Mixing It Up With Tom

As noted in our postings on Jane and Snood, Tom Mix's gang on the TM Bar Ranch were known as the Straight Shooters. They used that phrase frequently, and applied it to others beyond themselves. So, in every issue of Tom Mix Comics there was a Straight-Shooters! page featuring a real-world figure in a biographical profile, starting with Tom Mix himself -

The feature went on to spotlight the kind of notable western history figures one might expect...

(Movies LIED to me about how Kit Carson looked, apparently)

Another way they used the Straight Shooters hook was to bring in the readers themselves...

They featured several spreads with the names of kids who joined the Straight Shooters Honor Role,<sic> building their fan base with readers and radio show listeners like the Supermen Of America, who might be more familiar to modern readers. 

But, as we've seen with Jane and Snood, the war came to the TM Bar Ranch and the book changed from Tom Mix Comics to Tom Mix Commandos. With that shift, the feature changed from Straight-Shooters! to Commandos And Their Weapons -

There was another change beyond just the war, but i can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe you can spot the oddness not related to WW2...

Wash was another member of the Straight Shooters, as you may have noted in the pic we use when talking about them -

Being an actual person helped Wash to avoid being drawn in the heavily caricatured style typical of the times, but didn't save him from the step'n'fetchit dialectics. He was saddled with them in the radio show, too, so there was no sparing him here.

page art by Fred Meagher from Tom Mix Comics #s 1-9 and Tom Mix Commandos #s 10-12 (1940, 1942)

Unmeanwhile?

Having great trouble pulling my head out of my Automated Sentience Simulator and get functional. Perhaps i'll manage to fix that later today, but for now -

For those unfamiliar, the appearance of Mel Tormé means no blog post today. (Thanks, ME!)

We shall resume our irregularly scheduled rambles directly.

Fighting To Die

Our incompetent administration has decided, as usual, to attack reality as the enemy when it's inconvenient to their delusions. No longer able to pretend that the Trump Flu isn't there, and having been forced to wear a mask in public after ranting on the evils of mask wearing (though the lying wimp is so damn weak he can't even admit that he was against them previously). So now they're out attacking the medical experts, and Dr. Fauci in particular, by boldly lying once again.

Though, maybe they're not actually lying. When they talk about things like Fauci 'flip-flopping' on masks, maybe they're just too damn stupid to understand things like qualifiers and transitory conditions. Phrases like "that may change" and "Under the current conditions" are just too much for their feeble minds to grasp?

Nah - they're frelling liars, twisting the truth because they know that anybody that'll march along behind them at this point is either too stupid to understand or simply doesn't care as long as they continue to hate the 'right' people.

Oddly enough, contemplating the herd lumbering along behind fake pres, i was reminded of an old Fringeworx short story - I, Marik. Fringeworx, as you may or may not recall, is the web series i did way back in the mid-90s that was recently folded into The Third Colony. And, heck - it's even a prelude to an episode that heavily featured Frag, the character now wandering around in the T3C game whom we saw in the promos.

So, what the frell. It's quite short, so i'm going to run it this morning.

Now, as a matter of fact...

 I, Marik
by -3-

(This is a prequel to "...Of Darkness And Glory" These events take place just prior to Frag's arrival on Lancer's Reef.)


He rubbed his wounded shoulder as he tried to quiet his ragged breathing and draw back deeper into the shadows. He tasted the blood in his mouth and wondered what his name was. His heart racing, head pounding, blood singing in his ears; he wanted something to cling to. To steady himself. He knew he had a name. could almost remember...

This morning. This morning he had another life. He remembered energy. Energy... NRG! He had been an NRG Tech. Clutching at quicksilver thoughts, he name slipped away and his life came to him instead. For a moment, it was all clear in his mind - the intricate details of stopping atomic motion and releasing the energy from inert matter.

Then he barely stifled a laugh. He knew nothing of the energy hidden in an inert body. Now. Now he knew. Energy flooding every cell of his being. Primal energy unleashed from deep within. The screaming might of the wave that carried him through the streets. More than energy - energy lust. The heart and the mind and the spirit all screaming his personal power in perfect unison. The Howl...
He was lost again, any thought of his name, his life, swept away unnoticed. Someone approached on the street beneath him. He felt fresh again, ready to continue. He checked the growl in the back of his throat before it alerted his competition. When the light glinted off her metal jacket, he leaped. He landed with his knee in the middle of her back, driving her into the ground as one arm snaked around her neck and the other hand grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back. Her. face, twisted in anger, was beautiful...green eyes and Celtic features. it was a face he knew well - eyes he remembered.

Last Night - staring into those eyes as sweat dripped into his own. Feeling the pounding of her heart pressed to his; the wet heat of her wrapped around him. Their sex had always been good, but last night had been more than great. Like on an animal level they had known something was coming. They were consumed by passion - lust - something ancient and primal. Something that connected them in a more than physical way. Something eternal.

He sank his teeth into her exposed throat, the taste of blood fresh in his mouth again. He chewed savagely and twisted his lover until she stopped twitching. Then sprang to his feet and howled his twin victory. Not only had he eliminated another competitor, but she was his forever now. A part of him. With a gleeful bound he continued on, sprinting toward the colony center. He wanted to howl again, but he held it in, saving it, losing himself instead in the joy of running. Revelling in the power that was his to command.

Yesterday. Yesterday the command came from the Power Core. No more heavy minerals. With no native heavy elements, he was supposed to expand the operation to full planetary broadcast power, on the original schedule, with no more offworld shipments. Bastards! He knew why. His bonuses. He made too many of them, and they were doing some cost cutting! If he could get his hands on them...

He squeezed, crushing the windpipe of the stranger in his hands. He tossed the corpse off to the side near a few older ones, and moved on. Trotting at a slower pace, careful not to slip in the ever more frequent goreslicks, he started looking for a suitable weapon. He was getting closer now, his competition more frequent. And soon there would be packs. He must be prepared. Within a few blocks, he spotted a walker mech, attacked and abandoned. Cautious of a trap, he circled toward it, and smiled when he spotted what he was looking for - jutting like the spines of a porcupine, a lateral array of cooling pins. A meter and a half long, only a few centimeters in diameter, and easy to detach. They were probably one of the hardest objects on the planet. Proud of his new battle rod, he stared into its ebony surface. Shiny enough to belie its lightsucking appearance...looking for all the world like a piece of night fallen to his hands. Too black.

This afternoon he was tired. Not from last night's incredible sex, but tired in spirit. It was with weary resignation that he suffered through the inspection tour by the same Home Office nullard that brought yesterday's new orders. Weary in the knowledge the his one year contract had just been tripled in length and quartered in money... This afternoon. Night came 3 hours early this afternoon. And with the dark came glory. Glory and Power and Freedom. And Primal Joy. He felt it and turned to the corp and smiled. The rover felt it , and it knew what was coming; looked like it wanted to run, but frozen in fear. When he pounced on the corporate slug, it screamed. Screamed his name! What was his name?

He could see it now, glittering in the center of the colony plaza. The Web of Stars. It beckoned to him, sang its call over the roar of the crowd. That was all there was for him now - the song and the web stretching into the sky. His rod whistled with the song as it cut through the air, clearing space before him. This was all he had ever wanted, his every unknown desire gloriously fulfilled.
Closer now, his rod striking as fast as his heart was beating. He was Power! He was pure energy! No one could stop him. Hundreds swarmed around him, clawing and clubbing each other. So many that often the dead had no room to fall, carried along by the mob in a danse macabre. But for him they didn't exist - only those in the remaining meters between he and his goal had meaning. They were the fiercest, having fought this far, but that slowed him not at all. Part of him regretted being unable to feast upon them and give them the respect they deserved, but now there was only blood. The stars were his, not theirs, and he would have them. Oblivious to the pain of his now useless left arm flopping at his side, he struck down the last obstacle in his path.
With a roar of triumph he dropped the cooling pin and started to climb the Star Web. His heart sang with victory, his spirit shining like stars on which he climbed, he finally allowed himself his howl. It was a sound from the depths of his soul; a primal song to all who could hear, proclaiming his mastery of them. Telling them that Marik was their better. The best!
Marik! That was his name! The joy in his system reached new heights. He felt complete and refreshed, climbing ever faster. He could see them now. Almost. They had no edges, no boundaries, receding off into more than just three dimensions of space. He looked below and screamed.
"Marik! Marik is your better! Marik is more than any of you - more than all of you!!" Laughing, he continued climbing up to join them. To be with them for all time. Now close, he stopped and joyfully announced himself. "I am here, oh lords. Marik has proven he is worthy. Please, I beg of you, accept me. Please, Oh Lords!" Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as they shifted forward. He thought his heart would burst, unable to contain his pride and happiness as they drew close to him. The ecstasy left him trembling.


"Thank you..." he whispered as the jaws closed over his head, just before his heart did burst.

...and it worked out for Marik about as well as it's working for the USA.

stuff by -3- (199x)

ONES Upon A First Time Around

We've got a quickie today, only six pages long - but it counts double. Not only does she fit into the

feature, but also is the inaugural entry for another feature - one i'd yet to start simply because i don't know what i want to call it. It's a simple notion - spotlighting familiar names that were already used previously. Somehow, Before They Was Them lacks a certain je ne sais quois, n'est pas?

If you're unfamiliar, ONES Upon A Time features characters who were set up for ongoing series but only had One published appearance before disappearing into comic limbo.

Today's star appeared in Major Victory Comics #1 back in 1944. Major Victory came back for a second issue, but she did not. As is all too often the case, the creators' names are lost and unknown.

Meet Helen Goddard, who used the name Spider Woman decades before Jessica Drew -
 

SO many questions about why she had that costume just sitting around. What was she planning?

And, what do you think? Would the kid have turned out to be a sidekick, and that's why she introduced herself to him? 
Or was it just that the fields were barren, so she had none to give? (Yeah, it's one of them days - and the writing on T3C is starting to get a mite strange(r))

page art from Major Victory Comics #1 (1944)

Getting Snoody Again

As you may expect, we've got the second half of the run of The Fumble Family and Uncle Amos featuring Amos Q. Snood of Tom Mix's Straight Shooters radio company. As with Jane, the War came to the TM Bar Ranch and the last 3 tales come from Tom Mix Commandos instead of Tom Mix Comics, with Snood becoming a Neighborhood Warden.

Here're the remaining six from Stan Schendel and Charles Biro -

...and that's how we won the war.
(Kids, don't put that on your tests!)

page art by Charles Biro from Tom Mix Comics #s 7-9 and Tom Mix Commandos #s10-12 (1941, 1942)