Yes, yes, Superman comics are great, but what of Clark Kent? Is he not a reporter? Certainly such a job must lead to some exciting happenings? Perhaps such an item of human interest? Why of course, and so we have . . .
And you better believe it's riveting! Like this tale of the complexities of ornithology. Behold, as our Mr. Kent returns to his home to find . . .
Indeed! It seems ol' Clarkie's neighbours (the twins), have burgled his apartment in order to force him into bird-sitting for their noisy pet. What a scoop! Anyhow, being mild-mannered and responsible, he accepts this loud task. And then goes to bed. Even superheroes need their rest.
After a good night of concentrated sleep (thanks to the power of super-willpower!), it's a levitating tip-toe to the washroom for super-ablutions for our hero.
Lookit him go! Don't wanna wake that bird. Except, that's when disaster strikes:
Great Galaxies! How on earth did such a creature deduce the secretest fact known to mankind?
How? Well, Kento has a theory:
That's right, when the bird saw his up-turned posterior under a bedsheet, it recognized it as just like Superman's under a cape. What a brilliant fiend! Still, it's just a dumb animal, so maybe it can be tricked into saying a cleverer, much less awkward phrase . . .
The story drags a bit here, so I'll sum up: it doesn't work. Also, Clark-a-rama saves the bird from an assassin's bullet and destroys a quality rifle using only his lungs and teeth without once jeopardizing his identity beyond this perceptive creature caged before him. But what to do about said cagey beast? Well, it's time for desperate measures.
As we all know, Superman's arcitic hidey-hole is full of many exotic, even interplanetary, devices, animals, and foodstuffs. What wondrous super-posession will he use? The Phantom Zone projector? A kryptonian metal-eater? Space-porridge? Guess again!
It's that giant mynah bird costume he used for his High School play! Of course, what simpler, more direct method could possibly scare the shit out of this bird so efficiently? Sheer super-genius!
Then he finds out the whole thing was just a dumb prank played by those bubble-heads next-door. Boy, he'd better unscare the shit back into that bird. Or else!
Still, no big deal for the unfazeable greatest superhero of all time.
Note: It may or may not interest you to know I now have a second blog. It's true! Have a gander at
The Second-to-Last Picture Show and let me know what you think. Unless, that is, you don't like it. Then shut up.
This all come from: The Superman Family #197 (Sep/Oct 1979) Written by Cary Bates, Pencilled by Kurt Schaffenberger, with inks by Dave Hunt
Well, she does fight them, but notice that not once does she deny her title of "Sluts' Champion". I suppose she never did have a steady boyfriend for any length of time . . .
