Ugly American # 16: Let’s Talk Todd!

I wanted to talk about Todd, The Ugliest Kid on Earth this week, because it’s really quite special and I don’t think enough people are aware of that. If you want to hear the author talk about the concept, I highly recommend you download Where Monsters Dwell # 228. Ken Kristensen will tell you all about Todd & his origins, and at the back end of the interview shares one of the greatest anecdotes in WMD history. It’s about Giant Size X-Men # 1 and his virginity, and I won’t spoil the rest. Plus, Remy refers to Ken as “Todd” twice in the span of sixty seconds. Priceless.

For those who don’t have the time or inclination to spin that episode right now, I’ll give you the textual gist of the tale here. Todd Belluomo is a hideously ugly young lad with parents so dysfunctional, he’s forced to wear a bag on his head. In fact, everyone in Todd’s life is dysfunctional. In the midst of cruel teachers and classmates, inept parents, and homicidal neighbors Todd never loses his inexhaustible hope and enthusiasm for life. That’s the bit.

It’s a really daring and funny comic, loaded with biting satire, and it operates in a manner I’ve never seen before – I’m going to call it an Inverted Picaresque.

The Spaniards fell in love with the Picaresque genre around the 17th century. It worked thusly – you introduce a cad and a scoundrel into corrupt high society, and let the hijinks ensue. The Pico is not strictly evil, but he definitely doesn’t abide by the social mores. It’s all social commentary, and as the Pico stumbles across different facets of society, the reader is intended to learn the lessons that the rascal never does. Deadpool is kind of a modern equivalent to the tradition, now that I think about it.

What’s most poignant about Todd, The Ugliest Kid on Earth is that Kristensen is making the case that in the 21st Century, depraved thinking is no longer aberrant thinking. In this comic, the Pico is a truly good person treating people with kindness and holding hope. The world is so far gone that the only way to really be an outlaw is to avoid being a narcissistic asshole. And you know what? He’s got a point.

One of the things I’m enjoying most about Todd is that it takes all comers. Most comics these days operate as liberal propaganda manuals. There are shots at The Right in Todd, to be sure. Todd’s father is the vehicle for most of that, an empty bag of boasting who got some Marine ink done after 9/11, even though he never served a day.

Kristensen takes a stab or two in the other direction as well. I noticed a bit in issue # 2 when the prison mail arrives, and the inmate opines that these letters are from “enablers”, calling out progressive coddling of degenerates better served by a boot in the ass.

Mostly, though, TTUKOE is interested in how self-centered we’ve become. Todd’s new neighbor Kim is Korean, but nobody absorbs that but Todd. The neighborhood bully and Todd’s mother just assume she’s Japanese, because they aren’t listening and don’t care. Todd’s mother forgets to bail her son out of jail while she barhops and picks up men. Chief Hargrave refuses to listen to evidence that Todd isn’t the killer, because it’s interfering with his fantasies of TV shows. When reporters ask starlet Belinda Fairchild about Scientology’s role in her Hollywood success, she thanks them for asking about her childhood dyslexia. Nobody listens, nobody spends a jot of energy considering another, it’s just me, me, me. Todd knows everybody’s name, though. Todd wants to reach out and be friends with everybody, and he never judges…even when he should.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Todd after the first issue, but after the second I pretty much fell in love with Todd for a couple of reasons. The schtick of the book is that an endless stream of horrible and unfair things happen to the only innocent person in the story. It feels awful, really, but I find that because he’s so adorable, I find that I’m more emotionally invested in Todd Belluomo than I am in characters I’ve been reading for twenty years. He’s just an incredibly vulnerable person, and kind of unique in the current comics landscape dominated by hyper-skilled, take-no-shit types.

The other thing that struck me after finishing the second issue is the fact that Todd is not defined as a victim. I’m so, so tired of victims. Over in Green Lantern, Simon Baz steals a truck loaded with explosives and accidentally bombs a building, and then I’m supposed to cry tears because the authorities want to investigate? Listen, when the Muslim guy with the stolen vehicle makes the building explode, it’s not racist to wonder if terrorism might be in play. It’s called inductive reasoning, and more people ought to check into it. I suppose if you find a lump in your breast, going to the doctor would be lumpist, so you better not. That’s bigotry. That could be a cyst or scar tissue, you don’t know. Only an asshole would assume malignant tumor, and hey, it’s only life and death. So let’s make the government look like pricks for having the audacity to presume that the Muslim with the stolen truck filled with explosives that erased a building might be a problem. [Sigh. Space brothers? Are you out there to come get me? PLEASE?] But I’m digressing.

My point is that if anybody in comics has earned the right to play the victim, it’s Todd, and he refuses. No matter how poorly the world treats him, he approaches it with undaunted hope and kindness. No moping or crying from Todd, and the outlook that makes him “weak” also saves him.

In issue # 2, Todd gets involved in a prison soap-dropping incident. This can’t end well. But since Todd is focused on other people, he notices that the guy who’s about to assault him has a Marine tattoo, just like his deadbeat old man. That sparks a conversation and friendship. Todd wins. Sort of. That friendship appears likely to cause more horrible things to happen next issue. But that’s the book.

Todd, The Ugliest Kid on Earth has a lot of Mad Magazine in it – it’s fun, and it’s smart. If all my talk of stuffy social commentary seems off putting to you, don’t worry; the book is peppered with plenty of “sticky crotch” jokes, talking frogs, and singing flies. The whole thing is absurd, and completely Chronic approved.

I’m not qualified to talk about M.K. Perker’s art other than to say that I enjoy it, and recognize that it’s an entirely different approach from what he put down in Air. I also think it’s an interesting twist that Perker’s name appears first in the credits, both on the cover and the title page. It doesn’t really matter, I guess, but I can’t think of another comic that presents the artist first. If you listen to the WMD interview with Kristensen, you can hear the worship in his voice about Perker’s talents. That might have something to do with it.

Bottom line on TTUKOE is that it’s a unique beast in the comic book kingdom and worthy of your attention. It kinda functions as the Mark Twain of comics right now, and I’m really impressed with its ingenuity and balls. First two issues out of four are already on the stands – go get them, already, or face the wrath of Danny Trejo!

As always, your comments are welcome, so please leave them below.

UPDATE: This just came in via Twitter: