Inorite? So rare to read of a uniquely skilled individual who was allowed to practice their art (mostly) without persecution, and who was appreciated during their own lifetime for making the world better through their efforts.

The artist is the great John Buscema, and the page is from Avengers #57, published in 1968. Here’s another couple of morsels of Big John Buscema’s magnificent art, both from the same issue:

Portal 2, the game in which GlaDOS, the sadistic, “testing”-obsessed AI antagonist from the first game finds herself trapped in a potato battery, and forced to work with Chell, her enemy from the previous and current games.

Good stuff, though I prefer the Ultron version:

Dude, you’re nowhere near anonymous. Your clone ID number is right there in your username!

solid for the 20 or so Black Adder fans out there I assume!

See, now this is why I read Kinja.  

Whoa. Pitch-fucking-perfect.  Well done!

Nah, Sanders clearly just had his jersey and pads on backwards

I’m 100% on board with you there. I’ve long believed that one cannot continue to exist as a practicing conservative if one possesses a functioning irony gland. And without irony, all humor except the cruelest slapstick just sort of passes you by.

I’m kind of locked into the roller coaster at the start of the ride Ms. Dion describes—the part where the cars are clackety-clacking as they’re pulled up and up, towards the crest of the first giant hill, and the  inevitable plummet that follows.  See, my wife passed from colorectal cancer 6 days ago, and once her…

Me and a buddy were making the drive from L.A. to Gilroy, which means the hypnotic blandness of the 5, the Golden State Freeway. Somewhere on that interminable stretch of nothing between Coalinga and Los Baños, we were treated to the excitement of a big, leather-exterior, Oldsmobile 88–probably a 1985 model,…

What if they were in some sort of amniotic tank and had their lungs filled with breathable liquid?

I shouldn’t be throwing in good argument after bad weaseling, I really shouldn’t. But I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a few IQ points from the unrelenting juggernaut of dumb that is your take on this matter, and I’m no longer quite clever enough to avoid engaging you, so....

“Rutger Hauer never saw things that I wouldn’t believe. He never glittered in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. But I would like to wish his replicants well. He failed the Voight-Kampff test, and I respect sociopaths. I respect fake humans a lot, you skin-job people a lot.  He was a real replicant.”

Wait—the 1999 Version, the cloudy suit version, and what’s the third?  Because if you tell me that it’s one of his alter-egos—either the sociopathic Camille, or Prince’s own version of Bowie’s Scary Monsters, Spooky Electric, I’ma bouta lose my mind!

Yeah, Funko moved PDQ on licensing for The Artist, once his estate was sorted out.  

NEVER FORGET:

A ladder, you say? Hmm...

I’m shocked to hear that it’s only 3%.  I figured that, if nothing else, the usual colonizer-rapes-locals/servants/slaves atrocities would have resulted in a much higher incidence of Spaniard DNA in your average Filipino—especially since Spain owned the PI for, what, 333 years?