Let’s be honest: This whole Valentine’s Day business is kind of silly.

It’s a holiday so bogus that even the Roman Catholic Church — an organization that never passes up an opportunity to invent a holiday — took it off its official calendar way back in ’69. (I hear you snickering. Stop.) For the most part, Valentine’s Day continues to be perpetuated primarily by commercial interests — the See’s Candies, Vermont Teddy Bears, FTD Florists, and Hallmark Cards of the world.

But hey… it’s about love. Who doesn’t support love, am I right?

So, in honor of romance on this Valentine’s Day, let’s root through the galleries and cull out a few great images of loving couples from the comics.

Probably my favorite superhero love story of all time is that of Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, and the android Avenger known as the Vision. This unlikely pairing — the passionate Wanda and the cool, distant Vision — made for some terrific storytelling during the Bronze Age. Here, Geof Isherwood — one of the industry’s most underrated artists, in my opinion — takes a rough preliminary sketch by the legendary Frank Brunner and transforms it into a dynamic work of finished art.

Among the best romantic matchups of superhero and civilian was the longstanding marriage of Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and vivacious Mary Jane Watson (eventually Watson-Parker). I know a lot of fans preferred Peter with Gwen Stacy, but Gwen always seemed kind of dull to me. (The icy blondes typically are, unless you’re Alfred Hitchcock.) MJ was the kind of girl who would keep life interesting… which is why Peter married her, I think. I commissioned this beautifully drawn piece from New Mutants co-creator Bob McLeod.

The Superman-Wonder Woman romance was never really a thing in the actual comics until relatively recently. I’m still not sure that it works, but I do love this drawing — penciled by the late, much-missed Mike Wieringo, and inked by Richard Case.

Batman and Catwoman can’t decide whether they want to be a couple or not. At various times during the past several decades, their relationship has ranged all over the spectrum. Still, there’s probably not another pairing in comics with more raw intensity than Selina and Bruce. They’re captured here in a working moment by another monumental talent we lost too soon — Al Rio, with inks by Geof Isherwood.

The love affair of Green Lantern John Stewart and Hawkgirl originated in the DC Animated Universe, by way of the Justice League TV series. So far as I know, this relationship hasn’t crossed over to the comics page in a major way. For me, though, it remains one of the highlights of the DCAU lexicon. Wielding the pencil and pen here is artist Wilson “Wunan” Tortosa.

You’d have to be as ancient as I am to recall the days when the THUNDER Agents made their first foray into the spinner racks. Dynamo, the sometimes lunk-headed leader of the THUNDER crew, had an ongoing love-hate relationship with the villainous Iron Maiden (no relation to the heavy metal band of the same name). The duo gets wrapped up in a fighting clinch — or a passionate embrace; you be the judge — in this gorgeous tonal-pencil creation by Geof Isherwood.

Speaking of thunder, the last time I visited with the great Tony DeZuniga before his passing, he drew this powerful scenario starring Arak, Son of Thunder, and his paramour and comrade-in-arms Valda the Iron Maiden (no relation to the preceding). The couple that slays together, stays together. (Words to live by, right there.)

Friend reader, I hope that wherever you find yourself today, you’ll take a moment to let those you love — romantically, familially, platonically, or otherwise — know that they’re special to you. To quote an old Don Henley tune, there’s just not enough love in the world. So get on that, will you, please?

Here’s my personal Valentine shout-out to the two ladies in my life: my beloved Pirate Queen, and my pride and joy, The Daughter. I love you both — in your own unique ways, of course — truly, madly, and deeply.

And that’s your Comic Art Valentine’s Day.

I don’t remember how many years I’d been reading comics before I could distinguish the work of one artist from another. Given that I started reading comics as a first-grader, I’m guessing that recognition took quite a while. But by the time I was thinking about comics critically — say, around age nine or ten — I could readily spot certain artists with distinctive styles, and could form preferences for one creator’s work over another’s.

Part of the reason I gravitated more closely to Marvel comics in those formative years was the fact that Marvel gave its artists more individual license than did DC. For the most part, DC’s 1960s comics all looked similar — almost as though they were drawn by the same (supremely busy) hand. The company imposed a strict house style to which all of its artists were required to adhere. DC editorial wanted Superman to always look exactly like the established model of Superman, whether he was being drawn by Curt Swan in Action Comics, Kurt Schaffenberger in Lois Lane, or Dick Dillin in Justice League of America. (There’s an infamous story about how, when the legendary Jack Kirby moved from Marvel to DC in the early 1970s and took over the Jimmy Olsen comic, DC editorial had another artist, Al Plastino, redraw all of the heads on Kirby’s Superman figures to conform to house style.)

At Marvel, the concept of “house style” was practically nonexistent. Even though Kirby’s powerful action scenes set the standard, none of the other Marvel artists were forced to ape the King precisely. In fact, the three artists who formed Marvel’s core talent in the mid-’60s — Kirby, Steve Ditko, and John Romita Sr. — all drew quite differently from one another. Kirby’s art was muscular, propulsive, in-your-face bold; Ditko’s was stiff, quirky, and often fantastical; Romita’s sleek, prettified approach reflected his many years drawing romance comics.

As Marvel grew into the next decade, the company continued to add artists to its stable whose work immediately stood out from everyone else’s. From a young age, I could identify the splayed hands, twisted posture, and bizarre up-the-nostrils facial perspective of Gil Kane; the statuesque, graceful, almost neoclassical anatomy of John Buscema; the fine lines and haunted eyes of Jim Starlin’s characters; the intricate detail of Barry Windsor-Smith. Ditko’s Spider-Man looked nothing like Romita’s or Ross Andru’s or Kane’s, or any of the others who followed him (not to mention Kirby, who — at the risk of speaking sacrilege — couldn’t draw Spidey very well at all), and Marvel seemed okay with that.

Among the first artists whose work I could pick out of a lineup was Herb Trimpe, who throughout the late ’60s and early ’70s was the regular penciler on The Incredible Hulk. Trimpe’s style had a unique, almost Ditko-esque angularity, particularly when it came to faces, that no one else possessed. His Hulk more or less became the template for the character. Much as when I close my eyes and think “Batman,” I envision the Caped Crusader as drawn by Neal Adams or Jim Aparo, or when I think “Iron Man,” I see George Tuska’s or Bob Layton’s, the definitive image of the Hulk in my mind will always be Herb Trimpe’s.

The 2005 Common Elements commission by Trimpe seen at the top of this post was one of my earliest “big scores” as a collector, in terms of commissioning an artist of whom I’d been a fan since childhood and whom I regarded as a “big name.” Even now, I don’t think I have another commission by an artist whose work goes back as far in my memory. I’ve been fortunate to commission several other artists I enjoyed in my youth, but probably none earlier than Trimpe.

At the time of this commission, I thought it would be fun to have Herb draw Doc Samson, a Hulk supporting character he co-created with writer-editor Roy Thomas. (Why not the Hulk? you ask. Because everyone asks Herb to draw the Hulk, I reply.) Of course, the natural Common Elements pairing would be another Doc — Savage, of pulp, comics, and kitschy ’70s film renown. Herb threw me for a loop, though, when he asked me what I wanted the characters to be doing in the drawing. As longtime Comic Art Friday readers know, I prefer to allow artists I commission to dream up their own scenarios, figuring that their ideas will almost invariably be superior to my own. But, since Herb asked, I suggested the arm-wrestling bit.

This remains one of just a couple of Common Elements pieces in which I had any input into the scenario design, beyond selecting the characters and artist. The only others that come to mind are Bob Budiansky’s Ghost Rider / Batgirl matchup, and Gene Gonzales’s “Catfight of the Bands.” Even in those pieces, everything beyond the one-phrase concepts “motorcycle race” and “battle of the bands” came from the imaginations of the respective artists, not from me.

That’s probably for the best.

Some three years after this commission was completed, I connected in person with Herb at a local comics convention. It was a rare treat to be able to thank him, face to face, both for this particular artwork and for all of his creations that I’ve enjoyed over the years. Herb even posed with his masterpiece for this photo.

There’s an interesting sidelight to the Herb Trimpe story. Herb worked for Marvel for a phenomenally long time, spanning the mid-1960s into the 1990s. Late in his Marvel tenure, his drawing style changed rather drastically, reflecting the line-intensive approach favored by then-popular artists such as Todd McFarlane, Jim Lee, and Rob Liefeld. Opinions differ as to whether Trimpe evolved his style on his own, as artists frequently do — think of Picasso’s many “periods,” for example; or, to choose a comics-related parallel, the stark switch in Bill Sienkiewicz’s style away from its early Neal Adams influences to something bordering on abstract — or whether he was pressured by Marvel editorial to stop drawing “old school” and come up with a more “up to date” look.

I don’t know which is true; perhaps the reality contains an element of both. As you can see in the drawing featured here, Herb’s recent approach is an amalgam of classic Trimpe and his latter-period comics work.

That, too, is probably for the best.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Here’s a little something that I’ve owned for a couple of years now, but that somehow has never found its way into a Comic Art Friday post before today.

It’s Black Canary, one of the most venerable comic book superheroines, as rendered by the perspicacious Aldrin Aw, better known to the comics world by the nom de plume Buzz. (If you think about it for a moment, you’ll figure it out.) I acquired this artwork second-hand via an eBay auction, so even though Buzz annotated it “Baltimore ’06,” you may rest assured that I was nowhere near Baltimore in ’06. Therefore, whatever might have gone down there then, I cannot be held responsible.

Black Canary fascinates me, if for no other reason than that she has survived an incredibly long career in comics — she first appeared in Flash Comics #86 in 1947 — without being a particularly interesting or remarkable character. I don’t mean that at all unkindly; as I’ve noted, I’m a fan. It’s just that in any group, someone has to represent the average, the median, the merely competent. When it comes to superheroines, Black Canary falls into that broad central swath.

In her initial incarnation, Black Canary was nothing more than a carbon copy of another popular Golden Age heroine, Harvey Comics’ Black Cat. The two characters had obviously connected code names, wore similar costumes, had similar talents (both were martial arts experts who rode motorcycles), and were frequently drawn by the same artist, the great Lee Elias. As time progressed, the Canary gained a few points of distinction. In 1948, she became the second female member, after Wonder Woman, of the Justice Society of America; the Canary’s Silver Age incarnation would likewise follow Diana into the Justice League in 1969. Also in the Silver Age, the Canary gained a superpower — the Canary Cry, an ultrasonic scream that wreaked havoc on her opponents. (Although it didn’t induce psychedelic hallucinations in its victims, like that of Daredevil’s nemesis Angar the Screamer. Cool though that would have been.)

For the past several decades, Black Canary has been romantically linked to Green Arrow, probably because one way to make two rather nondescript characters stronger is to pair them up. (Again, I don’t mean that as an insult. Green Arrow has always been among my favorite DC heroes. But seriously… he’s a guy who shoots arrows.) The two have been coupled — sometimes married, sometimes not — since the early 1970s. Their stormy relationship has proven to be one of comics’ most enduring love stories, and is a significant part of both characters’ charm.

And speaking of charms…

Can we talk about fishnet stockings for just a moment?

Fishnets have been an identifying hallmark of Black Canary’s costume since her origin. I’m not sure exactly why that is; they hardly seem a practical addition to one’s battle attire. (The Canary’s predecessor and template, the Black Cat, wore buccaneer boots identical to Canary’s, but no hose or tights.) I can only think of one other superheroine who has worn fishnets with any degree of regularity, and that’s Zatanna — for whom it makes sense, because her costume is basically what she wears in her civilian career as a stage magician. (Dr. Strange’s companion Clea wears patterned tights that can, depending on the artist who’s drawing them, look somewhat like fishnets. But they aren’t.)

I’ve always thought the Canary’s fishnets just seemed odd and out of place. The leather jacket and boots I understand — she rides a motorcycle, after all. But why would a top-flight expert in hand-to-hand combat opt for pantyhose from Frederick’s of Hollywood? It boggles the mind. Fishnets seem particularly ill-chosen for a character on a bike. You might want to think about some sturdy trousers there, Ms. Lance. Thighs can be delicate equipment.

For the record, I don’t much care for the look of stockings — fishnet or otherwise — on women in real life, either. I’m probably in the minority here. It’s a taste thing.

I do know that many artists dislike drawing Black Canary specifically because they hate sketching in all those tiny crosshatched lines on her stockings. Several times over the years, I’ve been wandering through Artists’ Alley at a comics convention when a patron requested a drawing of Black Canary, and watched as the artist’s eyes rolled back into (usually his) head. In fact, I recall one occasion where an artist — whom I won’t mention by name, because I like the guy and don’t want to make him sound like a jerk, which he definitely is not — stared pointedly at the customer and grumbled in a weary tone, “Black Canary? Really? Can I just draw her from the waist up?”

One other peculiar note about Black Canary: She is — or at least was, in her original incarnation — one of the most prominent avatars of Clark Kent Syndrome aside from Superman himself. I refer, of course, to the fact that Superman goes about his heroic business with his face unmasked, and yet somehow when he dons Clark Kent’s spectacles, no one recognizes that he’s Superman. (I once read an article that suggested that the Kent protocol works because every nonsuper person in the DC Universe is a complete idiot. There may be some validity to this theory.)

Black Canary’s case was even more extreme. A natural brunette, she disguised herself for crimefighting duty not by covering her face, but by putting on a blonde wig. Just imagine if Tina Turner or Dolly Parton had been superheroines. No one would have ever sussed out their identities. Come to think of it, I’m not entirely certain that Tina Turner isn’t a superhero. More thought required.

For what it’s worth, I think the current iteration of Black Canary is actually blonde 100% of the time. Or as blonde as most blondes are in American culture, anyway. At any rate, I believe she’s wig-free.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

It’s often noted — and correctly so — that superhero costumes as depicted on the comic book page rarely work if translated exactly to a live-action medium.

Even though some fans howled when director Bryan Singer completely retooled those characters’ iconic outfits for the first X-Men film, it was without question the right choice. Yellow-and-blue spandex just isn’t a good look in live action, while black leather pretty much always looks awesome.

In the same way, most of the Marvel Studios-produced films (in contrast to X-Men, which is a Fox property) have tweaked the heroes’ haberdashery in ways that make perfect sense — Thor, Iron Man, and especially Captain America look quite different on camera than in print, but remain instantly recognizable even as they adopt more realistic colors and materials. Seriously, did anyone really need to see a purple-clad Hawkeye sporting a harlequin mask in The Avengers? Didn’t think so.

Here’s a more subtle example of that principle.

I’ve always been fond of superheroine costume designs that incorporate a skirt. To my eye, a skirt reflects grace and ease of movement. Artist Ben Dunn, best known as the creator of Ninja High School, illustrates that quality to perfection in this drawing of Wonder Woman.

But now, try to imagine this costume being worn by a real-life Diana. Every time she flew, she’d be offering a display of her nether regions — or at the very least, her underwear, assuming that Amazons wear underwear — to friend and foe below. Not exactly what “in her satin tights, fighting for our rights” is supposed to imply.

That’s a good part of the reason why I’ve always liked Supergirl’s costume from the mid-1970s, seen here in a lovely drawing by Michael Dooney of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fame.

Yes, to the 21st century viewer, Kara’s hot pants appear dated. They are, however, practical from both the visual and combat perspectives. She can move in them with complete freedom, while keeping her business out of everyone’s noses, so to speak.

(Before you argue that long pants would be even more practical in battle, I will remind you that Supergirl is Kryptonian, and therefore invulnerable. Unlike a human heroine, her legs do not require protection from the elements, or from an opponent’s weaponry. Wonder Woman’s current powers also include invulnerability — her original skill set did not, hence her bullet-deflecting bracelets — which is among several reasons why her recent experiment with full-leg trousers simply didn’t make sense.)

A lot of folks mistakenly believe that Wonder Woman’s original costume, recalled most famously from H. G. Peter’s cover art for Sensation Comics #1, included a star-spangled skirt.

It’s hard to tell in this particular drawing, but in fact, the lower half of this costume is a voluminous pair of culottes — what we often call “skorts” in today’s fashion parlance. They combined the visual appeal of a flowing skirt with reduced potential for inadvertent overexposure.

Either Peter got tired of drawing the culottes or the All-American Comics editorial staff dictated against them, because a very brief (no pun intended) time later, they evolved into the form-fitting bicycle-style shorts that Wonder Woman wore throughout the remainder of the Golden Age and into the 1950s — also a fine practical option.

Aesthetically, though, you’ve got to admit that Diana really rocks a good skirt.

Maybe another time we can address the bustier.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

LearnedLeague season 60 (hereafter, LL60) has concluded, with a grand time had by all 1824 trivia mavens who participated.

For the benefit of those new to the conversation, the greater League is divided into eight (soon to be nine) smaller leagues (formerly known as subregions). Within each league is a tiered system of player groups called Rundles, consisting of between 22 and 32 players. (The ideal Rundle size is 26, which allows for each player to face every other player in the Rundle exactly once during the 25-game season.)

The eight A Rundles — one in each league — form the top level of competition. Before LL60, only four A Rundles existed, with the most lethal being A West — nicknamed “A Murder” for the frighteningly high skill level among its members, many of whom were Jeopardy! all-stars, crossword puzzle superstars, and world-class quiz champions. For the season just concluded, in an effort to spread the best players around a bit more, each of the previous A Rundles was split into two. The former A West morphed into A Central — my new home for LL60 — and A Pacific.

I finished 7th in the newly established Rundle A Central, with a record of 13-4-8. That’s a significantly improved showing over my last season in the late, unlamented A Murder, when I ended up 26th of 30 players, with a record of 3-9-13. (Two of those three wins came on the last two Match Days of the season. It could, therefore, have been even uglier than it was.)

Or is it?

As interesting as it is to follow the head-to-head match totals that determine one’s standing within the Rundle, as a trivia purist I’m far more interested in that most basic of statistics: How many questions did I answer correctly? In this case, the answer is not as many as last season. In LL60, I scored 124 (of a possible 150) correct responses, for a batting average of .827. That’s not at all shabby. But in LL59 — the last season of A West — I notched 133 correct, a percentage of .887. This means that, with nine fewer correct answers this season over the previous, I gained 19 places in the standings.

It’s worth noting that I had the same correct answer total this season as I did in my first season in A West (LL57). That season, I finished in 8th place. In each of the next two seasons, my level of accuracy went up slightly — I had 125 correct (.833) in LL58, then the previously mentioned 133 (.887) in LL59 — even as I plummeted in the Rundle rankings: 17th in LL58, 26th in LL59. You can see the reason for this by looking at the ever-growing number of correct answers given by my opponents: 115 in LL57, jumping up to 122 in LL58, then a stratospheric 135 in LL59. Over the three seasons, even while my accuracy was getting marginally better, my competitors were consistently getting even better still.

Now you see just how freaking difficult it was to play among the monsters in A Murder.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not complaining. A Central is plenty tough just as it is. But I’m under no illusion that my season-to-season record improved in LL60 because I suddenly got a lot smarter. I have the newly diluted competitive environment to thank.

It’s certainly not my defense. My defensive efficiency dropped this season to .671, from .692 in LL59. (We’ve already seen how well that latter number worked out for me. Which is to say, not much at all.) I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will probably always be a mediocre defensive player, given that I have little desire to spend hours poring over my respective opponents’ question histories in an effort to more effectively divine what they may or may not know.

Anyway, the bottom line is that I managed to avoid relegation to the B level for yet another season, granting myself at least one more go at the A level.

LL61 begins on May 12.

I never think in advance about what one of my Common Elements artworks will look like when I commission it. As I’ve written on other occasions, much of the fun for me is the surprise of seeing how an artist decided to use the characters I assigned.

In the case of today’s spotlight piece, however, I did have one thought: How will Dheeraj Verma make NFL SuperPro not look lame?

Because NFL SuperPro just might be the lamest superhero in the history of comics.

At the very least, he’s in the top three.

Sir Alec Issigonis, the man responsible for the British car we know today as the Mini, once said, “A camel looks like a horse that was planned by a committee.” NFL SuperPro looks like a superheroic camel dreamed up by a sports marketing firm. And not a top-shelf sports marketing firm — a midlevel agency trying to get in good with the biggest dog in American professional sports, the National Football League.

You can almost imagine the conversation…

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if, like, a football player became a superhero?”

“Yeah, but not just a football player… like, the literal embodiment of the NFL.”

“Dude, I think you’re onto something! And what if this NFL superhero had, like, his own Marvel comic book? Y’know, with Spider-Man or Wolverine or whoever guest-starring?”

[Pregnant pause]

“Make the phone call.”

I don’t know for sure that’s how it went down, but I’m probably not all that far off.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. If NFL SuperPro is so completely ridiculous, why are you using him in a Common Elements commission?

Because, friend reader, that’s the magic of Common Elements. The element of surprise. Bringing together characters you’d never expect to see in the same frame — perhaps even a character or two that you’d ever expect to see, period.

And because, hey — the very idea that Marvel actually published nine issues of a comic book about NFL SuperPro makes me chuckle. I mean, what could be sillier? MLB Bat-Man? NHL Iceman? Luke Cage as a literal cage match fighter? (Wait… I actually like that one.)

For an example of a professional-athlete-turned-costumed-crusader done right — or at least, less wrong — there’s Wildcat. Although he’s a perennial C-lister, Wildcat holds a place alongside some of the longest-running superheroes in comics. He first appeared in July 1942′s Sensation Comics #1 — the very same issue made famous as the debut of Wonder Woman. If nothing else, Wildcat stands the test of time.

When he’s not running around dressed like a ginormous black cat, Ted Grant is a retired heavyweight boxing champion and expert martial artist. (Because if you’re a superhero, and don’t have superhuman abilities, martial arts expertise is de rigeur.) A longtime member of the Justice Society of America — formerly the alternate-Earth version of the Justice League, now more like a mentorship program in which older heroes show younger crimebusters the ropes — Ted has helped train several up-and-comers, most notably the current iteration of Black Canary.

At various times, Ted has also shared the Wildcat identity with junior heroes. A young woman named Yolanda Montez became Wildcat for a while in the 1980s. Later, Ted’s long-estranged son Tom Bronson morphs into a werecat (I kid you not) and joins his dad in the JSA, both of them calling themselves Wildcat. Tom eventually opts to be known as “Tomcat” instead, which is both less confusing and more comical at the same time.

It’s a good thing that artist Verma chose to depict these two athlete-avengers as fighting on the same side. Should there ever be a battle between Wildcat and NFL SuperPro, Wildcat will kick SuperPro’s hindquarters nine ways from Sunday.

Why?

Because NFL SuperPro is lame.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

I’ve been pumping out these Comic Art Friday posts for so long — nearly a decade now — that it’s easy to lose track of when I featured certain pieces from my collection. Today’s premiere of the new film Captain America: The Winter Soldier inspired me to dig back into the archives for these two artworks by Bob Layton that I last showcased together seven years ago.

Heck, iPhones were just barely a thing then.

These two Layton creations stand apart in my Common Elements commission theme because they remain, to date, the only paired pieces in that theme that feature the same two characters — albeit under different guises and in different costumes, and matched together because of entirely different commonalities. In both works, we see the familiar characters Steve Rogers and Michael Jon Carter. Beyond that, things get a teeny bit weird.

In this first piece, we see Steve and Michael in their best-known identities — Captain America and Booster Gold, respectively. The title I’ve given this one — “Out of Time” — suggests one common element shared by these heroes: both are men who find themselves in a time-period not their own. Cap, of course, is the hero from the past, having been frozen in suspended animation from World War II until the modern day. Booster comes to the present timeline from the distant future; specifically, the 25th century. Part of the appeal of each character is watching his adaptation to his new temporal location.

The second piece once again presents Steve and Michael, only this time in costumes each wore only briefly. The erstwhile Booster Gold assumed the pseudonym Supernova during the events of DC Comics’ weekly publication, 52. (2006-2007). Steve Rogers, saddened by the political turmoil of the early-to-middle 1970s, temporarily abandoned his role as Captain America, taking on the nationally ambiguous title Nomad for several months (as chronicled in Captain America and the Falcon, issues 180-184). Thus, I’ve titled this drawing “By Any Other Name” to highlight the fact that its subjects were better known by… well… other names.

Needless to say — but I’ll go ahead and say it anyway — Bob Layton did some stellar work on both of these pieces, which he completed in June and October 2007. For me, Layton is one of the quintessential Marvel inkers of the late 1970s through the 1980s, most notably for his two lengthy runs on Iron Man during that period. You can see here that he’s also an outstanding penciler. Bob went on to pivotal roles in three comics publishers that he co-founded: Valiant, Acclaim, and Future Comics. Most recently, he’s been involved with several film projects as a writer and producer.

These two artworks remind me that none of us are just one person. We are each several differing personalities, or at least facets of personality,wrestling for control of a common body. I don’t mean that in a pathological sense. It’s simply that we’re all more than a single identifier can describe. Inside every Steve Rogers, there resides both a Captain America and a Nomad. Inside every Michael Carter, there lives both a Booster Gold and a Supernova. Every Jean Grey is both a Marvel Girl and a Phoenix. Every Janet Van Dyne Pym owns several dozen Wasp costumes, but is always uniquely herself no matter which outfit she wears.

If you ask me who I am, I’m many things. Professionally, I’m a writer, a voice actor, and a  public speaker. Personally, I’m both a husband and a widower; both a father and a bastard child; an American, and an ethnically diverse citizen of the greater Planet Earth. I’m a Jeopardy! champion, a pop culture geek, a sports fanatic, and a collector of comic art.

And even that multifaceted list is merely the tip of the all-too-human iceberg that is me. You have a myriad list yourself, I’ll imagine.

All of which keeps life –and ourselves — in continuous reevaluation and evolution.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

I’m taking a 10-week workshop on improvisational acting at the American Conservatory Theater. It’s an opportunity to expand my actor’s toolbox –learning to be more spontaneous and less patterned in my approach. Thus far, it’s been fun, enlightening, and a bit scary — in a beneficial way — as well.

One of the key tenets of improv is the acceptance of offers or gifts. No matter what the idea or inspiration your acting partner presents to you (that’s an “offer”), you receive it enthusiastically — you always say “YES!” to whatever the other actor throws at you. More than that, you have to take the offer one step further, adding something of your own to it. So, it’s more than merely saying “YES!” to your partner’s idea, it’s saying “YES! AND… here’s another idea to go along with that.” With each actor continually saying “YES! AND…,” the scene grows and builds, and takes on a life of its own. (Saying “NO!” either overtly, or through subconscious resistance to the offer, stonewalls the creative process.) In a nutshell, that’s what improv is — constantly accepting offers and adding something new, which in turn earns a “YES! AND…” from the next actor.

Comic art, it occurs to me, is a lot like improvisational acting.

In a published comic, several artists contribute to the creation of what the reader sees on the printed page: the writer, who conceives the story and composes the dialogue and captions; the penciler, who draws the panels and the action that takes place within them; the inker, who refines the pencil art and finishes it in ink; the colorist, who colors the art; and the letterer, who drafts the words as they appear on the page. (Of course, some or all of these functions may be performed by the same individual. There might also be some overlap — for example, the writer and penciler may collaborate to a greater or lesser degree on the design of the page. But for the sake of our discussion, let’s suppose that each is a different person.)

If you think about it, this development process is a series of “YES! AND…” situations. The writer gives an offer or gift to the penciler in the form of a script. (If the writer is working “Marvel Method,” the script at this point may be little more than a plot outline. Or, if there’s a full script involved, the writer may verbally diagram the content of each panel.) The penciler takes the script and says “YES! AND…” adds pictures to visualize the story. The penciled pages go next to the inker, who says “YES! AND…” embellishes what the penciler has drawn. The colorist and letterer “YES! AND…” the inked art with their respective additions in turn. The end result is a composition of words, lines, colors, and letters that reflects each artist’s unique contribution, but is likely far different from what any one of them might have envisioned alone.

The same principle applies in commissioned art, although usually with fewer parties involved. The client gives an idea to the artist, who in this case will certainly serve as penciler, but may — depending on the agreement — also add inking, coloring, and perhaps even lettering. The artist says “YES! AND…” to the client’s concept, and adds the visuals. Other artists might be commissioned to add ink or color or lettering to the original pencil art as well, bringing even more “YES! AND…” into the mix.

I find this endlessly fascinating. As a collector, I’m the first offer-maker. The “YES! AND…” of the pencil artist takes my offer in directions I might never have anticipated. Sometimes, I’ll pass a penciled commission on to an inker, whose “YES! AND…” imbues the art with yet other unexpected dimensions.

Consider the series of images in this post.

I gave pencil artist Dave Hoover (who, sad to say, has since passed) an offer: What if Phoenix (a.k.a. Jean Grey) from the X-Men and Looker (a.k.a. Emily Briggs) from the Outsiders — two heroines with telekinetic powers who each underwent transformative changes at one point — got together to hang out?

Dave said, “YES! AND… what if they met in an old courtyard with painted brick walls, and potted plants as decoration? And what if they posed with Emily kneeling, and Jean standing hipshot behind her?” So, he drew that.

Then inker Bob Almond said, “YES! AND… what if the light on the courtyard fell from this angle, making the shadows cast by the women and the objects fall this way? And what if the wall was textured like this, and the characters’ costumes were textured like this?” Then he inked the piece to show all of that.

And then colorist Blake Wilkie (whose involvement was yet another “YES! AND…” on Bob Almond’s part) said, “YES! AND… what if the walls were painted this color, and beneath the paint the bricks were this color, and the plants and pots were these colors, and the light had this kind of effect on everything?” When he finished working his magic, all of that happened.

To all of which I said, “YES! AND… that looks pretty darned awesome.” Because it did.

Sometimes, when I page through my art collection, I find myself wishing that I could draw as wonderfully as the artists I’ve commissioned. But then I realize that, if I did all of the drawing myself, then everything on each page would be mine — every concept, every character, every figure, every line. Every artwork would be exactly what arose from my own thoughts and talents — nothing more.

It’s far more interesting to me simply to make the initial offer, and let others surprise me with their special brand of “YES! AND…”

“YES! AND…” that’s your Comic Art Friday.

It’s always the most difficult question to answer…

WHY?

And yet, it’s the question that shapes so many of our thoughts, impulses, and actions. Even when we don’t know the answer.

On my iPad, I use a news aggregator called Zite. (I probably won’t be using it for much longer, because a couple of months ago, Zite was purchased by its competitor Flipboard, which will probably extinguish its new acquisition sometime in the near future.)

Here’s how Zite works: It serves up a smorgasbord of links to articles from around the Internet – articles it believes you will want to read, based on your stated interests. For each article that appears, you have the option of giving a “thumbs up,” meaning “show me more articles like this,” or “thumbs down,” which of course means the opposite. The aggregator internalizes that information, and adjusts its future selections according to what you’ve indicated that you liked or didn’t like.

On the whole, Zite performs this function relatively well – which is, of course, why a competitor bought it. But there’s an inherent weakness in its processing…

Zite never knows WHY.

Let’s take a random article from my current Zite feed: “Apple Reportedly Acquiring Beats for $3.2 Billion.” Now suppose I gave this article a “thumbs up.” Zite, in its uniquely algorithmic way, would think, “Aha! He likes this! Let’s send him more stuff just like it!”

But how does it know what to send? It has no idea why I “liked” this particular article.

Here’s a list of some of the hypothetical reasons I might have given this a “thumbs up,” just off the top of my head:

•  I’m an Apple stockholder, so I’m materially interested in news about the company.
• I use Beats headphones, so I want to know whether the events described in this article will impact my ability to keep buying and using this product.
• I’m a fan of Dr. Dre, the co-founder of Beats, so I like knowing what the good Doctor is up to.
• I’m a gadgetoholic, and I devour anything tech related.
• I’m a professional musician, so the future of streaming media directly impacts my livelihood. (One of the reasons it’s thought that Apple wanted to buy Beats is because Apple covets Beats’s new streaming music service.)
• I like the site The Next Web, where this article is published.
• Josh Ong, the author of the article, was a college buddy of mine, so I want to read everything he writes.

These are but a few of the possible reasons I might flag this article positively. I could probably come up with a dozen more if I kept pondering the matter. But the point is that Zite has no way of knowing which of these – or which several of them, or perhaps even none of them – is my real reason. (None of the above is true for me, incidentally. Okay, I might be a bit of a gadgetoholic. But not enough to care about Beats.)

Now, based on its interpretation of my feedback, Zite might show me more articles about Apple, about Beats headphones, about technology, about Dr. Dre, about streaming media, published by The Next Web, or written by the author of this article.

Or it might send me articles that meet any or all of these criteria, since it doesn’t really know which answer is correct, and it wants to cover all possible bases.

Which could mean that, instead of me getting more content that I want to read, I could conceivably be overwhelmed by a tsunami of content that doesn’t address my real interests.

All because Zite doesn’t know WHY.

This is the same issue that continually befouls Facebook’s ridiculous attempts to manage what posts – and what advertising – I as a Facebook user see. If I “like” something, Facebook’s algorithms will decide to show me more of what I “like.” But since Facebook hasn’t a clue WHY I “liked” that item, it could be making horrendously incorrect assumptions about my preferences, and therefore choosing to present content that I don’t care to see, while at the same time hiding from me content that would genuinely interest me, had I the opportunity to view it.

Which is, by the way, what almost always happens.

All because Facebook doesn’t know WHY.

This problem isn’t limited to our online apps and tools. We encounter this same roadblock in all manner of human interaction. Every moment we’re around other people – in the real world or in cyberspace – we take note of the words they speak or write, and the actions they manifest, and make judgments based thereon. But because we have such a hard time evaluating WHY people say what they say and do what they do, we often misjudge each other.

Complicating the problem is this…

We don’t always know WHY, even when the subject is ourselves.

I’m reminded of a story a friend once told. When he and his younger brother were preteens, their father severely chastised the younger brother for jumping up and down on his bed – risking his own safety and the structural integrity of the bed. The father made it clear that harsh punishment would ensue if the younger brother got caught jumping on the bed again.

Moments after the father left the room, the younger brother resumed his trampoline act. “Didn’t you hear what Dad just said? He’s gonna tan your hide!” whispered my panicked friend. “Why are you doing what he just told you not to do?”

The brother continued pogoing for a minute. Then, without stopping, he replied in mid-bounce, “I don’t know.”

We’ve all been that younger brother.

Inquiring minds want to know: What does any of this have to do with comic art?

Perhaps not much.

But then, there’s this.

When I post a piece of art from my collection here, or when you peruse my online galleries if you’re so inclined, you might make any number of assumptions based on that piece or group of pieces. You might theorize several reasons why I commissioned or purchased that artwork – could be the subject; could be the artist; could be that the scenario depicted holds some personal meaning for me; could be all of the above; could be any number of things.

Unless I tell you, you’ll never know for sure WHY.

Sometimes, I might not know WHY myself.

As for today’s featured artwork: That’s Saturn Girl, from the Legion of Super-Heroes, as drawn by the talented Paul Abrams.

No big WHY here… I just kind of like it.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Last weekend brought us the Bay Area’s biggest annual comics-related event: Big Wow ComicFest at the San Jose Convention Center. (Of course, the Bay Area used to have an even bigger annual comics-related event called WonderCon. But don’t get me started on that.)

For me, as a comic art collector, a convention marks my best opportunity to interface one-on-one with artists and add new artworks — commissioned on the spot — to my collection. Many artists, due to their schedules for publication projects, only find time for commissions at cons. Even with those artists who regularly do commissions out of their home studios, there’s something special about being able to watch a drawing take shape in real time, and to make a personal connection with the creator as the magic happens.

Big Wow 2014 delivered on that score, and on several others. This con continues to expand and improve each year, filling the WonderCon void aptly. But even as Big Wow grows, it maintains its focus on comics and comic art — in contrast to the big daddy of cons, San Diego Comic-Con, and its smaller sibling WonderCon, whose foci have gone mass-market Hollywood in recent years. Big Wow’s comics- and comic art-friendliness can be traced directly to its owners, Steve Morger and Steve Wyatt, who are themselves fans, art collectors, and artists’ representatives.

I went into this year’s con with specific objectives, and almost without exception, I achieved them. As you scroll through the rest of this post, clicking on any of the photos will take you to a closer scan of the art depicted. Trust me — you’ll want to see these pieces in detail.

My first priority was an Isis commission by Brian Stelfreeze, who drew Mary Marvel for me at Big Wow last year. I pitched the idea to Brian’s art representative in advance of the show, and serendipitously, Brian turns out to be almost as enthusiastic an Isis fan as I am. In fact, Brian had just recently discussed Isis with a friend during a trip to Australia. He loved the idea of doing a drawing of her — so much so that he stayed at his table working on it more than an hour after the con closed on Sunday. Here’s the proud artist with the result of his creative efforts. (You can check out a YouTube video of Brian at work on Isis, here.)

I’ve had a running joke with Aaron Lopresti about the fact that I always seem to miss getting a commission from him. At every opportunity, I dutifully add my name to Aaron’s sketch list. For four straight con seasons, I’ve fallen a slot or two shy of the goal. At last year’s Big Wow, Aaron was working on the request immediately above mine on the list as the con concluded. He told me to remind him of that the next time I saw him, and he’d be sure to take care of me. This year, Aaron was as good as his word — this lovely Mary Marvel helped take the sting out of my five-year Lopresti drought.

David “BroHawk” Williams is one of the most underrated talents in comics, in my opinion, as well as one of the nicest people I’ve met in my convention experiences. Although David wasn’t sporting his trademark hairstyle this year, he still came through with a stunning Ms. Marvel. When I showed David’s creation to a pair of fellow collectors, one said, “That should be a cover image.” The other had but one word: “Iconic.” I can’t argue with either assessment. I’ve been telling David for years that he doesn’t charge enough for his con commissions. Even though he bumped his prices up this year, I still feel as though I picked his pocket, given the labor of love he poured into this one.

My Common Elements theme gallery gained two new additions — Common Elements #118 and #119, respectively. Ron Lim, one of the artists who first inspired this series, contributed a matchup of two animal-themed heroines, Vixen and the Golden Age iteration of the Black Cat. These two characters share at least a couple of other commonalities: (1) both of their alter egos are in show business (Mari “Vixen” McCabe is a model in non-costumed life; Linda “Black Cat” Turner is an actress and stunt performer); and (2) both are characters for whom I had reference images on hand and for whom I could concoct a “common element” on the fly. Seriously… I didn’t plan this one ahead of time. Sometimes, you just have to improvise. (As you can see in the photo above, Ron is already embarking on a self-cloning project that will ensure new Lim art into the next generation.)

The second Common Elements came with much more forethought. I’ve long wanted a commission from Chris Marrinan, but it seemed as though every con passed without my having connected with him. This time, I came with a project tailor-made for Chris: a scenario starring Nova the Human Rocket (whose adventures Chris both drew and wrote in the mid-1990s), Marvel’s “other” Nova (Frankie Raye, former herald of Galactus — Frankie appears in non-powered form in the second Fantastic Four movie), and Nova Kane, girlfriend of First Comics hero E-Man. Chris did a terrific job on his “triple Nova” assignment. (Credit an assist to Ron Lim, who provided the art board on which Chris’s commission is drawn.)

Some years back, Tone Rodriguez contributed a Wonder Woman drawing to a charity auction that I immediately fell in love with. Which means, of course, that I got outbid at the last minute and the piece went home with someone else. Turns out that artwork was a favorite of Tone’s also, as I discovered while chatting with him at Big Wow. It still rankles me that I missed out on that Wonder Woman, but I love this Taarna that Tone drew for me almost as much.

There are two prominent comics artists who could sign their work “D. Johnson” — Dave and Drew. (Neither of them actually signs that way. But they could.) Both were in attendance at Big Wow this year, and both added stellar new art to my portfolio. First up, “Reverend Dave” Johnson — he’s an ordained Methodist minister — channels the 1970s in his Supergirl drawing.

Next, Drew Johnson imbues his Lady Blackhawk pinup with heroic flair. Somehow, I missed getting a picture of Drew with his artwork. My only excuse is that I picked it up first thing on the morning of the con’s second day, and I probably hadn’t had sufficient coffee. Please be advised that Drew is a fine-looking specimen of a human being, and the absence of his photo is not in any way intended to reflect otherwise. Mea culpa.

I’m a huge fan of Steve Mannion‘s work. He’s that rare comics artist whose distinctive style can’t be mistaken for anyone else’s — when you see a Mannion, you know instantly that Steve drew it. This gorgeous pinup of the Golden Age Valkyrie (aviator hero Airboy’s sometime-nemesis, sometime-ally) will always be special to me for a reason beyond its inherent beauty: Steve drew it on his wedding day. He and his longtime partner Una were married elsewhere in the convention hall mere minutes before I snapped this photograph.

When I saw this drawing of the modern Black Cat by artist Cat Staggs, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to add a “Cat by Cat” to my collection. Cat — the artist, not the comics character — does some absolutely beautiful work, much of it for the various Star Wars comics. One of these days, I’m going to persuade her to draw a Common Elements piece.

As hard as it is to imagine, Big Wow 2014 offered several highlights even above and beyond all of the fantastic art I acquired.

Eight years ago, Darick Robertson drew the 42nd installment of Common Elements during a signing at the Comic Book Box, the fine retail shop owned by my friend (and current Eisner Awards judge) Kathy Bottarini. (You can view a YouTube video of Darick at work on the piece, here.) I thought it would be fun to get a photo of Darick with his creation all this time later. When he saw the piece, Darick immediately recalled it, and the circumstances in which he had drawn it. Neither he nor the art have changed one bit in eight years. Nor have I. (Ahem.)

I took some time to watch Frank Cho paint (above) and Brent Anderson ink (below), in live art demonstrations.

The Pirate Queen (who accompanied me on Day Two) and I met one of our favorite comics creators, Terry Moore, and his wife and publisher Robyn. Terry graciously autographed both volumes of my Strangers in Paradise Omnibus (I spared him the chore of signing all 30 issues of Echo) and the Pirate Queen’s Rachel Rising trades.

I got my Xenozoic compilation volume signed by Mark Schultz. Sadly, I can only afford Mark’s incredible artwork when it’s published in book form.

Throughout the two days, I visited with several other artists I’ve met at previous cons, many of whose works are represented in my collection.

I also met in person for the first time several fellow collectors whom I know from various online forums. It’s always good to put faces and voices to names.

All in all, Big Wow 2014 offered all the excitement that its name implied. I’m already looking forward to next year!

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

In my online gallery at Comic Art Fans, there’s a page I call — for lack of a better term — “The Coed Room.” It’s the place where I file random artworks that feature some combination of male and female characters.

Some of the pieces in this section are group shots — the Barry Kitson Justice League sketch, for example, or my Suicide Squad commission by Geof Isherwood. Others are pairings of related characters — the Superman and Supergirl piece by Al Rio and Bob Almond fits this category, as do the two pinups starring Doc Savage and his cousin Pat, by Darryl Banks and Ernie Chan.

Several of the Coed Room items, however, are what I would term “couples shots” — depictions of male and female characters who have been romantically linked at some point. Here’s the latest addition to this particular category: an action scene showcasing the high-flying Rocketeer and his lovely paramour, as drawn by a talented artist from the Philippines named Brian Balondo.

You’ll notice at the top of the page that Brian titled this piece “Rocketeer and Jenny.” If you know the history of these characters, you’ll get a chuckle out of that. Jenny Blake was the name given to the female lead in the 1991 Disney film The Rocketeer; in the movie, she’s played by Jennifer Connelly. In Dave Stevens’s original comic book stories, however, Cliff “Rocketeer” Secord’s girlfriend’s name is Betty — an homage to 1950s pinup queen Bettie Page, whose likeness Stevens used as the model (no pun intended) for the character’s appearance.

When screenwriters Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo — now familiar to genre buffs as co-creators of such TV series as Viper and the 1990s version of The Flash — pitched the concept to Disney, they changed the name of the main female character to Jenny (and gave her a surname, Blake, which she lacked in the comics), masking the connection to the notorious star of nude postcards and bondage porn… not exactly in line with Disney’s family-friendly image. (Although I can pretty much guarantee that everyone’s family has at least one member who’s a fan of nude postcards, or bondage porn, or both.) The name change was cemented when the film went into production.

I can always tell, when The Rocketeer comes up in conversation, whether people know the character from the comics or the movie — by which name they use for the heroine.

Dave Stevens’s use of Bettie Page’s likeness in the Rocketeer comics helped spark a renewed interest in the legendary model, who by the early 1980s had largely faded from the public consciousness. In the decades since, Ms. Page (who passed away in 2008 at the age of 85) has risen to cult status far above that of her 1950s heyday. There have been two feature films about Bettie — a fictionalized production starring Gretchen Mol in the title role, as well as an award-winning documentary (the Pirate Queen and I attended a screening of the latter last year) — an infinite assortment of Bettie-inspired art (most notably by Jim Silke, creator of the Bettie Page comic series, and internationally recognized pinup artist Olivia De Berardinis), as well as a cottage industry of licensed (and, I suspect, bootleg) Bettie Page paraphernalia.

Until just a few days ago, a nationwide chain of Bettie Page clothing stores (including a location on Haight Street here in San Francisco) featured retro-styled fashions inspired by Ms. Page. As a result of litigation by the firm managing licensing for Ms. Page’s estate, the retail chain lost the right to use the Bettie Page name as well as her likeness, which formerly was splashed all over the store. The Pirate Queen owns several pre-lawsuit Bettie Page dresses and, of course, looks smashing in them.

Brian Balondo’s drawing is rather smashing as well. Although hardly as much so as the Pirate Queen.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

All my adult life, I wanted to live in my favorite city. Today, I do.

Now, having realized that dream for less than three years, I’m heading back to the suburbs.

Before you get all distraught, let me assure you that this is a good thing. The Pirate Queen landed an excellent new job earlier this month, and after years of exhausting commuting hither and yon – the last six of which saw her trekking daily between San Francisco and San Jose, which is more of a haul than you non-Bay Areans probably realize – she decided she wanted to live within a few minutes’ drive of her new office.

Given that my commute most days is the several steps from the bedroom to my studio space, I can hardly argue with that desire.

We managed to find a lovely house in the East Bay city of Walnut Creek, a mere stone’s throw from the Pirate Queen’s workplace (assuming that you throw your stones with a howitzer). We both knew that the Kasbah — as I nicknamed it, for its fortress-like frontage and ginormous palm tree — was our new home the moment we first stepped inside.

Following the usual negotiation and paperwork craziness, escrow closed on the property this morning. Our action plan is to move by mid-August, after which we’ll put our San Francisco home on the market and say a bittersweet farewell to this first chapter in our life together.

I have loved living in The City. Its vibrant energy, diverse culture, and unparalleled urban landscape make it a fascinating place to spend one’s days. It’s impossible to place a value on being able to glimpse the Pacific Ocean (a tiny slice of it, anyway) from my living room window. I will miss that view, and the joy it brings me every day. Looking on the positive side, however, as I am wont to do, there are some things I’ll eagerly embrace about our new suburban environs:

A real, full-service supermarket just blocks away. In fact, an impressive shopping complex – complete with a drugstore, a Starbucks, a dry cleaner, and several inexpensive eateries – surrounds the supermarket, all of which is within comfortable walking distance from the new house. One of my ongoing challenges in The City is that many of these types of businesses aren’t conveniently located, at least not where we live. (If you ever want to experience a rush of first-world-problem compassion, just visit the Monterey Boulevard Safeway. Then tell me you don’t feel pity for the neighborhood denizens for whom it’s the primary grocery option.)

Easy parking. I will never underappreciate the blessing of going to a local shop or restaurant secure in the knowledge that ample parking awaits. Few factors frustrate me more about big-city life than the debacle that results every time I have to circle several blocks hunting down a place for my car, or parallel park along San Francisco’s notoriously jam-packed streets. In the suburbs, there’s almost always a big parking lot near where you need to go.

Warm summer weather. Okay, when I say “warm” in regard to the East Bay beyond the Oakland hills, I really mean “hot” for two-thirds of the year. As much as I’m not a fan of blazing heat, I’ll scarcely miss the relentlessly gloomy, blustery, semi-Antarctic climate of our San Francisco hillside neighborhood. Besides, we’ll have air conditioning. And a pool.

East Bay life will also have an advantage over my former digs to the north. Venturing into San Francisco from Sonoma County requires a long, tedious drive in often stupefying traffic, plus the aforementioned parking challenge. By contrast, our Walnut Creek home is convenient to two BART stations – the trains, in fact, pass a few hundred feet from the house – from which we can whisk to and from The City at relative leisure. Heading downtown to dine or catch a play will hardly take more effort than it does for us living in SF.

Our new abode has many features to recommend it.

First, no stairs, no hills. Our San Francisco house, like many single-household residences throughout The City, is what’s termed a “soft-story” building. The primary living space is all on one level, but that level is built on top of the garage. This means that entering and leaving the house – or even going to the garage to do laundry — involves mounting a tall, steep, narrow staircase. The older my knees and back get, the less fond they are of that adventure. Conversely, the Walnut Creek property is a traditional California ranch-style house. (There’s a sunken living room, but seriously, that’s two steps.) It will be wonderful to simply walk through a door to carry the laundry basket out, or heavy bags filled with groceries in. Likewise, the entire neighborhood sits on flat terrain. The views are uninspiring, but it’s a lot more conducive to long walks.

Second, both the Pirate Queen and I will have our own individual office spaces. In our little two-bedroom in The City, the second bedroom does quadruple duty as a two-person office, guest room, pet bedroom, and dressing room (because most of my clothes reside in its closet and dresser). The new house has four bedrooms, one of which will give the Pirate Queen a dedicated home office that she doesn’t have to share with my desk, my clothes, the guest bed, or the Studio Assistant. Another bedroom will convert into my combination office and studio, which will liberate my recording equipment from the corner of the living room where it has resided for the past three years. I’ll be able to do a lot of things with my workspace that I simply didn’t have room to do here, including install a proper, fully contained recording booth.

Third, two bathrooms. The importance of this development cannot be overstated.

Fourth… did I mention the pool?

Make no mistake, the move will be a monumental adjustment. It will be even more so for the Pirate Queen, who has lived in The City for nearly 20 years, than for me, who spent the better part of three decades in North Bay suburbia. But it’s a change we’ve contemplated for some time. Last year, we actually looked at houses in the South Bay, thinking that we might move closer to the location where the Pirate Queen was then working. When her new opportunity emerged, there was no question for either of us that this was the right time to switch sides of the Bay.

I’ll miss being a San Franciscan. In the immortal words often sung by Tony Bennett, I’ll leave a bit of my heart here – a bit that I will return to visit as often as I can.

But if you’re looking for me at the Porthole Palace, look quickly.

My new crib is the Kasbah.

It rocks.

Writers of fiction frequently get asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” The obvious answer is, “From my brain, duh.” Most writers not named Harlan Ellison are too polite to respond quite that bluntly.

Since I don’t write much fiction, this question is usually directed toward my Common Elements commission artworks: “Where do you get the ideas for all those bizarre matchups?” To which I reply…

From my brain. Duh. (Take that, Harlan Ellison.)

In humbler truth, I don’t always know where my Common Elements concepts originate. Usually, it’s a random thought, triggered by some equally random event or factoid. But then, if you know me in real life, you understand that’s just me. My brain is constantly kicking out random ideas, some of which spew forth from my lips or keyboard entirely without filter.

The others sometimes end up as Common Elements commissions.

The concept behind today’s featured artwork languished on my to-do list for several years, so the impetus for it has long since swirled down the drain of my vanishing memory. I think I might have been watching a TV documentary about the British Invasion of the early 196os when the concept just sort of fell together, as things in my brain often do. Whatever the genesis, that singular era in popular music history spawned this grouping of the Fourth Doctor (because Tom Baker will always be The Doctor to me), Cyborg, and the third incarnation of the Blue Beetle, a.k.a. Jaime Reyes.

You know…

A Be(a)tle, a Stone (Victor, Cyborg’s real identity), and a (Doctor) Who.

***drops mic***

Credit to artist Ibrahim Moustafa, co-creator (with writer Christopher Sebela) of the Eisner-nominated digital comic series High Crimes, for bringing my whacked-out notion to life. A special thanks to my fellow collector Jerry Livengood at Serendipity Art Sales for managing a smooth commission experience.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Before we jump into today’s Comic Art Friday, permit me to apologize for the paucity of posts in recent weeks. As regular readers here know, the Pirate Queen and I just wrapped up a big move across the Bay, so it’s been rather busy around the new homestead. (Plus, the old homestead is going on the market shortly, so there’s activity around that as well.) I will do my best to get back to our accustomed schedule as soon as possible.

In the meantime, there’s this.

Today’s featured artwork came out of the blue as a generous gift from fellow commission collector and longtime friend Damon Owens. Damon has previously commissioned a couple of nifty pieces for my Bombshells! gallery, but I was completely floored when this astonishing addition to my signature theme, Common Elements, arrived on The Kasbah’s doorstep. Not only did Damon commission one of my favorite artists, Luke McDonnell, to draw the piece, but Damon’s clever concept absolutely nails everything I’ve attempted to accomplish with Common Elements over the past decade. Words fail to express how humbled and honored I was to receive this.

I was also more than a trifle stumped.

The character on the right I identified immediately. Madam Fatal, who debuted in Crack Comics #1 back in May 1940, holds the distinction (so far as I know) of being comics’ first transvestite superhero. In real life, Madam Fatal is millionaire actor Richard Stanton, who decides that the most effective way to move through the underworld unnoticed is to disguise himself as an elderly woman. (Because no one pays any attention to a little old lady, unless she’s your grandma.) Armed with a cane that doubled as a fighting staff, Madam Fatal used his/her unassuming appearance to get close to villains, then whomp the stuffing out of them. This being the 1940s, the psychosexual undertone of a man who habitually dresses as a woman in public is left largely unexplored, though it is established that Stanton is a widower with a young daughter.

So that much I knew, when I first saw the Owens/McDonnell opus. What I didn’t know was this: Who’s the character on the left, and what is that individual’s “common element” with Madam Fatal?

I’ll let Damon explain in his own words what’s going on here. Take it away, Mister O:

Madam Fatal you already know.  The other character is the modern-day descendant to the Marvel/Timely Comics character Citizen V.  Now its about to get tricky.

Back in the 1990s, Marvel launched a title called Thunderbolts. It was a team of superheroes who stepped in the void when Marvel shipped off the Avengers and some of their other characters to Rob Liefeld and Jim Lee during the infamous “Heroes Reborn” debacle. The leader of the Thunderbolts was Citizen V, who claimed to the grandson of the original. In reality, this Citizen V was Baron Helmut Zemo, and the Thunderbolts were actually members of the Masters of Evil. They were posing as heroes as part of some plan Zemo had at attempted world dominance.

Anyway, Zemo and company were eventually exposed, and he discarded the Citizen V identity since he no longer needed it. But unknown to him, the real grandchild of Citizen V decided to take on the identity and go after Zemo for desecrating the original’s name and legacy — not to mention that fact that Zemo’s dad — the original Baron Zemo — killed the original Citizen V by strangling him to death.

Thing is, though, this new Citizen V was actually the original’s granddaughter, named Dallas Riordan. But she didn’t want anyone to know she was a woman, so she padded her costume to make herself look like a man. She maintained that guise until she wound up in a fight with Captain America (who initially thought it was his old foe, son-of-Zemo). Cap then realized that not only was it not son-of-Zemo, it wasn’t even a guy. After a truce, he then convinced her reveal her true gender. She took his advice, got rid of the padding, and continued to fight in a more feminized version of her costume.

Whew — so basically, what we have with CV3 and Madam Fatal are two characters who fought crime dressed as members of the opposite gender.

So there you have it.  My first and last “Common Elements” idea.  Head still hurts just thinking about it.

Thanks, Damon, for both the incredible gift and the detailed background. If I look up “mensch” in the Oxford English Dictionary, I’m certain that I’ll find your picture there.

For the record, Damon becomes only the second person (other than your Uncle Swan) to devise a Common Elements scenario in the official canon. The concept that matched Space Ghost with the original Ghost Rider sprang from the imagination of Suzy Rosema, whose husband Scott I commissioned to draw it. Thus the great Mr. Owens finds himself in rarified company — as he already is, within the comic art commission collecting community. (Say that five times, fast.)

One last note: With this, his fourth entry into the Common Elements pantheon, Luke McDonnell leaps into a tie for second place among pencilers with the most appearances in the series. Other pencilers with four Common Elements commissions to their credit include Geof Isherwood, MC Wyman, and the late Ernie Chan. Ron Lim leads the field with five CEs on his resume.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Those of you who have followed the development of my Common Elements commission theme know that I maintain a lengthy to-do list of Common Elements concepts. (And for those of you who are new: Common Elements is a series of themed original artworks, each of which brings together otherwise unrelated comics characters who share some aspect in… wait for it… common.)

Some of these concepts have been on my list for years, awaiting assignment to artists who will bring them to fruition. In fact, there are still a handful of unused ideas that date back to the start of Common Elements, nearly a decade ago.

The concept illustrated in today’s artwork by former Marvel Comics stalwart MC Wyman has been collecting dust for a few years now. Back in February 2011, the Black Panther took over the lead role in the monthly series that had belonged to Daredevil, a.k.a. “The Man Without Fear.” Retitled Black Panther: The Man Without Fear, the series continued — using the existing Daredevil issue numbers, beginning with #513 — for the better part of a year. Then, with issue #523.1 (November 2011, and no, the “.1″ is not a typo), the series was again retitled, this time becoming Black Panther: The Most Dangerous Man Alive. The book carried on under its new moniker through issue #529, when the run concluded.

At the time the “Most Dangerous Man” title surfaced, it occurred to me that there was already a Marvel character with a similar tagline. Gamora, an interstellar assassin who first turned up in Jim Starlin’s Warlock series in the mid-1970s, then reappeared as a key player in the Infinity Watch/War/Crusade saga in the early 1990s, had long been known as “The Most Dangerous Woman in the Universe.” Recalling that fact, I made an entry in my Common Elements log entitled “Most Dangerous,” that would match the two characters who now had borne that description.

Little did I know that in just a couple of years, Gamora would become a major movie star as one of the leads in Marvel’s cinematic blockbuster, Guardians of the Galaxy. When the film was announced, I didn’t even know that the Guardians in question were not the team I associated with that name from my comics-reading youth.

I’ll explain. Back in 1969, the Guardians of the Galaxy debuted in Marvel Super-Heroes #18. This team of weirdly mismatched, far-future space rangers was co-created by writer Arnold Drake, who had a penchant for off-kilter characters. (Drake was also responsible for DC Comics’ Deadman and Doom Patrol.) The original Guardians crew consisted of Vance Astro, an Earthman who’d spent a millennium in suspended animation; Charlie-27, a being from Jupiter whose stout, powerful physique reflected his home planet’s intense gravity; Martinex, who hailed from Pluto and whose body was formed out of crystal; and Yondu, a bow-slinging soldier of fortune from Alpha Centauri. The foursome eventually added a fifth member, a mysterious mutant who went by the name Starhawk.

Like many of the peculiar super-teams Marvel cooked up during the Bronze Age (the Champions, anyone?), the Guardians popped up mostly as guest stars in other teams’ ongoing series (in particular, the Avengers and the Defenders) in and around brief runs in their own stories. They pretty much disappeared once the wild and wacky ’70s ended. Marvel resurrected the Guardians for a while in the early 1990s — because no property ever goes away permanently in comics — then once again allowed them to fade from view.

In 2008, Marvel restarted the Guardians, this time with a new collection of characters, including Gamora. Although I was aware that there was a new Guardians series on the market, I never read an issue, and was unaware that the team had been completely reimagined until news of the film began leaking out. And I was as surprised as anyone — except, obviously, the folks at Marvel Studios — when the Guardians movie exploded into theaters as a massive hit. Who’d’a thunk that a flick about a talking raccoon and a sentient tree would make megamillions?

Now, the once-obscure Gamora is a household name, thanks to the Guardians film. Even better, my longtime favorite Black Panther is finally getting his own big-screen presence, with a guest-starring role in the third Avengers movie to be released in 2016, and headlining his own motion picture in 2017. Chadwick Boseman, brilliant as baseball pioneer Jackie Robinson in 42, seems like a near-perfect choice to bring T’Challa of Wakanda to life. I can hardly wait until the aforementioned titles hit the silver screens in my neighborhood.

Until then, we have this pairing of the Most Dangerous Man and Woman Alive… two unlikely cinematic stars.

Ain’t Hollywood grand?

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Those of us who follow comics news — and, more specifically, news of appearances by comics characters in other media, i.e., film and television — have heard quite a bit in recent weeks about the increasing profile of female superheroes in the live-action universes of Marvel and DC.

Wonder Woman finally received the green light for her own solo film, following on the heels of her debut in the upcoming Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice.

Carol Danvers, the former Ms. Marvel turned newest Captain Marvel, is now slated to headline a movie as well.

The Scarlet Witch will be joining the Black Widow on the roster of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes in next summer’s Avengers sequel, Age of Ultron.

The TV series Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD recently introduced Bobbie Morse, better known as the heroine Mockingbird, to its cast of characters (although I don’t believe she’s actually been referred to by that code name on the show).

And Jessica Jones (who once used the superhero handle Jewel, and is best known as star of Marvel’s private detective saga, Alias) has been tapped to star in one of Marvel’s impending Netflix programs, culminating in the team epic, The Defenders.

Speaking of the Defenders, there’s at least one key name missing from all of this chatter: The Valkyrie, longtime stalwart in the Defenders superteam, and one of Marvel’s most recognizable (to comics geeks, anyway) heroines.

To me, Valkyrie is a no-brainer for the silver screen. She’s a powerful visual — a badass blonde in Viking garb who slings a wicked sword and spear. She even rides a winged horse, named Aragorn. Who wouldn’t want to see that in IMAX?

And Val isn’t just a pretty face. She’s a warrior to the stone core, who takes neither guff from nor back seat to any man (not unlike the Lady Sif, who’s already been portrayed in both of the Thor theatrical films, and has guest-starred on the SHIELD TV series). She’s exactly the kind of strong female image the audience is clamoring for, and that the studios keep promising, without much actual delivery to date.

So far, however, Marvel Studios isn’t showing the love. There are no plans, so far as has been reported, for Val to make an appearance in any of the company’s movie or television properties. That’s a missed opportunity, in my opinion.

Here’s hoping that Valkyrie gets her day on camera sometime soon.

It’s what America wants.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

Well, it’s that time again: the day we Americans celebrate turkey, football, and sharing a friendly repast with indigenous people as a prelude to overrunning their entire continent. (Okay, maybe we don’t really celebrate that last part. Still happened, though.)

Here at SSTOL, it’s become an annual tradition to reflect for a moment on some of the many people and things for which we have been made grateful over the past year. Because counting one’s blessings can be an overwhelming task without some parameters, in 2004 I developed the device of an alphabetical Thanksgiving — one item per letter.

So, without further ado, here’s my 11th holiday sampling of what’s best in life. (Aside, of course, from crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentation of their women. That goes without saying.) On Thanksgiving 2014, I’m thankful for…

Apogee MiC. This handy-dandy gizmo served beautifully as my travel microphone on several out-of-town trips this year, including a week in Hawaii that proved to be one of my busiest audition weeks ever. Plug it into my iPad, open my Twisted Wave recording software, and I’m good to go. A sturdy pillow fort helps too.

Battle of the Decades. Even though I lost the Fan Favorite vote to participate in Jeopardy’s 30-year retrospective tournament, I had a blast watching 45 of the show’s greatest champions — including many old friends and more recent acquaintances — return to the stage. It doesn’t always happen this way, but the three best players of all time (Brad Rutter, Ken Jennings, and Roger Craig) emerged in the finals. I’m pleased to say that I’ve gotten to know all three gentlemen over the years, and each is as good a guy as you’d want your heroes to be.

Comets. Dude, we landed a probe on one this year. How awesome is that?

DVR. Sometimes, multiple TV programs you want to watch come on at the same time, or at times when you can’t be parked in front of the flat screen to view them as broadcast. I know, I know, it’s a First World problem. But it sure is nice to have a solution that works.

Elton John. We saw the Man with the Million Dollar Piano live in concert this summer. His voice isn’t quite the instrument it once was, and he’s toned down the outrageous showmanship of his Captain Fantastic days. Still, Sir Elton is one of the legends of modern music, and he still puts on one heck of a performance.

Frontier — my current League within LearnedLeague. When I look at some of the big-time quiz mavens who inhabit Rundle A Frontier, I’m humbled and honored to play among such estimable company.

Gail Simone, one of my favorite current comics writers. I don’t find as much to interest me in today’s comics as in decades past, but when I pick up a book with Gail’s byline on it, I know that I’m in for an entertaining read. She’s also one of my favorite folks to follow on Twitter.

Hilton Hhonors. Here’s an example of quality customer service. I signed up for the Hilton hotel chain’s loyalty program a while back. I don’t travel all that often, but I make at least a couple of trips each year, and I frequently stay in a Hilton-associated hotel. At my request, the Hilton Hhonors folks went back and credited me for points earned for stays I made before I signed up for the program. They could have said, “Sorry, no,” and been perfectly well within their rules. Their positive consideration, however, makes it much more likely that the next time I travel, I’ll bunk in at a Hilton property.

Improvisation. Always looking for ways to up my acting game, I took an introductory improv class at American Conservatory Theater this year. It helped, I think.

Jellied cranberry sauce. Because it just isn’t cranberry sauce unless it comes out in the shape of the can.

Ka’anapali Beach. Our base of operations for our vacation junket to Maui. From here, we drove up to the summit of Haleakala on Super Bowl Sunday, cruised the Hana Highway, saw some spectacular sunsets and scenery, and dined in fine style.

The Ladies in my life — specifically, the Pirate Queen and The Daughter. My existence would be far less beautiful without them.

Madison Bumgarner. The lefthander from Hickory, North Carolina threw the Giants over his shoulder and carried them almost single-handedly to their third championship in five years. He pitched a shutout against the Pirates in a one-game wild card playoff to start the team on its postseason road. He threw 7-2/3 scoreless innings at the Cardinals in Game 1 of the NLCS, in the process setting a major league record for consecutive shutout postseason road innings. Then, in the World Series, MadBum pitched in three of the seven games, winning Games 1 and 5 and pitching five scoreless innings of relief in Game 7. Many baseball watchers, myself included, rank Bumgarner’s achievement as the most outstanding postseason by any pitcher in major league history.

The Neon Boneyard in Las Vegas. For someone who loves Vegas glitz and history as I do, a nighttime tour of the place where old signage goes to die is like a pilgrimage to Nirvana. (Not the one with Kurt Cobain.)

OpenTable. All restaurant reservations, all the time.

Project READ Trivia Bee. For the 25th annual contesting of this popular charity event, I teamed up with two of the smartest people I know for an evening of Q&A. To our utter surprise, we came away with the championship trophy, against some extremely tough competition.

Quadratini. The Pirate Queen loves these little wafer cookies. I gave her a bag for her birthday. When the Pirate Queen is happy, I’m happy.

The Richmond-San Rafael Bridge. Here in the Bay Area, where we have no shortage of spectacular spans, the utilitarian Richmond-San Rafael often gets overlooked. The fact that the R-SR launches from our most famously crime-ridden communities and terminates alongside the state penitentiary housing California’s Death Row inmates probably doesn’t help. But that isn’t the bridge’s fault. It didn’t ask to be built there.

The Splash Brothers. Sharpshooting Steph Curry and Klay Thompson have the Golden State Warriors off to their best NBA season start in… well… ever. After two decades of mediocrity, it’s exciting to see the Dubs maturing into one of the Association’s premier franchises. You can thank the Human Torch and Kavalier Klay for most of that excitement.

Tazz, my Studio Assistant, who joined our little household in March. He’s half Chihuahua, half rat terrier, and all Tasmanian devil. Hence the name.

USB. Whether it’s my recording gear, my printer, my scanner, or my backup drive, I’m grateful every day for those tiny rectangular ports that allow my computer to interface with the peripheral equipment I need to get stuff done.

Va de Vi, a nifty dining spot where we celebrated the Pirate Queen’s birthday earlier this week. To borrow a line from a former governor, we’ll be back.

Walnut Creek, our new home. As most of you know, we moved this summer, across the Bay from San Francisco to Walnut Creek. There’s yin and yang to life in relative suburbia, but all in all, it’s growing on us. We hosted Thanksgiving dinner today at the Kasbah — as we’ve named our new house — and had to admit the advantages of more living space. It’s not The City, but it is The Creek.

X-rays. I’ve become acutely aware of the importance of imaging in the maintenance of sound dental health. Of course, I’m now radioactive.

YapStone. Meet the YapStones. They’re the modern payments family.

ZippGo. To facilitate our move, we rented reusable plastic totes from a company called ZippGo. They delivered the totes to our previous residence, we filled them with our worldly possessions, the movers loaded them onto a truck and unloaded them at the new abode, we unpacked our material goods, and the ZippGo truck hauled the totes away again. No boxes to acquire or dispose of, no cardboard waste, no muss or fuss. I’m a believer.

As always, friend reader, I’m thankful for YOU. I appreciate your stopping by here periodically to read whatever it is I’m babbling about. I hope you find your visits here entertaining, and perhaps occasionally even thought-provoking. May you and yours experience gratitude for the blessings in your life, and value those special people and things all the more.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The 65th season of LearnedLeague — the Internet’s most auspicious ongoing quiz competition — has concluded. More to the point, LL65 marked my 10th season in the league. So, it’s a good milestone to look backward from, and consider how I did.

In LL65, I placed eighth (of 26) in Rundle A Frontier, my home for the past five seasons. This is my highest finish since I placed seventh in A Central back in LL60, and ties for my third-best standing historically. (I finished first in my rookie Rundle during LL56, and was also eighth in A West in LL57.)

In statistical terms, this felt like a return to form after my disappointing LL64. Although my match play record sagged a bit (10-8-7, after a 13-12-0 LL64), my correct answer percentage rose from a worst-ever .767 to .820, which is on par with my 10-season average of .814. Best of all, I posted my best-ever defensive efficiency score with a .721. I used to play dreadful defense — I had three consecutive seasons of sub-.600 defensive efficiency between LL61 and LL63 — but I decided two seasons ago that I was going to spend more time each match day on my defensive strategy, and the extra thought seems to be paying off.

I thought the questions this season seemed a little bit easier than the last several seasons. This reflected not only in my overall batting average, but in the fact that I scored eight perfect match days this season after only two in LL64. My opponents apparently found the material easier also, as the total number of correct answers posted against me was the highest since LL61.

It’s worth noting, however, that on Match Day 24, the penultimate day of the season, I had my all-time worst single-day regular-season performance with only two questions correct. Let’s take a look at that set of six, and examine why I found them so inscrutable.

Q1. The aggressive, condescending, and arrogant Yankees are the victors at the end of what rowdy and vulgar 1976 film comedy? Okay, that’s not so hard. Add up “rowdy and vulgar,” “1976 film comedy,” and baseball (suggested by the team name Yankees), and there’s only one possible answer: The Bad News Bears, starring Walter Matthau, the insufferable Tatum O’Neal, and future character standout Jackie Earle Haley.

Q2: The jihadist group in northeastern Nigeria known officially as Jama’atu Ahlis Sunna Lidda’Awati Wal-Jihad (People Committed to the Propagation of the Prophet’s Teachings and Jihad) is better known internationally by what name, which translates loosely into English as “Western education is forbidden”? This one’s a process of quick elimination born of ignorance. I can only name one jihadist group from Nigeria, and even though I have no idea what Boko Haram means, or what the group’s full official handle might be, I’m going with that.

So far, so good. But here’s where things went downhill.

Q3: El Grito de Dolores, the anniversary of which is celebrated as Mexican Independence Day, was a famous speech calling on the Mexican people to rebel against peninsulares and the Spanish colonial government. Name the Roman Catholic priest and revolutionary who gave this speech on September 16, 1810. Although I know when Mexican Independence Day is (and no, my fellow yanquis, it’s not Cinco de Mayo), I’m not familiar with this speech nor with the priest who uttered it. I put down Junipero Serra, who’s pretty much the only famous Mexican priest I can name, even though I know he had nothing to do with Mexican independence, and I’m reasonably certain that he was dead well before 1810. (A post-quiz check of Wikipedia confirms that Serra died in 1784.) The correct answer is Don Miguel Hidalgo, whose surname is familiar to me only as (a) the fictional Latin American country whose gold mines finance Doc Savage’s exploits, and (b) Viggo Mortensen’s horse in the film of the same name.

Q4: According to the lyrics of Billboard magazine’s No. 1 country song for 2013, “In this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it, so baby you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and…” what? By this late stage, my antipathy for all things country is firmly established. It will therefore come as no surprise to you, friend reader, that I’ve never heard this song. The correct conclusion to the lyric in question is “cruise,” which I could never have guessed given a thousand tries, as it doesn’t rhyme with anything in the stanza provided. My answer was “kill myself, because I’m in a country song.” That had not a prayer of being right, but at least accurately represents my feelings.

Q5: The MacArthur, Julia Tuttle, John F. Kennedy, Broad, and Rickenbacker Causeways all span what bay? This was a complete stumper, as none of the names appeared to have any connection to the others, nor any common connection to any body of water that came readily to mind. MacArthur took me immediately to Manila Bay — naturally, since I lived in the Philippines for two years in the mid-1970s, and am familiar with the general’s historic significance in that part of the world. I didn’t remember a MacArthur Causeway in Manila Bay, nor did any of the other names make particular sense in that context (one might think that if Manila Bay was crisscrossed by multiple causeways, at least some of the names would be in Tagalog, or those of Filipino dignitaries), but with no other guess coming to mind, I made Manila Bay my answer. Alas, the correct answer is Biscayne Bay, as any Floridians in the room probably know. Coincidentally, the Pirate Queen had been in Miami just the previous week. Had I only looked at a map of the city while she was there, I might have gotten this one.

Q6: Jack Sock, Sam Querrey, Donald Young, Steve Johnson, and Tim Smyczek are among the highest-ranked Americans internationally in what sport? Sports buff though I am, not one of these names rang a bell. I therefore reasoned that the sport in question had to be an obscure one, as well as some individual competition in which Americans might not be the most famous participants. Confident that I would have heard of these gentlemen if they were golfers or figure skaters, I entertained such options as badminton and archery before deciding to go with chess. The correct answer is tennis, which just goes to show you the miserable state of disrepair into which American men’s tennis has fallen over the past few decades.

Good thing that Match Day wasn’t indicative of my entire season. Hopefully, I will get my kicks in LL66 in August.

Here’s something I’m not thankful for this Thanksgiving: Punkin Chunkin, a staple of my Turkey Day TV viewing, was canceled for the second consecutive year. Some silly folderol about liability or some such foolishness cost the annual event, which involves people hurling pumpkins incredible distances using homemade machines straight out of the Rube Goldberg instruction manual, its venue, and organizers haven’t been able to locate another suitable site.

The bottom line is that some lawyers are making a pot of money arguing, and I’m denied my Punkin Chunkin.

Anyway… I still have plenty else to be grateful for on this Thanksgiving Day 2015. Therefore, as has been my tradition in this space since 2004, I’ve made an alphabetical list sampling 26 of the thousands of people, places, and things that make my life worth living.

This Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for:

Adele. The British songstress released her first new album in four years this past week, and it’s as lovely and haunting and emotionally riveting as anything she’s done before.

Bruce Lee. My boyhood hero would be celebrating his 75th birthday tomorrow, had he not been taken from us far too soon way back in 1973. Lee was the only movie star whose poster hung on my bedroom wall amid the Star Trek glossies, comic book cutouts, and Runaways album covers throughout my teenage years. Enter the Dragon remains the one film to which I can turn off the sound and voice every line of dialogue. (At least, I used to be able to do that. I haven’t tested myself in a few years.) Rest in peace, Little Dragon.

Clients. Here’s a shout-out to the folks who buy the skills and pay the bills. I’ve worked with and for some really cool people this past year. I hope they — and many others — will continue to hire me. Please.

Dumbarton Bridge. The least famous, and by far the least sexy, of the San Francisco Bay’s crossings, it’s about to become critically important to us because we’re moving within a stone’s throw of its eastern anchorage. The Pirate Queen starts a new job on December 1, and her daily commute will span the Dumbarton. Although, when she’s on it, it will immediately transform into the Smartbarton.

Education. I’m a firm believer that when you stop learning, your brain dies. And you start voting for Donald Trump.

Ferrett Steinmetz. The Ferrett, as he likes to be known, was one of the first bloggers I followed on a regular basis. This year, I got to meet him in person, as he toured the country promoting his first science fiction novel, Flex. Its sequel, The Flux, came out last month.

Grilled lobster tails. If I were writing the menu for my last meal on Earth, I’d start with a few of these, served with Cajun spiced garlic butter. You know you want some.

Houses. For the second year in a row, the Pirate Queen and I find ourselves (for the moment, at least) with two — one we’re moving out of, and another we’re moving into. The new one closed escrow on the Pirate Queen’s birthday. I’m grateful every day to have a roof over my head when so many people have none.

Idina Menzel. Because someone who knows how to say her name correctly should be thankful for the former Mrs. Taye Diggs. We’re seeing her in person Saturday evening in the road company of If/Then. It would probably be too much to ask for her to just throw in a random chorus of “Defying Gravity,” just because I love that song, and her voice on it.

Jessica Jones. I just finished the final episode of Marvel’s latest Netflix series yesterday. As good as I’d hoped the show would be, it exceeded my expectations by a Hell’s Kitchen block. Krysten Ritter, who’d never really impressed me in anything before, absolutely crushes the role of the downbeat ex-superheroine-turned-private-eye. And her chemistry with Mike Colter as the unbreakable Luke Cage flat-out sizzles. I’m already salivating in anticipation of the Cage series.

KM, for being the greatest Daughter any dad could wish for, and to the memory of her mom, KJ, for all of the shared history.

Lucille, the legendary axe of pioneering blues guitarist B.B. King, lost her master this past May. The thrill indeed is gone.

Masterpiece, the PBS vehicle by which Downton Abbey comes to us Yanks. Downton‘s final season premieres here in the States in January. I’m sure going to miss the Crawley clan.

NBA Championship, won this year for the first time in 40 seasons by my beloved Golden State Warriors. Given that they’ve begun the sequel season on a 16-0 run thus far, I have high hopes that the Dubs might bring a second Larry O’Brien Trophy home to the Bay. To Steph, Klay, Draymond, Bogues, Barnes, Iggy, Mo Buckets, Shawn, Festus, and the rest of the dudes in blue (slate on Saturdays): Thanks for all the thrills. You make DubNation proud.

Oysters. Because delicious.

Panama hats. I have a nice one from Goorin Brothers for sunny East Bay days.

Quizzing. Whether it’s my nightly session of LearnedLeague, or my annual trip to Las Vegas for the Trivia Championships of North America (that’s TCONA to you), or teaming up with a couple of buds at the Project READ Trivia Bee (a hard-fought second place this fall, behind the team we narrowly bested to win last year), quizzing is my jam.

Rush. As Geddy Lee once wailed in his inimitable helium-on-steroids voice: If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.

Slippers. Or sleepahs, as we say in Hawaii. Without something on my feet, I might fall down. Nobody wants to see that.

Tsunami Brainz. Did I mention that my improv troupe had a name, at long last? We do, and Tsunami Brainz is it. We’re gearing up for our first show, possibly in January.

Us — the Pirate Queen, the Studio Assistant, and me. I am thankful every day for our little family. I feel the love in the room.

VocalBooth. My gorgeous new-to-me workspace is a Diamond Series Platinum Edition. I’m still getting used to its finer points and tweaking the acoustics, but it’s an amazing place to play.

Waikiki. The Pirate Queen and I spent a week in March in my childhood home, and enjoyed a fantastic time touring, beaching, dining, shopping, and just relaxing. I often forget how much I miss Hawaii until I’m there.

Xi, the Greek letter for which there is no direct equivalent in our Latin alphabet. Not to be confused with the letter chi, which corresponds to our X.

Yukon Outfitters. I own several of their Tactical series carry bags. They make excellent stuff to put your stuff in.

Zillow. When you need to find a new house quickly — as we just experienced such a need — it’s the place to look. I found our new place in a single search session.

As always, friend reader, I am also thankful for you. May you and those you love enjoy a thoughtful and festive Thanksgiving. And stay home tomorrow, for pity’s sake.

It occurred to me this morning that I didn’t post a single Comic Art Friday in 2015. For a guy who rarely missed a weekly art post for several years, that’s more than a smidgen embarrassing. I will endeavor to do better in 2016. In fact, with today’s post, I already have.

There’s a long and not always cheerful story behind today’s featured artwork, the 127th entry in my Common Elements commission series.

(For the benefit of those joining us for the first time — or old-timers who’ve simply forgotten, because of my slacker posting habits of the past year — Common Elements is a series of commissioned artworks depicting comics characters who are in most cases unrelated, but who share some unifying feature. The “common element” may be obvious — similar names or superpowers, for example. Sometimes, the connection is so obscure that it requires detailed explanation. Ultimately, the point of Common Elements is to showcase characters that might never be seen together anywhere else, for the pure joy of novelty.)

I originally planned this matchup of Western antihero Jonah Hex and longtime Avenger Scarlet Witch (whose probability-altering powers have historically been referred to as “hexes”) to be drawn by legendary comics artist Tony DeZuniga, who co-created Jonah Hex with writer John Albano. Tony was a frequent guest at Bay Area comics conventions, where I got to know him and his wife Tina over the years. The last time I saw Tony in person, I’d mentioned the idea to him, and he and I agreed that I would commission him to draw it the next time our paths crossed at a con.

As sad misfortune would have it, that next meeting never occurred. Tony passed away in May 2012 due to complications from a stroke he suffered about a month earlier.

When I heard the news of Tony’s passing, I resolved to give the assignment to Tony’s good friend and fellow artist Ernie Chan, also a regular at our local cons, and a brilliant artist who’d drawn several pieces for me previously. But less than a week after Tony’s death, Ernie also passed. The world had lost two talented creators, and I’d lost a pair of friendly acquaintances.

As for this Common Elements concept, I shelved it, hoping that eventually an artist would come along who would do something truly special with the idea.

Fast forward three and a half years. Pete Woods, an artist whose work I’ve admired since the DC Comics miniseries Amazons Attack in 2007, opened his commission list briefly in late 2015. I immediately thought of the Hex/Wanda pairing, and knew that Pete’s unique style would be perfect for it. Pete must have agreed, because he accepted the project, then proceeded to nail every aspect like a carpenter on amphetamines. All of the creative notions packed into this drawing — from Hex on horseback, to the Witch’s period-styled costume, to the inquisitive reptile observing the scene — came entirely from Pete’s imagination and pen.

The one item that didn’t come from either Pete or myself is the title: “All My Hexes Live in Texas.” Credit for that clever pun goes to my fellow comic art collector Joshua “Doc” McCoy. Well played, sir.

I still wonder what Tony DeZuniga or Ernie Chan would have drawn, given the same two-character assignment. But I’m convinced that both artists — who were always eager to see the fruit of others’ talents (whenever he saw me with my art portfolio wandering Artists’ Alley, Tony’s second question after “How you been?” was always “What did you get?”) — would have admired the amazingly conceived and rendered scene that Pete Woods crafted.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.