Please enjoy — if not tweet — this APB about TMI from FOBG Rob Paravonian*:

* That’s him playing and singing on all the BG animation!

Lemons: Being dumped at altar. Taking honeymoon with brother.

Lemonade: Penning NYT bestseller Honeymoon With My Brother.

For his next trick, self-described “professional dumpee” Franz Wisner, author of the above, is releasing his followup work, How the World Makes Love: . . . And What It Taught a Jilted Groom.
This time, the brothers Wisner trekked to seven different countries — Brazil, New Zealand, Egypt, India, the Czech Republic, Nicaragua and Botswana; not a mix that’ll help you win Risk — to see what love looks like ’round the world. We welcome Wisner back from his second honeymoon!

From the AP :

Tim Gunn is taking his fight against fashion crimes from the workrooms of “Project Runway” to the pages of a comic book. And, wow, does he get to wear a power suit.

The “Loaded Gunn” story line — to save an exhibit of extraordinary superhero clothes from a cadre of villains — is part of a book that reintroduces a group of Marvel’s high-fashion “Models Inc.” comic characters from the 1960s.

“It’s a little `America’s Next Top Model’ — without Tyra (Banks) — and a little `Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,'” says Marvel editor Charlie Beckerman.

The Gunn project evolved on a whim, but it turned out Gunn was a childhood comic fan and a good sport, Beckerman says.

Gunn says the experience has been “the most bizarre thing.”

“It’s exciting and exhilarating, but bizarre. When they came to me, I said, `I’m about to turn 56 years old. Are they crazy?’ But it kept revealing itself in layers and next thing, I’m wearing the `Iron Man’ suit. I was dumbstruck.”

Personally, Gunn says he always fancied himself more of a Batman type, but he’s pleased with the result.

“Most superheroes are fighting the same thing — good vs. evil — but who’s taking on crimes against fashion? Me!”

The biggest offense, hands down: clothes that don’t fit properly, Gunn says. And, if he had the truly incredible power to remove one item from closets all around the world, no question it would be Crocs.

“It’s the No. 1 fashion crime item — and I see it a lot,” Gunn says.

…they give their kids lameass, doofy-dad, tax-dollar-funded sex talks. The best the Obama HHS can apparently do, via Feministe:

Now, I love Etsy. But a life-size wall decal of Edward Cullen? To put “on the back of your bedroom door so he can be intrigued while you sleep“!?!? [Emphasis added, from under my bed.] Yiiiii! Somebody call Buffy!

Sure, I guess it’s cute to toss your boyfriend’s blazer over your spaghetti straps on a chilly night. Or to snuggle, apres ski, in his big bulky sweater. Or to [NC17 version] pad around his pad wearing nothing but his rumpled oxford and a come-back-to-bed-when-you-finish-those-eggs smile. Or to spend a lazy Sunday lounging about in his beekeeper’s coveralls and giant sombrero. Oh, that’s just me? Mmmkay. Anyway.

Yeah, that’s all cute. Less so, says Crisis in Denim, is when apparel makers call their clothes “boyfriend” clothes. As in: the roomy “boyfriend sweater” (which I guess, things being the way they are, we’ll now go back to calling the “poorboy sweater,” hahaha), the oversized “boyfriend jacket,” a la Lisa Bonet circa 1988, not to mention the boyfriend tee, the boyfriend jeans. This nomenclature, she notes, generally doesn’t work the other way around. (“[C]an you for one moment see menswear designers debuting the Girlfriend Suit at Fashion Week?”) And yeah, there’s something a little ickly aspirational (to say nothing of heteronormative) about it — as if the appeal would be that wearing these clothes says, “Hey! I have a BOYFRIEND!” But maybe that’s reading too much into it. I’m all for comfy (as opposed to other, dare I say, Fashion By Patriarchy looks), but really, maybe “boyfriend” is clothing industry code for “doesn’t really fit.”

People joked that Obama getting elected would be the end of comedy. Well, David Rees HAS ended his unique “Get Your War On” webcomic.

A moment of silence, please, for this hilarious ray of sanity during the neocon era.

I suffered my own personal heartbreak on the day after Christmas: I saw “Frank Miller’s The Spirit” — a movie that defies logic, taste, the basics of filmmaking, and, most importantly, the source material, Will Eisner’s The Spirit.

Eisner literally wrote the book on graphic storytelling, and his influence on comic book creators — both writers and artists — is so ginormous that the industry’s awards are called The Eisners. His work on The Spirit — in particular the postwar period — is an unparalleled achievement in artistry, combining the mainstream charm of a newspaper strip with groundbreaking film-style visuals all in service to a smart, taut, O. Henry-style short story. To see his soulful, whimsical masterpiece translated to film as a dreary, awkward catalog of Frank Miller’s personal fetishes is a cringe-inducing experience that diminishes two comics legends. People reading comics have known this for some time, but now we have box-office returns to prove that Miller, who wrote some influential comics 20 years ago, is now a mannered, self-aggrandizing hack.

Our Breakup Girl comics are heavily influenced by Will Eisner’s The Spirit. When we first set about trying to tell a rich story in only six (later five) pages, I couldn’t help but study the old Spirits which were just seven pages, but pack a punch greater than most of today’s 32-page comics. Plus, Eisner, always stretching the form, found himself creating stories that were more fable than adventure, not afraid to have the hero take a backseat, and that has always been our goal with BG. Looking back I can also see how his characterizations have also played into my writing. Like The Spirit, Breakup Girl is not a wealthy playboy but a “middle-class superhero,” very much an approachable character in her glitz-free New York neighborhood, who’s costume verges on plain-clothes and who’s workaday approach to crime-fighting is full-bodied, practical and plucky.

Now imagine walking into a Breakup Girl movie and seeing Barb Wire instead. Feel my pain.

Before there was BG, there was supermuscleman Charles Atlas,* who helped the 97-pound weaklings of the world find love by bulking themselves up and punching bullies out. “Chumps” became “champs,” and then the ladies — well, “They obey your silent commands.”

Oh no wait,that part was the sea monkeys.

Of course, with your X-Ray Specs, you could see right through all this goofy advertising, but instead — much more fun — you could enjoy, via Boing Boing, this wee gallery of jaunty old comic book ads, which led me to all sorts of [more elaborate] others as well. See you at the ant farm!

* Please enjoy this bonus reading by FOBG Todd Levin!