Folks, welcome to MISOGYNY MEGASLAM! BOY do we have a slobberknocker for you tonight!
Yes, folks, today it’s a battle of the TITANS. In one corner, the much-mocked ninny of the nineties, the enemy of anatomy and the legendary leader of lateness, ROB LIEFELD! In the other, the readily-ridiculed replicator, the lover of the light-box and the prince of pornface, GREG LAND!
One thing’s for certain: it’s clobberin’ time!
The Champion: Rob Liefeld
One could go on at great length on the topic of Rob Liefeld’s excruciatingly awful art, but I think I can best sum it up with three little words:
‘FUCK! MY SPINE!’
‘Unh’ is right, Cassie, when every vertebra has shattered. And while Sue Storm-Richards might have child-bearing hips, you can tell why Valeria’s was a troublesome birth, since there was nowhere for her to gestate:
Which brings me to the point.
My theory on Rob Liefeld is that he’s the last survivor of an alien race that was dedicated to radical body modification. Adopting the Earthling obsession with men = strong; women = sexy but possessed of surgical techniques beyond our imagination, they soon passed even the most ridiculous of Earth standards and into the realm of the grotesque.
They removed ribs and internal organs, enlarged their thighs, and lengthened their legs. Neck tendons were made permanently tense; all fatty tissue on the face was relocated to the pectorals; and every strand of hair was replaced with an artificial polymer so sharp it could cut molecules.
Sadly, in the craze to reach perfection, every viable uterus on the planet was removed and destroyed. Realising this ultimate folly too late, the survivors detonated megatonne warheads, rendering their world uninhabitable. Only Liefeld, who had hidden from the body-wracking insanity of the endtimes, escaped, in an insanely detailed and really cool-looking spaceship.
Liefeld’s entire body of work is a work of grief; an extended lament for his dead people, and a terrible warning to us all.
I couldn’t tell you where the pouches come from, though.
The Contender: Greg Land
Land’s women are usually anatomically correct, which one would expect when they are based on photographs of actual women.
Sadly, instead of being the kickass warriors they’re meant to be Land’s women are often depicted as thinking that a battle scene is absolutely the best time to get down with their bad selves.
Dance, Emma, dance!
Dance, Ultimate Sue, dance!
Dance, Crystal, da-
Wait, that picture of Sue in the background looks awfully familiar.
It appears that despite being from different companies, multiverses and completely different families, Ultimate Sue Storm and Dinah Lance are identical twins. Huh.
And then, of course, there is the directly dreadful, where, regardless of what they are actually saying or doing, women and girls are required to flash their panties, adopt pornface, or both:
If you thought this was going to be a tie, pointing out that they are both so amusingly terrible at depicting women (haha, hilarious misogyny!) that it’s impossible to choose which is worse, you are wrong. For all Liefeld’s lack of skill, I consider Greg Land’s work to be far more offensive, not because he traces, but because of what he traces.
Yes, tracing is a sign of creative bankruptcy and, when using uncredited copyrighted images for non-satirical purposes, is actually, y’know, illegal. You’d expect one of the most lauded artists in comics today to actually make his own work, and it’s troubling that he so clearly doesn’t.
But since he’s copying other people’s stuff anyway… why isn’t it any good? Why are all the women determined to flash their thongs? Why are they continually standing like strippers caught mid-move? And what the fuck is with the pornface?
That’s not sexism through incompetence. It’s sexism through carelessness, lack of imagination, or intent, and I really don’t care which. Greg Land could be tracing women with expressions appropriate to the dialogue, or composing action scenes where women are acting, not posing. Instead, he is choosing to inflict this misogynistic fuckdoll dreck upon the tender eyeballs of his readers.
Ladies and gentlemen, your winner: Greg Land.
Sadly, this ultimately means that we all lose.
To alleviate the pain, may I suggest The Greg Land Caption Contest?
