At the zenith of his career, Mr. T had his own Saturday morning cartoon show in which he coached a team of mystery-solving gymnasts. Now, take that previous sentence and replace "Mr. T" with "Brad Pitt and Beyonce, genetically fused together into an arachno-sapien with mind-control pheromones." You now have a rough idea of how screwball Supremo was.
At some point in the 1980s, Bollywood megastar Amitabh Bachchan decided to star in Supremo, his own superhero comic. The series alternated between Bachchan's public life as an actor -- surrounded by strangers informing him how great he is -- and his secret life as the vigilante Supremo. Here's his bio from the first issue, as this article was in danger of making too much sense.
Again, this is a career choice not unlike Will Smith suddenly announcing that he intends to replace the Jolly Green Giant on bags of peas. The best part of Supremo was that Bachchan spent every issue conversing with his falcon, Shaheen, who's a bit of an asshole by talking bird standards, perhaps somewhere between Sam the Eagle and Flintheart Glomgold.
He talked to that bird a lot.
Weirdly enough, I find the implication that Supremo went through the effort of teaching a falcon how to act far more impressive than the fact that he owns a verbose golden dolphin.
Even when living the impossible dream of riding a talking dolphin, Supremo won't shut up about Shaheen.
In the 1980s, Indian comic publisher Everest Publications released a series of European James Bond comics poorly translated into English. These comics are as legendary as they are incomprehensible. Why? 007 metamorphoses from a debonair secret agent into an unfrozen neanderthal who delights in screaming what he sees. Let's ease you in with Bond's duel with a Communist cephalopod:
Now that you've survived that amuse-bouche, behold this collection of magnificent panels arranged in no particular order (trust me, they wouldn't make sense anyway). Did Goldfinger detonate an Anti-Grammar Bomb?
The comics were further saddled with a layout artist who may have been huffing rubber cement. Here's the final page of a 007 adventure titled "Super Duper!" Notice the plaintive THE END being edged off the page, buckling in its attempts to stanch the waterfall of text so that this nonsense story does not continue forever.
Fun fact: These comics were filled with boobs, but marketed to kids.
Let's conclude today's column with James Bond fucking the laws of syntax. Play us out, Nagraj.
You can find Cyriaque Lamar on Twitter.