Bankshot Comics

PHONOGRAM is a way better book than DOSE, and they’re knocked flat by the same fears I’m having.

Every time I have a bad day, I ask myself, “What are you whining about?

“You live in a world with Tyson the Skating Bulldog.”

Tyson Bulldog spelled backwards is “God llub Nos yt” which is kind of like Baby Latin for “God still loves us.” For He so loved the world he sent the only skateboarding bulldog in existence.

I have a rule: If watching a video of Tyson doing what he loves doesn’t eradicate my woes — then, and only then, is it a valid concern. It’s like some ultimate scale of human existence, this dog’s shenanigans.

Today, it worked.

Elder and I wrote this in 2002, so don’t judge.

…Okay, you can judge.

Seven years later, we’re both pursuing our aims of writing comics, though it’s nice to have other interests for crying out loud. Seriously, that’s the one piece of advice I would give to any aspiring comic creator, writer or artist: go be interested in something that’s not comics, and decorate your home accordingly. Don’t be That Guy.

Nor these guys:

Part 2: What to do, and how to do it
(Don’t make them have to replace you).

Halfway through the analysis, Josh split into Josh Blue and Josh Red. We’re trying to merge him back into one person, but right now it’s enough just to contain his awesome power.

The key to being a DC intern is combining a good work ethic for mostly mundane jobs – i.e. copying, faxing, etc. – with a warped sense of humor.

The DC editors are a screwed-up bunch and if you can amuse them, then they shall grant you power. They’re much like decadent Roman emperors in that regard.


Yes, but with more acts of bestiality.


The large part of your work will be making photocopies. Once the art comes in, everybody needs a copy: editors, letterers, colorists, sometimes direct sales.


I used to go around once the art had come in (usually Tuesday or Wednesday) asking editors what they needed done, but if nobody has a specific task for you, head down to the photocopy room and see what’s on the rack. Everything there will have post-it notes with copying instructions.

That’s pretty much the bulk of the job. We were kind of overloaded with interns the summer I was there so it was something of a competition between the various interns to find work.

Because a busy intern is a happy intern.

Above: Yet another book you’ll have to dig up from the pile of Negative Zone filing cabinets in a few years.

And a happy intern won’t question the system that keeps him or her down. You all know what I’m talking about. That’s right. The Comics Code.

And some jobs, like cleaning out an editor’s back issue files, can net you tons of free swag. I, for instance, got nearly the run of Legion of Superheroes, Supergirl, Starman and Hitman.

I never got to plunder anyone’s back issues, but I did get some neat comics sent in as samples that were going to be thrown out with the rest of the application slush pile.

Tell the Bendis story.

The slush pile was so backed up that it contained a pretty formal letter from Brian Bendis (who was by that time writing half of known comicdom), asking for a job…it was 18 months old. Tom Palmer let me have the TPB of GOLDFISH that Bendis sent, since samples of his work were by then available in 16 different countries and at least five dimensions. Palmer also let me make fun of virtually every submission out loud, which is way more Me than even I could put up with. Way to go, Tom.

Submissions, on the whole, suck ass.

Yeah, it’s a little disheartening.Legit talent might really stand a chance if the 85% of submissions who are people deluding themselves would just hold off. You’d be left with the 10% that are almost there and will be good enough someday, and the 5% DC would hire at the moment.

One guy sent in a picture of Superman and Batman his co-worker had drawn on the back of an office envelope. In ballpoint pen. That ought to tell you plenty, but she also drew Batman swinging one-handed over the head of a constipated Superman, who may or may not be dead, but is certainly held in a slumping position with wires. And this was Superman back when he had the same haircut as the members of Mr. Big, except she made it look like a jhericurl, his feet got cut off, and I’m pretty sure whatever Platonic form of the envelope resonated in 5th-dimensional space was crying out for me to burn it. It made me sad.

My proposal for Guy Gardner: King of the Universe. DC dismissed it as “too delicate for sensitive readers,” but I contend that a bound and fecal-smeared Batman had critical merit. DC also had problems with my flagrant use of unauthorized Marvel properties. But the Power Pack needs to die, and if I don’t kill them, who will?

Most of the writing samples are barely literate and the art samples look like rejects from a pre-school arts and crafts class.

But enough about John Byrne. Back to what interns do.

Occasionally, an editor has a really cool job for you. I had to transcribe a Japanese script that included the best line Two-Face has ever had: “Ha ha why do I kill people ha ha I do it because God tells me to ha ha ha yes he is a good God who has been very good to me he gives me many good things including people to kill and that is better than money and candy and even underwear ha ha!” After that, I’m starting to think we should have let Japan overrun our country in World War II.


I got to be a sounding board for the “Bruce Wayne: Murderer” storyline.

Really? Then I blame you when two years from now, Bruce Wayne’s reputation is sterling again, but OJ’s isn’t.

I am fully prepared to shoulder that blame.

But it’s a good story all the same. Hey, maybe Batman and OJ could team up to fight Lance Ito.

Probably the biggest assignment of the summer was a massive research project for a double-sized issue of Wonder Woman. Phil Jimenez wanted visual reference for every single heroine and villainess in the DCU.

Unfortunately, most of those characters were forgotten ’80s characters who had come back just long enough in the ’90s boom to have a new costume.

Both of which sucked.

–which meant instead of looking up, say, Halo’s costume from The Outsiders, we had to find her bad girl Image look from Showcase ‘95 instead.

There was one character, Godiva II, who appeared in a single panel in Justice League Quarterly #12. And still we found her.

Damn, we were good.

I knew being a JLA fanboy for the better part of high school would pay off someday. I just didn’t know it would be in the form of finding reference for a minor character with a lame power from an unpopular, now defunct, team, who I think may be dead anyway. And whose “real” name was Dorcas. Suddenly I regret trying to collect everything with Justice League in the title (except Extreme Justice…even I had limits).

Godiva, and not even the first one, had the power to control her hair. So for everyone who ever said looking good for the prom was not a valid superpower: you’re right, and Godiva here proves it. No matter how strong your hair may be, the second you wrap it around somebody, you’re losing the fight. At best, you’re going to get your hair pulled, and at worst they’ll bash your head in any direction they want. Godiva can fly by turning her hair into wings, but the thrill of gliding is easily outmatched by the shame of doing so suspended from giant hair-wings on your head. She also got herself nearly killed by the Toyman, which is grounds for dismissal from the Justice League. I know it seemed like good marketing to have a long-haired hottie with an English accent, but it just goes to show that anyone named Godiva is probably better off suited to fight taxation in the House of Commons than she is Darkseid. Or, for that matter, the Rainbow Raider. And shouldn’t she be naked?

It was a strenuous search. Not only did we have to access The Vault, where Josh tried unsuccessfully to convince the librarian he needed a copy of Action Comics #1, but we searched the Internet for a lot of these characters.

And if there’s one thing we learned, it’s that we may or may not have a healthy amount of comics in our brains, but at least we’re in a safe position to laugh at guys like [here I link to a now-dead website, so just pretend I meant to say Carrot Top, and voila! Insta-Joke!]

Is this the Batman guy?

Nah, it’s a guy who categorizes every mistake in Marvel comics each month, most of which aren’t mistakes. In the role-playing stat-card he fills out for himself as a bio, he cites his 119 IQ as “Above Normal Intelligence”. If being able to catch every joke in Waiting for Guffman is above normal intelligence, fine, I can accept that. But I still wouldn’t brag about it, at least until I’d invented toast that spreads jam on itself then seduces its way into your mouth with an alluring dance.

…

I’ll be right back, I have to go draft some blueprints.


Everyone needs a hobby. Even if it’s a lame one.

Right, and we’re not saying we’re better than him, even though we’ve made you laugh 34 times in this article and gave your sister her first orgasm. But we’re also not telling jury selection teams that we can see their defendant’s drug-riddled aura, and this guy is.

So it’s with more than a little confidence that we invite you to compare his catalogues of minor errors to our analyses of major ones — none of which includes the phrase, “my discount fan fiction site” — and decide for yourself which is more hilarious, at least intentionally. I mean, it’s not like we’re curing cancer, but the only four reasons for living I’ve been able to find are comedy, dogs, good food, and beautiful girls, and this site helps you out with three of those.
Also, we don’t write fan fiction, unless you count rejected submissions. Also, our webpage doesn’t make your eyes vomit reflexively. Also–okay, we’re better than him. Where was I heading with this?

Right, the internet geeks. They’re like guns: frightening, easy to set off, and a symbol of penile insecurity, but they’re still useful when you have a job to do. The only difference is if you’ve ever held an over-zealous comic geek in your hand, it didn’t make you look cool, and it probably made you feel dirty. And if it didn’t, stop reading my webpage right now.

Phil Jimenez was at DC a lot, and in an industry of neat people, he’s still one of the coolest. One time I told him how much I liked his work on THE INVISIBLES, and we wound up chatting for the better part of an hour, fan to fan.

Yeah, he and I spent at least that much time talking about Perez’s Wonder Woman issues. And then I mentioned that WW could use a boyfriend and lo and behold, she has one less than a year later.

The parallels are frigh–wait…did you just admit you read Wonder Woman? I mean sure the art and writing are great, and it stars a Greek goddess, and now that Ivan’s editing it, we kind of have to follow it, but…okay, never mind.

The other interns were Stephen and Chris, plus some kid up in the Vertigo offices we never met, but everyone assured us he was a freak, and they dig that up there.

I only met the Vertigo guy once and he definitely freaked me out. He had those shifty serial killer eyes…

Steve Bunche and Will Dennis were the only two editors I met up there, but they both made me wish I had talked more about “the ennui that is this wretched existence” in my interview so I could have wound up working in Vertigo for a bit. Will tried to dig me up a 100 BULLETS poster, while Steve showed me his collection of international blaxploitation.


After a while, Stephen went back to Harvard, and Chris replaced the serial killer as Vertigo intern, so Josh and I were left to rock out the DCU, and rock it we did. For example, Josh told everyone to make a big deal out of Superman, and now he’s DC’s biggest character.


As well he should be. Not that they’ve published any of my fine scripts yet. But one day, one day they’ll come begging to me to write the Man of Steel.


And on that day, let the world tremble!


Josh Red, no! Try to control your brash egomaniacalismity! Why can you be more like your brother, Josh Blue? He’s so sweet and accomodating. Why, just this morning, he shined my shoes and gave my dog a bath. Then he saved the Earth from destruction by sacrificing himself in the sun, only to return more powerful than ever. So you see, true power comes to the humble. By the way, what the hell am I talking about?





Our second day at DC we wrote cover copy for Last Laugh Secret Files, and that same day I got to put my grubby paws all over the original cover art for Just Imagine…Stan Lee Creating Green Lantern. It was great, and I’m the man. Now you suckers know.


And just to wrap up, a word about your samples:


Sure, every fan wants to write or draw comics, and most editors would be happy to critique your stuff, but DC asks that you not show them anything until you’re about to go. That way if you’re a particular wuss and can’t take the criticism you asked for, they don’t have months of your bad attitude to deal with.


It’s a good system.



It keeps the interns working like dogs for the hopes of a few scraps from DC’s table and it keeps the editors in positions of power.

Where they should be, dammit. And if that isn’t a prime spot to move to our next section, then I’m not America’s Sweetheart. But even if I’m not, it’s still a great transition point.


Part 3 was “Meet your bosses,” most of whom no longer work there, so…it’s not even worth it. Reading this monstrosity, it’s suddenly clear why I haven’t found work at DC or Marvel ever since.

So crack open a can of machismo.

The other piece I wrote for Alex Segura’s Great Curve comics blog in 2006, commemorating 100 years of Little Nemo in Slumberland. Man, was I into that strip. The art is mind-blowing. There was this sharp line that year between having to scrimp to find any out-of-print Nemo books or merchandise, and it all suddenly blasting into production. Now you can buy full-size collections, complete collections, anything you like.

Fun fact: Winsor McCay’s buried near my house. I’ve been to his grave a few times.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LITTLE NEMO!

Saturday hosts the centennial celebration of Winsor McCay’s magnum opus, “Little Nemo on Slumberland,” which debuted as a full-page comic strip in the New York Herald on October 15, 1905. On that day, readers met Little Nemo for the first time, as he answered King Morpheus’ invitation to befriend the Princess.

As was the custom for many strips of the day, “Slumberland” operated on a repeating gag about a cute kid, such as McCay’s previous creation, “Little Sammy Sneeze.” But while Sammy predictably upended canoes and carriages to receive a boot in the rear by the final panel, Nemo’s adventures were polymorphous. His extended quest to reach the gates of Slumberland began with a high-speed trip on a “night mare” steed, only to wake up while hurtling to his death. Falls and collapsing structures tormented the poor six year-old, who was also peppered with arrows, chased by ogres, and frozen into ice. This last tribulation provided one of the most horrifying moments in the story’s eight-year journey, when Nemo’s mother placed him in front of the fire to thaw, and all but his head melted into a puddle.

But if “Slumberland” was cruel to its protagonist, it was still better treatment than Nemo’s fellow somnadventurists received in the strip’s forerunner and contemporary, “Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend.” There, McCay tormented a nameless cast with trips to Hell, physical mutilation and spontaneous combustion, under the pseudonym Silas. Nemo had a far better time of it, meeting Santa Claus, fighting pirates, and exploring Mars in between life-threatening experiences. Whatever the shape of the dream, Nemo was sure to wake up in the end, and often to find himself right back at his

“Slumberland” concluded in 1914 under the name “In the Land of Wonderful Dreams,” a title change necessitated by its move to Hearst papers. McCay died in 1934, having spent the latter part of his life on editorial cartoons, animated efforts. A revived vaudeville career was squelched by Hearst, a born conspirator.

Though erroneously touted as the father of animation, McCay is certainly the godfather, transforming brief stick-figure dances into works of ambition that reached for the moon while the rest of the fledgling medium tried to ascertain if the world was round. So convincing was his “Gertie the Dinosaur” featurette (which was most likely the first interactive film performance), that audiences unconditioned to animation, as noted by Alan Moore in the final issue of Promethea, thought they were watching a documentary of an actual living fossil.

His very first animation was 1911’s “Little Nemo,” (the first color film? Almost certainly the first color animation) which, like all his films, he drew entirely by himself: a titanic feat today, let alone with no mould yet cast for an expedient method of producing high-quality work. It remains a visually wonderful film, as does all of the McCay filmography, though several pieces may be boring to modern eyes without a strong story. Like its inspiration the film’s visual dazzle sometimes eclipses the tale. Bill Waterson, creator of the cherished strip “Calvin & Hobbes,” once wrote that McCay “is more concerned with his stage than his players,” a fair assessment given “Slumberland’s” crammed word balloons whose dialogue seems to have been the last part of the cartooning process to receive any attention.

But if actions speak louder than words, we can still glean nice characterization from the passive, obedient Nemo whose concern and care move him to independent action only to save the well-being of others, including his enemies. His foil lies in Flip, a clown-faced, hobo-dapper rogue with a Brooklyn accent who chomps on cigars and either deliberately or accidentally causes havoc wherever the two travel. More to his credit, Flip is “an outcast relative of the Dawn family” and “The son of the Sun,” who summons his uncle the Dawn to dissolve Dreamland when events don’t go his way.

Their adversarial chase to reach the princess first soon turns to a strong friendship, dragging each other into adventure and then extricating themselves. Perhaps the most impressive maneuver comes when pirates want Flip to walk the plank, and the audacious brat strolls out fearlessly, then proclaims that he can call his uncle and melt them all. “Shall I jump?” he asks cockily, and the horde of bloodthirsty pirates mewls for mercy.

They were joined, of course, by the Princess, a pleasant girl eager to show Nemo the wonders of her empire, but otherwise as flat a character as Nemo would be were he not forced into action by the story.

And then…there’s Impie. The character was imported from an earlier strip drawn by McCay and written by a fellow newspaper employee, called the “Tales of the Jungle Imps,” a series of modern fables about how animals got their current shapes at the hands of the Imps. In “Slumberland’s” version, despite his gross appearance, Impie’s father the king contradictorily seems to lead a peaceful, enlightened nation, and he speaks eruditely. Nevertheless, son Impie is an irreconcilable blend of awful racial stereotype and delightful irritant (his mischief gives Flip a taste of the treatment shown to Nemo and perhaps speeds their friendship), Impie has an unfaltering zest for fun and excitement, but perpetually exemplifies the conflict between the strip’s message of agape and the unity of mankind, and a string of characters that are at best described as unenlightened examples of the time. At worst, and more honestly, they are ignorantly racist caricatures, however benevolent their appearance.

A few others come and go from their ranks: Dr. Pill (the self-important royal physician), the Candy Kid (who’d probably join their play if he weren’t so genteel), the Old Magician or Old Priest, and an unnamed fellow who functions as Flip’s sidekick or boxing ring manager from time to time.

McCay graduated from Michigan State Normal College, known today as Eastern Michigan University (and the center of an impressive collection of comic art). He drew circus posters and performed vaudeville before landing in cartooning, where he pioneered a number of methods that have rarely been utilized, such as breaking a single background picture into several panels to chart characters’ movements through a scene.

McCay’s art nouveau style used the thick contours and scant interior detail that originated with the movement’s founder, Alphonse Mucha, to achieve an ornate style that came wonderfully characterizes the foglike fantasy of dreams and theater, respectively. But where Mucha’s posters used ornate designs to create whirling patterns, McCay frequently grounded his strips in concrete, photorealistic scenes, if only to distort them.

If it were only his mastery of perspective in both artificial and natural forms that made the strip notable, McCay might be more readily imitated today, but his instinct for storytelling techniques and visual tricks that reflect the material make him a harder being to mimic.

Though recognition for his work has only lately begun to rise, the man’s influence extends far, and can be found in a number of maor strips, books and movies.

Frank King’s “Gasoline Alley” played with dreams and distortion in much the same way, while children’s author Maurice Sendak (Where the Wild Things Are, In the Night Kitchen) and Pultizer-Prize winning cartoonist Art Spiegelman (Maus, In the Shadow of No Towers) proudly acknowledge the inspiration found in McCay’s skills and techniques. Walt Disney, while giving the artist’s son (and Nemo model) Robert McCay, a tour of the new Disneyland theme park, said none of it would exist if not for his father. Mark Waid named the main character of Kingdom Come, who inherits the Sandman’s dreams, after McCay. Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman have done “Slumberland” tribute issues in Promethea and Sandman respectively. There is also a fair argument to be made that The Matrix pays homage to Nemo’s story.

McCay died in 1934 and is buried in The Lawn section of Evergreen Cemetary, in Brooklyn, NY. Robert attempted to continue the Nemo legacy, but it never succeeded, and he slipped through the fledgling comic book industry, working alongside artists like Gill Fox. Disney, that bastion of copyright extension, pounced on an anime adaptation of the strip for stateside release, as soon as it was possible to do so, but despite a script by Ray Bradbury, the film flopped, perhaps deservedly given the completely alien plot elements of magic keys and an invading Nightmare King. The entire franchise is perhaps best known in America today for the video game adapting the movie into a Nintendo cartridge. The U.S. Post Office released a stamp commemorating the strip alongside 19 other Platinum Age comics in 1995.

It’s been 100 years. Isn’t it time the art world gave “Little Nemo” the credit it deserves?