My good friend Alan Kupperberg sent me this plea this morning.  I strongly urge everyone to dig deep and help Tom out.  Tom's credits go back a fair way, he's worked for virtually every major publisher and he's one of the finest colourists that has ever picked up the markers, pens, pencils and paints to grace the comic book industry.  As is the way in America, there's no universal health care so Tom has to pay his way.  Now I don't want to get into the political debate about that as it'll just waste time and divert the focus, so do the right thing and donate to Tom, via Alan.  All the money donated will go directly to Tom, do dig deep and spread the word - let's start the year by doing not only the right thing, but a good thing.  The images shown here don't even represent a fraction of the work that Tom has done over the past three decades, but it's a good place to start.

A URGENT APPEAL FOR A FELLOW FREELANCER IN TROUBLE

Tom Ziuko, good guy, great fr…

Look at that head - butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  It's Bob Almond's birthday today.  Born a few months, well, eight to be precise, before I was, Bob has cemented his place in comic book history as an artist, a historian and as one of the most pro-active when it comes to recognising the proper place of the inker in the creative process of comic book art.

If Bob has a flaw, and he'd say he has several, it's that he's far too self-depreciating.  Tell Bob that he's good and he'll gleefully point out that he's not as good as Bob McLeod, Terry Austin, Scott Williams or Joe Sinnott.  You see, Bob misses the point at times, he is bloody good, and he's a cut above the rest of the pack when it comes to inking, but he has a tendency to judge himself against the cream of the crop.  Not a bad thing really, as it shows that he's always striving to be better than he is, but in doing so he does lose sight of how good he is.

Bob, you're a bloody goo…

Was Yogi Bear gay or not? It's this kind of thing that keeps me wide awake in the middle of the night, clutching at the quilt, drowning in sweat and wishing that the ghosts inside of my head would just flee and leave me be. But they don't, so I instantly turn my thoughts into other realms.

Now, Yogi. On the surface of things he appears to be a normal bear. In the historical context of things he's just a cheap copy of Art Carney's Ed Norton (actually the Honeymooners was stolen better by Warner Brothers for their cartoon series featuring mice - Ralphy boy and his neighbour Martin).

Yogi used to hang around a place called Jellystone National Park and was, for the most part, obsessed by picnic baskets. Like a demented homeless person he relentlessly stalked people, slept on park benches, probably urinated in public, harassed people and stole whatever food and anything else that he could reach. All the time he was pursued by two people, the first being the anal retentive Ra…