Doug Deever: Dumpster Diver, An Earth Day Retrospective

I don't remember where Doug Deever came from.

Perhaps he was inspired by my brother, Kyle, and his penchant for cluttering his bedroom with discarded furniture.

Perhaps he was an idea conjured by Brent's run-in with a homeless man in San Diego during Comic Con, a man that proudly proclaimed, "I'm the Cardboard Guy. I get the cardboard."*

Maybe he's just the exact opposite of The Successors, the comic book Brent and I created to launch K.O. Comix, the creative demands of which drained us only three issues deep. (Actually, three and a half, counting both the unpublished Citizen Angst story and our attempt at a 24-hour challenge The Successors #0. Never start those challenges after a concert -- at midnight!)

Perhaps Doug's a junk heap of all of these concepts -- and more -- which would suit him just fine.



Yes, almost ten years ago now, when Brent and I decided to take K.O. Comix in a different direction than the path set by The Successors, I racked my brain for a completely different story, and like a clogged garbage disposal Doug Deever: Dumpster Diver slowly rose to the surface. I'm still proud of the script, divided into four chapters like Stan Lee's classic Incredible Hulk stories, and told through the perspective of Max Wright, a struggling reporter in the right place at the right time. The captions throughout Doug are snippets of his article, and the headline on the first page, "America's Real Garbage Pail Kids, by Max Wright," inspired many folks in the Small Press section at Comic Con to ask me, "Are you Max Wright?" Okay, maybe the script isn't flawless. I should've realized putting "by" anyone in the first caption would've caused some confusion.

Yet, the truth is, we're all Max Wright, in some way. We've all seen or known someone discarded by society, especially now almost a decade later, during our country's second worst recession, and Doug Deever is merely their ambassador. Literally thrown out with the trash by his own mother (who eventually met a trashy fate of her own), Doug wandered the streets relating to garbage, and when he met fellow homeless folks, he wondered how society could possibly treat people like that finished, empty Starbucks cup, or a hamburger wrapper. Doug rallies his homeless friends and brings his point to an Earth Day festival -- the moment in our story that inspired the pitch we'd use at Comic Cons for years, that Doug is the leader of "a ragtag band of hobo heroes." In the end, he's arrested for his crimes, but what's jail if not just another version of a life discarded? On the streets, or in prison, Doug feels most at home where everyone else would feel completely abandoned.



But never mind the story. Doug Deever's life began when Brent decided to adapt my script via digital montage. Fortunately, despite my lack of experience, I was able to help Brent put some of these panels together -- cutting and pasting is practically a part of the universal language now, like laughing, or a growling stomach. We used stock photography, photos we took around town, and pictures of friends to create a grimy world drenched in rejection and redemption. I'm so proud of the result, I'm still making Doug Deever shirts! (Only $5 while supplies last, folks!) One year at Comic Con, artist Seth Fischer told us he really dug the look, a comment we've cherished especially since his untimely passing.



Indeed, I'm happy to say I still haven't seen anything that looks quite like Doug Deever, Dumpster Diver. Selfishly, I hope it stays that way for a while, because Brent's work still deserves the spotlight, and I hope people enjoy my story through it. Only a few issues remain in my collection, and if anyone is interested in reading it, drop me a line. True, I don't remember where Doug Deever began, but it's the kind of story that continues all around us . . . that will never end until we really understand how it all started. What better day to make that vow than Earth Day?

*Incidentally, the Cardboard Guy is in the image above, second from the left. Wide-eyed, ready to get the cardboard.

Blast from the K.O. past!

Below are some ads we had done for The Successors almost a decade ago. Ah, the good old days...

The Unfortunate Fate of Citizen Angst

Brent and I had six issues of The Successors planned, each starring a different superhero from our blossoming universe. Unfortunately, since we'd been developing these ideas and characters for so long, we were over it by issue #3 and decided to move on to something new and different. I had scripted and Brent had drawn a significant amount of the third issue already, so we decided to condense the work into a zero issue ashcan -- despite our frustration with the Successors, we had to get this character to print somehow. So, albeit abbreviated, Citizen Angst was born.

Writers often recommend soundtracks to their comics, and if I had to do that I'd suggest Tear for Fear's "Songs from the Big Chair" for the Optimist's tale, Alanis Morissette's "Jagged Little Pill" for Psycho Chick, and anything by ZZ Top for Citizen Angst -- specifically, the song "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide." Inspired by that tune from Brent's playlist, and a guy we often saw at Starbucks wearing full army fatigues and rolling his own cigarettes, Citizen Angst is the blue collar Captain America, plain and simple. He works the slow day shift at a neighborhood bar by day, and he patrols suburbia in his Chevy pick-up by night, thwarting domestic crimes with his newfound super-strength. The name Citizen Angst says it all -- the every man's hero.

In The Successors #3, ol' C.A., a.k.a. Marcos Peluso, fought the politically charged criticism of Flash Limburg and Republicans Against Superheroes (R.A.S.H.), the super diversity of super-team Affirmative Action, and his biggest fan and wanna-be sidekick Whipper Snapper. In this zero issue, Marco merely muses over the lifestyle of a superhero, unaware that he was about to become one via the cosmic tragedy happening right outside his bar. Brent reformatted some choice images from his finished pencils and inks, and we aligned them with allegorical dialogue to produce this little glimpse into the Successors universe. I've posted the pages for your enjoyment here; remember, these are scans of Xerox copies of printed pages, so the quality doesn't do Brent's art justice -- but that's the thing about Citizen Angst. He gets the job done, whether justice is involved or not! Angst . . . assemble!

Can YOU be a Successor?

Much to my friends' surprise, I was not excited for NBC's Heroes when it premiered in September, 2006. The show's promos were definitely exciting, as the cheerleader Claire tested the limits of her vulnerability on camera, but I was dismayed by the instant assumption that "super powers" means "super heroes." Thanks to my girlfriend, a fan from day one, I've now watched some of the series, from the first few episodes of its inaugural season to the latest installments just this year, and I think my dismay is justified. Oftentimes, these "heroes" aren't really saving the world; they're just saving themselves. If self-preservation is heroic, call me the Mighty Thor!

Further, watching a show like Heroes, or a movie like the latest hit Push, is frustrating for a lifelong superhero fan like me, because when a power is "introduced" in these worlds, I instantly liken it to a traditional comic book character. For instance, last season in Heroes when Peter's mind was trapped in a super-villain fugitive's body, he struggled to find his host's power and use it against the bad guys around him. When Peter yelled and discovered his sonic scream, I thought, "Oh, so we've been waiting to see Black Canary all this time (or Banshee, if you're a Marvelite)." The big reveal wasn't that big, or revealing, as I've seen the sonic scream done before, and done better. In short, these franchises tend to focus on the logistics of superheroes, like powers and society's acceptance, rather than their respective personalities.

What does this have to do with The Successors? When Brent and I founded K.O. Comix in 2001 (!), we knew we wanted our flagship title to be a superhero series. Around that time, we had read essays by writers Garth Ennis and Warren Ellis denouncing capes and cowls; in retrospect, I understand that their frustration stemmed from being typecast as superhero scribes, but back then we wondered why they'd proverbially toast their own bread and butter. We wanted to create a comic book boldly stating that superheroes are people, too. So, how did we establish a new superhero world, unique from all the others in comics, that emphasized personality over power?

We made our characters choose their fate. Here's the pitch: Ten years ago, superheroes from a parallel universe fell from the sky. Defeated by some cosmic nemesis, they desperately passed their powers to whomever was nearby, then died. Imagine, on your way to work or school, you're literally handed the ability to fly. Do you suddenly decide to stop those pesky bank robbers . . . or become one of them? Maybe you just have an upper hand over traffic from now on. Maybe it's no big deal, like, "Yeah, I can fly. I can run, too, but I usually don't." These are decisions that people make in different capacities every day. Not every Clark Kent would race the train and decide to fight crime. Some would just race the train to get home faster.


The Superman of our world isn't an ubermensch. He's barely an optimist, and his name is the Optimist (Brent's character design, left). His imagination manifests in a mist from his eyes, like the Green Lantern meets a big cry baby. It's an optical mist . . . Get it?! Like the Man of Steel, he was the first super-powered person to do something good with his new abilities, but he wasn't fond of the role model status that followed. The Optimist, a.k.a. Tyler Moore (whose name was inspired by a certain Mary that can turn the world on with her smile), doesn't hesitate to share why being a superhero stinks, from the stress of the dual identity to the inconvenience of stopping crime in the middle of the work day. Our aim was that his bittersweet realism made him more heroic than anything else and encouraged the other good guys to face the challenges of do-gooding head on. You can still put out a fire with a glass half empty.

Unfortunately, for every Optimist, there's a Psycho Chick. (Sketched below by me.) Perhaps my favorite creation, when Psycho Chick gets her powers, the only crime-fighting that consumes her involves a crime of passion. She just wants revenge against the boy that hooked up then broke up with her. Her abilities? Emoting. When she's happy, she cries flowers. When she's mad, she spits acid. Now tell me that isn't a more realistic female lead than Wonder Woman or Storm! MySpace-search the chicks in your neighborhood. Now imagine them with superpowers. Case closed.

A different creative direction ended The Successors prematurely, although the third issue starring Citizen Angst was essentially complete, but I'm satisfied that the two available issues accomplish our intentions. Brent designed many of the characters we had plotted to include in this wayward world, and some of them are featured in this never before published pin-up below! (Brent, did you even know I had a copy of this?) I do regret that we never told the story of Crack-up, the wise-cracking superhero that faces tragedy and becomes Crackdown, a gun-toting vigilante. See, when superheroes are people, too, they aren't locked into pre-established paradigms. Spider-man can become the Punisher just as easily as Batman can become the Joker. Regular people do have a superpower -- unpredictability!

Heroes, Push, and other superhero franchises that aren't originally inspired by comic book source material are good at what they do, and even if the emphasis is on government-mandated registration programs or whatever, viewers can't help but project themselves into their heroes' tights, just as the kids from the Golden Age must have, experiencing the likes of Superman and Captain America for the first time. Even if the inquiry isn't asked onscreen, it still stands: "What would I do with superpowers?" Ironically, The Successors sought to ask that question first. Heroes just asked it louder. Curse that sonic scream . . .!

K.O. still not K.O.'d

You wouldn't know it from our semi-annual output of comix, but K.O. is still around. Our first post is an oldie but a goodie from years past. More to come... sometime.