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In Alphabet of the Arcane, Justin Maudslien, aka Sub-Human’s Mr. M., explores weird and little known factoids and shares his skewed observations about the world of comics, cartoons and sequential art.

I bring greetings from the Old World, o’ faithful reader, where “E” stands not for ecstasy but for Europe. Gather round the campfire and let Mr. M tell you a tale of a fanboy walking the Earth, much like Kane from Kung Fu.  Allow me to relate my travels around… The European Eunion… er,  I mean Union!

Autobots…Roll Out!

Now, this particular fanboy starts getting the shakes two days before new comic book day, or what you mortals might call Wednesday.  Heaven help those who have to tolerate me during the holidays when new comic day is moved to Thursday.  My greatest challenge on this trip would not be the cultural barriers, but CWS (Comic Withdrawal Syndrome.)  After a little internet searching, my fears had been confirmed, comic shops were few and far between and comic conventions were mere whispers on the wind.  Still, my childhood heroes faced Dr. Doom, the Joker and even MODOK every month, surely I could muster the bravery to explore the origins of western culture in a far off land, even if comics were not readily available.

My friend Mike and I set off to explore the hostels of Europe with nothing but a large backpack and a thirst for culture.  Mike came up with the idea that our futuristic backpacks made us space marines with the ability to transform.  Once we dropped off our large backpacks (which were worn in “assault mode”) we could wear the smaller packs (known as “recon mode.”)

The Hammer of the Gods Will Drive Our Ships to New Lands

First stop Copenhagen, the land of Vikings, beautiful women on bicycles, the Carlsberg brewery, and the most complicated money system ever invented, the Kroner.

As a cheap bastard, I realized very quickly that my American dollars were not going to go very far.  So I drank in the hostel rather than at the bars.  There we discovered a tasty brew called Tuborg, not to be confused with Locutus of Borg.

Delicious Beer…

…Dreaded Sci-fi Villain…

…Any Questions?

After enjoying the fine beverage of Tuborg, I had to find out where this was made.   Onward to the Carlsberg Brewery which turned out to be a fine museum in addition to being an even better watering hole.  On the way I ran into one of Superman’s enemies… Bizarro the Brewer!

After a few nights of drinking I found out the best place to recover from a hangover is museums, since they are so quiet and peaceful.  Copenhagen’s National Museum goes into great depth into the history of Vikings, which as my more refined colleagues might say, “is totally sweet.”  One interesting fact is that things of value were sacrificed to the local bogs.  The conditions were just right that many precious items were preserved including human sacrifices.  It was considered a great honor to be selected to be thrown in the bog.  Now I’ve tried to convince some girls to do some pretty nasty things, but kudos to the Viking dude who convinced a 18 year old girl to willingly go into the bog.  Other objects found were locks of hair, silver hordes, swords, entire chariots, and pretty much anything else the gods could want.  Personally, my greatest possession is my comic collection and I would rather face the wrath of Odin than give up one Simonson Thor comic.

More Sculpts Than Sideshow Collectibles

On to Italy, one place I had to see before I died.   My first impression was that the streets there are more chaotic than an X-Men crossover event.  When I tried to ask for directions from an Italian gentleman before I could finish a “bon giorno,” he stamped his feet at us.  I felt as welcomed as Magneto at an X-Men class reunion.

So we moved down twisted streets spotted with cathedrals to the Colosseum — a wonder of the ancient age and a wonder why more tour guides aren’t punched more often.  When approaching the Colosseum, the guides were like locusts swarming about us. I swatted in vain, but like zombies hearing a moan they turned towards their prey in droves.  I would say we were asked if we needed a tour in English literally over twenty times, but thinking ahead, I had downloaded a free tour from Rick Steves to my ipod.  I did ask one if this was the Colosseum where the Hulk made the Marvel heroes fight each other in World War Hulk, and sweet, sweet silence was my only answer.

No sign of Mario, Luigi, or even a princess.

Check out the Roman Sentries on a smoke break.

When in Rome,  I was fascinated with some of the statues I was finding.  I knew about Michelangelo, Raphael and the rest of the Ninja Turtles, but this Bellini guy was pretty good for an unknown.  I was particularly impressed with a statue depicting Apollo (not “Fat Lee” the Apollo from Battlestar Gallactica) and Daphne (not the Daphne from Scooby Doo).  In this piece Daphne is turning into a tree to save herself from Apollo’s advances, back in my day girls just told us they need to wash their hair.

It’s good, but still no Bowen.

We also saw the All-Stars of the begging crones, who hunkered down with shaking canes outside of churches, but the real star of the show was this lone street performer who might be imitating me from the night before.

Then we headed across the Tiber river, after yelling “Tiber, Tiber, Tiber Upercut!”

On to the Vatican, aka “Where The Pope Lives.”   One look, and I knew we were going to be standing in line as if we were trying to get a sketch from Adam Hughes.  However, thanks to my space marine training, I grabbed some much needed rations, avoided the begging crones and quickly got us into this place, which rivaled the Baxter Building.  Now I’m not a religious man, but I was humbled by the beauty, grace, and sheer size of this.  The Vatican makes me believe that humans can do anything if they put their mind to it, maybe even put out comic titles on time.

Once inside the Vatican Museum I was able to see the Sistine Chapel.

That ceiling has more detail than a Leinil Franics Yu cover.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, and that apparently is looking at statues.  Here are two of my favorites.

Mericful Minerva!

This piece is entitled Boxer at Rest, which surprisingly is not about Daredevil’s father.

Next stop Florence, which had almost no comic book culture.  Sure you can see an undressed Peter Parker which they call “David,” but after Rome, Florence fails to impress.

Do you think sculptors look at somebody and think, “I totally want to sculpt that ass.  Sculpt it all night long.”  Really, because I do after seeing this statue:

After all that culture I needed a drink, and not just any will do.  Only some genuine Duff Beer sold in fine stores throughout Italy.  In Italy, which is not the land of the free, they not only open the beer for you, but let you drink in the store and out in the street while walking!  That night I believe I improved European views on Americans, bridging cultural gaps through booze.

On to Venice, which is one of a kind, two minutes out of the train station I found two stores that caught my eye.

Yes, I would like to make a deposit, two droid arms I pulled out after losing a game of chance.

Speaking of chance, can I sell my soul for a boat ride?  I think I’ve come to the right place.

It was obvious, Venice is, and always will be a tourist town.  It is known for the big festivals, and elaborate masks which would make Jim Henson jealous.  But just when my comic withdrawal syndrome was reaching epic proportions these masks jumped out at me:

Awesome, but not $45 Euro awesome, that translates into a lot of sandwiches.

One of the highlights of Venice was the small touches they put into architecture.  For example on one pillar on a palace an artist decided to sculpt some 14th century pornography, look closely and enjoy!

Wha-chica-wha-wha!

I, Too, Am a Tasty German Pastry

The next stop was Berlin, which was the surprise hit of the trip.  Everything was cheap, well relatively cheaper than Italy or Denmark.  We stayed in the old Soviet area which has been demolished and completely remade.  It was like a sparkling new city where everyone spoke as if they were from the band Rammstein.

Everywhere I looked artists had made their mark, including the best bathroom I had ever seen. Not only did it have artwork on the walls…

…but it had Air-wolf hand dryer technology!

Who knew that Jan Michael Vincent not only dabbled in hi-tech helicopters, but bathroom technology as well?

Is this a Dave Johnson 100 bullets cover painted on the wall?

No matter where I went, Berlin seemed to welcome Americans.  Perhaps it had to do with Kennedy’s speech at the Berlin Wall.

Berlin was so much fun I stayed an extra night.  Everyone was so friendly!  The girls come up to you and ask you if you want to have a good time.  Amazing, you just don’t find that kind of hospitality in the states.

Je t’aime, Rob Liefield.  Je t’aime…

The last stop was Paris, the city of romance.  Do you ever get depressed on Valentine’s Day with all the couples making out everywhere?  If you said yes, don’t go to Paris.  Despite my crippling depression, this space marine had a mission.  As a museum buff I had to go to the Louvre.  There,  I drooled over more bare breasts than a lesbian P.E. teacher, unfortunately they were made from marble or paint.

The Louvre has everything from Greek originals to propaganda pieces for Napoleon.  Somewhere in the middle I saw some Byzantine artwork and it made me think of Rob Liefeld.  I’m not sure why.

Past that I had to wade through the sea of humanity to see the Mona Lisa, and all I can say is that is a bigger disappointment than Ultimates 3.

Feeling overwhelmed I went out and about the city of Paris and bought a Smurf figure,  since the only souvenir I purchased was a corkscrew in Italy.  I  scoured the city, specifically the Left Bank, and had all but given up on my search for comics in the Old World when I stumbled upon Shakespeare and Company.  This old haunt had some history with people like Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Among the ancient tomes of literature I found a small rack of beat up (not even VF +) comics.

Beautiful.  Sweet.  Comics!   My sweaty palms reached out like a middle school boy reaching for his first bra unveiling.

There I found a few scattered issues of Deathblow, Youngblood and various other Image titles.  I turned to the uncaring stars circling overhead and like Anakin Skywalker taking his first steps as Darth Vader shouted: “NOOOOOOOO!”  I was doomed to wander the streets of Paris without my true love, real comics.

On We Sweep with Threshing Oar

We had a short layover back in Copenhagen before returning to the United States.  I made it almost three weeks without touching a real comic.  Getting desperate, my mind began to grasp for any and all comic references no matter how small or unlikely.

I took one final tour of Copenhagen and took it all in.  The people there are unnaturally friendly. The city itself is super clean with virtually no graffiti.  There is no unemployment or homeless people. o one complains about the government, and they blindly wave their flags at every opportunity.  It was obvious, I had stumbled upon Latveria.  I knew exactly what to do, I had to launch my own Nick Fury inspired Secret War and usurp the Danish king, otherwise known as Dr. Doom.

However, without my weekly fix of comic bliss, my game was off.  My spider sense had faded… the super serum in my veins (otherwise known as Tuborg) was gone… I was helpless.  Without my comics I was like Superman with kryptonite poisoning.  So, instead I did my best McArthur impression and yelled “I shall return!”  I faced west towards my Mecca, the comic shop.  I could almost smell the ink from my subscription box back home.  But wait, what is this?  In the airport, hidden behind some gentleman magazines lay an amazing, no spectacular treasure…Spidey.

Finally, I could rest.  My mission complete and my withdrawal satiated, I could return to my home, where comics are churned out and treasured like the finest work of art in the Louvre.  Comic shop here I come.

Justin Maudslien is the artist and writer behind Sub-Human (http://www.sub-human.org), a semi-autobiographical comic about a borderline alcoholic fanboy bumbling his way through the Seattle school system as a substitute teacher. He is also the West Coast satellite for the Sequential Art Collective. His more “informal blog” can be found at http://www.myspace.com/subhumanthecomic.