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

The question has been asked of your kindly and avuncular Unca Cheeks, on more than one occasion:

"Unca Cheeks: has any comic book ever occasioned within your plush and ample bosom the urge to commit an act of savage and unnatural... violence?"

... to which, my unfailing (and proper) response is; has been; and always shall be: "define 'unnatural.' "

I will add this much, by way of exculpation: these matching steel boat hooks were a gift from my sainted grandmother (who -- as family chronicle would have it -- knew what seems, to me, an inordinate number of merchant seamen); it's a bloody scandal how liberally certain overly- zealous peace officers define such nebulous terms as "stalking" and "psychopathic"; and it's certainly not as if anyone out there would have missed David V. Reed anyway, for goodness sakes.

In other words: mmmmmmmmaybe.

"Beware the Super-Genius Baby" [SUPERMAN #224; February, 1970; writer and artist (presumably) still at large. Dammit] opens up with a caption reading as follows:

"This is an imaginary story which may or may not ever happen. It begins one stormy day, as Lois Lane drives along the highway..."

Okay. So: right away... we've got problems, here.

1.) I don't know about any of the rest of you out there... but: I always just kinda sorta assumed -- not being hopelessly delusional, I mean -- that any story involving a guy in red-and-blue undies who could punch his way through a mountain range with his head was, de facto, an "imaginary" one. What am I: an idiot, here...? (No coaching from the studio audience, please.)

2.) Likewise: if it's "an imaginary story"... then there's no "may" or "may not" about it, f'chrissakes.

It. Didn't. "Happen."

It. Will. Never. "Happen."

That's pretty much what the word "imaginary" means, really.

I'm just sayin'.

In any event: Lois is a-motorin' down the highway in her car, expositing to herself thusly: "Who would have thought that Superman would finally marry me? But he did... one year ago, to this very day!"

A stray lightning bolt strikes a nearby gas storage tank "with titanic force" -- a trait somewhat characteristic of lightning bolts, I am led to understand -- initiating a nigh-Apocalyptic conflaragation, and transforming Lois' darling little sports car into a rather large-ish charcoal briquette, on wheels.

Thankfully, however, uberhubby Superman -- whose telescopic vision can see every sparrow as it falls; and every coincidence as it is cruelly tortured -- espies Lois' car sheathed in unforging flame, and rockets earthward in order to effect a hasty super-breath rescue.

A miraculously unscathed Lois clambers out from behind the wheel, causing the Man of Steel to cough up the following expository hairball:

"It worked! The molecular shield serum I brought back from Star Gamma-X and injected you with before we were married -- made you invulnerable to any injury! I knew it! Otherwise, I wouldn't have married you!"

"Let's celebrate!" a joyous Superman exclaims. "Let's eat out! How about soul food at Kenny's Kitchen?"

(Maybe it's just me.... but: the mere notion of Superman eagerly bellying up to a big ol' plate of hamhocks; mustard greens; and chitlins makes this more of an "imaginary story" than damn near anything else the writer could possibly come up with, really. I mean: Parliament/ Funkadelic on the jukebox... and Ol' Supes, kickin' it in the corner booth and wolfin' down a double-sized helping of fatback...? Oh, yeah. That works.)

We cut to an "insert" shot of two stock Comic Book Mad Scientist-

Types -- one bushy-maned; the other, hairless as an egg -- chortling back and forth and saying things such as: "Keep the F-D 33 Ray focused 24 hours a day, Nether!" and "Sequence initiated, Professor Ulvo!" They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves. The little dears.

Lois and Supes are curled up in separate beds. (On their anniversary, mind you. I'm thinkin' mebbe that bedroom's seen less all-out action than the Swiss National Guard. During the Korean War.)

"Honey!" Lois coos. "I hate to bother you! But I've got a terrific yen for strawberries, pickles, pistachio ice cream! And -- and -- sardines!" (And here you always thought it was Superman who was the alien.)

Yup. Somehow -- against all the known laws of bio-chemistry and physics (see: "separate beds") -- Lois has ended up In a Family Way.

(I like to imagine Lois flat on her back, arms and legs pointing straight up into the air. In the bed alongside hers: Superman is positioned similarly. "Kal... honey... I'm getting tired of holding myself still like this." "Shhhh, darling! You'll frighten away the bee!")

(No. Either you "got" that one... or you didn't.)

Well: one thing leads to another, and -- by the time Page Six has rolled around -- a radiant and Madonna-like Lois has finally delivered unto the world a super-swaddling child.

"Isn't he the most beautiful baby you ever saw?" a (clearly) drugged- out-of-her-freakin'-mind Lois sighs, contentedly.

"W-why... y-y-yes... i-i-it... h-he is..." a plainly horrified and appalled Superman manages to stammer, by way of response. The Man of Steel's actual facial expression, however, more closely resembles that of a man whose thoughts are more along the lines of one of the following:

a.) "Yeah. Right. Now: where's the real baby?"

b.) " 'The most beautiful baby' what?"

c.) "He's adorable, darling. Now, you just hold the li'l nipper perfectly still, while I steady this here Phantom Zone Ray projector..."

c.) "Dammit! I knew you were doing that @#$%ing 'Beppo' behind my back! I knew it! Lousy, lying, two-bit little tramp --!"

e.) "AAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE -- !!!"

As news of the Blessed Event is disseminated worldwide -- albeit sans any actual photographs of the ubertyke, oddly enough -- public pressure intensifies for the Supers (Mr. and Mrs.) to strap the li'l nipper into a baby carriage and wheel him out for a quick community look-see. ("It's about time we got a look at that kid of yours, pal!" "We're simply dying to see him, Lois, dear!" "Separate beds? What's up with that, Eunuch Lad...?")

As the page reproduction below makes readily apparent, however: this is anything but a viable option, really.

Yes... Superman's secret shame is a two-fold one:

1.) His only child -- the fruit of his alien loins -- has a head shaped like a hyper- thyroidal yam; and --

2.) ... worse yet: the little mutie's a seriously picky eater.

"Lois! Listen!" a hysterically Superman blubbers to his wife and helpmeet. "The baby's speaking! SPEAKING! And it's only a week old!"

("It's only a week old." It. Helluva paternal instinct this guy's got going, huh...?)

As it turns out, the as-yet- unnamed baby freakazoid's swollen skullcasing is anything but a simple pre-adolescent fashion statement. At one point, Superman enter's his son's bedroom and is startled to observe the latter frantically scribbling complex algebraic formulae on a convenient blackboard.

"Baby!" the Man of Steel gawps, uttering a line that has been seared into my memory for far, far too long a time, now. "Wh-what are you doing with Einstein's Theory of Relativity?!?"

(I want to know who bloody wrote this story, by God. I wanna know so very, very badly.)

"Proving it's outmoded," the encephalitic egomaniac snaps. "Without computers to feed my figures into... it'll take me a little time! Hmmmm... here it is!"

(Also: I wanna know which route his kids take, coming home from school.)

This goes on for rather more pages than either one of us (I assure you) could possibly countenance or endure. Superman Says Something Supremely Idiotic; Super-Baby Makes Him Look Like a Big, Blue Chimpanzee. I'm certain it all must have seemed perfectly side-splitting to the story's author at the time. And to all his little imaginary playmates, as well.

Said silliness reaches its unfortunate apogee, at length, when a bound-and-determined- to-impress Superman strides into his progeny's bedroom, a few weeks later, with an immense striped box in his massive arms.

"You're disturbing me!" the enfant irritable exclaims. "I'm in the midst of an experiment turning matter into energy!" (Little smartass show-off.)

Attempting to garner some measure of his child's flagging respect by super-speed assembling a gigantic jigsaw puzzle in mid-air, the Man of Steel only succeeds in diminishing himself further in the latter's eyes when he fails in even this (comparatively) minor a feat.

"You're over the hill, Superman!" his son snorts, derisively. "Even a jigsaw puzzle is too much for your simple mind these days!" Bending his own hyper-accelerated intelligence to the task, the brainy bratling quickly demonstrates to his stupefied sire that: "If you had pressed the tiny hidden spring on each [puzzle] piece... the real picture would have emerged, enabling you to put the puzzle together!"

(Boy... these "educational toys" they're making for kids, nowadays, huh? And -- in the meantime -- all I got for Christmas that year was a pair of spiked heels and a used Slinky. And I didn't even ask for a @#$%ing Slinky!)

Finally fed up with his parents' congenital dullness of intellect ("I'm bored! I've learned everything I can here! And you two haven't the brains to teach me anything new! I'm going to look for some place interesting! Goodbye! Adios! Au revoir! Sayonara!"), the tyrannical tot liquifies a window with his heat vision and zooms off into the night, in search of self-knowledge and adventure.

Sort of like Toby Tyler. If Toby Tyler'd had a cranium the size of a freakin' mini-van, I mean.

The super-baby eventually tracks down those two wacky, fun-loving Evil Nasty Mad Scientist-Type Guys from way, waaaaaaay back at the beginning of this tawdry little tale -- remember them? Ol' "Professor Ulvo" and his follically-challenged henchman, "Nether"? Those two party animals? -- and discovers that they'd gone to all the bother and expense of bathing the (then-)pregnant Lois with the radiation from their patented"F-D 33 Ray in order to mutate the little crumb-snatcher; the better to suit their own long-range criminal plans, in turn.

("Yes," Professor Ulvo preeningly admits. "With Superman's confidence shattered, unable to function [...] I will lead my gang in raiding the treasures of Metropolis! With no one to stop me!")

The super-baby is (quite properly) contemptuous of the professor's scheme. "Idiot!" he snarls. "It's you who belongs in the nursery, drooling over these toys! I'm far beyond that! With my super-powers and super-brains, I'M going to lead the gang! Understand?"

"I've created... a super-baby Frankenstein!" a cringing Ulvo whimpers.

That might well have qualified as the single most staggeringly lame and inept line of dialogue ever to see print in the pages of a SUPERMAN comic, were it not for the example provided within the very next panel; "a few hours later, at Metropolis Airport," where a shrill and hysterical air traffic controller is shrieking:

"Look! An unauthorized landing! It's -- Superman's BABY!" [See panel reproduction, below]

Say what you will about such lesser (way, waaaaay lesser, in fact) literary lights as (say) Danielle Steele; V.C. Andrews; Rod McKuen; or even the relentless and infantile Deepak Chopra. None of them ever typed a line of dialogue the likes of: "Look! An unauthorized landing! It's -- Superman's BABY!"

They had that much pride in their craft, at least. Give them that, if nothing else.

"No planes will take off... or land... unless I allow them to!" the Infant Imperious shrills, to one and all. "I stalled all the jet engines with my static-inertia ray! I want $1,000 tax for every plane taking off or landing! Otherwise, I'll jam the engines of the planes airborne!"

Yup: that's the Mental Myrmidon's Master Plan, in a nutshell: bringing Metropolis' robust tourist trade to its knees.

A heartsick Superman arrives on the scene, pleading frantically with his wayward offspring to: "Give up this life of crime, before it's too late! Don't break your mother's heart! PLEASE!"

"How about a battle of super-sonic breaths?" the uberurchin responds, cheekily making up his own super-powers as he goes along. But the stoic Man of Steel steadfastly refuses to respond in kind, exclaiming: "I can't battle my own flesh and blood!"

Having said that, however: Superman promptly hands the little pain-

in-the-spandex a lead-lined box ("I came with a gift... something more priceless, unique and rare than any fortune!") which -- when opened by the nakedly grasping and avaricious tot -- reveals a big, lethal hunk-a hunk-a hunk-a burnin' Green Kryptonite as its poisonous payload.

... and yet -- incredibly; monstrously -- the story does NOT end at this point.

"Ha! Ha!" the Rugrat of Ruin chortles, picking up the Green K and brandishing it towards his cowering super-sire. "While you were wasting your time on patrol, saving lives... I perfected an anti-Kryptonite serum! It immunizes me perfectly!"

Airily tossing the deadly stuff to one side, the Pre-School Potentate attempts to strike a bargain with the Man of Steel. "Bring me that toothsome 'Lois' wench," he leers, rubbing his hands together and drooling in an altogether unattractive manner. "And some animal crackers."

Okay. Maybe not.

"I'll put the anti-Kryptonite serum formula in this box!" the hellchild gloats. "Use it! You need never fear Kyrptonite again! Together -- we'll be an invincible father-and-son team! We'll rule the world! The UNIVERSE!"

Precisely two panels after that: the little mutie folds up like a Sears lawn chair.

Cradling his child's nightmarish noggin protectively in one massive arm, a tearful and repentent Superman blubbers: "Forgive me, son! I -- I had to stop you some way! Even if you are my son! This was my only chance!"

So: what (you may well ask) was it that Superman did, anyway? What fabulous sort of Silver Age-y "trick" did he manage to pull out from under his cape, just at the last conceivable nano-second...?

Answer: he poisoned his own child.

... and: he did it well before said flesh-of-his-flesh first said Word One about Ruling the World, to boot (!!).

As a demonstrably smug and self-congratulatory Superman explains to a worried-looking Lois, in the story's dopey little denouement:

"Yes, Lois... I realized even before the baby left home that he was dangerous! His brain was fantastically developed, but he lacked a sense of Right and Wrong! [...] So, before giving the giant jigsaw puzzle to him... I booby-trapped it!"

Said "booby-trap" having been concocted with "liquid Kryptonite" as one of its primary components; and given that said alchemical cocktail (normally quite deadly where Kryptonians are concerned, if I remember my DC Comics lore aright) was sprayed all over his child's HEAD, when the greatest behavioral problem said child had displayed (to that point) was a congenital Smartness of Mouth...

... well. Like I said: He. Poisoned. His. Freaking. Kid.

Thankfully, however, the reader is spared the gruesome sight of an eensy-weensy coffin being lowered into de cold, cold ground in the story's final panels. Apparently, the liquid Kryptonite "neutralized his ultra- brain! His mind is now that of an ordinary baby!" (In Silver Age DC Comics terms: this means he is now capable of holding a normal conversation with Jimmy Olsen. Or Rob Liefeld.)

The story ends with a shot of a costumed Superman, pushing a child's perambulator through the park to the audible admiration of various passers-by:

("Look!" a woman exclaims. "It's Superman, with his darling baby!"

("Separate beds," her friend muses, shaking her head. "No wonder that poor Lois goes through eight, ten cartons of cigarettes a day."

("Was that a monkey wearing a CAPE that flew out of her bedroom window, just now...?" the first one queries, puzzledly.)

... and on that utterly degenerate note, kids and kidettes: be here bright and early next week, for yet another fun-packed installment of THE 12 SILLIEST DC COMICS EVER PUBLISHED...

... where we (finally) take our collective leave of the SUPERMAN books of the period... and turn our attentions towards a certain Darknight Detective, down Gotham City way.

No way you're gonna wanna miss this one.

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE ONE

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE TWO

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE THREE

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE FIVE

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE SIX

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE SEVEN

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE EIGHT

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE NINE

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE TEN

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE ELEVEN

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE TWELVE

"The 12 Silliest DC Comics Ever Published": PAGE THIRTEEN

"MORE COMIC BOOKS," YOU SAY...?

The DC Comics Sub-Directory
The Marvel Comics Sub-Directory
The Miscellaneous Comics Sub-Directory
The "Gotta Find That DC Character" Menu
The "Gotta Find That Marvel/Miscellaneous Character" Menu

Home Page

LEGAL SHAMANISMS