The flip side is that if you Google “Jubilee illustration,” even with some filters on, you’re gonna turn up some gnarly fan art. These are the kinds of things that were once confined to diaries and sketchbooks buried under mattresses (or perhaps passed around in locker rooms). It’s a free country, so if you want to draw Starfire in a compromising position with The Spectre, well, that’s your business. But I often search the Net for good art to share with our readers, and it’s beyond depressing to see so many female characters — and they are almost always female — depicted in degrading, even hostile ways. They’re bound and gagged, possessed of porn boobs, or portrayed in the most clinically sexual fashion imaginable — usually while servicing a guy. I’m not talking about illustrations that are merely erotic, because the good fan artists seem to have some affection and respect for the characters they’re drawing. I get it; Emma Frost is sexy. Zatanna is sexy. Still, there is a world of difference between drawing a saucy pinup and/or a moment of adult intimacy and creating/posting something that says, “See? She’s nothing but a scantily clad blow-up doll. Not so high and mighty on her knees, huh?” It shows such a fundamental lack of understanding of a heroic character, but I guess that’s not the point when you’re drawing Sue Storm on the pole.

Masturbatory art (and fanfic for that matter) has always existed, so perhaps I am reading too much into these images. However, I don’t think it is coincidental that some of the most powerful women in comics are often the objects of such degradation. It’s one thing to cheekily comment on a character’s attractiveness, which we do all the time. But when strong heroines like Supergirl or Storm are stripped of all dignity and presented so crudely, it speaks volumes about how the “artist” perceives women in real life. I say “women,” because I have yet to come across a picture of Green Arrow in chains or kneeling at someone’s crotch. And while I think it’s a parent’s responsibility to keep tabs on what their children are doing online, a kid ought to be able to Google a drawing of Wonder Girl without turning up some foolishness that’s going to send them to therapy.

As great as it is to find truly delightful art — and there’s plenty of it out there — taking the occasional detour through the misogynist gutter is a crummy experience. If this lament makes me a prude or a repressed fangirl, I’ll wear the title proudly.

A character, not a "statement"

By now, you’ve probably seen Gail Simone’s fierce, utterly awesome rebuttal to an aspiring comic book writer who said, essentially, that characters should not be forced on publishers for the sake of inclusion. Specifically, gay characters. This person’s argument is annoying for a number of reasons, but what struck me is how frequently I’ve heard versions of this from otherwise reasonable people. Say that you want to see more high-profile minorities in comics, and someone inevitably will respond, “Race/sexual orientation shouldn’t enter into it. I hate it when someone does that just to look progressive. A good character is a good character.” What they’re really saying is the default is white and straight (and often male), and anything outside of that default is possibly tainted by a 1) a quota system or 2) an attempt to appease a narrow, agitated fan base.

I’m sorry, but that is both insulting and outrageously presumptuous. When was the last time someone took issue with the creation of a straight, white, male hero? Fans might deride the character for being lame, but no one will say, “I think the publisher is trying to make some kind of statement here.” Exhibit A: Batwoman. When Greg Rucka rebooted Kate Kane as a modern heroine who happened to be gay, some cynical fans claimed her sexuality was a naked publicity stunt. You could practically hear the sneering. Look, I understand that reporters need a newsworthy hook for a story, and launching a high-profile, gay, female character IS quite a hook. But as Rucka later explained — and readers eventually saw for themselves — being gay is just one piece of who Kate is. Like being an alien is just one piece of who Clark Kent is. Like being obsessive is one piece of who Bruce Wayne is. If Batwoman’s stories had sucked or been strained and inauthentic, that would have nothing to do with her sexual orientation and everything to do with poor writing. Of course, that turned out not to be the case.

Gail came down hard on old boy, but I think she just snapped, and understandably so. Comics are far more inclusive than they used to be, and they keep getting better. But the fact that someone felt moved to complain about a fan’s desire for a marquee, gay, male superhero — in 2011! — floors me. People of color and gays happen to be, I dunno, part of society, not mere artistic fetishes. But what do I know? Perhaps I’m just an angry, unreasonable black geek with an agenda and a quota Excel spreadsheet.

Your pull list is an embarrassment.

Every community, from LARPers to knitting circles, has its version of the hipster. If you think about it, comics are particularly fertile ground for these creatures, because the medium marries literature and art — two subjects that bring out the hipster’s trademark qualities: pretension and a penchant for constant one-upsmanship. Let’s call this geek/hipster hybrid the “geepster” (pork pie hat, optional).

When you meet another comics lover and begin the what-do-you-read dance, there’s always the danger of being harshly judged if your pull list contains Spandex. Or as V. recalled from one such maddening encounter, “You read superhero comics? That’s so mainstream.” It’s like talking to a Sigur Ros fan and proudly saying you adore Coldplay (raises hand).

“I haven’t read those books since I was in high school,” the geepster sniffs. “I mean, they’re fine for what they do, but I’m really into this series by a French farmer/architect that you can’t even get in local shops. It’s a wordless commentary on sexuality and environmental warfare, and, no offense, but it makes Sandman look juvenile.”

The geepster’s blanket dismissal of popular comics grinds my gears. First of all, there’s nothing mainstream about reading comic books, and that includes capes. I live in a city where it’s considered normal to paint oneself a festive shade of cranberry on football game day, but put a Dr. Fate figurine on your desk, and suddenly, you’re downright alternative. The major publishers are staunchly corporate, but comics have deep underdog roots. Some of the best-loved characters were created by Jewish guys who, in their day, were considered outside of mainstream American culture and the power structure. Plus, if reading comics of any kind were a common pursuit, geeks wouldn’t need the equivalent of an international coming-out day to show the world that “normal” people read then. Superhero movies are popular with the general public, but that’s not the same as having a standing date on Wednesday with your LCS owner. Not even close.

V. and I read under-the-radar books all the time, and we are evangelical about the ones we like. Our issues with the Big Two are well documented, and who hasn’t cracked open a superhero book on occasion and groaned with disdain? But when geepsters act as though there are no worthwhile “mainstream” comics, that tells me they haven’t read any in a long time. Secret Six? Fantastic Four? X-Force? Invincible? Call me crazy, but those are some pretty damn fine books. And I’m not reading them ironically. A good comic is a good comic, and some of the indie stuff is sketchy, too.

On a related note, I ran across some thoughtful essays on the shaky relationship between geeks and hipsters, and how some books (Scott Pilgrim) are bridging the divide. So perhaps we can all put down our trade paperback-stuffed messenger bags, roll up the sleeves of our shrunken, Goodwill cardigans and hold hands.* For giggles, I highly recommend this.

*In the interest of full disclosure, I do own a messenger bag and a shrunken cardigan sweater. Don’t judge me.

Yeah. I feel your pain, bro.

Some of you may recall that a while back, I did a poll asking whether or not I should finish reading Crisis on Infinite Earths. At the time, I wasn’t enjoying the book, but I thought I’d let you guys decide. By a very slim margin, it was decided that, yes, I should finish the book. I said that I would do it; therefore, I felt like I had to do it. I also had some sort of misplaced loyalty to comic fandom. Much of what I read is DC, and this is a part of DC continuity — a very big part. But you know what? I can’t fucking do it.

This book just doesn’t do it for me. The ’80s were a much different time for comic books, and when I was five, I didn’t read comics. It is not nostalgic; it’s not even vintage. It is just boring. I’m not a masochist, but it started to feel like I might be teetering on the edge. I tried to finish it. I picked the damn thing up countless times, only to fall asleep after ten pages. Other times, my mind would drift off to how I’d rather be cleaning my tub. Twenty pages would go by, and I’d have no idea what I just read. Sometimes I just put it down out of sheer frustration.

While Chucks, skinny jeans, and those stupid plastic sunglasses have made a comeback, big hair, female leads drizzled in weak sauce, and a story that’s been done a bajillion times over HAVE NOT. I get it; at the time it was a big damn deal, and it is the very thing that inspired the previously mentioned done-over stories. But I read those stories first, so reading this is not satisfying. This particular story is SO CONVOLUTED, and the characters I love now were portrayed so differently back then. Particularly Batgirl. I couldn’t stand the envy scene with Supergirl, where Babs is all self-deprecating because she doesn’t have super powers. UGH! Give me a break.

I will acknowledge two things: First, Superman throwing planets is so absurd … it’s awesome. Second, George Perez is the man.

My dismay of “big hair” is not a knock on Perez’s pencils. I get that they were a reflection of the times. Honestly, his pencils are stellar. That is a lot of art and a lot of characters smooshed into those panels, and he pulled it off. He did better than pull it off. George Perez is a force to be reckoned with. I have the utmost respect for his art. Now, what I don’t like are the colors. Perhaps it would have been difficult to differentiate between so many characters without the extreme color, but frankly, it was garish. It detracted from Perez’s work and just annoyed me.

So there it is. I don’t like the story, and the ostentatious coloring irked your girl. There are far, FAR too many other books out there that I would love to spend my time reading. If that makes me less of a DC fangirl, well I don’t care.

For the record, the above mentioned poll determining whether I was to finish Crisis or not was tainted anyway. A coworker and fellow geek thought it’d be funny to vote a bunch of times for me to read it, because he knew that I didn’t want to. I’m looking at you, Truelove.

If only.

There’s some great work being done on television, and there are a number of shows I’d watch gladly before forking over $10 for a paint-by-numbers blockbuster. The big screen isn’t always superior, and lots of comic book characters would be well-served by a thoughtful TV vehicle. Just look at Smallville.

And yet, when the story broke that David E. Kelley was developing a new Wonder Woman TV series, I was somewhere between indifferent and disappointed. And it has very little to do with Kelley or his previous work, though I did hate Ally McBeal.

There have been five major Batman releases since 1988, and the sixth is in the works. Superman’s live-action movie career dates back to the 1970s, and his sixth outing is on the way. That’s not even counting the animated television vehicles and God knows how many major comic book stories — many of them modern classics. But while her fellow DC Trinity teammates are riding high in first class, Wondy’s still flying coach, despite having her own damn plane. To further extend the metaphor, why is one of the best-known comic book heroes ever, male or female, languishing on the runway? I’m sure the Green Lantern movie will be somewhere between workmanlike and very good, but  he gets a film franchise before Diana? Really? (And please don’t tell me that her costume is the problem, because all superhero garb is essentially ridiculous.) For a more detailed version of this rant, click here.

I’m not privy to anything happening behind the scenes at DC-Warner Bros., so this is baldfaced conjecture on my part. However, I think this speaks volumes about the character’s importance, or lack thereof, to her keepers. Joe and Jane Sixpack know who Wonder Woman is, but it’s entirely possible that they’ve never heard of Hal Jordan. However, he, along with Bats and Supes have benefited from a great deal of corporate nurturing. Even in her own $2.99 comic book, Wonder Woman has been diminished for a gimmicky, generic story that, trust me, will not stand alongside Hush 50 years from now.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that a Wonder Woman movie would be good, and the new TV show could turn out to be a winner. Like every other Gen Xer in the late 1970s, I was glued to the screen when Lynda Carter spun and transformed into the Amazon Princess. It’s cool to think that a new generation of kids could be inspired to rip some tinfoil and form it into bracelets. But it would be a lot cooler if Wonder Woman got the respect and attention that a hero of her caliber truly deserves.

On Friday, I saw mention of the similarities between a few pages in Madame Xanadu #28 and the general premise of the main character in Chew. Madame Xanadu is on my pull list, so I had already read the issue and noticed said similarity because I also read Chew monthly.

Basically, in last week’s issue of Madame Xanadu, there were splash pages (not just panels) showing the female protagonist having psychic visions of the food she eats. It was so similar to Chew that it even featured an orange grove and images of a slaughterhouse. When I read it, I said out loud, “Um. That is just like Chew. Please don’t use the word cibopath. PLEASE.” It didn’t, and the book went on to say that the woman was a clairvoyant who needed “training,” as her visions were working in reverse. Thus, she went to Madame Xanadu to be mentored. OK. Fine.

What’s giving me so much heartburn is that I love both books, and it would seem that one has stolen from the other. It’s as if my two best friends were fighting. I’ve flat-out said Chew is the best comic book I have ever read. I meant that. I adore Madame Xanadu too, to the point that I am genuinely sad that the book is ending. Wagner has given heart and soul to Nimue all along. But I gave specific praise to Madame Xanadu editor Shelly Bond for this current story arc, because it features a group of up-and-coming female artists. It is in this very arc that the swipe occurred.

I don’t presume to know what goes on at these publishing companies; I’m just a fangirl. I’m sure every writer has their process, and the way they communicate to the artists probably varies from person to person, and an editor’s involvement can also vary. But how is it that the very same editor to whom Chew was pitched is the editor on a different book with a strikingly similar element? Mind you, Vertigo rejected Layman and Guillory’s pitch for Chew.

Did Vertigo think that no one would notice the similarity to a New York Times bestselling book?

Madame Xanadu ends at issue #29, so let’s just throw the credibility of the entire book out the door right before it dies?!!!

Is this the sort of unethical bullshit artists and writers have to worry about when pitching their ideas? Is that even legal?!

This being Election Day and all, I suppose these aren’t things I should be getting my panties in a bunch about. There are certainly grander issues to concern myself with, but … Nimue deserves better! As Jimmy Fallon would say with a bad British accent as Robert Pattinson … as Edward Cullen: I’m BOTHERED!

Nimue does not take kindly to impending doom.

As with so many other things that are artistically awesome, they come to an end long before they should. Over at Bleeding Cool, rumor has it that Madame Xanadu will soon meet her demise at Vertigo. Whether because of corporate rearranging of characters, low sales, or the creators having other projects they deem priority, this falls under the category of tragic.

I only recently discovered Madame Xanadu. The first trade, “Disenchanted,” was exceptional. When I finished reading it, I immediately re-read it. Amy Reeder’s art is out of this world. She draws Madame Xanadu so beautifully, with ethereal hints of Manga that make her work bright and unique. Matt Wagner’s story is nothing short of brilliant. He depicts a character who is so powerful and ageless, yet internally flawed by deep emotional wounds a thousand years old. Wagner ingeniously weaves in characters like Merlin, The Phantom Stranger, and Morgan Le Fey, which entices the continuity hound in me. The second trade was also very good, albeit quite different. An alternate artist, Michael William Kaluta, added a rugged vibe to the arc. It worked for the time-period of the story. Think Spanish Inquisition and Jack the Ripper. The writing continued to be fanfuckingtastic as we see a more mature Xanadu, settling into who she’s decided to be. So good in fact, I started buying the issues. The most recent arc, beginning at #26 (check my review over at Newsarama), is very promising.

I could sycophantically profess 100 other things I love about this book, but I’ll stop here, as it’s not going to change anything. I’ve learned to accept that when I really, really love a book, it will inevitably get canned. I’m not so completely narcissistic to believe that I’m one of the few who recognize true excellence. But how does a book like Brightest Day (aka the UBER-MEH) continue on while Xanadu must cease? Sales, I’m sure. To that, I say: Advertise the damn book! I’m so over this “It’s not selling” cop-out. If Xanadu got nearly as much ad space as Brightest Day, I bet it would sell. Pardon me, Mr. Wagner, if I’m being presumptuous and assuming it wasn’t your decision. You are a gifted writer; perhaps you decided to move on. I know Ms. Reeder is taking on Batwoman (aka the MEGA-WIN), and covers for Supergirl, which I’m sure will be splendid. But why do the books I love have to go?

Birds of Prey is back, and that’s great. DC previously discontinued that book and let the characters get turned into feminine frailty. Gail Simone is very quickly rectifying that, but it took four years for DC to figure out what a gem they had with Simone and BoP. Amid the hoopla surrounding Wonder Woman, DC claimed her books weren’t selling either, thus justifying the redesign/reboot. Again, perhaps the books would sell if she got even half the ad space as Batman. Issue #600 sold like hotcakes because it was advertised out the wazoo, combined with the gimmick of changing her appearance. Surely, there aren’t that many JMS fans. Sorry.

Vertigo books consistently have solid writing and good art. I’d say that about a third of the books at DC prime are working with that combo. I acknowledge the factor of sheer numbers. Fine. But this cash cow momentum is a ruthless executioner.  Madame Xanadu is being unjustifiably sent to the guillotine.

This brings us to Wonder Woman’s new costume, which you can see today in its full glory with the debut of issue #600. As this is being written, V. and I have yet to read new Wondy writer J. Michael Stracynzski’s first issue, so we can’t comment on the story. The outfit, redesigned by none other than Jim Lee, is another story.

Here’s what we like: The old-school top is fine, and the gloves are hot in an I-will-beat-you-down-in-an-alley kind of way.

What don’t we like? Let’s start with the boots, which pissed us off mightily. If you’re going to put Diana in black leggings, why not let her keep some version of her iconic, red kicks? As V. put it, it’s all about the fucking boots, and the mall footwear with golden frippery isn’t going to cut it. And we like biker chick chic as much as anyone, but the star-spangled blue jacket looks like a Black Canary ripoff. And a choker? No. Seriously, no.

Wonder Woman’s new clothes aren’t terrible or offensive; but they are disappointingly generic and dated. As one person wrote on the DCU blog: “Looks like she’s just changed for happy hour after work. In 1996.”

JMS outlines the ideas behind the costume redesign in an extensive interview with Comic Book Resources, but I’m not sure I buy them. For starters, why does a superhero costume have to be practical? In all my years of reading “Wonder Woman” comics — the good and the bad — I’ve never wondered how she fights “without all her parts popping out” or where she keeps her keys. It’s a suspension of disbelief thing. Couldn’t she just keep some recognizable version of her costume underneath contemporary street clothes, like Spider-Man?

It’s not that we’re anti-change, but we think an amazing heroine ought to have an amazing costume. Reboot or no, Wonder Woman is a classic who should be distinguishable from, say, Donna Troy. Paging Christian Siriano!

For those who voted for me to move on, thanks for trying. I’ve got some juicy stuff waiting for me. Now it’s taunting me. Perhaps that will get me through the 200 and some odd pages remaining.

For those who voted for me to finish, I am a woman of my word. I will do it, however begrudgingly.  Once I am done, I will also write about it honestly. So, if by some slim chance I end up liking this bullshit, I will tell you that I liked it. BUT if it continues to suck, my review will contain as many four letter words as possible.

I do know one thing, Crisis will be the last time I tolerate the uncreative, plot-devouring, manga-robot mothafucka that is the Anti-Monitor. Brightest Day, consider yourself dropped from the pull-list.

It’s time to go rip this band-aid off.

Cover art by Dan LuVisi

Secret Six #20 played out like a well-acted revenge thriller. Catman reminded me of Liam Neeson in Taken. Those baddies effed with the wrong guy! Still, I wish Cheshire had come along to help with the revenge portion of the show. Maybe Gail will bring her around later. Let’s hope.

On the whole, this issue was fast-paced and full of that shock factor these characters are known for, and it set the stage for a hell of a story arc. Thanks again, Gail, for reminding me why I buy monthly issues instead of waiting for the trade.

Secret Six is one of the best books on comic store shelves right now, so I’m puzzling over the 2010 Eisner Award nominations. Based on conversations with my geek posse and articles about the nominees, it seems that most of the nods were totally deserved. However, I have a bone to pick with the judges in a specific category — Best Writer. The five MEN nominated were Ed Brubaker, Geoff Johns, James Robinson, Mark Waid and Bill Willingham. My thoughts:

I haven’t read anything by Brubaker or Waid, so I can’t give an opinion. I’ve heard from several fanboys that Brubaker’s Captain America and Waid’s Irredeemable are excellent. OK. Fine.

Willingham rocks. I LOVE Fables, and I’ve lost hours of sleep because I couldn’t put the trades down. His work is consistent and intriguing, so this nomination makes perfect sense to me.

Johns? Meh. Insert Greg Rucka instead. Sure, Johns is a solid writer, but I’ve never loved his work. The Flash: Rebirth was a snore. Blackest Night was a good time, but I’d liken it to Avatar getting the award for best movie at the Golden Globes over Inglourious Basterds. Johns is just so … mainstream.

(Deep Sigh) At the risk of beating a dead horse, I have to say it: James fucking Robinson got an Eisner Award nomination for the steaming load that was Justice League: Cry For Justice! What. The. Hell?! I’ll spare you the bullet points of why it sucked (click here and here and here AND here if you must know). The bottom line is that Robinson doesn’t deserve it, at least, not for this comic.

There are other writers who are more worthy of a nomination —writers like, I dunno, Gail Simone for Secret Six. Duh. Her writing in this book has been unwaveringly good, and every issue makes me laugh out loud. Secret Six is pure, debauched entertainment, and I love it.

Robinson is up against some heavy hitters, so surely he can’t win. But Ms. Simone’s absence from the ballot is both a mystery and a damned shame.

I’m running out of ways to say how much this sucks. Rucka’s run on Wonder Woman was, in my opinion, second only to George Perez’s 1980s reboot — and a close one. Along with artist J.H. Williams III, he created a killer origin story for Batwoman via Detective Comics, which was easily one of the best stories I read last year. I was looking forward to their rumored reunion on a standalone Batwoman comic, and I was frankly crushed to learn that he wouldn’t be stepping in for Gail Simone once she departs Wonder Woman.

I know Rucka has his critics, and I’ve heard all the lame jokes about how he specializes in troubled lesbians. (No one ever jokes about Geoff Johns specializing in idealized white guys, but I digress.) To many a fangirl, he is one of a handful of writers who not only gets strong, female characters, but seems to genuinely like them. In a candid interview with Comics Alliance, Rucka shed some light an an issue that V. and I have talked about many times — people who either dislike Wonder Woman outright or don’t know what the hell to do with her: “A lot of the guys who have written her don’t like her; they just want to f–k her. … And people want to simplify her, so they go, ‘She’s Superman with tits.’ No, she’s not.”

As RuPaul would say, “Can I get an amen?”

I’ll leave it to others to speculate about the reasons behind Rucka’s departure, though he certainly has a lot of other cool projects on his plate. I’m willing to believe that the man simply has other stories he wants to tell, and that he’s looking for new challenges as a writer. But … but … but. While talking about the Batwoman stories he and Williams had hoped to do, Rucka said something that stopped me in my tracks: ” ‘Elegy’ was supposed to be four issues; there were supposed to be three issues that were ‘Go,’ and then there was a five-part story that Jim and I had, but because of a variety of things in-house at DC, we were moved out of Detective [Comics] and we couldn’t tell the story there.”

Seriously? He and Williams were moved off of Detective Comics, despite making it one of DC’s most buzzworthy books of 2009? What the hell?!

Anyone who reads comics for any length of time is going to be disappointed by something — a character dies, a beloved writer or artist moves on, an awesome book is cancelled. That’s life. But something about this announcement, on top of recent DC bombshells about Wonder Woman and Power Girl, put me in a seriously foul mood. Aside from Gail’s return to Birds of Prey, I can’t think of a single upcoming DC event that I’m genuinely excited about — and that makes me wonder whether it’s time to back away from the caped entertainment and start exploring more independent comics.

I’m tempted to say that I might be expecting too much, but my standard for comics is no higher than it is for any other form of entertainment. And thanks to dream teams like Rucka and Williams, among others, I know what comic books are truly capable of.

There are certain qualities that I think need to be in place in order to have a healthy relationship. Enjoying each other’s company is pretty high up there, along with having similar moral values, common interests, and respect for each other. Physical attraction plays a minor part, too, but I think that without that foundation of things that actually matter, you’re basically asking for trouble, either now or at some point down the road.

So, why the hell was Wonder Woman dating Nemesis?!? Seriously, what did they see in each other?

Nemesis, I can get some of what’s going on in your head. Wonder Woman is probably the most beautiful woman in the DC Universe. That’s pretty cool, but beyond that, is there really anything that you have in common?

Wonder Woman was formed out of clay, given superhuman abilities by various Greek deities as birthday presents, and raised on an island of warrior women who specialize in kicking butt and being awesome on a daily basis. She’s a founding member of the Justice League of America and is probably the most fearsome warrior in existence (at least, in the DC Universe). She’s also one of the few members of an exclusive club named People Who Can Kill Superman in a Fight.

Let’s take a look at your personal history, bruh. You’ve been a member of the Suicide Squad and the Department of Metahuman Affairs and are, evidently, a master of disguise. I’m not sure of the entirety of your track record on secret missions and stuff, but from what I do know, your M.O. seems to be “guy who tends to be the sole survivor of missions that have failed spectacularly.”

What do you think the logical conclusion of this relationship would be? When Diana comes home from a long day of smashing in Titans’ faces or saving the solar system from a Controller-created biological weapon that treats the sun like a Taco Bell Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, what are you going to talk about? You aren’t equals at all. You’re not even within a quintillion light-years of “equal.” Doesn’t she deserve to be with someone who is an actual peer?

Now, dude, I’m not saying this out of jealousy or anything like that. I live on Earth Prime, so Wonder Woman is just a fictional character to me. Even if she weren’t, I would have even less in common with her than you do. Just sayin’, dog, I never saw this going anywhere. You were only wasting your time, and hers.

My stylist is so fired.

Nothing raises our hackles quite like hearing someone say Wonder Woman is lame. (Hello, Megan Fox.) For example, one of V’s friends (we’ll call him The Antagonist) takes great joy in claiming, among other things, that Bobby Drake could kick her ass, and that the princess would “look real pretty in a pink tutu, carrying a little purse with a little dog.”

We did not handle that well. Words were exchanged via Facebook.

It was even worse once we figured out the context. The Antagonist had already read Blackest Night #6, in which Wonder Woman was transformed into a member of the Star Sapphire Corps. OK, technically the Star Sapphires wield violet light, but the costume’s color was close enough to pink for it to sting. Say what you want about Wonder Woman’s usual getup, but there is a certain dignity (depending on who is drawing her) to her red, white and blue uniform and golden breastplate. The Star Sapphire look is equal parts Dollar Tree and Strip Club. No offense to Carol Ferris, but only Starfire has a trashier costume — and she’s an alien, so she gets a pass.

Wonder Woman as a love-powered being? That’s awesome. But somewhere, The Antagonist is having a good laugh.

Bills, Bills, Bills!

When she isn’t channeling animal powers to fight crime with the Justice League, Vixen — aka Mari Jiwe McCabe — rolls as an international fashion model. So why does her costume look like one of Tina Knowles’ rejected sketches from the 1999 Destiny’s Child Tour?

Of course, there’s no shortage of fashion crimes against female comic book characters (Star Sapphire’s stripper-inspired getup comes to mind), but there’s something especially jacked up about Vixen’s situation. The woman is a runway model, and she’s in a mustard-colored bodysuit with a butterfly collar and an animal tooth belt? For real? Liya Kedebe or Gisele wouldn’t be caught dead in that madness.

Maybe this seems like a quibble, but a superhero or villain’s costume is, for better or worse, his or her calling card. Vixen is by far the most prominent black female superhero on DC’s roster, but her spectacularly unimaginative yet tacky costume suggests that she’s nothing special — just another random chick in Spandex. As Manhunter and Catwoman’s costumes demonstrate, even a simple bodysuit can make a powerful (and sexy) design statement.

Some enterprising person at DC ought to get Lifetime on the phone and pitch a Vixen costume redesign challenge for the next “Project Runway” season. While they’re at it, they might want to offer up Star Sapphire, too, because that fuchsia shit is just crazy.