Tagged: Wayne Brady

The Law Is A Ass #431: Spider-Man’s Crime Fighting Needs Improv-Ment

Spider-Man. Spider-Man. Who, according to the song, does whatever a spider can. However, when it comes to fighting crime, sometimes he doesn’t do it as well as a spider would.

The Amazing Spider-Man Annual Vol 3, No. 1 had three stories in it. We’ll take what was behind Door Number 3, a little deal of the day called “Whose Crime Is It, Anyway?” written by Wayne Brady and Jonathan Mangum. Because that was the story that gave the law a zonk.

In said story, Spider-Man went to a nighttime comedy improv workshop being taught by the aforementioned regulars on Whose Line Is It, Anyway? because Spidey thought he needed a refresher to hone his one-liner skills. He was Hulked out by his puny banter and wanted to be more quip on the draw. Spidey’s lesson didn’t last long. A page or so into the improving, he heard a burglar alarm and knew it was time to put his newly honed skills to practical use.

Okay, I’ll need a place that has money and a number between one and five. Ah, I heard “bank” and “three.”

Spidey went to the bank next door and found three men planning to loot the safety deposit boxes from the small safe, because the big safe would take too long. Spider-Man then crashed their party. Literally. He jumped through the bank’s front window. Spidey suggested the crooks work together, listen to each other, and act as a team. They agreed and decided two of them would crack the safe while the third emptied the teller drawers

A little later, the crooks all had sacks full of money and were walking out the door thanking Spider-Man for making it the easiest job they’ve ever done. Meanwhile, even though the alarm had been going off for some time now, the police still hadn’t arrived. Apparently this bank wasn’t close to any donut shops.

Undaunted, Spidey webbed the door so the crooks couldn’t get out. The three crooks rushed him. In a straight line. So that when Spidey punched the first crook, he fell back and hit the second crook who, in turn, fell back and hit the third crook. Spidey subdued the three crooks with one blow, not as good as a brave little tailor, but necessary when you’re appearing in a short story. Then Spidey told the crooks that he had waited until after they actually took some money, so they could be arrested for more than attempted robbery.

Hey, Spidey, maybe you should have paid better attention to that improv class. The purpose of, “Yes and,” is that you’re supposed to agree with what the person before you said then build on that to make things go smoothly. You don’t say, “Yes and how can I make things worse?” Because worse is what your little escapade made things.

And I don’t mean worse for the crooks. You’re supposed to make things worse for them. It used to be right there in the Comics Code. No, I meant worse for the poor victims.

Look at what Spidey did. Or, in case you don’t happen to have the comic in front of you so you can’t look, let me tell you what he did. First, he crashed through the bank’s window instead of coming through whatever entrance the crooks used, because that’s what all banks need; a gaping hole right in the front of their secure building. Then he let the crooks take money out of the safety deposit boxes and teller drawers, meaning that the tellers will have to balance all their cash drawers again. Then all those safety deposit boxes. And that’s after they pick up all the stolen money and sort it out. He put them through all this just so that the crooks would actually take some money and could be charged with more than just attempted robbery? Good plan! Considering that when the crooks took the money they couldn’t be charged with robbery – actual or attempted – at all.

According to the section 160.00 of the New York state penal code (I write in my best Jack Webb monotone) robbery in the third degree happens when, “in the course of committing a larceny, [the perpetrator] uses or threatens the immediate use of physical force upon another person for the purpose of… Preventing or overcoming resistance to the taking of the property or to the retention thereof immediately after the taking.” When the crooks took the money they hadn’t used, or threatened the use of, any physical force on anyone. So they weren’t robbers.

What they were was burglars. Because what they did violated section 140.20 of that same penal code by trespassing in a building in order to commit a crime there in. And that’s burglary of the third degree. Moreover, both robbery and burglary of the third degree are Class D felonies in New York. So Spidey could have gotten them convicted of the exact same class of felony without having to wait until they actually touched the money. Which would have made everybody – Spidey and the bank employees – happy. Okay, it wouldn’t have made the crooks happy. But, I repeat, Comics Code.

Now, when the crooks rushed at Spidey, they were threatening the use of physical harm so were guilty of robbery in the third degree. In fact, they were guilty of the Class C felony robbery in the second degree, because each crook was aided another person who was present during the robbery. But Spidey could still have achieved this result without letting them actually touch the money.

These crooks were stupid enough to rush Spidey unarmed. Okay they had arms, how else could they have carried those bags of money he let them get their hands on? But they didn’t have weapons. And they still rushed Spider-Man. In a straight line, no less, so he could punch one and turn them into human dominoes. I’m betting they were also dumb enough to have rushed Spidey if he told them he was going to stop them before they touched the money.

Spidey could have gotten the crooks to commit robbery of the second, robbery of the third degree, and burglary of the third degree without making the poor, underpaid tellers lives more difficult. But he didn’t. I guess Spidey was still in his improv class. And the game he was playing was “World’s Worst.”

Michael Davis: Weekend Without Bernie

This past weekend a giant of entertainment left us. Chuck Berry was 90 years old, and I must admit I would from time to time wonder if Little Richard, Chubby Checker or Chuck were still with us.

I’ve not only had the pleasure of meeting each of these legends, I spent time with them. I worked in the music industry running the film and television arm of Motown Records for a click. Although a fantastic dancer and unbeatable in a lip-synch battle, I have no real musical talent, and at Motown I had almost zero to do with the core business.

Didn’t matter. Motown provided me access to anyone and everyone in the music industry. The music business can be very much like you see in TV and movies.

Sex drugs rock and roll complete with groupies’ wild parties and wilder people. What you see in the media does indeed happen, folks. Been there, done her, got video. I have, in my musical narrative, played many roles. What you may find hard to believe is this to some is commonplace and necessary to do their jobs.

I’ve seen a record company executive put coke on his expense account. I’ve done that as well, but my Coke came in a bottle. On occasion I’ve been cast as a witness-alibi-go between- victim-judge-jury-referee-bodyguard and bodyguarded. I’ve had some crazy days and nights.

None were crazy as when I met Chuck Berry.

I planned on telling that tale today, but as John Lennon kinda said, “life is what happens while you’re making up shit to stall so as not to write something that will tear your heart apart.”

This was to be the week I went back to running different articles on Bleeding Cool and ComicMix. I don’t like running the same article on both sites I tried running some articles part one here part two there and vice versa but neither Rich Johnston nor Mike Gold over at ComicMix said rather or not that was ok.

I like the idea of funneling readers between both sites. I think it’s a win-win, but I fixate on rather or not it’s OK and nobody wants to tell me it isn’t. Oh, I’m told who is not my bitch, but I’d better leave that be less I risk saying something that will not end well.

Yep. Still stalling.

If you’re wondering why I just don’t tell the Chuck Berry story, I don’t blame you.

That story is a perfect mix of real life craziness comics and return to the swagger that will inevitably invoke my haters on BC to chime in with why they hate me.

But as much as I like pushing people’s buttons to tell that story before I related this story would be inappropriate.

Enough stalling.

As you’ve no doubt heard by now, Bernie Wrightson died over the weekend. For my money, Bernie was just a big a star in comics as Chuck Berry was in music.

Swamp Thing #7 guest-starring Batman turned me on to Bernie’s work, and in turn, I took a significant leap in my education, and I do mean education when it needs it most in grade school.

I never wanted to draw like Jack Kirby even though I loved Kirby’s art. As a kid who loved to draw, I never thought I that I copied artists. When I would copy from comic books, I’d copy characters, not artists. It didn’t matter who drew it if the character was in an excellent pose that’s what my grade school mind was telling me I was copying.

When I discovered Bernie, all that changed and Batman swinging across the pages of Swamp Thing #7 changed it. I had to draw that way.  I kept that book as part of my never trade and would kill you your mother sister father dog and cat if you even asked me.

When Ronnie Williams bullied me though 2nd and 3rd grade, I had finally had enough when he took my Fantastic Four # 73 in the 4th grade. I picked up a metal backed wooden chair and cracked him over the head with it.

If it had been Swamp Thing #7, he took from me my weapon of choice may have been the Saturday night special (a cheap handgun) my sister said I should use on Ronnie – jokingly.  My mother acquired the gun to keep in the house after a series of robberies in our building.

She thought my sister Sharon and I didn’t know where she hid it. We knew, under the mattress along with the shells. Everything my mother hid we found.

Parents, that’s what kids do they find shit.Get a fucking gun safe.

Another stall.

I just want this fucking pain to go away, and anger may help, but I can’t get there from here so my apologies.

This article is as hard a thing for me to write as any tribute I’ve ever written.

Bernie’s artwork made me read comics that had no superheroes in it and by read, I mean read look at the words try to pronounce them and figure out what they meant. I was already becoming a decent reader from the horrible how the fuck do I spell ‘I’ student I was.

I was beginning to like reading, but all I liked to read were comics. Bernie’s work on House of Secrets  which I sort out had no superhero in it.

Seeking out that book was dangerous and enlightening. I lived on Beach 58st in Far Rockaway Queens. I got my comics from a mom and pop store on Beach 51st.

There was another store on Beach 40th and one on Beach 77st. Yeah, that’s a lot of beaches. All stores were a quick bike ride away but only (B51) was in my hood. If I wanted to go to the others, I risked a beat down or worse my bike stolen.

So, I walked. Looking for more of Bernie’s art was well worth a black eye.

Nowadays you hop on the computer and you can find anything. Back in my day, I had no idea if there was even any other Bernie art out there. I had no clue what Swamp Thing was. I purchased the book because I saw Batman on the cover.

I mentioned Bernie’s art helped my education here’s how. My sister had a cheesy romance novel paperback which featured a cover font very similar as the title of the House of Secrets comic book.

I thought it was. Because there were no superheroes in the comic somehow my mind thought it was possible this featured some Bernie artwork.

When I discovered it didn’t and had no art at all, I did the unthinkable.

I read it anyhow. All I can tell you is my little mind was blown.

Who knew there could be that much adventure and excitement in a book where nobody was drawn? All I had to do was skip all the girly parts, and I had discovered a new love, paperbacks.

Then I found Conan in paperback no girly parts to skip over and Frank Frazetta on the covers. From there I began reading hardcover books and spent my entire first paycheck ($10 bucks working for my cousin) on a hardcover book, All in Color for a Dime.

Bernie started all that.

Years later…

Denys Cowan and I were leaving DC Comics in 1988. We were going to grab a bite to eat. As we were departing in walks this guy. “Hi, Denys,” the man said. “Hey!” Denys said.

“Bernie, I want you to meet my friend, Michael Davis. Michael, this is, Bernie Wrightson.”

I lost what little mind I had.

Bernie was there for a meeting and was rushing. I did something I have only done three times in my life, and he was the first: I asked for an autograph.

I’ve met some of the most famous people in the world and only asked for an autograph three times. Each time I had something for them to sign. Jack Kirby signed a comic book, James Brown a CD cover.

I had nothing for Bernie to sign I didn’t care I just wanted something to remember the moment.

I didn’t get it.

Bernie apologized but was late for a meeting, so he ran in.

That stung.

All though our meal Denys kept telling me what a great guy he was and not to worry I’d see him again yadda yada yadda. I was thinking; yeah… right.

I realized with a start while looking for something for Bernie to sign I’d left my portfolio upstairs at DC. I told Denys I’d be right back and hurried to get it. When I entered the office there by the statue of Clark Kent was my case and coming out of the door to the inner offices was Bernie.

There was a God!

“Hey Bernie!”  The voice came from behind him calling him back.

And he hates me.

I grabbed my case left the reception area to wait for the elevator which quickly arrived with a ping!

“Hey hold it,” Someone said. I was in no mood to hold the elevator and make small talk with someone, and for a moment I considered being a dick but slapped the door to make it recede nevertheless.

“Here you go,” Bernie said with a smile. He reached in and handed me a sheet of DC stationary with his autograph and a quick ball point pen picture of Batman.

He then ran back into the offices. I never even got a chance to say thanks.

Bernie and I became friends over time and as such would grab a bite at a convention or a NY deli if we ran into each other in Manhattan.

As always, he would brush it off my gushing over him with sincere thanks but clearly didn’t think he was such a big deal.

Then I ended all of that and started to refer to him as simply Mr. Living Legend. I didn’t think he liked it, so I stopped.

The last time I saw Bernie was walking the SDCC convention floor with Wayne Brady. When we ran into Bernie, I introduced Wayne with a “Wayne, this is Bernie Wrightson.” Bernie put his hand on my shoulder gave me an affectionate squeeze and said “That’s Mister Living Legend, get it straight Michael.”

Wayne, who loves comic books said gleefully; “Yes sir, you are indeed a legend.”

A legend yes without a doubt.

Also an inspiration to a poor black kid the man he became and the one he hopes one day to be.

Michael Davis: Here’s a story about a man named Brady…

… who may have to choke a bitch.

I met Wayne Brady in 2005 while head writer and segment producer on the Tom Joyner syndicated television show. That sounds like I had some sway but the real head writer and power on most TV shows is the Executive Producer. I was as far away from EP as Trump is from humble.

Even then, Wayne was a big star as evident by his choice of performance for the show. He decided to sing a song. That may not sound like a big deal, but it is. If known for comedy in Hollywood you’re booked to do comedy.

But if you’re a big enough star you can do whatever your little-overblown ego made you think was a good idea. Thank god most big time actors and singers don’t try and do stand up. That seldom ends well the big names realize to them acting is easy to everyone comedy is hard.

This was also the Tom Joyner Show.

Tom is among the most influential people in media and he knows his music. Do if you can’t sing then, you won’t be singing on Tom’s show no matter how big a star nobody is stupid enough to mess with that kind of pull.

As always the bigger the star, the dumber the haters. The knock on Wayne – he wasn’t black or black enough. The Uncle Tom tag at times bothered him to such a point he decided one day to do something about it. Something people would not expect, and the day I met Wayne was that day.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Wayne Brady!”

The announcement prompted the studio audience to applaud with much enthusiasm which soon turned to a stunned silence when Wayne walked over to a mammoth of a man and punched him in the face. “Are you crazy?” The wife of the big man yelled. Wayne looked at her and said; “Shut up or will Wayne Brady have to choke a bitch?”

But I digress.

BTW, Peter, I was told this joke had run its course… as if.

Wayne sang a song and he killed.

“Killed” is a show-biz term that means, oh hell just read the small print at the bottom. Wayne is an exceptionally gifted singer.

His critics think he’s not black enough. Why? Because he works clean? Any comedian will tell you it’s much harder to make people laugh working clean. I often write articles chock full of profanity. Some have labeled me a thug or worse. Somehow they completely ignore the work I’ve done within the educational and Christian markets where there are no bad words – only good ones on loan from non-thugs.

Sadly, it’s not remarkable people refuse to look at facts and much rather stick to a lie. Wayne’s actions over his career counter all Uncle Tom comparisons yet are ignored. Doesn’t matter who vouches for Wayne that tag sticks.

Just like the following has held …

Elvis was a hero to most

But he never meant s**t to me you see

Straight up racist that sucker was

Simple and plain

Mother f**k him and John Wayne

  • Public Enemy / Fight the Power

A bigger Public Enemy fan than I would be hard to find as would a bigger lie than the above. Chuck D., Public Enemy’s front man conceded that when confronted with facts.

It didn’t matter people still think Elvis said: “The only thing Negroes can do for me is to buy my records and shine my shoes.” He not only did not say that, he was never on the radio show where people swore is where they heard it.

Some just can’t graduate from Sheep School. As evidence you need look no further than the hordes of those who will go to their grave convinced Obama was born in Africa, Milestone is owned by DC, and Trump is sane.

I mentioned Wayne is a talented singer. He’s also an accomplished actor remarkable dancer, and as a comedian, few if any can match his exceptional quickness or insightful intellect.

Wayne’s a huge deal in Hollywood. To be such, you must do big things. Talent alone does not guarantee the type of projects offered Wayne. Each time he commits it’s as if he’s just landed his first role.

Late last week he landed another big performance, comic book writer. Wayne co-wrote a story with his long-time collaborator Johnathan Magnum that runs in Spider-Man Annual # 1.

“How did the book come out,” I asked Wayne while we were having breakfast. “Don’t know have not seen it yet.” He responded. I took from his short answer he wasn’t all that interested in talking about the comic.

Wayne is always running to somewhere important but wherever he was off to this morning seemed to weigh heavy on his mind. So, it was no surprise when he asked for the check after only a few minutes. It took few moments to get my doggie bag (Hey! Never leave free food!) then I followed Wayne out onto the street. The street was there, but Wayne was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear him.

I followed his voice to Earth 2, one of the coolest comic book stores anywhere. Located in Sherman Oaks CA, you couldn’t ask for a better store or nicer people.

Then with lightning quickness it hit me. Wayne’s important meeting was with Peter Parker. He fled the restaurant as soon as Earth 2 opened so he could buy his book. I had wondered why he picked the breakfast spot he had it was a wee bit out of the way. He picked it because it was next to Earth 2 that’s why.

The store only had six copies left I grabbed two leaving four for Wayne. “Hey let me get those for you,” Wayne said. Free food and free comics? The only thing that could make my day better was Wayne flying me to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada so I could get a new pet rabbit.

Heh.

Nothing short of punching a hater in the face could make his day any better I thought. When Wayne finished paying for our books he held up the comic and greeted a man walking in with “I have a story in here.”

“Good for you!” The man said with a real delight.

I stood a few feet away from Wayne now placing his books in Mylar bags and talking to the young lady behind the counter. Walking towards me was the guy Wayne had shown his book.

“I wish your friend much success.” He said still smiling,

“That’s Wayne Brady,” I said.

He whipped his head around so fast I thought it would fly off his neck and hit me in the face.

I’m not over exaggerating; the good people of Earth 2 will confirm my every word. Wayne acted as if writing comic books was all he ever wanted to do.

He’s known the world over has a following in the millions does big things still the only thing I’ve seen surpass this excitement is the way he talks about his family. On this day, he wasn’t an international superstar, he was a published comic book author finally living his dream.

Early on in this piece, I noted Wayne has the distinction of being less than black to some. Much of this idiotic criticism because he works clean. That also gives the impression he’s a punk.

At SDCC about five years ago while walking the floor, I spotted some guys who had given Tatiana El-Khouri my former Special Projects Director a hard time. Wayne likes Tatiana a lot, and with a Chappelle show gaze said; ” I’ll go over and talk to them see if they still got a problem after I do.”

He went. They didn’t.

Just because Wayne manages to stay out of damaging career situations doesn’t use bad words doesn’t mean he’s anyone’s bitch. No, that would be Chris Christie.

Standing up for a friend, however, is not the total sum of a black man, or any man.

As Wayne said to Arsenio Hall in 2015. “You don’t know me so don’t judge me on being black because being black is not a monolithic thing. We have many, many ways of being black.”

Make no mistake. Wayne’s a great guy. I was honored to be there when he broke his comic book cherry, but he’s not a saint.

He kept one of my comics, and I’m sure did so on purpose.

This article contains satire and is provided as is without any guarantees the stupid won’t believe it. Michael Davis makes no warranties of any kind, either express or implied, including but not limited to warranties of giving a flying fish if some don’t get the joke or think Trump gives a shit about poor black gay or disabled people. Reading anything by Michael Davis is at the reader’s risk. Not as big a risk as the next four years, but who knows just how stupid some are. In other words, Wayne did not punch or kill anyone. Duh. Yeah, I Know the big deal part was weak so am i!!!! I think Wayne took my leftovers.