Though nobody comes to this site to keep on the cutting edge of news, we would be remiss if we did not note the passing of Majel Barrett-Roddenberry yesterday at the age of 76. More than any of other luminaries whom we’ve lost in recent weeks — more than Bettie Page, more (I would argue) than Forrie Ackerman — Ms. Barrett-Roddenberry was an icon of the kind of genre fandom that has infused Western pop culture. As Nurse Chapel, she gave us occasion to see that the unflappable Mr. Spock was on occasion flappable (and gave hope to us socially-maladaptive types with bad haircuts that hot blondes would nonetheless throw themselves at us). As the universal voice of Starfleet computers, she infused our conception of computers with a personality that is still absent from our constantly used desktops (Clippy notwithstanding). As a partner to her husband Gene Roddenberry, she fostered a view of the future that, though inconsistent, maintained a certain spark that somehow attracted masses. As Lwaxana Troi, she brought a big shit-eating grin to Commander Riker’s face when she appeared naked for her own wedding, dressed only in earrings and a saucy smile.
Goodbye, Ms. Barrett-Roddenberry. You go not alone into the next realm; a part of the childhood of everyone in a broad demographic travels with you.
… though they’re more of a Teleport City thing anyway.
I have to admit, though, that I haven’t always given Superargo the fair shake he deserved. In fact, there was a time when I was quick to drag his name through the mud. Ironically, that disrespect on my part was the indirect result of Superargo’s initial success. For not only did Superargo vs. Diabolicus meet with enough positive public response to merit a parody in the form of Fantastic Argoman, but to also lead to a sequel, 1968’s Superargo and the Faceless Giants. Now, I watch a lot of movies and, as a result, there are occasionally times when I think that I’ve seen a movie that I actually haven’t. I have, however, seen Superargo and the Faceless Giants, and it left me considerably underwhelmed. So underwhelmed, in fact, that I began to use it as a low-water mark — an anti-Diabolik, if you will — when judging other Italian superhero movies. “Goldface, the Fantastic Superman“, I might say, for instance. “May be no great shakes, but at least its better than Superargo and the Faceless Giants.” In time things degenerated to the point where my attacks became more ad hominem, and I would simply go on about how lame Superargo himself was, comparing him unflatteringly to a much more swanky peer like Argoman or Flashman.
In 
In 1948, French artist Jean Dubuffet coined the term 
Look, it’s an X-ray vision movie. It’s an X-ray vision movie with a male teenage protagonist, even. Shouldn’t there even be a hint of hijinks in 
