Meet the new California superheroes

LOOK! UP IN THE SMOG! It’s a condor! It’s the Concorde! It’s ... what the heck is that, anyway?

Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man -- the world they first flew and leaped and lassoed and spun in was a different place. Bad and good were as clear cut as black and white -- or more on point, red and white.

But the Cold War has defrosted. The hot war is in full flame. New times and new moral quandaries demand new superhero skill sets. Superheroes, like the rest of us, must retool or face outsourcing. And their alien competitors aren’t from other countries -- they’re from other planets.

I can’t say that I’ve kept abreast of comic superheroism trends. I’m still loyal to my Classics Illustrateds, and in their safe, static pages, William Tell still nails the apple with an arrow, not an AK47, and Hamlet still wears puffy pants, not 7 for All Mankind jeans.

So I truly did, uh, marvel this weekend to read about what’s happening to Marvel Comics’ cast and its ripped-from-the-headlines story lines. A Christian Science Monitor story described a present-day Superman who goes all Hamlet-y over invading a country in the Mideast. In a series called “Civil War,” Captain America and Spider-Man share their angst over having to register with the government or do time in a place like Gitmo. And the X-men comic books (and the films) are as morally nuanced as testimony at a Senate hearing.

Gay marriage, medical marijuana and Batwoman coming out as a lipstick lesbian? These are comic book themes? Actually, yes. So how about a new league of superheroes for the new California?

Count Mudula. In off-seasons, he’s the mild-mannered operator of a dry-cleaning establishment, but in election years, he’s a vigilant enforcer, on the lookout for filthy political contributions. Dialing (800) DRTY-DOH summons the count to intercept political campaign money that’s meant to buy off politicians, which is most of it. (Unlike IRS tipsters, Count Mudula does not get a percentage of the take.)

Disastress. Born deep within a fissure of the San Andreas fault, Disastress has a heart that functions like an acute seismic sensor. At the slightest wobble, she outraces the earthquake and plants herself deep at the epicenter to keep the shaking to a minimum, saving lives and property. (Disastress has just taken a refresher course in weather catastrophes and plans to solve two California problems at once, super-compacting the tons of garbage that would require new landfills and building new Sacramento River Delta levees out of it.)

The Hollywood Green Lantern. The nephew of the original Green Lantern is committed to preserving the Hollywood way of life by stopping runaway production to other states and overseas. With his superpowers (which are still in gold-pages rewrite), he guarantees that only California TV and film shoots get green-lighted. How selfless is he? He works for net points.

Branch Officer. From his secret hideaway treehouse in that celebrated, 4,700-year-old California bristlecone pine, Branch Officer morphs into a knothole-muscled hero in a green-pinstriped power suit. Traveling on super-accelerated Santa Ana winds, he fearlessly endures even the dullest rezoning hearings and public works board meetings, using the mind-altering properties of chlorophyll to stop clear-cutting, habitat despoiling and water guzzling wherever he finds them.

The Fencer. His costume is crafted from barbed wire and NAFTA side agreements, and his mask has two faces -- one white, one brown. His white face hires his brown face to build a border fence -- which he does, at super speeds. But with his superpowered night vision, he figures out how to get across anyway.

California could be teeming with fledgling superheroes, their identities hidden behind waiters’ aprons. Botoxia, half-woman, half Shar-Pei, who packs her pair of neutralizer hypodermics to fight cosmetic-surgery abuse; Aquadude, a surfer whose exposure to polluted ocean waters made his feet grow webbed toes, and whose super-sensitized hands can analyze foul water and instantly identify the dirty culprit; Nobel Man, whose thistledown head of Einsteinian hair electrifies to shock sense into creationists.

The best thing about comics is that they can get away with talking about things that the real world can’t -- or won’t. They’re almost impervious to attack, not because of their superpowers but because humans would come off as pretty stupid going after comic-book characters over gun issues or gay rights.

As for me, I know now that my heart truly belongs to Superman because his latest adventure has Clark Kent fired from the Daily Planet when Lex Luthor buys the paper and replaces it with ... a website. Go get ‘em, Man of Steel, baby!