Monday, August 6, 2012

Retro Review: Batman #277


Wow, this was one hot fucking mess of an issue. Our issue starts out in a Florida Beach front house owned by Bruce Wayne, he's there with bimbo of the week Susan. There are reports of a Sea Monster in the area which is scarring off tourists and Bruce, who suspects its bullshit, asks Susan if she wants to check it out with him. When they get there they of course encounter a sea monster. Susan, deciding she wants no part of this crap, heads out to catch the first flight back to Gotham. Bruce of course decides this looks like a job for Batman. Through a series of retarded plot twists we find out that the sea monster is actually a guy in a rubber suit who works for drug running pirates and is using the sea monster to scare people off the trail. Batman of course foils their idiotic plans. I'm not going to go into anymore detail then that because I refuse, on principal, to put more effort into a summary than the writer apparently put into the actual script.

The biggest problem with this issue is these morons seem like they should be going up against Scooby and the gang not fucking Batman. But this issue is also full of a lot of WTF moments. Such as where Batman kills this one guy.




Shit! Batman's not fucking around is he? Nothing like making a bad pun while you switch some guys head around 180. Batman was all about bad puns in this too, was that how he was in the 70s? He's like a murderous Spider-man. Granted that guy did get back up later, but unless he's related to Wolverine I don't fucking see how. Also Bruce was quite the pimp back then.

Gigitty. No wonder Batman was in a neck breaking mood, that fake Sea Monster totally cock blocked him. Also there was one of the oddest public service announcements I've ever seen in this comic. Let's look at the wisdom Superman wishes to impart to us.


Don't crash parties kids. Umm ok. Not the usual PSA stuff like don't do drugs, or stay in school, or be careful where you put your penis, no the important message of the day is don't crash parties. Was this some sort of epidemic in the 70's? Crashing parties doesn't really seem like a major social problem. I mean granted it's kinda dickish, but did it really need a PSA? Next month Wonder Woman will have an important PSA about not leaving the toilet seat up. And then Batman will talk about how you shouldn't cock block people with rubber sea monster costumes.

The 70's were a weird time.


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