Stupid Comics

George Brenner created some loser superheroes like 711, Destiny, and Just'n'Right, not to mention the laughable villain Brick Bat, but he did make the original super mecha Bozo The Robot, plus the very first comic book costumed superhero known as The Clock, so you have to take the bad with the good. One such bad character was shafted into The Clock's adventures was the boyish Little Orphan Annie wannabe, Butch. The Clock himself was Brian O'Brien, your average rich socialite who fought crime in his secret identity which is just a fine gentlemen's outfit with a black mask draped over his face. This might sound like dozens of other superheroes like Batman, but The Clock was the original character to use this motif in comics, bridging the gap between pulp fiction and comic book heroes. The Clock did have a partner nicknamed Pug who oddly enough looked similar to O'Brien, which would've been helpful if The Clock ever needed a stand-in to publicly pose as his civ...

For anyone who thought superheroes wore only flamboyant costumes that showed off way more skin than they should have, then they would have used Captain Truth as their poster child. Coming out in 1945, Cambridge House Publishers did about three one-shot mixed bag anthologies, one of which was Gold Medal Comics debuting the exuberant musketeer wannabe in his own single story. Ken Elliot is a teenage orphan who instead of becoming a millionaire's youthful ward lives in poverty, but at sometime in his life he gained the powers of flight, bullet immunity, and super senses, although how he got these extraordinary talents is a big mystery as there was no enchanted ring or magical lightning involved. Ken dawns an outfit with a cavalier hat complete with a feather, plus matching red trunks, boots, and gloves that fully exposes his chest and legs, while getting a little more comfort from a canary yellow cape. In his only ever tale calling himself Captain Truth, the boisterous boy hero flies ...

Aside from Charles Atlas, another bodybuilder persona that had a series of comic book advertisements was Mike Marvel. Now, whether or not Mike was related to any of the 8.5 Captain Marvels is up in the air, but he managed to have ever-changing ads in comics from the 1950s-70s. Mike was selling his book on what was only specialized stretches for just 10 minutes every day using his patented Dynaflex method. He claims that you can do this no weights at all or even any exercise, although stretching is itself a form of exercise. His book on isometrics says that when you're finished his course you could rip whole phone books apart, which doesn't do much good nowadays, plus the book largely exaggerates some of the superhuman feats you can accomplish simply by Mike's stretching techniques. The comic ad has details and testimonials that are shrunk down so small to the point you need a microscope to actually read it, but it makes a point to show that you can gets these life-changing ...

Comic books have been a source for promoting everything from politicians, sports, shoes, groceries, cooking, metals, and various other subjects, but during the 50s, the Helme Tobacco Company tried to coax kids into enjoying their glorious snuff products. Snuff-Man was the title given to this 16-page advertisement printed by cartoonist Vic Herman's studio, and it was also the nickname given to snuff salesman George who begins a long conversation with two boys, one of which is Leroy, the younger brother of a George's date Junie was picking up at home. Leroy asks why his sister calles him Snuff-Man as if he was a D-List superhero in a bad parody magazine, so George waxes on about the story of snuff and how it was practically the backbone of human civilization all thanks to Columbus' little boat trip. A ton of laughs are to be had into this revisionist history of snuff, including how weed has medicinal value, how the crown heads of Europe were able to make objective decisions a...

Long before the champion of Grayskull got the power, there was another to hold the mantle of He-Man. With only a single appearance in the one-shot Tally-Ho by the Bailey Publishing Company, this He-Man was really just another of those lovable lumbering lunkheads like Joe Palooka, Lil' Abner, or Ozark Ike who have the strength of an ox and a heart of gold. Drawn by veteran comic artist Charles Voight, the story opens in Snood, North Dakota as Sampson Hercules Muckles is a sheepherder who is lifting up his entire house just to get a better view, and he gets a letter from the granny he never knew he had. Gran'maw Nuckles tells Sampson that he is part of a lineage of circus strong men and his uncle Herman (nicknamed: He-Man) set up He-Man Inc., a school of physical education which she wants him to take over. Sampson has a phobia of metal, so Gran'maw gives him a special talisman his grandpa had in WWII that's supposed to make him impervious to metal. It turns out the talism...

Anyone who went to school in the 70s-80s might be familiar with McGraw Hill Inc. with all the stock educational short films they churned out, but one of their other branches has been running ads in comics for decades. The National Radio Institute started out in 1914 and was in business for 88 years teaching spry youngsters how to be a radiotician which advertised their thriving business in comic books, especially from the 40s-60s with ever-changing pitches for each generation. The founder James Ernest Smith appeared in nearly every ad where he would either be commanding you to join their institute like Uncle Sam for the US Army, others were a little more subtle where he says that "I will train you at home," like he was literally going to show up at your front door and give you a private lesson then hang around to sign autographs. One of the earlier NRI ads which ran in pulp magazines had James claiming that working in radio is "almost romance", although how romantic...