Which Way Super Powers: The Doomsday Prophecy

I am darkness. I am the night. I am the gosh darn Batman! Well, not really, but through the miracle of a 1986 Which Way book the illusion is nearly seamless. Yes, in addition to creating lazy third-rate Choose Your Own Adventure knock-offs, the Which Way series also obtained a license to use DC Comics characters like that Super guy and the flying rodent ninja. I really can't overstate what a big deal this poorly written and generally work-shy series was in its day: Simon & Schuster as a publisher, major crossover marketing, huge sales, it was all there. This is why any sensible individual would set their time machine for the mid-eighties. In any case, The Dark Knight! I'm having trouble controlling my hype level, even with the "Which Way" logo right there, mocking me and ensuring this one will be disappointing, at best.

This is gonna be totally rad!

The first let-down happens almost immediately, with the book being written in the third person. Yes, instead of being the hero Gotham deserves I'll merely be directing his actions at critical points. I really can't stress how disappointing this is. "Kids won't actually wanna be The Bat," I imagine a bloated money man shouting at the author. "So write this in a different style than all the other Which Way books. Now, it's time for me to go swim in money." This is almost certainly what happened.

Anyways, Bat Man (not me, him, gah) is driving toward the Bat Symbol when it's replaced with a "DEATH'S HEAD." Yes, that's the original capitalization. It must be some kind of set-up, possibly leading to DOOM!!! This is probably the worst first page in any of these books, combining being forced into the role of a largely passive observer with the shouting text and awful plot hook. Stick to bad television reception as a motivator, Which Way.

Meanwhile, the illustration of the Batmobile suggests the goofy television show and not the dark brooding hero of the movies. This is going to hurt. A lot.

I instruct the former League of Shadows disciple to radio Commissioner Gordon to see what the trouble is. He tells us it's not a big deal and the signal is being fixed and sometimes you get random DEATH'S HEAD issues with giant lamps, it's really nothing. Instead, I need to go to Washington D.C. for a 4th of July celebration because nothing spells summer fun like the grim protector of a decadent and dying city shaking hands and officiating the three-legged-race. You can't really argue with this logic.

Mr. Batman goes to Washington.

Naturally, Batman is greeted by Fake News immediately upon arriving at the swamp on the Potomac. Specifically, The Riddler has promised "the end of Batman," now that he's done "hacking" the 1984 election, I guess. Time to rush over to the White House and protect The Gipper from the least intimidating villain ever.

Then there's riddles and the power goes out. If there had been a Timothy Nolan movie with the Riddler, this would have been the plot, I guarantee it. The last student of Ra's al Ghul then solves a riddle and rushes over to the U.S. Mint to stop a "heist." This is the dark, gritty and intelligent action that we were promised. Riddler and his goons are waiting and attempt to crush the nocturnal predator with a giant novelty coin. Yeah. Really.

Our secret weapon to defeat Mr. Brexit and the Catalon Crusader.

Using a grappling hook Batman is able to redirect the coin and it somehow bounces around and defeats Mr. Question Mark and his goons. It's then explained that the plan was to "destroy the economy" with a glut of worthless money, which sounds more like an evil scheme from Soros Man than Edward Nigma's fey alter-ego. All is well, though, because we saved our currency from being deliberately debased by powerful evil figures and I'm sure we'll never end up 20 trillion in debt or whatever now.

I'll use fiat currency against the caped clod!

This wasn't, you know, "good," or anything, but it was short and forgettable. Since this is the goal of every Which Way book, it has to be considered a success, at least on some level. Also, nothing that happened had anything to do with either "doomsday" or "prophecy," but I guess "The Prancing Federal Reserve Criminal" is a strictly inferior as a title choice, false advertisement notwithstanding.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

DotTeeVee: Cobra's Economic Recovery Plan

You would think you could safely dismiss eighties cartoons designed to sell low-quality plastic toys as a source of cutting edge political commentary, but you'd be completely in error to do so. From old episodes of "Silverhawks" that explored flat tax proposals to the questions of rule of law and human rights frequently raised by "Central Organization of Police Specialists" these cheaply animated and lazily written morality plays are an absolute gold mine of complex socio-political theorizing as opposed to our televised news programs which are little more than reheated Soviet-era Pravda with better make-up and hair styles and less "That's Vodka For You!" humorous asides.

Consider today's subject, lifted from "G.I. Joe." Even without the Big Ideas that inevitably took center stage it was a memorable cartoon, teaching a generation that war is a bloodless theme park ride where the most effective weapon is the human fist. Seriously, the laser guns that were heavily featured are completely incapable of hitting a biological target (vehicles and robots get torn to bits, oddly enough). Instead five to the face is the most effective anti-terrorism countermeasure. The only problem is there are at least a few problems that can't be defeated by punching them. Problems like fiat currency, the gold standard and how evil anthropomorphic snake monsters can turn them against us.

The clip starts in typical cartoon villain fashion, with the "whatever device" de jour being prepared for a trial run in the headquarters of the malevolent COBRA organization, a sort of non-denominational group dedicated to trolling the world with ill-conceived evil. I'm talking things like defacing the moon or shooting mind control rays into our loved ones, all too typical and banal. Well, today's psychotic prank is going to be a little more original.

Let's declare victory now, I'm sure this arrogance won't come back to bite me later.

The device is activated by a man with a metal head who still seems capable of showing the full range of facial movement despite this rather obvious disability. A stack of money, the poor innocent victim of these monsters, bursts into flames. No, anything but that! Cobra Commander celebrates in his typical over the top and more than a little effeminate fashion. Stoic and capable are two words we're not going to be using to describe this man-snake villain. 

Meanwhile some of our heroes are apparently gambling while on duty (they all have their impractical and totally unique uniforms on). Apparently the stakes are pretty high based on the pile of cash in the center of the table, which I find a little hard to believe in light of the fact that even high-ranking officers in charge of our nuclear arsenal can't afford this sort of problem gambling. Anyway, we quickly check off the usual poker game cliches (Gotta pay to see 'em, too rich for my blood, who dealt this mess, where's my luck, etc) and get a chance to highlight the half-assed nature of this show in a long shot where the cards and table are the same color to save the animators several precious minutes of giving the cards actual backs. Later the cards will have red backs, but who honestly cares. We're here to learn Austrian School Economics, after all.

 

The pre-9-11 American military.

The purpose of this scene, of course, is so the money can explode, thus alerting our heroes to the latest menace facing the Free World. The fact that this makes them look somewhat less than pro-active and even derelict in their duty doesn't really matter since it efficiently moves the plot forward and we've got toys to sell here. Money being attacked. This is bad. Got it.

              If we gambled with matchsticks like normal soldiers this wouldn't have happened.

Democracy's last line of defense panics and then lapses into empty threats, which I have to concede is a pretty accurate depiction of what would really happen in such a crisis. Cobra Commander then appears on the big screen to drop exposition on us, essentially rendering this goofy scene meaningless. He delivers what resembles a mid-term election soft-money ad (Call Snake Eyes and tell him our children matter!) more than villainous blackmail, going on about the irresponsible fiscal policy of our leaders, economic restructuring ("This is awesome!" says eight-year-old Timmy) and "the worthless green paper your government has deceived you into thinking is valuable." Yes friends, "End the Fed" was inspired by this episode.

While the horrific serpent-man announces his Tea Party candidacy we get various wacky vignettes of an ATM machine dispensing handfuls of ash, money burning in some woman's wall safe and a used car dealership interaction where both the lemon and the money paid for it self-destruct. Anyone who says this show can't do intentional humor needs to check themselves, this stuff is top shelf.

 Home Alone Part 27: Abandoned in Assisted Living.

Justifiably outraged citizens gather around the treasury building chanting "We Want Money!" Well I think it's the treasury. It's either that or another Democratic Party Presidential Convention. Inside, the money is all ruined while some civilian that doesn't even get his own action figure talks doom and gloom. Apparently there's massive rioting and looting and the only way to restore order is to somehow revive the fiction that inked-up pieces of cloth have actual value. In summary, "printing new currency," which should always be the go-to solution for everything, is off the table. 

We need you to tell us who this "John Galt" is.

While our special forces gripe ineffectually, Cobra Commander has apparently purchased more television time. I have a feeling this episode ends with G.I. Joe proposing campaign finance reform laws. This time the terrorist leader is announcing "Cobra's Economic Recovery Plan." You know, as evil as this guy is even he wouldn't bail out bankers, so I'm willing to listen. Like any good politician he reminds us of the children (sadly no "folks," "good book," or "God's green Earth) and demands we bring all our goods to a legitimate business he apparently runs when he's not shrinking world leaders or sending "trouble bubbles" to shoot at various military hardware.

What do we get for our worldly possessions? The answer, of course, is a return to the Gold Standard via "Cobra Currency." I mean, I don't support carving the Cobra symbol into the moon or anything, but compared to 18 trillion and counting in debt this seems pretty reasonable. G.I. Joe is all "I can't believe this idiot revealed where his secret corporate base is" and with that the clip ends. Will our heroes save us from being nailed to the Cross of Gold or will the great and noble Federal Reserve fall to pure evil? Tune in next week, I guess.

 Hope and Change.

Komment Korner

I can't believe that a cartoon is actually showing what is going to happen in 2018.

HOLY SHIT COBRA COMMANDER IS A LIBERTARIAN

COBRA/PAUL 2016

It is a scary thought that the good guys had the snakes on their chest.

I would vote for cobra.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Choose Your Own Adventure #15: House of Danger

Last time out my running like the dickens skills averted disaster when encountering a horrifying slime monster and its human minions. I'd talk about the long delay since then, but it seems excuse-making is all I do lately and all the obvious nursing home jokes have been made, so let's just suffice it say that better days are ahead. We might even get a "DotTeeVee" episode before there's snow on the ground. Today's subject looks like a good choice to get back up on this. The premise is intriguing (a house...of danger?), the author is gray pony-tailed hippie and dwarf-hater R.A. Montgomery and the reviews I've read suggest that we're in for a wild ride. It's time for the sort-of prequel to The Horror of High Ridge which will hopefully feature the happier days before I was put into a permanent state of fear paralysis by ghosts.

That does kind of put a damper on the proceedings. Whatever I do, that's my written-in-stone future. See, this is why prequels don't work [place lame Star Wars joke here].

Get your paws off me you damn dirty...Union soldier with a whip???

I'm just waiting for something to happen in the "lab" in my parents basement. Man, it's like this book can somehow see directly into my life. "No, I didn't get a job today, Mom. Yes, I'm reviewing a children's book that came out in 1982," etc. Anyway, I'm a "psychic investigator," sort of like in Ghost Hunter. Now "lack of originality" can be added to that book's many, many sins. At least this time I wouldn't be forced to steal things because the rightful owner "makes bombs for terrorists!" Well, probably not.

I get a "weak voice" call that is suggestive of trouble, but cuts off before any valuable information can be obtained. Since it's 1982, there's no way to identify the caller. I look around the "lab," scoping out my sick digs, complete with books like "Murder in Fun." Don't go killing anyone for Slender Man, ok kid? The mysterious caller phones again, but this time I'm ready and somehow trace the number while a desperate voice is all "help" and "they've got me." The caller is identified as a "Henry Marsden" and the whole situation reminds me of the case of the "Spider Ghost." Why does it always have to be spiders?

My calm demeanor here really plays continuity havok on my fearful reaction to the paranormal in "High Ridge," but again, it's only a sort-of sequel. Different authors and everything.

I was reminded of this, not ghost spiders.

It turns out the Spider Ghost case is the source of the funding for my sweet equipment (and an FBI commendation!). Man, this protagonist is a lot better than the "I found a bottle!" hero from Book Nine. Lessons learned from that experience include the need for strength in numbers, and I'm thinking Lisa and Ricardo, who will share a "incurable fear coma" hospital room with me in the near future. I try to call, but no one's home. Deciding time is of the essence I forget about back-up and go right to the address, where I suspect there might be a house, possibly of the dangerous variety. 

I park my car (???) near one of those ultra-modern homes that eventually fell out of favor with the rise of nearly identical brown boxes. Seriously, the character in the illustration does not look old enough to have a license and this would have been a great chance to introduce one of those patented R.A. Montgomery wussy vehicles, maybe a "pedal car" or "sugar three wheeler" or the like. Instead "car." All right, whatever you say.

  I guess "Superbike" wasn't available.

It turns out the house, dangerous or not, is built on the site of a prison that burned down in 1887, killing everyone inside. Very interesting. Meanwhile, the new house is all done up in glass and I'm going to resist making a "Fountainhead" joke that maybe one person in ten thousand would get. I often wonder why that novel didn't become a pop-culture touchstone like "Atlas Shrugged?" It's every bit as long and bad, after all. 

Some guy bolts out of the house, all in a panic, and then goes down as if hit by an "invisible hammer." Grandmaster Montgomery is laying down some sick prose game, right here, aw yeah. It turns out his pursuers are some sort of animals, possibly of the intelligent, half-ape, half-man variety. The entire scene gets a huge, lovingly drawn illustration that belongs in some museum, man.

The re-release art is, predictably, less than inspiring.

I decide that the "chimpanzees" probably aren't all that tough (they're only, like, eight times our strength pound for pound, no big deal) and rush to help the fallen man. Brandishing my "pen knife" I charge at them and incredibly they retreat into a ruin near the house. See kids, carrying concealed blades solves problems. We're learning a lot. I get a small triangular scrap of paper from the man, who has died of fear! Man, 1982 didn't mess around. 

The dirty apes are back, now equipped with some sort of "blow gun" and I feel the wind of a dart flying past without result. Time to use that running like the dickens ability. Back at the car I debate reporting this to the police. "You see officer, there was this invisible hammer that ended some dude, then some Planet of the Apes-type confrontation went down and I'm driving a car even though I just turned 12." The pros and cons are weighed and the negative wins out.

 "I expect you to die, Mr. Chimp."

While waiting to "sneak up" on the house I examine the paper some more, and it turns out it's actually a chunk of "U.S. Currency." Holy fudge, the Federal Reserve is run by Ape Men!!! That crazy guy on short-wave radio has been completely vindicated. Again. 

I contemplate the possibility of a "counterfeiting animal trainer" but am forced to dismiss it as unlikely. Hey, you gotta consider all the angles. 

A limo pulls up and two Hard Men get out and approach the house. The ape-men confront them, but are ignored and then disappear. You guessed it, they're holograms being used by what is presumably the New World Order/Bilderbergers/The IRS/Whoever it is that inflicts shit like Justin Bieber on society to keep people away from whatever nefarious scheme is currently unfolding in the danger house. The men leave, carrying packages. Is it possible that I've somehow stumbled on the facility where our government created crack cocaine? 

I'm sure a pre-teen who is allowed to drive a car for some reason will defeat this.

Then I decide it must be a "gang of counterfeiters" and not my own government run amok. Good old 1982 naivete. Everything else is a neat little package, though. The monkey-illusions and scary prison remains would keep people away, and the dead man must have stumbled on the truth. Why he'd call me and not, say, someone in authority with a better weapon than a pen knife remains obscure, but we're probably almost done so let's stop questioning everything. 

I call the police, the gang is broken up, I'm a hero and hey, can't wait for that fun vacation in High Ridge!

This was a fun one. Discarding the usual R.A. Montgomery tropes really worked wonders for the quality of his writing, but I guess the urge to deliver socialist lectures, misapply nepotism, describe wimpy modes of transit and drown in unnecessary weirdness is a powerful force. Not to say the storyline I got wasn't a total mess, but it was fun and zany and let's shut off your mind dude because thinking is bad, so all is forgiven.

Check Out My Books!

Aaron Zehner is the author of "Posts from the Underground," now available in paperback and e-book. Read a free excerpt here.

His first novel The Foolchild Invention is also available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.