The Man of Bronze | Doc Savage #1

The Man of Bronze | Doc Savage #1
Kenneth Robeson | Bantam Books | 1975 | 170 pages

There is not a thing he can’t do, I reckon.

Fisticuffs! Shootouts! Airplane dogfights! Proto-typical superhero Doc Savage and his band of adventure-seeking super scientists propel themselves through what amounts to an origin story, all told in a breathless style simply describing the action. With exclamation points! Lots of exclamation points!

After surviving an attempt on his life by an unknown, red-fingered assassin, Doc discovers a bequeath by his late father, granting him a significant land holding in the Central American country of Hidalgo. Doc’s father instilled an unmatched drive and sense of discipline in his young son, whose years of mental and physical training have developed his mind and body into an unprecedented paragon of human perfection. That very perfection also undermines almost all suspense, because Doc will surely pull upon his unlimited knowledge of chemistry, biology, archaeology, engineering, law, medicine, or surgery to overcome any obstacle in his way, not to mention his seemingly superhuman physical prowess.

Doc’s team of all-star scientific experts—Johnny, Renny, Long Tom, Ham and Monk—are rarely called upon to exert their (alleged) collective genius, reduced to providing support by punching walls, firing off pistol rounds, ribbing each other, or shouting exclamations.

We’re sitting pretty!

Knock on wood, you lunk!

Fooey–we’re lost!

Originally written in the thirties, the story displays the inherent racist and colonial attitudes characteristic of the day. Condescending views towards Latin America, lazy or corrupt local citizens and officials, and an endless stream of swarthy villains all contrast the perfection of our intrepid band of white explorers. Even the gold resources of a lost kingdom are all served up to these new conquistadores in their pursuit of global adventures. Lacking details regarding his heritage, Doc’s status of exemplar of his race is still curious, particularly given his dark (albeit metallic) complexion; Chalcolithic-American, perhaps?

After accepting Doc’s naturally bronze skin and golden eyes, perhaps the most difficult question to answer remains, “What’s the story with his waterproof hair?

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail

huntersthompson

Who are these swine?

Written for a previous electoral abomination, the following missive remains a soul-crushingly accurate assessment of our current times:

“We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world—a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us. . . . No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we’ll kill you.
Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn’t vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for America today—and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever.
Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush?
They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us—they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis.
And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.”

-Hunter S. Thompson, Kingdom of Fear: Loathsome Secrets of a Star-Crossed Child in the Final Days of the American Century

[Special thanks to Breakfast in the Ruins for uncovering this quote, and sharing in our national agony.]