I know here at STUPID COMICS we make fun of the 1970s and the 1980s a lot, but let's face it. The 1990s were worse than either the 70s or the 80s. At least when you're in the 70s you can look around and you know where you are at a glance. Ditto the '80s. But the 90s? What stands out about the 1990s? Not so much fashion or music, but a general sense of people simply not knowing what the hell they were doing at any given moment. I can't think of any other reason to explain the following.
You remember the inexplicable career of fake tough guy comedian Andrew Dice Clay, right? His foul-mouthed, misogynist "comedy" persona offended people from all walks of life; women, men, children, and most other forms of life that enjoy humor. Obviously, what the world wanted from this sexist potty mouth was a feature film in which the character of Andrew Dice Clay plays a character named "Ford Fairlane." Who is a detective. A "rock and roll detective". I can totally remember walking around in 1990 and everywhere I went people were wondering how long Hollywood was going to make us wait before giving us our movie starring Andrew Dice Clay as a rock and roll detective named after a car! Why do you tease us, Hollywood??
Actually, what happened was the movie came out and it died a horrible death at the box office because people would rather watch anything BUT a movie starring Andrew Dice Clay as a rock and roll detective named after a car.
No, I take that back. There is one thing that people are less likely to want to look at, and that's a COMIC BOOK about a movie about Andrew Dice Clay as a rock and roll detective. Who will bring us this unwanted comic book? Will it be some new fly by night outfit without any experience whatsoever? Or will it be one of the most established comic book publishers in the world?

Demonstrating amazing business acumen, DC Comics brought us four whole issues of THE ADVENTURES OF FORD FAIRLANE. I believe the last two issues of this comic went right off the press and into the recycling bin. What makes these comics special is that they're not merely an adaptation of the film. Well, they could be. I never saw the movie. NOBODY saw that movie. What this comic does is give us the amazing ORIGIN of Ford Fairlane!!

Who would have thought that I, Ford Fairlane, Rock and Roll Detective, would one day be smoking cigarettes in the windowsill of my office in Hollywood? My Rock And Roll Detective office? Not me, Ford Fairlane! Why, it makes me flash back to the 1970s!

The story here is that Ford Fairlane, whom at this point in the story is known as "Chevy Nova", was in a band with his friend Johnny, and their homoerotic insults over "brewskis" were interrupted by "disco", which is exemplfied here by a woman and a guy in a polyester suit and a Casio keyboard.

When you insult disco, enormous guys in leisure suits fly into the air and hit things. I think. We're not really sure what's going on here. Neither are the writers, because they've forgotten that Ford is named "Chevy Nova" at this point.

Having committed the cardinal sin of insulting disco, Ford and/or Chevy - his name changes FROM PANEL TO PANEL!- is banished from New York and must travel to Los Angeles to become a Rock And Roll Detective.

During this amazing montage sequence we find out that Ford and Johnny do not play disco, they don't play America-style folk rock, and they don't play punk. So that kind of begs the question, what sort of music DO they play? At least if they were trying to emulate Black Flag they might get assaulted by riot police, and we'd like that.

Alone in Hollywood amidst the wreckage of the early 1980s Ford or Chevy or Stanley Steamer or whoever he is, is forced to take a menial floor sweeping job in a record company until his big break comes driving a limo for big rock star "Bob Balloo". Yeah, THAT "Bob Balloo!"

We suspect that "Bob Balloo" underwent some editorial fixing in post production; a big-nosed British guy with frizzy hair and a leopard skin fetish who moved from rock to disco in the early 1980s... I wanna say he was supposed to be Rod Stewart until somebody realized that Rod Stewart would sue them, so suddenly Rod became "Bob" and got a serious suntan. DC got sued by the Winter Brothers later in the decade so you can't fault them for being wary. Not that you wouldn't want to see them sued for this terrible comic book. Preferably by the World Court in the Hague for Crimes Against Humanity.

Been a while since you've seen anybody get so worked up about disco, hasn't it? That's just what comic book readers in 1990 wanted to see, some douchebag limo driver insulting disco. Take that disco! From my limo-driving, floor-sweeping, music-expert heart, I stab at thee!!
Okay, so here we are, it's LA and Ford is in the music biz, make with the detective stuff already!!

All right. This is the point where "Bob" has his limo driver buy a VERY SPECIFIC kind of powerful chemical bleach. We're very carefully pointing this fact out to you because it might be of interest later on in this interesting detective story.

I know you were all starting to wonder if Andrew Dice Clay really WAS in this story, but luckily his little protein powder joke is both hilarious AND reassuring. Thanks Andrew!

SPOILER WARNING! Sometimes OTHER PEOPLE are singing on those record albums, and that sexy model on the sleeve is just A SEXY MODEL DESIGNED TO MAKE YOU WANT TO BUY THE ALBUM, and MAY NOT ACTUALLY BE ANY GOOD AT SINGING!!
In OTHER AMAZING NEWS, Keebler cookies are NOT ACTUALLY BAKED BY LITTLE ELVES!! Now I don't believe in nuthin' no more.

So remember that whole "calcium hypoclorite" thing? Remember thinking that it was just a lame attempt on the part of this comic to try and infer people were doing cocaine? Well, no, this story requires that Ford Fairlane actually buy actual "illegal bleach" in a murky alley at night to deliver to "Bob Balloo." Because there are kinds of bleach that are "contraband". DITCH THE CLOROX BABY, I GOT THE GOOD STUFF.
I'm sorry. I can't believe this. I am actually wasting part of my life describing a comic book about a movie about Andrew Dice Clay, playing a rock and roll detective named after a car, who purchases and delivers "illegal bleach" to a highly tanned recording artist named "Bob Balloo."
I'm really sorry, everybody. Sometimes... sometimes these things go places that we didn't expect, places we never meant to go, and sometimes we just have to go where it takes us and damn the consequences. But let's take heart. Let's remember that things could always be worse. Let's look at the bright side. Nobody in this comic has a head made of rocks, or is a talking koala in love with a penguin, or eats KASCO. Nowhere in this comic book is Betty Cooper holding a Bible. THERE ARE NO NINJAS IN THIS COMIC BOOK. And for that, let us be thankful.
Okay. Calm down. Are we good? All right. Let's move on. Only a few pages left. Help me out here. Just stay together, and head towards the light.

SO... you remember "Bob Balloo"'s bitchy girlfriend, and you remember the bag of chemicals, and you remember the REAL SINGER, right? You have it all written down in your little crimestoppers notebook? Well, bitchy girlfriend is DEAD, poisoned by ILLEGAL BLEACH, and REAL SINGER has been set up to take the rap! It's up to FORD FAIRLANE to show his LEET ROCK AND ROLL DETECTIVE SKILLS!

Police, arrest this man you have brought with you! Put him, uh, under more police supervision than he is currently under!


Ahhhhhh. That's better. On behalf of the American public, I thank you.
So how to resolve this amazing murder mystery involving illegal bleach and a giant stereo system precariously perched next to a swimming pool? RECORD YOUR ANSWER... NOW.

Death by electrocution! Death by electrocution as Ford Fairlane writhes in pain holding his ruined manhood! A DOUBLE VICTORY!!
Jesus what a terrible comic book. Based on a terrible movie, starring a terrible comedian, from a terrible time in our nation's history, a time we prefer to remember as filled with grunge music and Arsenio Hall and Kramer from "Friends". Not filled with grunting neanderthal "comedians" inflicting their emotional pain on the rest of us. Goodbye 1990s. BURN IN HELL.