Tags: friday night fights

Friday Night Fights: Round 4

After a week off boozing it up in the backwoods of Boone, North Cackalacky (home of the Michigan State beating Appalachian Mountaineers!) it’s time to get our shenanigans back on with a little blindsiding entertainment.

What time is it?



Sucka Punch Time!




The Main Event:

The Secret Six

versus

The Birds of Prey

versus

General Kerimov



The Birds of Prey have been sent to Azerbaijan to investigate General Kerimov who has hired the Secret Six to transport an old Rocket’s Red powersuit which happens to hold a resurrected Tora (which is --at least—odd), who Kerimov resurrected and plans on using to influence the superstitious populace.

Truly this was one of the best story arcs in comics ever. It’s already yielded one Sucka Punch for us, but can it really give us two in one issue?!


It’s hard to tell who’s sincere and who’s not in this panel.

After a convoluted series of issues, it seems as if a simple solution is too much to ask for.

Or is it...?


Bullet-punch to the dome, Sucka!!

Enter, Floyd “Deadshot” Lawton, Problem Solver.


Floyd hands out business cards that say: World Class Ass-Kickings, Ten-a-Penny.

This is why Floyd needs to get more play. Contrarily, I’m a little sad to see him back as yetta’nother badguy. The Secret Six was the best cred Floyd had in a while. Yeah, yeah, he IS the Suicide Squad and all that, but I would’ve liked to have seen him left out of it in favor of the S6.

Maybe next Christmas.




Birds of Prey #107 brought to you by Gail Simone and Nicola Scott, Doug Hazlewood.

Poor General Kerimov never saw it coming. You know who always sees it coming? Bahlactus that's who. Go see what he’s got for you.

As you’ve probably guessed there will be no Pop Culture Fight Club until I get my really real writing done. No Dionne Warwick v. Warwick Davis tonight either. Although, truly the humor of that altercation is best spent entirely in the imagination.

Close your eyes with me and believe.


Brain Dump and Regrets

I won’t be around this weekend as I’ll be at an illegal wedding in North Carolina.


That means no Sucka Punch from me this week. Although just to keep you fresh:


I cannot get enough of this picture






I want to talk about Morrison’s Seven Soldiers –which I just finished-- real quick, and probably more when I get back. Specifically, no matter what high-hatted allegory the bald Scot was aiming for, I really wish he would just write to write. The things that always haunt me are his little character moments not the fourth wall breaking, drug-addled nonsense that have become his calling card.

One of my first impressions of Grant Morrison when I was but a lad, was the Animal Man limited series. The B-story is a bunch of rednecked suburbanite hunters. They come across li’l Maxine, some Kittens and eventually Ellen Baker in the woods. Ellen is on the verge of being raped when one of the hunters shoots his erstwhile friend in the head, saving the day. It’s awful, it’s amazing, and it’s twenty times tighter and better written than the frayed and broken storytelling that leads to Buddy’s now-famous meeting with his Creator.

I think out of everything we can hope for in the upcoming Final Crisis, I am looking forward to those true, personal moments that Grant should make his bread and butter. Those kinds of moments were the best part of the original Crisis and what kept Infinite Crisis from being great (well, that and the lack of an ending). Here’s hoping. If he can put down his bong and Book of Shadows long enough we should be in good hands.




Also, upon completion of Seven Soldiers, I have a new pitch. Somehow I managed to work in Amethyst: Princess of the Gemworld! I know, amazing!



We Four Queens

Four girls through various circumstances are brought together at an all-girl’s private school. All of these girls are revealed to have extraordinary abilities, and --as revealed over the course of the 4-16 issue run—extraordinary destinies.

Each girl is representative of a playing card/Minor Arcana suit. Those characters/suits are:

Amy Winston/Amethyst – Diamonds;
Traci Thirteen/Girl 13 – Hearts;
Justina Chevalier/Sir Ystina the Brave – Spades;
Lori Zechlin/Black Alice – Clubs.

Amethyst is Pentacles/Diamonds cause “duh”.

Sir Ystin is Spades/Swords cause “duh”.

Traci Thirteen now just has nebulous magical powers –so much for that magic bible, Grant—but originally she had an “Urban” magic, specifically attuned to cities. Hence: The “Heart” of Cities. Plus now she’s a sweet half-asian, Nipponaphile, party-girl, and that’s all Hello Kitty and hearts now ain’t it? I don’t have as easy a Cups reference but symbolically it’s all the same. Shut up.

Black Alice is Clubs/Staves b/c her power is arguably the hugest but also the must mutifunctional. Much like a club, Black Alice can be a weapon or a tool depending on who she chooses to be…. Go ahead, make all your Black Alice is a tool jokes now.

Four magic girls at the same boarding school, fighting evil and trying to fit in. By the end, each of the girls will become so-called Queens of their respective spheres of magic and embody the tenth age. It’s rife with metaphor… and words like “rife”.

As a teaser I could produce one four-issue limited, each issue spotlighting one of the girls and their respective magic/destiny. Ultimately, they should get four issues each, making it essentially a 16 issue maxi-series.


Friday Night Fights: Sucka Punch - Round Two

You need a refresher?



That’s what this is about.

Enjoy the fights.




The Main Event

Katarina “Spy Smasher” Armstrong

versus

Zinda “Lady Blackhawk” Blake




”How you say…? Oh no you di’int.”

Shit, Zinda, you fought mother-effin’ Hitler and shit. Are you gonna take that crap from some no good government spook?


Hawkaaaah, bitch!

Didn't think so. She should've seen it coming. But she didn't.




Birds of Prey #107, penned by Gail Simone, drawed by Nicola Scott, Doug Hazlewood.

Tonight’s card, brought to you in stunning Bahlactus and White.

FYI, Gail Simone is well-versed in the art of the Sucka Punch, as we’ll be seeing over the next couple of weeks.




Middleweight


Eric “The Crow” Draven

versus


Bruce “Batman” Wayne

(For the record, I will be reviewing the Crow a la the movie, as I feel that’s whom everyone is more familiar with and it doesn’t affect my decision. It’s worth noting the Crow in the comic echoes more thematically with the young Bruce Wayne insomuch as they are the victims of random violence.)

Two vengeful spirits set upon their paths by one stark moment of tragedy. The Crow and the Bat have much in common.

Eric Draven was just a young rock musician in love who pissed off the wrong slum lord. He and his wife became the target of fatal tenant harassment. The night before their wedding even. This drives the young man from his grave a year later to wander the earth as the restless dead until his wife and his murders are avenged.

Batman was just a young rich boy with loving and remarkably attentive parents who pissed off the wrong dark alley. His parents became the target of Joe Chill, who iced them for some pearls and whatever cash Tom had on him. Yet, he didn’t have the stomach to finish the job and left a traumatized young man alive to make pre-adolescent leaps in logic about becoming a new Zorro and avenging the murder of his parents.

Both are figures who enjoy inspiring great fear in their so-called victims. Both are completely justified.

Batman cannot hope to take down Draven in a straight-fight, b/c he’s all undead and will just come back from whatever damage is dealt him. Plus he’s, like, Bruce Lee’s son or something. However, if Batman can deduce the thirst that fuels his supernatural vengeance, he will find a sympathetic spirit. In fact, I reckon these two would find little to fight about, and rather, Bruce would be driven to help Eric solve his murder.

Therein lies the issue of means. Eric is an ironic death, Spectre, kind-of guy; whereas Bruce prefers putting them away where they can pay for their crimes by man’s law.

At the end of the day, when T-Bird’s gang have been dealt with --either by the cold embrace of the Crow’s vengeance or at the hands of Batman’s faith in Blind Justice and Jim Gordon-- Eric Draven can finally let his bones rest.

At which point, Batman totally wins by default and dances on that emo kid’s grave!

Winner: Batman.




Feather Weight


Willow Ufgood

versus


Wicket

All Warwick Davis all the time. Which is different than Dionne Warwick. Maybe that will be next week’s fight, Warwick Davis versus Dionne Warwick.


Leprechaun will teach you what friends are for.

Regardless, that’s not this week’s fight. This fight is about what a dwarf in a bear suit can bring to the table against a dwarf wizard-in-training.

Wicket for his diminutive size and youth is actually well regarded among his people as a brave warrior and skilled hunter. Plus he totally gets all the human chicks.

Willow is a brave –if naïve-- little Nelwyn, who has the spark within him to be a great wizard someday. Albeit unpredictably, afterall, he turns a simple troll into a two-headed Eborsisk which doesn't really save the day. He’s far too reliant on Raziel’s wand, but ultimately does show a knack for the mancy by the end.

Even still, this is Wicket’s fight to lose. Even with a lucky shot, Willow is as likely as not to turn Wicket into a far larger and more dangerous critter. Without Madmartigan or Sorscha to bail him out, he’s done.

Lucas’s age-old story of man versus machine—er, man versus oppressive technologically superior magic empire, proves yet again that if you’re determined enough, a stone spear does the trick.

Like the one Wicket uses to break bad on that Nelwyn ass.

Nub, nub, MFers.

Winner: Wicket




Bantam Weight


Flik the Ant

versus


Z the Ant

Flik comes from an ant colony on an “island” which is seasonably terrorized by grasshoppers. He’s a real think outside the box type. Unfortunately, nobody likes a smart-ant. After ruining the yearly offering to the grasshopping bullies, Flik is fixing to be ostracized by his fellows, when he comes up with a Lucy Ricardo-level plan to go find other bugs to beat up their tormentors. Sitcom misunderstandings ensue, but the ants prevail through cleverness and invention which makes the erstwhile loser, Flik into a big hero.

Z similarly is a free-thinking type ant in a more rigid and socially striated colony in Central Park. His respective existential journey is considerably denser than the free-wheelin’ Flik’s comedic appropriation of circus talent. Albeit its just as unlikely that a wussy worker ant would return home like so much prodigal son and blacken the eye of the soldier caste, saving his colony from eradication by militaristic fascism.

The classic tale of Country Ant versus City Ant.

Flik is crafty and self-reliant, albeit naïve. Z is neurotic and self-aware and all-too existential. Both ants come across as a mutant-esque leaps in evolution, Flik with his grasp of tool-making and science; and Z with his patent individualism and role refusal. Flik is altogether handier, but Z has been in the shit at the Battle of Termite Valley. Both serve as inspirations to their respective colonies to usher in new eras of peace and prosperity.

It’s a tough call considering both of these characters are non-combatants who overcome their opponents with means beyond a simple physical joust. In general I’d say Flik is altogether more capable, but it’s difficult to deny that Z overcomes more physical hardships in the course of his travels. On the other hand, Flik takes a pretty severe beating and still mans up to mobilize his people.

Winner: Barring Flik getting his hands on a rubber band, two twigs, and a pop top, this is pretty close to a draw. I have it going ten rounds before some callous and uncaring boot-heel teaches them about the cruelty of nature.





Martin Henley

versus


Cigarettes

Well today marks my two month anniversary for quitting smoking.

So, presumably I already won. I hate the mentality “Once an Addict, Always an Addict” (is there any more dismal a forecast?), but I do appreciate the warning not to speak in absolutes. So, let’s just say after eight rounds, I’m still standing, and they’re still sitting there unsmoked –and, yes, in fact I happen to know where a viable pack of the devilish little cylinders are in my house, and yes, my wife still smokes. I set the difficulty on Heroic just to show off.

For some perspective, I’ve been a two pack a day smoker (average) since I was fifteen years old. Back when cigarettes cost 2$ a pack, gas cost 0.99$ a gallon and Flat Freddies cost two playing cards a bite. That’s over half my life. It’s a humbling number to look at all at once.

At least for the moment, I’m kicking the ass of Big Tobacco with my immeasurable will! Really, the mantra that’s been getting me through is “Not smoking isn’t hard; building a ladder out of chewing gum and my own feces is hard”. So far it’s been working for me, not that I’ve tried building said ladder.

Winner: Marty, the comeback kid.







Friday Night Fights Round 1: Ding Ding Ding, Bitches!

It’s the return of Friday Night Fights! Subtitled: Sucka Punch!!!

Sucka Punch: (suk-ah punsh) (N) To Strike Someone With An Unexpected Blow. Syn: blindside; bushwack; catch unawares; ambush; sneak attack.

Ex. “That balloon-headed candy mascot totally sucka punched Silver Age Brainiac”:




Now that we’ve got the hang of it …




The Main Event:

Thomas “Catman” Blake

versus

Albrecht “Captain Nazi” Krieger



Little Tommy shows us how to beat up a Super-powered Gerry.



Chapter One: Engage and enrage the target.



Chapter Two: Wait for an opening.



Chapter Three: Jam a fistful of syringes into the target's eyeball(s).

Epilogue: Gloat like the dickens. The Ratzi bastard had it coming.



Wow, Blake, and you weren't even a member of the Greatest Generation. With chops like that, you belong in the Injustice Society, not the Secret 6.

I'll bet you and Sportsmaster would get along just fine too. Just stay away from his woman.




Secret Six writ by Gail Simone, scribbled by Dale Eaglesham.

There will come a great darkness, you may call him Bahlactus.






No time for a Pop Culture Fight Club backup feature this week. Tempus Fuckit and all that. But rest assured, now that the Urban Planet-Eater has put out the clarion call, we shall once again witness the mighty and discordant marched onto the field of battle for our amusement.

Please feel free to leave any requests with the gentleman by the door.

New Avatar: The Last Airbender tonight. Watch and learn.


Friday Night Fights: Uppercut - Final Round!

The Main Event

Katherine “Kitty” Pryde

Versus

Emma Frost



For the Final Round of Friday Night Fights: Uppercut, I bring you one of the finest fights of the modern era. Written by one fanboy for the rest of us, is one Katherine Pryde showing off how she inspired a generation of little boys to look up to girls kicking ass.




Warning: Fists in Mirror May Appear Smaller Than Actual Size.





Bonus Post-Fight Wrap-Up Panel



”We really have run out of names.”

God Bless you Joss Whedon. And God Bless you Kate Pryde.




Astonishing X-Men by Whedon and Cassaday.

Even Wolverine’s first teenaged girl sidekick knows Always Bet on BAHLACTUS.





Middleweight Bout




Lex Luthor

versus


Henry Pym

In a game of “I Never”!

Two oft misguided super-geniuses. One keg. One embarrassing party game.

Two men enter. One man leave.

Lex Luthor is traditionally thought of as an evil genius, and phenomenal waste of talent. Fancying himself the spokesman for mankind, Lex proclaims a vitriolic hatred for Super-people in general, and Superman in specific. In the course of his misplaced angst--wherein he comes off as being an Olympic level jag-off, presuming nobody likes him b/c a remarkably nice alien keeps hanging around and showing him up—-he’s gone nuts in almost every conceivable fashion. From Doomsday machines to the Oval Office. From Metropolis to Lexor. Luthor has seen it all and done most of it.

Hank Pym is traditionally thought of as a gifted genius who moonlights in creating world-threatening arch-foes. Despite Hank’s heroic legacy he’s most often remembered as the guy who beats his wife (he hit her once). Whether justified or not, Hank gets a bad rap, which tends to get him down until he either goes nuts himself, or builds some clockwork beast to go nuts for him. Everytime the erstwhile Giant-Man has a go at saving the world, or being named Time magazine’s Man of the Year, Ultron crops back up, or he associates his name with a Negative Zone prison. Thus is the lot of Henry Pym, the Rodney Dangerfield of the Marvel U.

The rules of the game are simple. Each player lists some heinous deed or minor misgiving in turn. Those that have done the aforementioned thing must drink, and those that haven’t, don’t.

As two true-to-form mad scientists who have gone on more than one “The World Must Pay for What it Has Wrought” bender, tickets to this contest would sell out in a New York Minute. It would be a tough match to call beforehand as there could be some amount of strategy at play. Lex could sit on “I never built a robot imprinted with my personality that immediately went batshit and attacked all my friends” for late in the game. Or Hank could just start listing executive functions of office and get Lex drunk off of his time as President alone. If Lex’s time in the Silver Age can be held against him, it’ll be hard for him to walk away from the table.

Plus, Hank strikes me as a little bit of a party boy. Sure he went to nerd college, but nerds can party. Hell, Pym was probably building gravity bongs out of toilet paper rolls, an erlenmeyer flask, and irradiated saline by his sophomore year, while Lex was busy in his dorm room cursing Silver Age Superboy for making him bald while pondering how good he’d look in purple and green.

Winner: I give it to Hank “Yellowjacket” Pym, which proves the only fight he can win isn’t against his wife’s jaw.




Mismatch Bout




Ash Ketchum

versus


Ashley J. Williams

Ash Ketchum comes from Pallet Town, where parents are non-entities who ship their kids off as soon as they come of age to play with strange monsters and travel the world unsupervised. These children assert their will over the native fauna, capture them, and make them do battle, like so much anime Michael Vick. Ash is particularly exceptional as the ongoing “main” character in every iteration of the Pocket Monster saga, and is referred to as a Master Trainer. He’s traveled continents and oceans to obsessively chase down baby critters he can pit against strangers in Gym battles, earning badges, and lording his super-special Pikachu over everyone he meets. So special, it also captures the fancy of the ne’er-do-wells over at Team Rocket, even if he never bothered naming the thing. Ash is a tenacious young turk, clearly able to travel and survive on his own all throughout the wilds of whatever planet he comes from, battling legions of supercute, chibi monsters, making friends, and kicking ass.

Ashley J. Williams, college graduate and S-Mart employee went on one ill-fated cabin weekend with his girlfriend, and things have never gotten around to getting better for old Ashley. Apparently these things happen when you stumble across ancient magic tomes in creepy old cabins. After doing battle with deadites, his girlfriend, an old lady in a root cellar, his own hand, a giant tree, and the mysteries of the camera-angle demon, Ash is teleported back in time to the 1300s with his car. Ash has officially been in the shit, and its cost him just about everything he ever remotely enjoyed. Tenacious doesn’t even begin to describe the Herculean endurance Mr. Williams has displayed in the face of demonic hoards of evil dead. Not the sharpest tool in the toolshed; however, fully accomplished at using those tools to fashion a chainsaw arm and straight-up kill you with it. That’s the kind of know-how a few years working Housewares’ll get you.

Ketchum is an able young man, good with animals, bright, well-intentioned if self-centered, and easier to get along with after nine trillion episodes of “One To Grow On”-style episodic life lessons. The only thing the young Ash is bad at, is losing. It’s simply not in his vocabulary. Even if he’s on the ropes he’ll pull through with either his superior ability to compel otherwise innocent creatures to willfully stomp on other, otherwise innocent creatures; or his aforementioned crazy-special Pikachu monster, who will go Hitmonchan on your ass, electrocuting all involved. Not a bad fail safe.

Williams on the other hand is well past a psychotic break, and kicking zombie-ass seems to be the only thing that keeps him rooted at all. He will absolutely take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’… like a time bomb. A shotgun-wielding time bomb that lacks people skills, has lost all hope, and never seems to reload.

I think Mr. Ketchum can give Mr. Williams a run for his money--or whatever they trade for goods and services on Animal Cruelty Planet. He’ll open with Pidgeot and Squirtle, who will subsequently meet the business end of a Remington 12” and grizzly ends in turn.

Next, Charizard is let out of his ball-shaped veal pen to cost Ash an eye and most of the hair on his head. One well-placed lop of a chainsaw later and the fruity-orange dragon’s make-shift tracheotomy ends in tragedy.

Ketchum realizes this isn’t a game anymore, and can only rely on his best friend and “House” Pokemon, Pikachu. The BPOC himself. With Pikachu’s KO record, and steely resolve, things still look good for the boy from Pallet Town. If he’s smart, he’ll go for the stun, and beat feet while he still has some friends left in his Pokedex. Otherwise the delusional, prophecied, Deadite hunter is likely to continue to think this is just another day in the ongoing nightmare that is his life, and put Pikachu, Ash, Misty, Brock, Nurse Nancy, and anyone else who happens by into the cold, cold earth..

Winner: Ash Ketchum can steal a moment to call this a draw, and mourn his friends on the ferry to Johto. If he misses that moment, then it’s all over.




That's all we have time for this week. See you FNF’ers in three weeks when Friday Night Fights: Jab Round 1 kicks off. See the rest of you soon enough with this week in comics.

btw: Fourteen more days until new Avatar!


Friday Night Fights Round 11: Uppercut

Not a lot of time today, so I’m just going to throw out two bouts of rawesome feminine ass-kickery.

Main Event

Catwoman

versus

Hammer and Sickle



One woman versus two Russian metahumans?



No problem.

Check the math.




Catwoman #67 by Will Pfeiffer and the brothers Lopez.

How do you spell relief? B-A-H-L-A-C-T-U-S, that’s how.





Middleweight

Sin versus the Star City Police Department





Owned by a little girl. Hand in your badge and gun at the end of your shift. There’s no coming back from that.






This is fun. Enjoy, and see y’all soon.


Friday Night Fights Round 10: Uppercut

The Main Event


In honor of Illyana's return -no matter how dubious- and the inevitability of Joe Q calling me to offer me scads of work making her famous again. I present to you the following bout of ass-kickery which is just one of many reasons to chalk my avatar up as King of the Ring.



Li’l Illyana Nikolovna Rasputin

versus


Cat








Standby for your daily dose of Claremont in 3…2…1…


Winner! The Russian ‘tween in the sabretooth-hide singlet!

You think you’re hardcore? Try killing your BFF with your bare hands before your first period.

That’s hardcore.




I like my fights like I like my coffee. Hosted by Bahlactus.





Now, everybody: Pop Culture Fight Club!

Heavyweight




Big Barda with Mega Rod

versus


Kalibak the Cruel with Beta Club

Battle of the Fourth World Kirby-Tech! Where every sentence ends with at least one exclamation point!! En celebrance of DC deciding it’s better to kill off the Fourth World then let them possibly be misused sometime in the future!! This one’s for you, Jack!

I figure it’s about time Kalibak fought someone other than Orion! Or something other than sit around resenting Orion!

Big Barda is big! No, bigger than that! Taller than most of her superheroic peers save Elasti-girl (which is barely a fair comparison) and at least as strong as Wonder Woman! Forged in the Firepits of Apokolips and tempered by Granny Goodness herself, Big Barda was destined to inherit leadership of the Female Furies!! No man on Earth could hope to tame or challenge Barda! However, a shaved, sickly exchange student from New Genesis might steal her heart! Yes, brought low by Cupid’s arrow as readily as if fletched by Kanto himself. Barda has eyes for none other than Scott Free, Mister Miracle!! So much so that she forsakes Apokolips to steal away with her man and pursue a simple life with her master escapist husband and their diminutive manager, Oberon!

Kalibak! Kalibak is first born to Darkseid and Sulli! Kalibak is a champion to Apokolips and the cause of much suffering and hardship! All who gaze upon him know fear! Surely you have heard of Kalibak the Cruel in whatever Hunger Dog hovel you have crawled from! Despite Kalibak’s loyalty and achievements in the name of malevolence and malfeasance, still Darkseid’s attention favors that cast-out bastard Orion! Orion!!!

We have seen with our own eyes that Kalibak is more than a match for Orion!! Yet who should we favor in a fight between two natural born Apokolipsians?!! Barda the traitor?! Barda the turncoat!?! Barda the coward?! Or Kalibak loyal son of Apokolips and heir apparent to the throne of Darkseid!?!

Barda, totally!

Winner: Barda would manhandle Kalibak and send him back in pieces to his father!!!!




Middleweight




Madmartigan

versus


Mad Max

Madmartigan is a drunken rogue and master swordsman who is disgraced from his Order and left to rot in a cage as a warning to passers-by. Not the most responsible member of the armed services, even his fellows wouldn’t release him from certain death to fight the armies of Nokmar with them. Despite this dubious reputation, a Nelwyn named Willow frees him and gives him a chance to right his course. He inevitably stumbles and fails several times before incidentally embracing destiny by just being great at killing stuff. Thanks to falling in ensorcelled love with Sorsha the daughter of the evil Bavmorda he saves the day and successfully survives Elora Danan so she can grow up to be a sainted Empress.

Maxwell Rockatansky served on the Australian Main Force Patrol after Oil riots threw the country into a post-apocalyptic proto-society that revolves around gas and bullets. Once happily married with child, tragedy inevitably struck robbing him of his partner and family because law enforcement officers should just be moody loners who live on the edge. He spends the better portion of the rest of his life traveling through the Outback looking for gas and killing bemowhawked young turks who harass simple oil refiners. Eventually he gets all messianic after being kicked out of Bartertown by Aunty Entity for refusing to kill the water-headed Blaster in Thunderdome. Which, as we all know is the only law in Bartertown. He saves some kids and roams the desert looking for the next ass to kick.

Both combatants are hardened men who shirk responsibility or earthly ties and are only friend to the road. Despite these grim exteriors they have hearts of gold and are shoe-ins to save any day what needs it. Since bullets are hard to come by in future Australia, Officer Rockansky’s proficiency with firearms will be considered null in this fight. However, both men are skilled at staying alive by killing all challengers with any weapon available.

Two men enter. One man leave.

This is a tough one. Bartertown odds should go to the whiz with the blade, Madmartigan. But Mad Max has endured significantly more crap. I mean, Madmartigan is seen locked in a cage when we meet him, Brownies get the drop on him when he stops to take a wee, not to mention the same Franjean and Rool bop him on the nose with a bag of Broken Hearts and next thing you know the swordsman is all stumbling drunk (albeit, still quite adept with a blade).

Max isn’t infallible, certainly, but you never see him get snuck while having a slash.

Winner: Mad Max for the disarm and put down.

Although, I will note that he will refuse to kill Madmartigan once he discovers that he’s just Val Kilmer fucking around in some armor. This inevitably gets him cast out into the Australian desert in a shame mask yet again. It’s his lot in life.




Lightweight




Penrod “Hong Kong Phooey” Pooch

versus


Benjamin Sherman “Scatman” Crothers

Because you demanded it!! Well, one of you did.

Hong Kong Phooey is an anthropomorphic dog in an otherwise human city. Despite this, no one can ascertain that he and the anthropomorphic dog janitor that works at the Police Station are, in fact, the same guy. Regardless, whenever a call comes through to the love-struck Rosemary, Penry would overhear her telling Sergeant Flint the score and he would spring into action.. or the filing cabinet. Who would emerge but Hong Kong Phooey?! Dropping in the Phooeymobile and heading for danger!

Scatman Crothers came into this world in 1910, a born performer. Musician, dancer, singer, DJ, actor, voice talent, et alia. You name it, Scatman was on it. He was a drummer in a speakeasy band at just 15, shortly before forming his own band and going on the road. He danced for a Duke Ellington short and decided he wanted to try acting on for size. With a wink and a smile and a pocket full of magic was Scatman Crothers.

Hong Kong Phooey, for all the acclaim he got, was largely a do-nothing, hep-talking cat who was as much a public danger as any sort of superhero. Inevitably tripping over himself, the self-proclaimed Gung-Fu master would typically get himself into dire straights and leave the crime solving to his loyal cat Spot. Only to take all the credit later. Just like a weed-smoking dog. You didn’t know he smoked weed? He would “Bong the Gong” and change his car into a boat? Straight up stoner shit right there.

Scatman on the other hand was an earnest entertainer of the hardest working school in show business. A generation that would make 16 films a month for a Hershey bar and a war bond. Sure he would later rely on Jack Nicholson to support his valleying career, but from a teenage boy in a speakeasy to TV’s lovable Jazz the jive-talking Transformer, Scatman was always tops. Such a hardworking Hollywood luminary that he is only two degrees separated from Kevin Bacon*.

Even with the straight shot of respect that we must give Scatman Crothers, he has no physical training outside the theatre and dance steps we’ve seen him perform. Even if he is a clumsy, worthless hop-head, Hong Kong Phooey can probably kick poor Scatman’s bony behind around in a street fight. Our only hope is that he trips over his own shoelaces and requires Spot to come to his rescue which immediately breaks the “no help” code of our little fight club, freeing Jack Nicholson to tag in and mop up the dog, cat, paparazzi and anyone he feels is looking at him funny.

Winner: Hong Kong Phooey, since he doesn’t wear shoes, it’s unlikely he’ll trip over his shoelaces. It’s possible, but not enough to prognosticate a win in Scatman’s favor.

Special thanks to Weaver42 for this last fight which was just too weird to not do.

*Mama says show your work: Scatman Crothers was in The Journey of Natty Gann with Gabrielle Rose; Gabrielle Rose was in Where the Truth Lies with Kevin Bacon.




Bantam Weight



MORTAL COMBAT!!!!!




Friday Night Fights Round 9 - Uppercut

The Main Event




Fairchild of Gen 13

versus

Daytripper of the Authoriteens




Even as a teenager he never gets tired of that line.


”No thanks. No time.”


I heart Gail Simone for crap like this.


The real losers? The kids who just lost their basketball court.




Gen 13 #11 written by Gail Simone, Art by Carlo Barberi and Drew Geraci

For tickets to tonight’s event, call Bahlactus.






Bonus Fight:

Layla Miller

versus

Nicole the Hanger-On French Tween




Unwelcome French girl pwns!

When all else fails, one tween girl pimp slapping another with a rock will get you through.

FYI the next thing she does is upend Layla over the side of the bridge and leaves her for dead.




No time for a whole pop-culture fight club ticket this week, but let’s have some more Avatar random fandom dedicated to fighting:



35 Days ‘till Book3!


Friday Night Fights Round 8: Uppercut

Tonight’s Main Event:

Holly “Catwoman II” Robinson

versus

Blitzkrieg



Is that Blitzkrieg II or even III? There was Baron Blitzkrieg, maybe that’s who I’m thinking of. Was there a Marvel villain named Blitzkrieg? Almost certainly --enough of this foolishness! Fight!

We join our match already in progress. Round one apparently did not go in Holly’s favor. She waves off the ten count and gets up like a champ.


From the Friday Night Fights Officiates Rulebook, “On Chairs: if the Ref didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.”


Ted Grant: Teaching Girls How To Beat You Within an Inch of Your Life Since 1942


And Stay Down!




Catwoman v2#66 written by Will Pfeiffer, illustrated by David and Alvaro Lopez


Clear all bets through Bahlactus.




Heavyweight Bout




The Incredible Hulk

versus


Doomsday

Most people know the Hulk to some extent or another. Mild mannered super-genius, Bruce Banner, attempts to save Rick Jones’ life from being blowed-up by a gamma bomb. Instead he soaks up all the rads and becomes Jekyll and Hyde on methamphetamines. The angrier he gets, the stronger –and sometimes stupider- he becomes. Hulk smash, and all that. Depending on who is writing him and what recent events have taken place, Hulk and Banner are either completely different entities (with Hulk being Bruce’s ill-expressed Id) or Hulk just being super-Banner with a heart of gold.

The more I read about Doomsday, the more redonkulous he becomes. Basically he’s the pwn to end all pwns. Some prehistoric scientist dropped a baby on Krypton hundreds of millions of years ago. Every time the untamed wildlife killed the baby, he collected the remaining DNA; clone the baby; and do it again. Who was funding this guy? We can’t get unfettered stem cell grants, but this space-dick can just bounce babies off of Kryptonian dinosaurs for kicks? Through the wonders of soft-science, this cyclical torture eventually creates the ultimate killing machine in a manner that doesn’t even remotely resemble Darwin’s Law. This ultimate killing machine wipes Krypton clean, kills the misunderstood science-douche, and proceeds to murder its way across the universe, “knowing only hatred”. Grrr. Argh. Until it finally lands in Superman’s back yard. Whatever.

I love comics, but sometimes there are things that make even my suspension of disbelief say, “Fuckin’ really?” When part of his character article –without humor—reads “like Lobo”, you know it’s bad.

The Hulk is a force of nature, so much so that when Ultimate Hulk went batshit in downtown Manhattan, the event was treated akin to 911 or Nagasaki. The Hulk is exactly as powerful as he needs to be to shrug off nuclear weapons or to manhandle SHIELD helicarriers. Half the time, he doesn’t even need to be angry to do this shit. But it helps.

Doomsday is super big-big-big and hardcore to the bonespurs. Not only is he stronger than Superman, but he can adapt things like firebreathing and immunities to time travel, just ‘cause (Seriously). He’s a super-adaptoid that presumably can never be defeated the same way twice. Despite all this, Superman essentially bludgeoned him to death. He’d never been bludgeoned before? I find that hard to believe.

Even without my phenomenal disrespect for everything that is Doomsday, I’d still hand this fight to the Hulk. He’s everything Doomsday wants to be, only slightly less ridiculous, more storied, and possesses a longer pedigree. The more Doomsday can take and dish out, the angrier the Hulk becomes. Considering the already ridiculous level of power the Hulk is presumed to wield on any given Sunday, surely by the time he’s miffed, he can gain the edge on the super-spiny asshat from beyond the moon. If Superman can slug it out with this beast, the Hulk can… in half the time, and won’t fall down like a sissy afterwards.

Because Hulk is hardcore.

Winner: Hulk by KO after 130 rounds.




Middleweight Bout




Captain Jack Sparrow

versus


Captain Malcolm “Tightpants” Reynolds

Born in the mid 1700’s, Jack Sparrow, became enamored with the life of the pirate at a young age. Belonging to the sea and having no other love, Jack made a deal with Davy Jones to Captain the Black Pearl. Under his command the crew safely prospered. Too safely for some, and his spirit was crushed when he was mutinied by his First Mate, Barbossa. Eventually he regains his command and remains fiercely independent, caring little for anything outside his ship and his little piece of the sea.

Born September 20, 2468, Malcolm Reynolds was born on the planet Shadow to a ranching family. Growing up with a good work ethic and an appreciation for quiet living, Mal took exception to Alliance meddling and took up arms in the Unification War. A good natured, faithful, and cheerful man, Captain Reynolds’ spirit was broken at the battle for Serenity Valley on Hera. Worse than being routed in the skirmish, was being abandoned for over a week with the dead, dying and wounded by both sides. With his faith shattered, he and his Second, Zoe, vowed to stick together and start running. Never to look back. Years later, he remains fiercely independent and loyal to his own, but cares little for anything outside his piece of the sky. Like George Jefferson, with a gun.

Both men are of ever-changing loyalty and quick, tricksome wits. Both are tarnished men who hold only to their personal codes of honor and mutable moralities above all else and would sooner avoid violence when possible. Even still, either man is capable of pulling his respective weight in a tussle. Playing dirty but fighting dirtier, and holding survival over so-called ethics.

Sparrow is an expert swordsman, a reasonable shot, and --while not a preferred pugilist-- should be considered adept in the ways of fisticuffs. Mal is more of a two-fisted, two-gun caballero who’s experience with swords has left him wanting.

Neither man is beholden to a fair fight, nor above trying to fast talk their way to an advantage. While both are renaissance men of accomplished home-spun schoolin’, Mal is occasionally witless in the face of more formalized educations and likelier to lose the battle of silver tongues. Similarly, Captain Reynolds is on the losing curve when it comes to cutlass or blade, yet both draw a dead heat on dirty tricks. Sparrow on the other hand finds himself outmatched in shooting and pure hand to hand survival.

This is a phenomenally tough match-up. I have to imagine it’s an ugly affair filled with disarms, hair-pulling, dirt throwing, and genital kicks. Somehow this will result in both men making their breaks for their respective vessels and hightailing it to fight another day when they believe the other one isn’t looking.

Winner: We, the viewers.




Lightweight Bout




Master Yoda

versus


Master Splinter

To one-up my geek cred from last week (supplying the world with the phrase, Kowalkian Monkey Lizard) I would love to reveal to you all that Yoda is a Samsarran Zen-Frog or some such thing. Alas, only Lucas and Yaddle know what’s up with Yoda or his race. There’s plenty of conjecture and misinformation surrounding the penultimate Jedi. There was an old Topps trading card that showed several Zen-Frogs around and atop a Buddha-esque Zen-Frog statue. Take from that what you will. What we do know is Yoda is over nine centuries old, one part magi, one part jester, and 100% Force-befriended maelstrom of Justice.

Depending on the version of the Ninja Turtles you are familiar with, Splinter is most often the pet of Hamato Yoshi, though sometimes Hamato himself. Whether starting as a rat mutated to walk like a man, or a man mutated to walk like a rat, Master Splinter comes out the same, a genteel and wise spirit who acts as father and sensei to four inscrutable, sewer-dwelling, adolescent abominations.
Is there any situation that a sage-like frog magician loses to a sagelike rat ninja? Very few indeed. We have to presume Yoda is possessed of very real magical powers, whereas the most Splinter can conjure are simple misdirections. That’s not even counting the lightsaber.

I’m sure this fight starts even enough, but to finish it’s a landslide.

Winner: Yoda, all flips and Force pushes.




Bantam Bout




Justin, Rat of N*I*M*H

versus


Stuart Little

Justin is one of several rats experimented on by the National Institute for Mental Health, granting him exceptional intelligence replete with the ability and desire to utilize tools. Justin is a humble paragon to the other Rats of N*I*M*H and champion of moving from the rosebush where they can live long and honest lives away from humans. Justin finds himself the de facto leader of the Rats after the death of his friend, Nicodemus and his colleague, Jenner.

Stuart Little is a freaksome mouse who walks on hind legs, talks, and is possessed of a desire to wear sneakers for no discernable reason. It is possible that he, himself has escaped from N*I*M*H as he displays much of the same skill set as the rats of the rosebush. However, he dedicates much of his intelligence to convincing humans to love him, which runs contrary to the aforementioned Rats understandable mistrust of people. Stuart Little is very difficult to dislike and has been known to be able to charm many who would wish him ill, coming around to a feel good ending that asserts everyone has a place or something.

Justin has a soft spot for mice, considering he owes his life to one Jonathan Frisby (Brisby), and is largely a peacenik. That said, he’s one of the more able-bodied Rats of N*I*M*H and quite capable of fighting hand to hand or with fashioned weapons. Despite his disadvantage in size, Justin even volunteered to attempt to poison the scourge, Dragon. Brave, strong, and having firmly been in the shit, Justin is quite capable of handling all that nature and man have thrown at him. Letalone some pussy mouse voiced by Michael J. Fox.

Stuart Little is adaptable and quite agile, capable of outsmarting various cats, birds, and other natural predators. He also may or may not possess some amount of unquantified mind control that helps him convince the likes of Thelma Dickinson and Dr. House that he’s just as good as a human son.

As clever and fleet-footed as Stuart may be, he is simply no match for Justin in a physical joust. He may not appreciate it at the time, but Stuart is quite lucky, as his opponent is no killer and will almost certainly spare him. Despite the mockery he makes of Justin’s life of hardship.

Winner: Justin, after a quick and comical chase around the house.




Thank you all for joining me once again for Friday Night Fights and then some.


Friday Night Fights Round 7: Uppercut

The Main Event

John “Green Lantern” Stewart

VERSUS

Bedovian of the Sinestro Corps



While perhaps not a fight in the traditional sense, I present to you a matching of wits, and big violence.


Sierra at the wire! Sierra at the wire!

Ring slinging snipers! Good show Geoff Johns! I’m really glad you’re writing less books. Sometimes I want to kill you, but, man, look at how you rock on the books you’re 100% on.

How can the GLC compete with anti-matter ring-wielding xeno-snipers?


”Oswald was a fag.”


pwned!

John Stewart. That’s how.




Green Lantern Corps Special v1 Issue1 written by Geoff Johns; art by Dave Gibbons (and Ethan Van Sciver).

A special thanks to the Timmverse for regenerating interest in John Stewart.

Tonight’s Main Event Sponsored by Bahlactus Brand Planet Snacks.




Also, the return of Pop Culture Fight Club!

Heavyweight Bout




Cain “Juggernaut” Marko

versus


Fred “The Blob” Dukes

The Juggernaut is Charles Xavier’s step-brother and go-to badguy for the X-Men franchise –when he’s not behaving himself and apparently joining the new Excalibur. In fact, Jugs has been successively less evil ever since his inception. Regardless, he’s still a big brute whose powers boil down to being unstoppable. Thanks to the Crimson Amulet of Cyttorak, once Cain begins moving, no force on Heaven or Earth can slow him, let alone stop him.

Fred Dukes is a good ole’ Texas boy, a jerk, and a circus freak. The Blob’s power, contrary to popular belief, is more than just being morbidly obese. No, Freddy’s corpulence and pliability are only part of the package. The mainstay is that once he sets himself, no force on Heaven or Earth can move him.

The classic match-up: Immovable Object v. Unstoppable Force!

Like most paradoxes, this one is mostly BS. The short solution, according to physics, is that Jugs would simply reflect and divert course off of Dukes’ boundless belly. Thus skirting the unstoppable issue while retaining the immovable part. That’s boring.

The real trick here is that the Blob is overstating by a little. We’ve actually seen him moved several times, usually with part of whatever he was standing on -- he’s immovable, the concrete below him isn’t. Colossus has moved him, Strong Guy has moved him, and Wolverine has moved him (b/c there’s nothing Wolverine can’t do… sigh). So, canonically, Juggernaut has the bolder claim.

Jugs would bowl Freddy over, with a large hunk of macadam coming with him. Once he’s been transplanted, Marko is all over him like ugly on a Morlock.

Winner: Juggernaut, best of one fall.




Featherweight Bout




Avatar Aang

versus


Naruto Uzumaki

Aang is the last airbender and has been frozen in ice for the past 100 years. When he awakens from his glacial snooze, he finds the world at war by the hands of the imperialist Fire Nation. At only 12 years old he is tasked with mastering the four elements and restoring balance to the world. A feat which should take years if not decades to accomplish. He has six months.

Naruto is a young ninja-in-training hailing from Leaf Village. Right around when he was born, a nine-tailed demon fox was running rough-shod across the countryside, trampling his way to notoriety. The leader of Leaf Village sacrificed himself and imprisoned the oni within the newborn child. Shunned most of his life, Naruto turned to irksome pranking and generally being a nuisance. Only at the ninja academy does he begin to find a place and unlock the secrets of his past and future. Believe it!

Both characters come off as fun-loving do-gooders often overburdened with regards to their destinies. Both show great determination and skill as undeniable prodigies. Aang can connect with previous incarnations of the Avatar; and Naruto plays host to a fox demon which is sure to come with some advantages.

On paper this is a good matchup. However, as evidenced by watching an episode of either show the edge is clear.

Avatar is an episode-driven epic, that, all-told, will clock in a little over six months time. Every chapter tells a story as well as furthers the overarching storyline.

Naruto takes six months to throw a punch b/c he’s too busy expositing about the punch he will throw. It’s Yu-Gi-Oh meets Drangonball Z at their worst. Even Brian Michael Bendis would wonder when they’ll shut up and do something. What could rightly be done in five minutes typically takes five days.

The fight goes like this:

Naruto laments his childhood tormentors; the difficulties of training; the ambiguities of his teammates; his need to prove himself; his unlocked potential; reserve of will; and the four year history of the technique he believes his opponent is using.

Aang circles behind him, KOs him with an updraft, and still has time to climb a mountain; claim the rare Panda Lily; and rescue a town from a lava flow.

Winner: Aang of the Northern Air Nomads.




Bantam Bout




Gollum

versus


Salacious Crumb

Gollum was once a simple river folk named Smeagol. He lived a lazy and idyllic life and was maybe a little retarded. Fishing, napping, and eating were his lot. Then one year he killed his cousin on his birthday and nothing’s really gone right for poor Smeagol since. Now he’s a hairless little troglodyte singularly obsessed with accessories.


”Precious matches mine purse.”

Salacious Crumb is a Kowakian Lizard Monkey who plays jester for Jabba the Hutt as found by Malakili, the Rancor tamer. Rumor has it Salacious must ply his trade by making Jabba laugh at least once a day or else his corpulent boss will eat him. A task he occasionally accomplishes by “accidentally” dropping slaves into the Rancor pit. Little else is known about Mr. Crumb other than he’s easily amused.

Salacious took down C3PO, but so could my three month old baby girl. The real testament is that he got his ass kicked by R2D2. R2D2, while feisty and tenacious, isn’t exactly the most nimble combatant.

Whereas Gollum is batshit, bird-eating crazy. He will straight-up kill you for looking at him cross-eyed. Just tell him you heard Salacious speak ill of the Precious and it’s over before it starts. The erstwhile Smeagol will unscrew the lizard monkey’s head the wrong way ‘round in psychotic revelry.

It’s brutal, short, and ugly.

Winner: Gollum, who still has time to pick out some matching shoes before the Promenade.




Middleweight Multimedia Spectacular



Continuing the countdown to Avatar Book 3: Fire:


Prince Zuko

versus


Commander Zhao

Fight!



Sweep the leg, Johnny!

Winner: Zuko, the Exile Prince




Thanks for joining us for tonight’s card.