Tomorrow night I’m heading down to Comic-Con International — still lovingly referred to as “San Diego Comic-Con” by some of us — where I’m sure I’ll have many strange late-night encounters either in the halls, outside, or even in the suite I’m sharing with our usual merry band (those strange encounters involving sleep walking, arguments about poker and spilled drinks, and mysterious sleep apparatuses that leave the rest of us listening ominously to “Darth Vader” all night long). Here’s Grant Morrison’s tale of an encounter he had some years ago with “Superman.” (As you can see here, I once had my own encounter of an otherworldly sort at the Con. I have to say, he was more well-fed than I’d been led to expect.)

Before heading down for a full four days of comics, I’ll be seeing a comic of the stand-up sort at the Hollywood Bowl. That would be Eddie Izzard, who apparently is the first stand-up comic  to headline the  Bowl. This feature in tomorrow’s LA Times — which I’m now magically reading and linking to before it’s even tomorrow —  touches on his influences, and on his own impact, and yet somehow leaves out the fact that in our 28 years together, Mr. Izzard is only the second act my wife has insisted that we go see (Prince, on the “Purple Rain” tour, being the first), and that we see him every time he comes to town, in venues of all sizes (including the somewhat-secret 300-seat “tryout” venue on the west side, thank you), much to our mutual delight. So why, for the first time in years, am I leaving so so late on a Wednesday to head down to Comic-Con? Now you know.

I was sad to learn tonight of the death of comics artist Gene Colan at the age of 84. Many of us who followed his work and career have been expecting it for some time now, but that doesn’t lessen the blow.

With Jack Kirby and John Buscema, Gene Colan was one of  the foremost comics artists of my youth. While Buscema worked in a somewhat more photorealistic version of the “Kirby style” — which was, for all intents and purposes, the Marvel house style — Colan’s work was utterly distinct. His figures had a balletic flow and propulsion unique to comics. Colan was the first comics artist I noticed; I distinctly remember reading an issue of Daredevil and staring at the art and flipping back to the splash page to find out Who drew this?

Somehow or other, Colan became counterculturally cool in the early to mid 1970s,  through the strength of his work and partly because of the odd raft of assignments he picked up from Marvel:  Daredevil (which eventually saw the character transferred to San Francisco and running into the hippie subculture), Tomb of Dracula (with a lead who was no one’s idea of a hero), Dr. Strange  (who applied Eastern mysticism to fight psychedelic threats), and Howard the Duck (an acidic anthropomorphic commentator on the ills of our society).  The supple action Gene Colan brought to all these titles pulled the reader through some very strange times.

Two years ago, Marvel invited Colan to draw Captain America #601. This represented a return to the home of his fame, and his final achievement.  Although the script (by Ed Brubaker) was weak, the trademark Colan flourishes were there:  forced perspective that grabbed your attention, fluidity of movement, and pencils so detailed that inks seemed superfluous. It wasn’t his best work, but it was strong, especially given his terrible eye trouble, and I was glad to see anything by him. My college-age son read it, though, and having no familiarity with this artist, said to me, “What’s with the lame artwork?” Because what has happened in the past 20 years in Marvel comics is this:  the photorealists have won. Comics are scripted and “drawn” to resemble film. Which is fine, but it means that with the passing of Gene Colan, we have truly seen the end of an era.

It’s here! Today! Right now! The most important day of the year! That’s right — it’s Free Comic Book Day!

I’ve alerted my niece and every other person I know with appropriately aged children (3 to 103). Invariably, they’ve said something like, “You’re just trying to get more kids hooked on comic books.” It’s good to understood.

Curious about the religious inclinations of comic-book characters? Wondering who shares your worship? This site helps demystify who belongs to which church. In retrospect, it makes sense that Two-Face, as someone obsessed with duality, is a Taoist, but I can’t quite reconcile the Hulk as a lapsed Catholic. (By now, he must have a lot of guilt to carry around.)

I know:  Like me, you’ve been thinking for years just how useful it would be to have a handy wall chart showing how various super powers and characters are related, something akin to a periodic chart of the elements for comics, or the system Darwin et al used so well in cataloging and referencing the biological kingdom. You’re in luck. Here it is, and you can order a copy for your ongoing reference. I know I will.

An aside:  In browsing it online, I couldn’t help noting  the relative dearth of performance-arts-based super characters — just Mysterio, Chameleon, and Puppet Master — and all of those are villains, and they’re all lame. (It comes as no surprise that two of them are Spider-Man villains.) With so few performing-arts characters, there’s definitely a market opening for a guy like me. Mentally, I’m already outfitting the hidden  costume and gadget shop.

(Thanks to Doug Hackney for letting me know about this.)

A true shocker in the world of comic books:  Steve Rogers is returning as Captain America. And — coincidentally — just before the “Captain America” movie comes out, too. Never saw that coming.

I don’t care about the other ones at all.

Nice to see. Very considerate.