiciously blase Superman flies off, leaving the happy couple with a hasty: "Congratulations to you both! Good-bye!"

"I must say," a frankly admiring Astounding Man muses to his blushing bride; "... Superman is a good sport! He's losing a wonderful girl!"

Never underestimate, however, the (justly) storied abilities of the average Silver Age SUPERMAN or LOIS LANE scribe to weasel their way out of any storytelling corner; no matter how hysteria-inducing or inept the final result(s).

"What Oogamooga doesn't know," a smirking Lois later informs us, "... is that Astounding Man 'married' a human-like Lois Lane android --"

[No, no; keep reading. It gets way better than that. This is a Silver Age LOIS LANE comic, f'chrissakes!]

" -- I bought at the android factory!"

[Alllllllllmost there, now...]

"At the factory, I met Geena: a love-starved old lady... "

[Watch out. Here comes the hurting.]

" -- and I gave her the Lois Lane android, so Geena could 'marry' Astounding Man by proxy, through the Lois android she now controls!"

[Guess what? You're all sterile, now.]

The final panel shows us a leering Oogamooga and a tittering, borderline-senile Geena both fiddling away frantically with the controls of their respective automatons (has anyone on this cockamamie planet ever actually had genuine, "for-real" s-e-x, for the luvva Allah...?!?); "... though unaware of each others' existence," as the caption stoically assures us.

Occasionally, your kindly and avuncular old Unca Cheeks will receive the stray e-mail from one of you out there, mentioning in tones just this side of accusatory that he has (and I quote): "... one mean, sick sense of humor."

This is (of course) an observation as penetrating and perspicacious as it is undeniable and fair.

However: as the story just now detailed clearly illustrates --

... I claim extenuating circumstances.

I mean: I had to grow up with this stuff... y'know?

Come on back next week, when we'll take yet another fond (if no less appalled, for all of that) gander at one of The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published...

... because: the sound of your laughter is like the tinkling merriment of a pack of mischievous fairy queens.

No. Really.

I mean that.

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