That's right: it's time to show off the stylish upgrades of Sunstreaker and Tracks -- the vainest Autobots. Tracks is the more straightforward of the two and is fixated fairly exclusively on loving his own appearance. Oddly, it's not his native tall, dark and handsome Cybertronian form that he flaunts and cherishes, it's his Corvette Stingray form with the phoenix-like design gracing its curvaceous hood. Fellow Autobots believe his preoccupation with his looks distracts him from the war at hand, but when confronted, Tracks rationalizes their criticism away as envy of his good looks. Fortunately for them, Tracks is also fast, well-armed, versatile.

Sunstreaker is extremely vain as well, perhaps more so than Tracks, but his egotism goes much farther than that. He is only interested in himself and in proving that he is superior to both friend and foe. Unsually calm and methodical, Sunstreaker wages war with a ruthless, almost murderous intent, but he does so with more concern for his own self-aggrandizement than the Autobot cause. In spite of his seemingly unshakeable confidence that he is the most beautiful thing on Earth, he nevertheless shows contempt for other Autobots who are similarly sleek. Does he feel somehow threatened? Challenged, or insecure? Either way, Sunstreaker has nothing but sneers and dismissals for Tracks and others like him.

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He is the template upon which every subsequent incarnation is based: the original OPTIMUS PRIME. Even if your own archetypical conception of Optimus is based on the cartoon, that image is itself derived from that first toy. From Armada to Animated, from the Bayformers movie to the War For Cybertron game, no derivation can be called honest without reproducing the core characteristics of the first Prime: the distinctive blue helmeted head with the antennae and silver faceplate; the chest windows and torso grill; the red upper body, blue legs and silver midsection. The original Optimus Prime is an icon -- everything that comes after is just an homage.

That said, we are proud to introduce improved versions of both his original American and Japanese art (of course you already know that in Japan he was called "Convoy"). The American version comes from the Smythe transparencies and was cleaned up by JP White. The Japanese version was submitted by Jeremy Barlow. Thanks again, guys!

Decepticon jets are great, but because they're supposed to be airborne, they're not as fun to send rolling across your kitchen floor. Kind of dispels the illusion, doesn't it? Decepticon cars, though... You can send those evil warriors careening across hardwood floors into cats and babies and ankles, immersed in the wheeled malevolence, cackling all the way. When the Stunticons were introduced in the cartoon as the Decepticons' response to Autobot road mastery, I loved it. More Decepticons is always a good thing, and 'Cons that intentionally collide into the likes of Jazz or Sideswipe are even better. And then, when they transform and merge into one giant super warrior... Decepti-Bliss. And now we have greatly improved box art for all of them!

Let's start off with the two archetypical maniacs of the outfit, Drag Strip (left) and Wildrider (right). These two lack any complexity beyond the desire to cause mayhem and suffering. They're exactly the sort of uncomplicated and unquestioning warriors you want on the front line. I was trying in vain to think of a word for someone who demonstrates bad sportsmanship over everything in life, gloating over his victories and correspondingly raging uncontrollably when he is beaten or slighted; whatever the word is, that's Drag Strip. Even his fellow Decepticons find him insufferable.

As a complement, Wildrider resembles a hyperactive and violent child. Racing along without fear or concern, if there's one Stunticon who truly "cackles", it's him. In fact, he's one of the few Decepticons whose actual function is TERRORIST.

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While Fireflight might have been the most unnoticed Aerialbot, Slingshot was definitely the most unavoidably noticeable. Because he's a loud-mouthed, arrogant braggart with an inflated sense of self-worth. When the Aerialbots were first "born" in the cartoon, with the exception of their leader, Silverbolt, they all thought little of the Autobots, even less of humans, and admired the Decepticons, and Slingshot was the self-nominated spokesman for the the majority of these sentiments. Eventually, of course, they learned first-hand the supposed error of their ways. Of course. Because it was a cartoon. And while Slingshot, like the rest of the Aerialbots, had become more appreciative of humans and Autobots, he remained an arrogant braggart.

What do you say? Slingshot: cocksure hero, or annoying bastard? (It's difficult for me to judge objectively, because I'm a cocksure bastard of questionable heroism myself.)

The improved box art for Slingshot was edited and repaired by Vito Adesso (visiting all the way from Italy) and was scanned from the Japanese laserdisc box set scans. Thanks, Vito!

My desk has way too many Transformers on it right now, I don't know where to put them all.
I mean, there's usually one or two or five, but look at this:

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Just what is a reasonable amount of money to spend on collectibles? It's a question that I imagine most every collector must ponder at some point or another, and it's a difficult one for me to answer. By their very nature, collectibles are not necessary items. Whoever recently bought Action Comics #1 for $1,500,000 did not need to do so any more so than the collector who drops $10 at Walmart for the latest Star Wars figure. Toys seem to be considered important, if not essential, for children -- "play" is an important part of development -- but while that impulse transitions for most adults into sports or video games or fishing, some of us never outgrow our love of childish things. But even that explanation is too simplistic, since few adult collectors "play" with their collections; I don't know any adult Transformers fans that spend hours rolling cars and jets around making "vroom! vroom!" and "ptchoo! ptchoo!" noises. No, there are other psychological factors in play, like perhaps hoarding, or reclaiming lost childhood. Who can say? Everyone is different. But whatever reason compels a grown man (or woman) to continue buying toys (or stamps or coins or Elvis memorabilia), there remains for each one the simple question: How much money am I willing to spend on this?

Is there such a thing as a "reasonable" amount? If so, how do you calculate that? A percentage of one's income? Speculation on resale value (assuming one ever actually plans on selling one's collection)? How "in control" are you as a collector? The truth is I don't think that any collector can answer these questions completely, and the motivations behind toy collecting are especially nebulous. The reasonability of a superfluous purchase does seem to scale up or down based on one's amount of disposable cash, but that's a no-brainer: the more money you make, the more frivolous expenditures that you (and those who observe you) can justify.

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It's unsurprising that one of my all-time favorite Transformers comic book covers features my all-time favorite Transformer: SHOCKWAVE, the Decepticon Military Operations Commander. This was the first cover to appear after the original four-issue limited series was extended into an ongoing monthly, and was one of only two painted covers in the 80-issue run (the other being the debut issue). Here Shockwave reminds us that at the end of the previous installment he was the last Transformer standing, having incapacitated the remaining Autobots after their seeming victory over the Decepticons.

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My wife, Heather, and I were having a pleasant evening together after not seeing each other much for several days. We'd just finished dinner at our favorite fish house and were indulging in a rare dessert, and I happened to be rambling about a friend of mine who I felt was letting me down regarding something he is supposed to be doing. I said something to the effect of "I'm disappointed in him." And then I casually continued to say, with this friend and our mutual acquaintances in mind, "...but then I'm disappointed in everybody."

Heather responded with something like, "But you're not disappointed in me, are you?" And just like that, it was like being told not to think of pink elephants and that's all you can think about -- I couldn't help but think of stupid, meaningless things about her that disappoint me. Now I'm not great at remembering specific words spoken, so forgive me for paraphrasing, but not wanting to be disingenuous I answered something like, "Well, I'm disappointed in everyone, including myself."

"So you're disappointed in me," she says. "Great." And she grew very quiet. With just a few words, dessert was ruined, dinner was ruined, the evening was ruined. She doesn't want to be around me right now and I can't blame her. She doesn't deserve this, and no amount of apology from me is fixing it. It may be true that anyone you know well enough or long enough will disappoint you at some point or in some ways, because that's just the way life is, but Heather is an amazing woman and she didn't deserve to have her husband casually include her in his ridiculous list of "disappointing people."

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You're wondering what that is, aren't you?

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We needed a dessert to follow the crustaceans at last week's drunken crab-fest. Something with a little Truth, some Justice, and maybe a touch of The American Way. This looks like a job... for Superman Cake!

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