Olsen and the Newsboys hook up after the young reporter's new duplicitous boss Morgan Edge sends 'em all via a typical space-hogging Kirbyesque vehicle called the Whiz Wagon into the Wild Area - a hitherto unmentioned realm populated by motorcycle commune called the Outsiders and a mysterious group known as the Hairies. (Can't help wondering: did they select that name themselves?) Kirby's attempts at wrestling with youth culture slanguage circa 1970 provides much unintentional comedy ("Our life style is 'wheels!' This bag belongs to the 'Hairies!'"), but his imagery and throw-everything-you-can-think-of-onto-the-page aesthetic still provide heaps of pleasure. Whatever his limitations as a scripter, Kirby remained unmatched as a visual imagineer.

The Olsen crew's trip into the Wild Area leads them through a Zoomway packed with photo collage psychedelia, than to a secret underground government project where military scientists have broken the genetic code. For some strange reason, the Hairy scientists have chosen to duplicate Olsen and the Newsboys. No, I don't know why these guys were chosen, but it gives Kirby the opportunity to show us a microscope slide of tiny Jimmys (each with miniature panties) and a later sequence where a bound Newsie sees a Lilliputian version of himself straddling his pug nose.

With Kirby, plot sense frequently took a back seat to spectacle (you can see why filmmakers like the Wachowski Bros. have adopted him as their patron saint) and never more so than in the Jimmy Olsen books. Once our heroes make their way to the Project, we're introduced to a new crew of rival villains: the alien scientists of the planet Apokolips, who've stolen Project DNA samples to create their own nefarious creatures. First up: a giant-sized green-skinned Jimmy Olsen (but of course!), who rampages through the Project shouting "Kill to live! Kill! Kill!" Next: a four-armed "DNAlien," who also does its best to trash the complex. What's the point? Basically, to give Kirby an excuse to engage in Hulk-styled battle graphics.

I love these tales for their goofiness and robustness. (Haven't even mentioned the two-parter that ends this volume, co-starring Don Rickles and a costumed doppleganger named Goody Rickels. It's packed with more non-sequitars than a Dadaist Manifesto - the real-life Rickles was reportedly not amused - and a thoroughly nonsensical plot originally designed to put Rickles in the same room as the Man of Steel so he could insult him . . . but it never happens.) Like I say, this is definitely not the stuff you want to pull out if you're trying to convince a would-be girl or boyfriend you're not a hopeless case for reading comic books. These pages are pure (to use cartoonist Scott Shaw!'s exceedingly valuable label) Oddball. And boyishly entertaining for it.

Can't wait for Volume Two.