role perversal

The blurb on the cover of Marvel's Savage Tales #1 (May 1971) reads:


...and the editorial explanation reads as follows:

"The result is, perhaps, something just a wee bit new under the sun. Not quite sword and sorcery -- certainly not science-fiction -- and not exactly a political polemic. Robin Morgan clobbers Buck Rogers in the 25th century! Kate Millett zaps both Flash Gordon and Ming the Merciless -- then takes Mongo over for good measure."

Or, y'know, it's a hamfisted-yet-titillating look at the women's liberation movement -- by way of John Norman's Gor novels and Planet of the Apes -- crapped out by a past-his-prime Stan Lee and adequately illustrated by John Romita.

"The Fury of the Femizons" takes place in a future world run by the U.S.A. -- the United Sisterhood Alliance, that is -- a gynocracy established after the women of the world had enough of males' oppression, belligerence, and inability to put the toilet seat down after use. The women of the Sisterhood spend their days engaged in gladiatorial combat or culling the herds of feral males and spend their nights being, ahem, "entertained" by domesticated sex slaves -- all in accordance with the established principles of radical feminist theory. ("Objective #1: Overthrow the partiarchy. Objective #2: Get fitted for metal corsets that expose maximum cleavage.")

"...and Sex in the City marathons!"
Lyra, an esteemed warrior of the Sisterhood and the in vitro sister of Queen Vega, pays lip service to the realm's guiding principles, yet feels unsatisfied with her way of life. This is not lost upon Syrani, the queen's advisor, an ambitious woman who combines the looks of Lieutenant Ilia with the political ethics of Karl Rove.

The steamy side of Machiavellian politics.
Lyra's dissatisfaction is partially due to to the fact that she has read, or rather "viewed," the forbidden headband-powered "mind tapes" which document how life had been before the feminist revolution. It is Lyra's hidden stash of those recordings that leads Mogon of the Hills, a male sleeper agent posing as a sex slave, to confront Lyra in hopes of recruiting her to his cause.

Mogon hails from a tribe of "noble" men, which unlike the feral wildmen, have learned from their gender's previous mistakes and want to establish equality between the sexes. (I can only imagine how it was done: "Mogon, come forth! For your trial into manhood, Kelpor will tell you what he did today and you must stay attentive through the entire tale!")

Lyra hesitates about helping Mogon carry out his plan to destroy the sperm banks the Sisterhood uses for replenishing its population, but comes around once she realises the other reason for her recurring sense of dissatisfaction...

This man, this monkey lovin'! Excelsior!
...the need for a lover with both a slow hand and an easy touch. After the pair are done mutually exploring the Forbidden Zone, they ride out to a secret camp in the ruins to meet up with Mogon's compatriots to plot the raid on the baby-making factory. (No, not China, you silly infertile yuppies!)

What they discover upon arriving, however, is a trap laid by Syrani's secret police force, which are dispached in an orgy of violent innuendo...

"I shall slide this unyeilding blade in and out until you beg for mercy."
Having killed a dozen agents of the state's security apparatus, Lyra and Mogon return to the royal palace and pretend that nothing ever happened. This incredibly cunning plan fails to work, and Lyra is brought before Queen Vega to answer to charges of treason. To spare Lyra from execution, Mogon decides to take the fall, and provokes the warrior princess into killing him in front of the royal court.

Though the exonerated Lyra puts on a brave face, even going so far as to demand some sex slaves for a threesome in order to give horny fanboys some wank material maintain appearances...

Breaking up is hard to do.
...she still longs for a man like the one she publicly eviscerated.

"A truly egalitarian world is a dream worth fighting for! Oops! I better get changed, this trois ain't gonna menage itself!"
After reading this story, the whole Striperella thing makes a whole lot more sense to me now...as does the theory that Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby deserve a lion's share of the credit for the genius of Marvel's Silver Age output. As terrible as "The Fury of the Femizons" was, I still found it to be far superior to Y: The Last Man on the subject of gender politics.)

Screamin' Sirens - Your Good Girl's Gonna Go Bad (from Hell Comes to Your House, Vol, 2, 1983) - YEEE-HAW! It's cowpunk time!

Jan Panter - Put Yourself in My Place (from That's How It Goes: The Pye Anthology, 2003) - Maura's been rediscovering her love of 60's girls groups (and 50's & 60's pop in general) after discovering the oldies music channel on digital cable. Here's a favorite of mine from the UK scene, released in the musically golden year of 1966.

amoral compass

All I ask is a decent playlist and a theme to steer it by, though it would be wise to bring along some supplemental navigation materials, just in case:

The Fall - Hit the North (from a 1987 single; collected on The Frenz Experiment, 1988) - While I do not approve of violence, I have to admit that the North has been asking for it lately.

The Stone Roses - Driving South (from Second Coming, 1994) - Second Coming is fairly often cited as a textbook example of the "sophomore slump." I'd argue that designation stems more from absurdly high expectations than the actual quality of the material on the album, which was decent enough if not quite groundbreaking.

On a different note, whenever I listen to this track, I keep expecting Toni Halliday to chime in during the fuzzwash with "My name is FAIT!"

Lone Justice - East of Eden (from Lone Justice, 1985) - Another respectable effort marred by external forces -- in this case, a relentless juggernaut of promotional hype that ultimately translated into mediocre album sales, one hit single, and an overplayed music video for said single.

For years I wondered about the frequent application of the cowpunk genre tag to Lone Justice, as "Ways to Be Wicked," the above-mentioned hit, had a fairly mainstream country-rock sound, and didn't really fit the rough-and-tumble definition of cowpunk as I understood it. It wasn't until a few years ago, when I finally got around to listening to Lone Justice's debut LP in its entirety and heard today's featured track that I realized the label does apply to some (not nearly enough) of the band's work.

Pet Shop Boys - Go West (from a 1993 single; collected on Pop Art: The Hits, 2003) - If Lenin fronted the Village People, and renounced violent revolutionary action in favor of meticulously-crafted pop music...

grin and bear it

Meet Mikhail Uriokovitch Ursus, a Major in the Red Army...


...known to his proletarian comrades as "Ursa Major, The Man-Bear"...


Though he doesn't look very bearish at first glance...


...within his well-toned chest beats the heart of wild grizzly...


Happy Birthday, Dorian! I hope it's a good one. In honor of the occasion, I've decided to post this:

Rubber Rodeo - Jolene (from the 1982 Rubber Rodeo EP) - If the idea of a Boston-based cowpunk (more like "cow-wave," to be honest) band wasn't already hard enough to wrap one's head around, this very 80's cover version of Miss Dolly's pop-country classic ups the bewilderment factor by a good half dozen orders of magnitude.

The band really hit their stride a couple years later with 1984's Scenic Views LP, which included crossover gems like "Anywhere With You" and "The Hardest Thing."

another goddamn rant

I must confess I really don't understand all the goddamn love for the goddamn All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder comic series, God damn it. I can see the goddamn appeal it has to some goddamn folks as a goddamn dadaistic conceptual prank where goddamn fan-favorite creators, Frank Miller and Jim Lee, trump the expectations of the goddamn fanboys by giving them what they goddamn act like they want, but in a so goddamn over-the-top fashion that their goddamn heads explode.

But, God damn it, goddamn conceptual art predicated on a goddamn gimmick doesn't goddamn work that well in serialized goddamn format. The goddamn tropes and other tweaks directed at the goddamn noses of lumpenfandom, embraced and goddamn celebrated by the goddamn cognoscenti who understand the goddamn joke, become goddamn repetitive nerd-cliches in their own goddamn right over the long goddamn haul. Marcel Duchamp's goddamn found object masterpiece, "The Fountain," only draws its goddamn strength from its initial goddamn moment of inspirational conception. Once the goddamn joke is delivered, it is goddamn essential to move on lest the goddamn concept be undermined by goddamn diminishing returns, or worse, comes off as goddamn pandering to the goddamn audience.

The only thing more goddamn irritating than a goddamn joke that has overstayed its goddamn welcome is a goddamn nerd joke that has overstayed its goddamn welcome.

God damn it.


Nine Pound Hammer - Goddamn Right (from Kentucky Breakdown, 2004) - Goddamn boot-stompin' cowpunk.

The Fleshtones - God Damn It (from More Than Skin Deep, 1998) - Goddamn top-notch garage revival rock.

D.O.A. - We Don't Need No God Damn War (from War on 45, 1982) - Goddamn outstanding Canadian punk rock.

The Thermals - Goddamn the Light (from More Parts Per Million, 2003) - Goddamn lo-fi rocking bliss from the goddamn Pacific Northwest.

(Of course, if you're goddamn happy about this goddamn nonsense, you can now wear that badge with goddamn pride on your goddamn desktop.)