“Cracking up, like a worn out shoe. Ain’t wet, but the world leakin’ through. I’d run, but I find no pace. I laugh, but it’s wrecking me.” From Cracking Up, written by Nick Lowe

Okay. I’m gonna fulfill my legal obligation right off the bat.

Mad About DC is the funniest issue of Mad in years!

Ahem. Now that I’ve fulfilled my responsibility, I’m taking that Uber to Nostalgiaville. Growing up in the days of Eisenhower, I adopted three cultural milestones that made me whatever it is I am today. First, Mars Attacks! Cards, which is where I found outrage to be my door to reality. Second, Rocket J. Squirrel and Bullwinkle J. Moose, where I discovered how to surround political commentary with a plethora of puns. Finally, Mad Magazine, where I learned respect is an open-book test.

I discovered Mad in my sister’s comics pile. It was a coverless copy of the then-current issue, #39, and I was seven and one-half years old. Mad became my bible. I coerced my mother into buying me issue #40 (She had just taken me to the doctor, and I was a “good boy”). Issue #41 arrived in the mail; I also coerced my mother into popping for a subscription.

I can’t really say Mad changed my life as at seven as I had yet to have a life. But the usual gang of idiots helped me create my worldview. In this I was among hundreds of thousands who were happily perverted by Mad. I transformed solace and sarcasm into the pillars of my handmade philosophy.

Mad continued to guide me for decades, far beyond the original lifespans of moose, squirrel, and Mars. The usual gang expanded a bit, but essentially Mad remained the same. It didn’t get old, but the world began to pass it by. The outrage I experienced as a child was looking redundant as new forces in our media moved the frontline forward with underground comix (highly influenced by Mad), SCTV, The Simpsons, Beavis and Butthead and their ilk. Mad kept on being Mad — clever, funny, well-produced, yet comparatively lame.

Yeah, well, me, too.

In 2018, Mad finally received a reboot with an infusion of new talent and new approaches. I thought it was a fine start, but a couple months later management — whomever owned DC comics that day — kneecapped the sucker. By then magazines were only slightly more vital than Carter’s Little Liver Pills, but they didn’t give the reboot much of a chance. The publisher shitcanned most of the staff, including freelancers, and filled the magazine with well-chosen reprints. There were a couple of pages of new material — the Fold-In, the cover, the masthead — and I’m happy to say the number of new pages seems to have expanded lately.

But not like this.

On April Fool’s Day 2026, a.k.a. last week, DC released Mad About DC, a 64-page issue of Mad that contained nothing but brand-new material having fun with DC. It is brilliant, and more important, it is clever and funny. And with one exception, it did not feature any of the traditional Mad Magazine talent. Not even Dick DeBartolo. Continue reading “Brainiac On Banjo: Am I Mad Again?” →