the bitter redemption of an atypical fat cat

The sedentary comforts of the suburban lifestyle can take their toll on even the most ferocious predatory feline. Sure, it would be great if one could routinely stalk a wild boar and feast upon its steaming carcass, but after a long day of fighting elitist snobs or seeking out the bluebird of happiness, sometimes all one wants to do is order an extra large bacon-fetishists' pizza with a side of cheesy bread and pass out on the couch while watching a Tom Ewell retrospective on TCM.

Even if the nagging feelings that one ought to be taking better care of one's body persist, it's easy enough to resolve such concerns with a weak resolution to do a few ab crunches or take down a bull crocodile...tomorrow...for sure...maybe...once those few remaing Halo 3 achievements have been completed.

The comes a point, however, when the sad truth can no longer be ignored...

No need to fret about that spare tire (or matching set of four) or open up an account at The Fat Tiger's Shoppe, my rotund feline friend! Just place a call to the World's Mightiest Personal Trainer! Captain Marvel, the man who once bench-pressed South America, has created an intensive regimen guaranteed to transform oversized Toms into lean, mean, killing machines.

The week long course begins with copious amounts of low-grade amphetamines, purchased in bulk from Marvel's trusted suppliers in the Third World...

Side effects may include constipation, hallucinatory spiders crawling under one's skin, and a nude high-speed police chase across three state lines.
...followed by a long, intense session on Cap's personal vibrator.

To ensure complete satisfaction, Marvel tests each device personally.
Next up on the schedule comes the nutritional consultation, with plenty of emotional cruelty "tough love" on the menu...

Cap then visited a cancer ward and brushed his thick, luscious locks in front of the radiation therapy patients.
...and that approach is carried over into the gym, where what does not kill you could very likely cripple you for life.

It's great exercise for shedding those extra pounds, blood, and teeth...
And what better way to finish things off than with one of Captain Marvel's patented Bad Touch^TM massages?

Now accepting appointments for couples sessions!
Once the week is over, the bruises have healed and the bones have knitted together, you'll emerge from the experience feeling, and more importantly, looking like a television star!

"Hey, kids! Stay tuned for Uncle Pork Rind's High-Cholesterol Cartoon Hour, brought to you by the Fawcett Lard and Tallow Company."
(Panels taken from "Mr. Tawny's Diet Dangers" from Captain Marvel Adventures #121; June 1951)

Au Pairs - Diet (from the b-side of the 1980 "It's Obvious" 7"; collected on Stepping out of Line: The Anthology, 2006) - Sparse, unsettling fare, yet incredibly satisfying for those with refined palates.

Southern Death Cult - Fatman (from Southern Death Cult, 1983) - These gothic rockers shed two thirds of their name (and almost the entire original lineup) in order to woo a "Fire Woman."

one hundred hairs make a man

I was flipping though some old comics the other day when I came across this ad:


...and I got to thinking about my ranking on the Machismo Index, and how of late it seems to be dropping faster than this blog's Technorati authority score. Perhaps the addition of some facial hair would be just the ticket to turning things around. The only problem is that while I can grow wiry ginger-blonde stubble like nobody's business, after a week or so my masculine scruffiness tops out and refuses to cross the threshold into true beard and 'stache territory. (This is also around the time when my wife complains about how the stubble causes her to break out in hives when I give her a chaste peck on the cheek.)

So, Masculiner Co. of East Orange, New Jersey, can you and your MODOCRYLIC face toupees help me out of this frustrating dilemma? I'm putting my hopes and the contents of my piggy bank (eight bucks in total; I already have the sideburns covered the natural way) in your able hands.

Four to six weeks later.....


Hmmm... I was expecting a little something more from MODOCRYLIC, but it is certainly trimmable and easily styled with a pair of safety scissors. The verdict is still out on its net effect on my sense of manhood, though I have found myself experiencing random urges to swing by the local Harley dealership (and to send away fror literature about opening a southern fried chicken franchise). I also seem to have acquired a deep intuitive understanding of .38 Special's body of work, and have unconsciously found myself visiting online sporting goods stores to price gun racks for Super Lumina. It's a very curious phenom--

--HEY! ARE YOU LOOKING AT MY WOMAN? YOU BETTER NOT BE, LESS'N YOU FIND YOURSELF FACE DOWN IN THE PARKING LOT, BUSTER, LOOKIN' FOR YOUR MISSING TEETH.

Y'know, I think I'm better off just sticking with the peachfuzz Mother Nature gave me, along with those awkward pauses whenever a male neighbor or co-worker asks me if I caught the game last weekend.

Deee-Lite - You Sexy Thing (from the Dumb and Dumber OST, 1994) - I'd rather watch the Golf Channel than Dumb and Dumber (and I despise golf), but the soundtrack is better and more eclectic than it had any right to be. Echobelly? The Primitives? The Butthole Surfers? This trippy take on Hot Chocolate's signature song? Was there a mix-up in the post-production ADR between Dumb and Dumber and some psuedo-indie Gen X vehicle?

Sparks - Moustache (from Angst in My Pants, 1982) - Unforced idiosyncrasy and pop sensibility come so easily to the Mael Brothers, and make listening to this album a delightful, yet humbling, experience.

Desmond Dekker & The Aces - Fu Manchu (from Action! 1994) - Maybe that's the problem -- I should have checked the "Evil Overlord Variant" box on the order form. That version carries its own set of issues, however, such as the overwhelming compulsion to shout "Kill that meddling fool!" whenever someone pulls into a parking space before you or takes the last jelly donut during a staff meeting. Also: spontaneous outbreaks of maniacal chortling after getting back extra change from a vending machine purchase or unclogging the garbage disposal.

and you put the load right on me

I tend to be a bit hesitant in writing about body issues/weight issues. There are just too many overlapping and/or conflicting arguments tied up in the matter, from public health concerns to one's personal sense of self worth to the predatory market forces that offer unrealistic standards while selling junk food and dubious weight loss plans. The end result is a veritable key party of strange bedfellows, and no matter how many qualifiers or caveats I hedge my opinions with, it still feels like I'm reaching blind into a barrel of razor blades. No one should feel compelled to conform to an unobtainable ideal at the expense of their own sense of well being. That said, pulling a semi trailer with subcompact sporting a 4-cylinder is going to have dire consequences in the long run, especially when the most readily available fuel is prone to clogging the feed lines.

Here's an examination of body image issues, courtesy of Date With Debbi #15 (May-June 1971):

Debbi's friend Lylia is overweight. We know this because she is always shown either stuffing food into her face or participating in some tired old "fat" gag. See? She broke the scale because she's not wasp-waistedly skinny! Why she might even weight over 150 pounds! Call the circus!

Lylia has a crush on Henry, the George Lindsey-esque fellow who works at the gas station. She feels unfit to approach him because of her weight, overlooking the fact that a man who has free-floating eyebrows and who wears a felt crown to work should be the last person to judge someone based on appearances.

Now, I'm no psychiatrist, but it's been my experience that the kind of compulsive, binge eating behavior Lylia is depicted as having is often a symptom of an underlying sense of unhappiness, which can encompass any number of traumas large or small. To treat the manifestation without examining the cause seems rather irresponsible, especially considering the motivating factor in Lylia's desire to lose weight is a desire to be loved. It's sad if you think about it....

...but not so much that it can't be mined for some incredibly demeaning humor. Remember, kids, in the world of teen humor comics "fat" equals "will repudiate any personal dignity for the sake of a hot dog."

Twelve panels and a dozen similarly depressing gags later, Debbi has managed to reshape Lylia into a more socially acceptable size zero package and sends her off to woo the grease monkey of her dreams. Mission accomplished, right?

That ungrateful little witch! How dare she exhibit a newfound confidence about herself! (Actually, the "booking every boy in town for a date" bit would suggest that, as I mentioned before, Lylia's binge-eating problem had roots in personal issues such a lack of self-worth, which has now manifested itself in the social butterfly's need for external validation.)

Don't worry, Debbi has a plan to take care of that...

I have read many, many comics in my three and a half decades on this planet, and that has to be the cruelest, most sadistic ending to a story I've ever come across...and that's counting that 1950's EC horror story where the evil fireman slides down a giant razor blade put in place of the station's firepole.

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods, --They kill us for their sport. - Gloucester, King Lear (Act IV, Scene i)

The Band - The Weight (from Music From Big Pink, 1968) - One of those trancendental songs that just carries you away and takes you to someplace better for an all too brief time -- so of course it would end up being used in a commercial for cell phones.

Medium Medium - Hungry, So Angry (from a 1981 single; collected on Hungry, So Angry, 2001) - Postpunk funk with slap bass and crossover disco appeal.