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Flogging the Clintons in Supreme

Once upon a time, printing a caricature like this belonged beyond the bounds of propriety, at least as defined by the conventions of superhero comics. However, with the passing of decades since events like Nixon's suicide in Captain America and the Falcon, comics theoretically impose much less of a straight jacket of civility on creators who wish to deal with topical material.

Alan Moore guest starred Hillary and Bill Clinton in Supreme: The Return #1, creating a piece that could appeal to a broad range of readers of varying political tastes. With evident joy, Moore dragged the First Couple over the coals, reminding the reader that humor does not best derive from writers fond of their subjects.

Nonetheless, finding such a gleeful razzing of the Clintons as a couple in a Supreme comic book does seem exceptional. It speaks a great deal to me about the character of Alan Moore; the man seems unafraid to alienate while going about the business of telling the story he intends to tell.

The Scenario

How, though, might a writer introduce the Clintons into a superhero story? They appeared - in a dignified and apolitical context - in at least one of DC's "Reign of the Supermen" stories in the early nineties, but the logic of the scenario made this likely; one can imagine that any president of the United States would have some kind of interest in Superman.

In this case, Supreme villains Vor-Em and Korgo the conqueror appear on the White House steps. Korgo challenges President Clinton to a duel for the right to rule the United States; and, when Clinton fails to best him in a physical contest (what would you expect, really?), Korgo claims both the Oval Office and the First Lady as the spoils of conquest.

As Sprouse and Moore depict the scene, however, the President fails to come off as anything other than "ridiculous," as helpless and hopeless as the Oliphant caricature of President George Bush (usually seen carrying a purse). If nothing here would greatly offend a Clinton partisan, nothing here would alienate his most passionate detractors, either.

Consider the very first illustration for Bill Clinton's offense versus Korgo, Trampler of Galaxies. Not much could make it more pathetic, except maybe using a perfumed mauve handkerchief as the implement with which to swat Korgo across the chops. And, for the immediate result, consider the image above this paragraph.

Wish-fulfillment? Perhaps, for the occasional Supreme fan. More likely, though, we here have the superhero comics equivalent of pie-in-the-face, at President Clinton's expense.

The Spoils of War

This story could have gone many places right after Korgo put out the President's lights, but Moore evidently had an eye for one of the more absurd possible directions. The very absurdity of Korgo's come-on evokes cringing, exactly, I believe, as Moore intended. Can you, with a straight face, imagine laying the come-hither on Hillary Clinton with a rancid line like "...you are my wife, my stern little Valkyrie!"?

The image Moore here presents does not differ substantially from views of Hillary Clinton held by her more vehement political opponents - typical attacks on her personality (and the occasional eyewitness account) label her as loud, controlling, foul-mouthed, domineering, distant, and cold, a package of traits that, in the right context, could very well define a post-Silver Age hero (consider, for instance, that the terms used here to insult Hillary Clinton much make up the defining traits - the virtues - of contemporary, scowl-intensive superheroes like Batman).

Korgo, here, we later found out, lay the seeds of his own destruction, though little of this comes through with the panel depicting the scene. Hillary herself looks as thoroughly disgusted with the prospect as Moore intends to make the reader.

Here we see one flavor of Moore's humor, as evidenced in his Supreme work. He understands how to take something actually rather mundane - like the tendency of the archaic conqueror to capture the widows of his slain enemies and render them into concubinage - and inject it into a context that brings out its ludicrous character. Here we plainly see the same hand as the talent that had Supreme's dog go on a reproductive rampage that infested the city with super-powered puppies.

The Resolution

For the purposes of this column, we need not delve too far into the plot. Just note that the combined efforts of Supreme, Suprema, and Radar (the "hound supreme") suffice to contain and undermine the ambitious conquerors of the American government.

Yet we see something here in the resolution that defies the formalistic repelled-conqueror story. Rather than our hero solving the matter with a well-placed fist (or suitable substitute, depending on his personal attributes), we see Supreme looking on in curiosity as the villain moves to surrender, while attempting to conceal his real intentions.

The context reveals all. The villain who did not fear the moral consequences of his actions, nor feared the might of the United States armed forces in repelling an invader, nor feared the personified might of Awesome Comics' most potent Superman proxy, evidently found something to fear in the White House. He surrenders to Supreme as the lesser of two evils, no longer able to cope with the person of Hillary Clinton.

The insult carries special vehemence from a male perspective, in that the fundamental male condition merits the description "sexual desert." Men, typically, do not refuse the willing attentions of females without due cause. The conqueror's rejection of a clearly-amenable woman seriously impugns her quality as a mate or companion. If she could shrew this man into surrendering - a man who conquered worlds as a hobby - she must, indeed, go off the You-Don't-Ever-Want-to-Meet-Her scale.

Political or Not?

We could define a piece like this either way. On the side of not political, we could muster the ad hominem (and, in this case, more importantly, ad feminem) character of the story. It does not delve into densely political issues, though such issues hold no terrors for writers like Alan Moore, in spite of the dread they might inspire in the editors who have worked with him over the years. The entire nature of the gags, insults, barbs, and overall baggage of Clinton-gouging humor here owes to personal attacks on or parody of their character. The absence of a political context disconnects the piece from the body of political commentary.

On the other hand, we can also label this piece as political by the inherent qualities of any work that depicts political figures. Though the story does not invest considerably in polemical content, we deal here with personalities (or images thereof) that belong to well-known public figures. As occupants of the White House, we can grant them a political and/or historical status by default.

Of these two positions, I tend to favor the not political for this story, since any implied or explicit criticism of the Clintons that this story depicts connects expressly to their personalities, and such could appear in figures anywhere on a political spectrum. The domineering-wife gags inherent in this piece would succeed independently of the cast; in fact, the framework of this story would work well as a typically misogynistic Superman story from the sixties.