Halloween Countdown: October 11 – it's fun when it's fun

Yesterday's post was a bit of a downer (though my wife and I thank everyone who offered their condolences), so I figured I'd change the tone today, and offer something a little more happy and upbeat. Something that really captures the essence of the season for me. Something like this track...

Throbbing Gristle - Persuasion (fron 20 Jazz Funk Greats, 1979)

Boy, doesn't that just lift your spirits and brighten your day? It also makes for a relaxing listen on those nights where you're having trouble sleeping.

gave stars up above

Are you ready for the sensational character find of 1965? No? Well, that's all right, because what I have for you is Ultra, The Multi-Alien. He made his debut in Mystery in Space #103 (November 1965), where he took over Adam Strange's slot after the market for fin-headed Burroughsean homages began to wane. The character was more super-hero than space-adventurer, reflecting the shift in genre interests occuring in the wake of DC's upstart rival, Marvel, putting a successful new spin on the formula. One one side, you had Stan Lee and Jack Kirby continuously raising the bar for innovative concepts and storytelling in Fantastic Four; on the other, there was Ultra The Multi-Alien and the Canine Space Patrol Agents. (I enjoy a lot of DC's goofy 60's material, and not just in a gawk-and-mock sense. Taken as a whole though, it seems indicative of a corporate culture similar to that of General Motors when cheap imports began entering the market -- facing the competition with a "do what we've been doing, only more so" attitude while taking ill-conceived and clueless stabs in a different direction.)

Ace Arn, a standard-issue big-chinned starship captain, finds his vessel dragged along in the wake of a comet, and crash-lands on a strange planet in another star system. Arn is not alone on this strange new world; a group of galactic miscreants are using the planet as a base camp as they try to figure out a use for the Highly Inefficient Super Weapons^TM provided to them by their de facto leader, the shaggy green reject from a Big Daddy Roth character concept sketch in the upper left insert on the cover above.

The weapons allow the wielder to transform anything they hit into obedient duplicates of themselves, which is clever, I admit, but lacks the to-the-point planet-splitting power of a gamma ray laser or disintegration beam. Such are the vagaries of comic book science, where utility is measured in units of PDE (plot device effectiveness). There's a catch, though. The devices cannot work on matter from the aliens' own stellar region, which begs the question of why they chose such a target poor area as a base, but hey, I'm not a megalomaniacal invader from beyond, so what do I know? Fortunately for the bad guys, Ace Arn -- who just happens to be from outside the stellar region -- stumbles right into the middle of their camp.

Anxious to try out their duplication guns, the four aliens blaze away without any sense of hierarchical or organizational deference. The four beams strike him simultaneously, transforming him into a composite being reflecting the appearances and powers -- super-strength, flight, and control over electricity and magnetism -- of all four aliens.

Because of the restrictive end-user license on the mind-control aspect of the ray guns, Arn retains his own identity (though augmented with the advanced knowledge of the aliens) and uses his new abilities to crush the alien cabal's poorly-considered scheme in embryo while explaining events to the less astute readers with a rather curious choice of words:

It's no Betty and Me #16, but we must take our cues for sophomoric humor as they come.

After taking the opportunity to review the design specs of the duplication guns, Arn discovers that the process is irreversible, which leads him to an single panel (two sentences) of soul searching before deciding to embark on an exciting career in superheroics. As my great-gran used to say "When life gives you a scaly bird leg, use it to claw the shit out of ne'er do wells." (It sounded more profound in the original Swedish.) The only thing that remains is to pick out an appropriate code name, but the causal serendipity that is the glue of the superheroic genre has that covered:
That was actually Arn's fourth try, after R-A-T-L-U, T-R-U-A-L, and L-T-R-A-U. Arn placed dead last in the Space Academy's Space Boggle competition four years running.

Ultra, The Multi-Alien's run in Mystery in Space lasted until the title's cancellation with issue #110. He's popped up here and there since then, especially after the enactment of the "No Intellectual Property Left Behind, No Matter How Obscure" Act in the mid-1980's. His most effective post-60's use was in Grant Morrison's Animal Man, where he was shown to be a resident of Comic Book Limbo, an imagined manifestation of DC's voluminous junk drawer of fallow properties. Attempts to bring the character into the DC Universe proper have been less successful, as there really isn't any compelling reason to do so outside the thin gruel of appealing to fan gnosticsm through the character's obscurity and garish design.

My five year old nephew stopped by for a visit a while back. He's a huge fan of the animated DC television shows and their related merchandise, but hasn't shown much interest in the comics themselves. When I went to get a toy he was asking about off one of my bookshelves, he picked up the copy of Ultra, The Multi-Alien's first appearance I had lying on the coffee table (a gift from my brother, not yet filed away in one of the attic longboxes) and was completely fascinated by it. He placed the comic down on the couch and pointed in turn at each alien and their corresponding anatomical contribution to Ultra. It just goes to prove that no matter how odd and out-of-touch those 60's DC books seem to be, the folks in charge knew exactly who their target audience was and how to appeal to them, even across four-plus decades.

Betty James - I'm a Little Mixed Up (from a 1961 single; collected on The Chess Story: 1947-1975 box set, 2000) - Sure, Ace seems okay with his existence as a xeno-chimera, but I suspect he does have a touch of the low-down, "my man-junk is half-feathers, half-lightning bolt" Multi-Alien blues.

KMFDM - Ultra (from Nihil, 1995) - Every hero needs a theme song.

Japan - Alien (from Quiet Life, 1979) - Doing it before Duran Duran did, and in many ways, better.

let that be your battlefield

Before I got married, bought a house, and assumed all the related financial responsibilities of an “adult,” I had modest plans to transform Super Lumina from a staid family sedan into something a little more slick-looking. Nothing too ostentatious – a low key spoiler, a new paint job (burnished gold), and maybe some interior strip lighting. A nice dream, but lack of funds aside, it would have been a bigger hassle than it was worth. The problem with having a showy car is that you spend every waking minute worrying about the inevitable pits, dings, and scratches than vehicle will acquire through the attrition of daily use. I’ve grown to care less about Super Lumina’s minor cosmetic issues, and have instead focused on keeping what’s under her hood in perfect working order.

Now that I’m within two months of paying off the car loan, though, I’ve started thinking about ways to use that freed up cash to make needed improvements. They are all based in functionality rather than appearance, and largely inspired by the stretch of Interstate 93 north between the Columbia Road ramp and the Massachusetts Turnpike, where the rules of the road have devolved into mild guidelines to be freely ignored. (“Wait until the last possible moment to cross three lanes of traffic to the exit? Sounds like a plan! No need to interrupt my text messaging to flip my turn signal on!”)

With those road conditions in mind, here is my current list of desired modifications for Super Lumina:

- twin-linked liquid-cooled hood-mounted chainguns: They don't even need to be that powerful, just able to penetrate fiberglass and sheet metal. They should also have a forced ammo feed capable of automatically clearing most jams.

- rear-mounted “smart” caltrop dispenser: The caltrops would resemble ball bearings and only spike up when driven over by a specifically designated target in order to avoid collateral damage.

- a titanium-steel bulldozer blade: This may require reinforcing Super Lumina’s underbody so that it can properly handle the stress of impact, and minimize the risk of damage to the engine.

- a sunroof cupola with pintle-mounted machinegun: Because in our house, road rage is a couple’s activity. This would give my intrepid wife/co-pilot a chance to vent her spleen. Outside of combat, it would function as a excellent vantage point from which to assess traffic conditions should we be stuck behind a two-story tall SUV.

- hubcap-mounted spikes and blades: Intended more for the intimidation factor than for actual use, they would hopefully deter those folks unwilling or unable to keep their damn vehicles within the marked lane boundaries.

- trunk-mounted adjustable reflector screen: I don’t know why everyone these days feels the need to have their highbeams on 24/7, and I don’t care to hear their reasons for it. This slick innovation is designed to give those inconsiderate jerks a taste of their own medicine by reflecting the blinding glare back into their eyes.

- cell jammer-screamer: a powerful short-range transmitter which broadcasts an earsplitting 200-decible white noise shriek across the entire cell phone frequency band. “Have I got your attention? Good! Now pay attention to the road, asswipe.”

- a custom-fitted stereo-system with mp3 CD capability and a dock for most digital music players: It can’t all be about road rage, OK?

Ministry – Jesus Built My Hotrod (from Psalm 69, 1992) – Or it was assembled at a GM plant in Ontario. I can’t really remember now.

Adam and The Ants – Cartrouble (from Dirk Wears White Sox, 1979) – My trouble is with everyone else on the road.

Jane Wiedlin – Rush Hour (from Fur, 1988) – It used to be that if we got on the highway at 9:15 AM of thereabouts, it would be clear sailing all the way to Dorchester…until the building boom came along. Now the highways are thick with New Hampshire-dwelling expatriates from the Bay State who continue to work in Massachusetts and create fifteen mile long traffic jams.

here is the day to remember

“Herr Michael York, please rest your leonine face against my ample bosoms while I stare uncomfortably into space, ja? Oopsie, it seems the shoulder strap of my dress has slipped down past my creamy white shoulder!”

However will our intrepid hero stop the Kaiser’s latest superweapon, a ponderous behemoth filled with explosive hydrogen gas, powered by volatile aviation fuel, and whose surface is covered with highly combustible reflective paint?

Front Line Assembly – Hydrogen (from Explosion, 2003) – One of my more cherished memories from high school was the time when my 11th grade chemistry teacher miscalculated the blast radius of a hydrogen-filled balloon and singed off the eyebrows of a star member of the football team.

Do Make Say Think – Goodbye Enemy Airship (from Goodbye Enemy Airship the Landlord Is Dead, 2000) – I’m not sure exactly what the hell “post-rock” is supposed to be, apart from an ineffectual stab at marketing-driven branding. Why not just drop the useless jargon and call it “jazzy electronica with prog tendencies”? The idea with genre labels is to entice or intrigue listeners, not confuse them.

T. Rex – Life’s a Gas (from Electric Warrior, 1971) – The one thing I took away from the first-time homebuyer’s class the bank made my wife and I attend as a precondition for getting a mortgage: Killer mold is the new radon gas. Seriously, the other attendees pissed away nearly ninety minutes asking the instructor the most insane questions about killer mold. “Will it take over my body and make me eat nothing but chocolate-covered mini-donuts?”

I even drew a little picture on one of the class handouts featuring a knife-wielding mass of fungus hovering over a sleeping couple. Now that I think of it, the fungus bore a close resemblance to Marc Bolan’s (or Brian May’s) hairdo – a mass of black curlicues designed to strike fear and awe into the hearts and minds of the unwary.

The Adventures of H and O: New Markets

(click to enlarge)

Yep, it’s true. John Oates co-wrote Icehouse’s 1987 hit “Electric Blue” with that band’s frontman, Iva Davies. Although the song did get some college radio airplay, “Electric Blue” (I keep wanting to type “Electric Youth,” bur that’s a horse of a different color, pun sort of intended.) was a big crossover success far removed from the creepiness of their earlier material. Icehouse’s countrymen in the band INXS had undergone a similar evolution away from their new wave roots, but moved toward a more arena rock sound. It’s a long way from “The One Thing” to “Bitter Tears.”

Icehouse – Electric Blue (from Man of Colours, 1987)

I wonder what a Daryl Hall/Ministry collaboration would have sounded like. Probably not too far removed from the material on With Sympathy, the 1983 black sheep in the band’s discography, which consists of gloomy synthpop with a heavy British influence. (Al Jourgensen’s faux English accent on “Revenge” is a hoot and a half.) The late 80’s industrial incarnation of Ministry was responsible for stripping away any last vestiges of heavy metal madness that may have lingered into my punk rock days. Tracks like “Burning Inside” and “Stigmata” delivered a blistering sonic assault that made even the heaviest death metal acts of the time sound anemic by comparison, and were refreshingly free of metal’s obligatory clichés and excesses.

Twenty years of genre bleed have seen Jourgensen’s musical innovations become another generation of heavy metal clichés. These days I’m more likely than not to get my Ministry fix from the more sedate sounds of With Sympathy, but I still give The Land of Rape and Honey or The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste the occasional spin whenever I feel the need to blow the carbon out of my aural engine.

Ministry – Burning Inside (from The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste, 1989)