Sunday sees the premiere of Better Call Saul season 5. It’s about time. It’s been a year and a half since season 4. It’s been a slow boil, watching the tortuous process of Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) transforming into Saul Goodman. It hasn’t been easy because we know what’s coming and what Jimmy becomes. 

With Walt, we looked on in fascination as he became Heisenberg, unlocking the anger, brilliance, danger and arrogance that existed within for decades. Turning Mr. chips into Scarface.

When we met Saul in season two of Breaking Bad, he was a sleaze ball criminal lawyer. Entertaining as all hell and you had to love him but he was a sleaze ball. Seeing how he started out, his circumstances, how hard he worked to get his law degree, pass the bar, all to be sabotaged by his brother Chuck, one big bag of disingenuous, patronizing, duplicitous ugliness with issues, who treated Jimmy horribly. And all while Jimmy was basically his care giver for years. Thanks to Chuck, the system got stacked against Jimmy and the end result was, that to actually survive and get his head above water, Jimmy gamed the system. He utilized the tricks from his earlier life as “Slippin’ Jimmy”, back when he was a scam artist as a kid. Playing by the rules over the years just kept ending up with Jimmy getting kicked in the face, so, never being one to really ever get mad, Jimmy got even. He went back to what he liked, what was comfortable, what he was GOOD at, gettin’ one over on the man, thumbing his nose at authority, workin’ the angles. He truly became Saul Goodman.

Oh, and then there’s the whole other half of this show. Mike. Over the last four seasons/40 episodes, we’ve seen how the ex cop and parking attendant, played by Jonathan Banks signed on with Gustavo Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) as a hired gun. 

So far, the only familiar guests we’ve seen have primarily been from the Salamanca family, with Hector, Tuco and the twins checking in along the way, as the story lines of Jimmy, Mike and Gus all continue down the path toward the events of Breaking Bad. 

According to the trailer on AMC, as season five begins, it seems that Saul is truly open for business and Mike is going to be entrenched in his position with Gus. Plus, it looks like a certain DEA agent we know and love will be making a guest appearance this year.

But as events funnel toward their inevitable conclusion, we must recognize the one sacrificial lamb, Kim Wexler (Rhea Seahorn). She’d been Jimmy’s friend, confidante, associate, advocate, partner and lover. As far as we can tell, by the time we meet Saul in BB, she doesn’t seem to be in his life any more, so that scenario may be resolved this season. It seemed to me like they were little more than friends with benefits when it came to their intimate relationship. I never sensed any chemistry there. Now whether that’s by design, because of quirks in their character’s natures or the actors simply don’t have that type of chemistry, I can’t say for sure but with this show and these producers, they usually always do things for a reason. Them ending their relationship would definitely be severing the last tie to the existence of Jimmy McGill. 

Lastly, AMC does have a reputation for stringing out finales. They worked with Vince Gilligan to take Breaking Bad ‘s fifth season and instead of doing 13 eps, they broke it up into two shorter 8 ep seasons. Mind you, this worked beautifully, even though it was an agonizing year’s wait for those last 8 eps. AMC also tried that with Mad men and kinda screwed the pooch, but that’s a different blog post.

With BCS, up until now, each season had been 10 eps but this one is allegedly 8. This leads me to believe that there will be a sixth and final season that might also be 8 eps. Considering the opening scene at the start of each season so far has been black and white flash forward sequences, it seems as though the producers might be giving us two series finales. One ending with Walt walking in the door and maybe the other in present day/flash forward. I have no idea but I trust the gang.

It’s going to be a very interesting season…..

I’m dragging the garbage bins out to the curb for pick up the following day. As I pass the sidewalk, I notice three people, and one is taking a picture of the other two. I realize that I’ve mistakenly photobombed the couple. I’m about to apologize when three things happen in quick succession. 

1. I felt an odd chill, as if my soul had left my body, which makes me think about the old Inca curse– that if someone takes a picture of you they steal your soul. I *think* it was an old Inca curse but then again, they couldn’t have had cameras back then, so who am I thinking of?
2. I happen to notice that all three people are wearing authentic Inca garb — complete with GIANT headdresses and trying to nonchalantly walk away. One of them — interestingly, was blonde. 
3. I noticed my soul jogging over to be with them, so it could jump into the camera. 

I put the pieces together in my head and realized they were Faux Inca Soul Hackers or FISH. You know I’d *heard* Faux Inca Soul Hackers were common in these parts but you think it can never happen to you, you know? 

Anyway, instead of yelling after them, probably causing them to rabbit, I just reached inside the bin and pulled out a medium sized Hefty bag of garbage. One with some weight to it, maybe something leaky. I twirled the black bag overhead, round and round and launched it in their direction. Impossible to miss the headdresses and they were over-balanced with those things to begin with. So they went down in a heap. I strolled over and smashed any and all devices they had, including their cell phones, Polaroids, augers, sextons and encephalograph pumps. My soul, having nowhere else to go, zipped back to me and I felt it’s warmth. Solid. 

Just to make sure they learned their lesson, I also disemboweled them, as the wolves were near. 

Side note: it might be aged Peruvians who fear the camera, not sure. How do you stop this kind of thing from happening to you? I really don’t know, call LifeLock or something. 

Good luck. 

It was the middle of the night and I was straining my brain trying to think of the last name of the famous painter associated with doing the Saturday Evening Post covers forever. Yes of COURSE you immediately respond “Norman Rockwell!” much like my wife did immediately upon waking the next morning, which was no help to me hours earlier. No, although I remembered Norman, I could not for the life of me remember Rockwell. I could see his painting style in my head, the one where he’s looking at and painting himself, etc. Norman…..Norman….

It’s at this point that I started going down the alphabet hoping that the correct starting letter jars the sluggish stool that is my memory loose. Went through like three times and best I could figure was that when I got around “R”, “S” and “T”, in that zone, it was literally taunting me as the answer tap danced on the tip of my tongue.

I actually fell back asleep, and then when I woke up again, got all frustrated because I remembered I couldn’t remember the last name. 

Just look it up in the morning, I told myself. What if I forget? Why do I care?!?! What brought this up?!?! Did it first occur to me in a dream and I got so frustrated I woke up to find answers? I don’t remember. I just remember laying there contemplating reaching for the iPad at 4am to find out. The internet was a foot away. NO, says I (for idiot), you can do this. 

Lo and behold, it came to me then BOOM. Rockwell. The FLOOD of relief that washed through me was wonderful. Having accomplished my pointless mission, I once again fell asleep. 

Still have no idea why I needed to remember his name. It’s been a couple days, and still no idea. I guess the obvious reason would be “Be a better artist..”

Love his stuff though. 

One of the finest crackers, nay, THE finest cracker in the land is a Ritz cracker. I have decreed it, thus is it so. This scrumptious, buttery, salted, crispy delight with the scalloped edge is just as lovely a cracker now as it was when I was a kid. 

Now be wary….Ritz is Latin for “excellence” probably but do not make the rookie mistake of thinking it’s a dipping cracker. No, no, no. Attempting to plow a Ritz through some thick dip is asking for disappointment and crumbling. You want a dipping workhorse, go get an industrial chip of some sort designed for that experience.

Oh, I’m sure I could look up recipes for interesting things to put on these small slices of baked perfection, but it really doesn’t matter. Anything you might want to put on any cracker anywhere…. you can put that on a Ritz.

But of all the myriad concoctions, cheeses, spices, meats, fruit or veggies one might consider, I admit I go with the same reliable one I’ve always gone with. Peanut butter on the Ritz with a glass of milk. 

It’s rare that we actually get Ritz but we’re in a Ritz cycle right now.

It’s a good cycle. 

Bahdoo, bahdoo, bah do Doo do, do do do DOO

Everybody now!

I’ve always loved The Wild Wild West tv show. I was probably 4 or 5 years old when I started watching three very important, pivotal shows in my life. One was Batman, starring Adam West and Burt Ward, another was Star Trek, where I was first introduced to the Shat and the third was The Wild Wild West, with Robert Conrad as James West and Ross Martin as Artemis Gordon. 

TWWW was a very unique and imaginative show in that even though it took place in the 1870’s, it was half James Bond/spy stuff, half fantastic science fiction. West and Gordon were a two man team who worked for the Secret Service and reported directly to the President of the United States, Ulysses S. Grant. Jim West was the man of action, the enforcer, the muscle. An accomplished fighter but also had a keen, strategic mind. Artemis Gordon was accomplished at theatrics, traps and a master of disguise. And these two traveled the country in their own private train and arsenal, where they lived and operated out of. They battled mad genius dwarves, enemies with super powers, robots, ghosts, enemy agents, you name it.

How much did the show effect me? Well, to this day, whenever I have just about any task to do, that “mission” music theme plays in my head. Bahdoo, bahdoo, bah do Doo do, do do do DOO. It’s been stuck in there for 50 years and it’s not going away anytime soon. 

As much as I enjoyed the show, the iconic opening was always fascinating to me. This animated opening focused on five panels onscreen. The center panel focused on a cowboy, which had to “deal” with the situations occurring in the panels surrounding him. A bandit brandishing a weapon is backing out of a bank in the left panel, having robbed it, only to back right into the cowboy who provides a CHOP to the back of his neck, disposing of him. In the upper right corner, we see a cheating hand reach for a playing card in his boot, but the cowboy pulls a gun on him, forces him to drop the card. The hand in the top left panel then pulls a gun on the cowboy, who has to throw his hands up, dropping his six shooter. He then ejects a small pistol from his sleeve and dispatches the killer up top and the hand goes limp. Finally, the lovely lady in the right panel waltzes into his arms and kisses the cowboy. She then pulls a dagger, but before she can act, he belts her one. She drops, he tips his hat and waltzes off, cue the titles, accompanied by one of the greatest theme songs ever. 

Now what they did was, during each episode, there’d usually be a few cliffhangers going into the commercial break and they’d freeze frame the image going into the break and that image would fill one of the frames surrounding the cowboy. By the ep’s end, all four would fill up. 

This always fascinated me. It was a broad stroke approach to Sequential art, throwing key frames out there from the story. So of course, as a tot, I would always be drawing that iconic frame set up, but with visuals of my own. It just really fascinated me. Still does.

Robert Conrad had a long career but was best known for his role as Jim West. He passed away recently at age 85. I decided to try and honor the man and the character by going back to that beloved opening one more time for a goodbye. I also figured I’d make it available on Red bubble as a print and other versions. 

R.I.P. Agent West.

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/wild-west-goodbye-rick-lundeen.html

It’s an interesting contrast in talking about DC comics’ Silver Age heroes origins as opposed to Silver Age Marvel. Usually through magic, extraterrestrial involvement or nature, the DC pantheon were all beautiful god’s, fighting for justice, beloved by everyone. No doubt picking up the baton from the previous generations heroes in the Golden Age, the new heroes patrolled their fictional cities. They were also almost perfect people in every way.

With Marvel, it was usually a matter of various types of irradiation, creating monsters or freakish abilities in the heroes. The Marvel characters were much like real people, with real problems and worries who had to deal with their human frailties as well as learning to control their very dangerous powers. By and large, they were also easily distrusted by the populace of their home city, a very real New York. The whole set up was mostly a carry over from Marvel’s earlier days when its primary writer Stan Lee would pen monster comics in the ’50’s. 

DC would feature Superman, the strongest guy on the planet, Batman, the world’s greatest detective, Flash, the fastest man alive and Green Lantern, who had the most powerful weapon in the universe and things were usually swell!

Marvel had the Fantastic Four, a group that got blasted by cosmic rays in outer space and consisted of a stretchy scientist, a meek blonde, a hot headed teen and a monster– all of whom would fight amongst themselves. Spider-man, bitten by a radioactive spider, was a teenager who had all the worries and problems of every other teen and then some, including a frail aunt with a serious heart condition. Bruce Banner got caught in the blast of a gamma ray powered H-bomb and became the monstrous Hulk. Weapons manufacturer Tony Stark was injured and taken prisoner by an enemy government and kept captive while forced to make weapons for his captors. All the while trying to create a device that would stop shrapnel from reaching his heart. Thus was born Ironman, a mighty, armored suit that liberated him and was also the only thing keeping him alive. The X-men, meanwhile, were mutants, who were feared and hated by the people they were sworn to protect. 

DC — very clean, neat and tidy. 

Marvel — very human, messy, real. 

Some might say, “But Rick, what about comic characters outside of the big two?”

I say “Not interested”. I’m a mainstream guy. 

And really, the paths taken by the big two are just very interesting to me. Two very different companies that used to be very very different but hugely successful. *And* they fed off each other. DC (National) was large and in charge from the late ’30’s to 1960. Marvel (Timely) publisher Martin Goodman heard about how much money DC was making off Justice League of America, so he told Stan Lee to come up with a superhero team. Stan worked up The Fantastic Four, hired Jack Kirby to bring the visuals to life on the page and thus began the Marvel Age of Comics. A house of ideas that was so different, so real, that became SO huge and popular, that DC eventually had to start following *their* example, and back and forth things went. 

So DC begat Marvel, who begat a new DC and back and forth it went to this day. 

I think I’ll just be happy when the season’s done, which is sad but there you go. Sometimes it’s a chore to watch under this showrunner but I find I can’t abandon it. Anyway…

Usually, before watching the new ep, I have to dodge the DWC and FB to steer clear of opinions. This time, I took a sneak peak ahead of just the voting and although there were only about 20 votes, 70% was 5/5, so that seemed hopeful. 

Having watched the ep, the first impressions for me would be A) another good set up episode, which this season seems to excel at. This time for the big Cyber two part finale. B) seemingly less Chibnall writing all around, which helped. Better over all interaction between characters, more or less. No blunt object messages flying about. 

The first half was harmless enough, spooky house, the TARDIS crew barging in on the  villa– which really is the height of rudeness as they’re specifically and knowingly crashing a private party, just to “make sure they write like they’re supposed to”. And then Jodie gets all judgmental when she finds them goofing off. She has met writers before, hasn’t she? I think so. 

I know that it’s supposed to viewed as an incredibly important writer’s weekend at the villa but yeah, kind of ridiculous that Jodie just decides to show up there to freeload for no good reason and oh! something funny is going on, what a coincidence. Ghosts AND a Cyberman! But aside from that, I can’t really find it in me to place a ton of importance on the future of humanity all depending on this weekend. More on that later.

Funny thing– the crawling, choking, skeleton hands, I totally forgot all about them as soon as the Cyberman showed up. I mean, I know Shelley was in the basement making the house fool people, ala perception filters but I can’t even remember what the deal was with the hands or if we ever got a good reason as to why they were crawling around choking Ryan (except good taste, I guess). I’ll get to the stooges soon enough.

It’s very rare to see an interesting Cyberman– that’s almost unheard of, so kudos here. As soon as he showed up, everything else was forgotten. I found it interesting that he killed the nanny, and Fletcher, but not the baby. Thank god he didn’t of course, as that seemed to be a weakness that Mary was trying to exploit later when talking to him, until of course he turned the tables and he went on to talk about slitting his own children’s throats, so…why didn’t he kill the baby?  Too harsh for the kiddies in the audience I’m thinking, although mentioning he slit his own kid’s throats was okay?

So the ending was interesting to me as far as the interplay between Jodie and the pets. Sure, it established we have a big two parter coming, fine. I felt some of Jodie’s reasoning was a bit in and out. Ryan had a point about saving Shelley’s life at the cost of untold millions in the future. Jodie counters with Shelley inspiring countless thousands of others in the future… well…sorry, that seems a bit flimsy. Sure, him being killed might affect the timeline, OR maybe not at all. What about Fletcher and the nanny? Nah, servants — who cares? At the very least, the debate could have raged on but Jodie put her foot down and muzzled the pets. She also let a good chunk of her annoyance show once again when her judgment was questioned by Ryan. This week, her lesson was delivered with anger — and I do find it odd that the only times I find her emoting with any real passion, real honesty, was when she saw Gallifrey dead and when she lashes out at the pets.

As for Yaz, she was around. Ryan was his usual useless self, but he did manage to get out his trademark line about getting it all sorted, bless his heart. Graham was once again comic relief. Have you noticed that we’ve grown accustomed to them stumbling around blindly? Just part of the furniture and it’s kind of a relief this week that there wasn’t some horrific social message, gaffe or insult? Made the whole enterprise seem nicer. More “consequence free”. I do worry about the possibility of letting the show wear one down so that one starts “getting used” to the way things are and mistaking it for massive creative improvement. 

As for Jodie, aside from another flash of annoyance at Ryan, she once again tries to ditch the cosmic barnacles so she can go after the Cybermen at the end but they remain attached to the hull. I think we’ve already seen the best of what Jodie brings to the table, much like we’ve seen the best of what Chibs has to offer. The best thing I can say about her is that Jodie plays the part of the character known as “The Doctor”. 

So, to sum up, decent set up for the finale, at least no preaching, abandoned ghost story, interesting Cyberman, companions still useless, Jodie still trying to get rid of them. 

As a foreword, it’s a matter of texture. My hair in the past—as it was, was soft, luxurious, yes, probably Fabio-like if I’d… let the panther loose. But I’m all about eliminating hassle, so no, never letting that stuff grow that long. There was a familiar texture that’s key. Going grey, sure, blah blah blah but the texture, again. 

I’m a little more than a month and a half into the hair regrowing process. 47 days. I’m not sure where I stand. I seem to have coverage but it’s the texture. Not sure about the texture. It could be my imagination or maybe it hasn’t grown out long enough yet, but right now, at this moment, I *feel* it’s somewhere between a berber rug, some type of cheap, utilitarian office carpet and some type of poodle hide. 

Seems like it should be longer, but maybe it’s curling back on itself. I don’t think I’d be happy with a steel wool look or feel. I also would not want the tight, grey, Grecian curl look. Oh, and there’s more grey. I think that’s the issue. Not the grey itself– I kinda like the grey color, even the White’s not too bad BUT…. over the past several years, I’ve noticed it’s the grey and white hairs in the mustache that go wonky. Oh, just bizarre, twisty, mutant, wirey strands that can’t be combed or brushed properly. They’re the Charlie Callas of hairs (look ’em up, kids). Brrrt.

I’m reminded of the wig Mark Lenard wore as Spock’s father Sarek in “Journey to Babel”. Or maybe the wig Patrick Stewart’s character Sejanus wore in I Claudius. Or of course Jo-Jo and Gi-Gi.

Decades ago, my cousins Renee and Brett had two poodle dogs, Jo-Jo and Gi-Gi. It’s been like 50 years but feeling my head now seems to make me think that that’s what their fur felt like. I could be wrong. Again, 50 years. 

They’re really the only poodles I can remember. There is a concern about poodle hair.

It’s all just very bizarre. Stay tuned.

For those of you have actually read the majority if these entries up until now, I think you’ve bore witness to the range of stuff I put out there as the days go by. If you’re searching for consistency, there is only one thing that’s consistent, that’s me talkin’ out my head. Future entries will include:

Past situations where I faced death — whether it’s my fault or no.

Occasionally delving into my head to see why I am like I am. Yes it will get personal. 

Various diatribes about Doctor Who, with the good, the bad and the ugly.

Observations in general about things I have an interest in– tv, movies, baseball, etc.

Staying away from social media red zones like politics. No point. Too many dicks.

Flights of fancy and absurd notions manifesting in very short story form.

Diving into the world of comic books, quite often having to do with the Fantastic Four.

Random notes on absurd scenarios, which others probably never think about. 

A serious attempt at the written word, here and there.

Evidently, some ranting…..

Sometimes, maybe just stream of consciousness.

Sometimes, giving myself a plug for one of the books I’ve put out there.

Sometimes, I’ll even put out an entry which is nothing more than a stall. A stop gap, putting something, anything up there, even if it’s only a list if the kinds if things I’ll be talking about, even in the coming year. Even if I actually have about 20 other entries ready, waiting and already queued up! 

Because the thing IS.

June, 1971. In Fantastic Four #111, the team was dealing with an out of control Ben Grimm. Reed’s latest serum to cure Ben of being the Thing tried a new tack. It allowed Ben to transform back and forth between himself and the Thing at will. The best of both worlds. And it worked! Unfortunately, the side effect was that it made Ben mean. Violent. Trouble. So on the very last page, within four or five panels, 1) Reed decided they’d better call in Bruce Banner for help. 2) Johnny did a quick, giant skywriting letter calling out Dr. Banner 3) Bruce, who happened to be in a cab close by, was telling the cabbie that he’s in a hurry but mustn’t get upset – fat chance 4) He smashes out of the cab as the Hulk, sees the Thing on a rampage and decides he must smash him and 5) a face off shot of them staring each other down, hyping next month’s “Battle of the Behemoths!”

There was a lot of that type of last second wrap up in the old books, as the artists sometimes didn’t quite pace things out right for the 20 pages. Kirby sometimes fell prey to it, so did big John Buscema. This was the most shambolic, hurried set up ever for a next issue. But thank god they did it. Because it resulted in the greatest all time battle issue ever beheld in this or any other universe, FF #112. ‘Course, it was years later that I finally saw #111 and the lead up. This was 1971 and I’m not sure if I ever actually picked up a comic before this magical day. *This* was the day I was in a grocery store and saw some comics and picked up a couple for the first time. I’m sure my grandparents bought them for me. So no, I had no set up. One of these comics hit me like an orange and green brick. 

The cover was simple, powerful, to the point. “Hulk vs Thing”. It had been about 90 issues since the last time Ben and ol’ green jeans had an epic battle in the FF. Mind you, they really did have an epic battle in FF 25 & 26, too. This was the actual first time Ben realized he was no longer the world’s strongest human and it was humbling. But even though he fully realized the Hulk was bigger, stronger, and seemingly never got tired, Ben never gave up. He kept fighting until the end. On that day, millions of new Thing fans were born. You just had to admire the hell out of Ben Grimm. Eventually, the rest of the FF and the Avengers all got into the mix too, so Ben only carried the fight for most of part one, great as it was.

In #112, this battle was –start to finish, a high octane, visceral, slugfest that had the entire city either running for cover, or training hi tech weapons on the two monsters. Usually, at least Ben would be concerned about civilian casualties, trying to get the fight to a remote area. Not so here, thanks to Ben’s current mental outlook. As furious and uncaring as the Hulk was about who else might get hurt, Ben was just as unconcerned. The Hulk wanted nothing more than to smash the Thing. Ben saw the Hulk as the perfect guy to take a beating and he was in the perfect mood to take the job. 

These two used anything they could get their hands on. Statues, monuments, trees, merry go rounds, you name it. The cops put up barricades and prayed the fight didn’t come their way as they knew their weapons would be useless. Back at the Baxter building, Reed was frantically building and charging a weapon to blast Ben back into normalcy and at least cure him of his hatred and rage. Then they could at least reason with him. 

But at every turn, Johnny was flying off the handle, threatening to go help Ben against the Hulk, but Reed needed his help. Their landlord, Collins, even shut down their power at the worst possible time, trying to get rid of his most infamous tenants. As if things couldn’t get any worse, in addition to the armed forces gathering to go after the two combatants, J. Jonah Jameson was going on TV live, demanding that all so called heroes be crushed, smashed, destroyed! 

Meanwhile, the main event battered on. Traveling up, down and tearing across the city, the battle was starting to take it’s toll on Ben. As usual, the Hulk never tired but more and more, Ben had to stall and distract until he got his second wind. Buscema is truly at his best here, choreographing the beats of this non stop destructive match. And we’ve got the dependable inks of Joe Sinnott bringing it all home. Ben maneuvers the Hulk into falling off a building, while Ben drags down the side of it, hoping that the fall will at least slow ol’ jade jaws down. But no luck. He gets Ben in a vice grip of a choke hold and it takes everything Ben’s got to break the hold, all the while, the comic fan is on the edge of their seat. See, this isn’t some universal mega battle for existence. This isn’t for the sake of the planet. There’s no greater truth or enlightenment here. This is two men fighting each other, presumably to the death. The fact that they’re two of the strongest guys on the planet is beside the fact. It’s a personal fight to the finish and that’s why it’s so interesting. It’s huge but it’s small at the same time. It can come down to a choke hold or a devastating punch to the jaw. 

We check in on Alicia Masters, Ben’s blind girlfriend. She hears about the battle on the radio and begins to make her way toward the devastation, as crowds run the opposite way. Reed, finally done with his device, races across town with Johnny to join the fray. Alicia nears the battle and starts calling out to Ben, eventually, Ben hears her and turns his head at the wrong moment.

Reed and Johnny arrive, too late. All is silent. Ben lies still and doesn’t appear to be breathing. The immediate battle and threat over, the Hulk quickly shrinks back to Banner, who skulks away. The silent crowd looks on. Johnny blames Reed for waiting too long and now it’s too late. Ben is dead. 

Seeing how this was the summer of ’71 and there weren’t any regular comic stores around, it was a crap shoot that I was going to find the next issue at the grocery store. But that was okay, because I had this issue. It had everything I needed from a comic. Life and death stakes, melodrama, almost more action than I could imagine and best of all, truly magnificent artwork! Plus, it reintroduced me to the Fantastic Four, who, up until that point, I’d only seen on tv in the Hanna Barbara cartoon a few years earlier. The cartoon was good but this, the comics, the drawing. 

Oh, I was IN.

I wanted to DO this.