Thunderdog.

If My Head Explodes, Do I Still Have To Go To Work Today?

Originally from my other blog…

Weeks ago, during a “basking in the afterglow of being overserved but still making it home” moment, I went prowling around the PornoNet to find an image of Captain America playing a snare drum (not a Maker’s Mark soaked fantasy either, I know one exists), only to find this…

^{Marvel Comics’ Pizzazz Magazine, February 1978}

Recollecting the chain of events now, I’m still a little overwhelmed by this picture.

I’ve read about sixty billion comics ^[1].

If NASA had put as many hours in research as I did watching the first three Star Wars films, then we’d probably be refining oil on Mars by now and not blowing up a spacecraft every 20 years.

I vividly recall the slight trembling in my pre-teen babymaker-cannon upon noticing a Linda Ronstadt poster on my 20-something cousin’s bedroom wall.

So… how on EARTH did this particular magazine slip by me? I bought several issues of Pizzazz, because Marvel Architect Stan Lee was my master at this point–I still assumed he wrote every Marvel Comic, just under 12 pen names.

I’d be willing to get my ass sued off at this point. Which of my Photoshop-literate friends are willing to turn this masterpiece into a Fumble CD cover? (Here’s the catch–you have to keep the “Scintillatin’ Dr. J Poster Calendar” part.)

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[1]And I purchased about half that–if you’re reading this, Dave Sincere or Random Seven-Eleven Manager… HA!