Well crew, for my turn at the podium of Ocular Otherness this time around I’ve chosen a comic that some have called the worst ever published. Now, I know that’s bound to seem impossible to those of you that have read any random issue of Marvel’s Civil War brouhaha or DC’s Final Crisis melange. And, you’re absolutely right in your thinking. Let me state unequivocally that the comic under consideration today is NOT the worst ever. In fact, if you read between the ink lines, it’s a work of inspiring poignancy that was far ahead of its time. You see, the reason so many commentators have condemned what is, in reality, a truly touching, transcendent tale is that they simply didn’t understand it. Why? Well, it’s because (through no fault of their own) those that have scorned this overwhelming opus are straight! Let’s now turn the well informed Queer Eye on Neutro, trapped in a world he never made, but which most certainly made him.

The cover informs us that The Big N is “The Most Astounding Super Hero of All” and that “Neutro Does Not Know the Difference Between Right and Wrong”. Now, I admit that the second blurb does make him sound like the main characters in any number of current comics, or at least like the writers and editors of those books. But, as the story inside unfolds, it becomes obvious to those “in the know”, that Neutie’s moral confusion is of a different kind. In fact, it’s all too typical of many a starry-eyed newbie to the gay world. That’s right: Neutro is simply going through the pangs and angst of coming out! Read on, as I recount the sadly familiar story of a stranger in a strange land.

In the opening sequence, a clearly experienced red son of the West relates an ancient Native American legend, in which a group of smooth bodied braves witness the arrival of a flying saucer. As the sleek, feather wearing buckskin boys cling to each other for comfort, “creatures, like themselves…yet different” (not that there’s anything wrong with that) emerge from the craft, bury several large crates, and depart, leaving a large mound to mark the spot. As the teller of this tale crouches in front of the crotch of his lone listener, staring at the man’s own covered box, he brings his narrative to a close with the warning left behind by the alien earthmovers: “He who disturbs this resting place shall perish!” (Well, I guess that’s one way to find out if the other fella is interested in an exclusive relationship.) The standing man who is receiving this…er…dictation soon becomes obsessed with the yarn and begins a months long quest to find the mysterious containers of the long departed excavators. As the weeks drag on, the increasingly frustrated seeker is deserted, one at a time, by the others in his party, until he is left to carry on alone. About to give up in despair (“Last call!”), the driven searcher finally finds the treasure he was looking for, piles it into his jeep and proceeds to his “hastily set-up lab”.

As he arrives, we are finally told his name: John Dodge. (No, that’s not the name of a porno star. That was Rod Lodge. Or was it Dick Wedge? Anyway…) His assistant, “Doc” Banyan, helps him heft the heavy chests and carry them inside, where they pry open the lids and are shocked to discover that the containers hold a massive mess of electronic parts. Obviously disappointed that they didn’t find a load of those exotic alien anal probes that the UFO true believers are always raving about, the two men set out to assemble the pieces, using the enclosed instructions, which “though complex, are readily understandable”. (The artful Dodge obviously is in the know when it comes to ancient native tongues. Although the Indian he was hooked up with earlier wasn’t really that old.)

The story proper then begins as the tool wielding duo finish erecting the result of their efforts: Neutro, a huge red and blue robot. Looking down into the mechanical man’s metal britches, “Doc”, no longer let down by his failure to find any outer space dildos, exclaims: “I…I never dreamed he would be so immense! Why, he’s as big as two men…” The obviously jealous John replies that the awesomely endowed android isn‘t perfect because “Neutro has no brain!”, but will simply do whatever he is told by whoever possesses him.

Let’s stop for a moment and consider the timeless, too often repeated tragedy presented here. A new, comely arrival to the scene, lost and looking for guidance, falls into the hands of callous cruisers only interested in their own needs who, instead of sympathizing with his naiveté, treat him as a mindless piece of meat. Well, metal in this case, but you know what I mean. Ah, poor Neutro!

“Doc” and Dodge (they used to have a third partner named Hyde, but he went undercover) then put their new found alloy toy through a series of tests to “learn what Neutro could really do.” They find that the Titanic Twink can “bore his way through the center of the Earth”, “overtake the fastest missiles”, and “swallow bullets like a baby swallows candy”. Once they’ve had their fill of all this “boring” and “swallowing”, John exclaims “Now he is in our control. But what if we lose control of Neutro?“ And isn’t that just typical? The selfishly satiated pair are, in short order, worried that someone else might cut in on their good thing!

But wait! It turns out that the insecure initiators have reason to worry, as panel after panel roll by showing various groups around the world plotting and planning to get a hold of the Mechanical Manhandler, each crying out “We’ll capture Neutro!” The leader of one chrome-cock crazed crowd, who looks amazingly like Lex Luthor, is thrusting his fist forward in a most alarming manner. I guess he’s gotten tired of waiting to “test” Superman and decided to try his hand at another hard body with a similar color scheme who comes pre-lubricated. Finally, a pair resembling Ho Chi Minh and Herman Munster (think about the “love child” of that union, I dare ya), sequestered in a “headquarters in the Mediterranean Sea” (ah, the beckoning pleasures of the Greek isles), develop the perfect “control transmitter” and summon the Colossal Catamite to do their bidding. Watching him flit off into the distance, the crestfallen John Dodge waves his own fist in the air as he shouts “We MUST get him back!” Thus ends the issue.

So, what happened next? Did Neutro suffer through one bad relationship after another, used and tossed around by the mechanizations of a long series of older men? Alas, we’ll never know for sure because, although the indicia says that Neutro is a quarterly magazine, issue 2 was never published. I like to think that he eventually learned from his sad experiences, took control of his existence and found a sense of pride, leading to a permanent, caring relationship based on love and equality with his own Mr. Right. I know, I know. I’m a helpless romantic. Or maybe I’m just…er…steel crazy after all these years?

Although Ed Natcher started out as ingenuous as the neophyte Neutro, people today are more likely to compare him to Mercury of The Metal Men.

Article copyright of Ed Natcher.

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