Mr. T and the T-Force is not a good comic book. He spends almost the entire thing beating up 16 year old purse snatchers, pitying their foolishness, and finishing it up with speeches with a wholesome anti-violence message. It's not quite as self-contradictory as a high school guidance counselor giving career advice, but it's hard to read the damn thing since you're so distracted by the nagging thought of what the fuck is going through the T-Force people's heads.

With the use of dialogue as hip as your grandma's green stretch pants and intriguing plot lines like "Mr. T walks down the street and nearly kills a 12 year old boy stealing a hubcap," this comic's endless stream of "Sucka!"s and "Fool!"s is so authentically T. How is it possible? It's as if the writers crawled up inside his mohawked ass crack and found the true essence of the former Hollywood bodyguard/dwarf tosser*. So as soon as I was done cutting my hair into a vertical stripe, I checked the comics's credits and saw: "Mr T: STAR, CREATIVE DIRECTOR." I don't know what duties that has, but I bet he hovered behind the penciler and barked orders like, "Don't you draw me no sissy crotch, sucka! That's it, fool! Like a donkey's wang!"

Letters pages of comic books have always been dominated by certifiably obsessive cave dwellers demanding to know what Wolverine's favorite Beach Boy is, or pointing out how they liked the part in Green Lantern's hair before issue 48. Take that level of stupidity and add the inspirational shit, and you have T-Time, the kind of entertaining madness people hit themselves over the head with toasters all their lives to find. The comic has been cancelled, so if you want to write fan-mail to Mr. T, send it here to me, and I'll be sure to give it to him when I see him at the bar where he trades old catch phrases for drinks with Gilligan and Urkel.

Here are some of my favorite T-Time letters (in the red boxes) along with completely unnecessary comments from me to point out why they're stupid.

* Mr. T really did have to throw midgets when he won The World's Strongest Bodyguard Constest during the 80's. The Seanbaby staff couldn't reach the thrown dwarf for comment, but I'm assuming he was fucking honored.

"Dear T-Time:
I am currently serving with the US Air Force in Korea. The DMZ dividing this land is a few miles up the road... and tensions are high, though meetings with all parties concerned bear some fruit at times."
Who in the hell writes things like this? "Though meetings with all parties concerned bear some fruit at times?" It sounds like the kind of thing some fucking geek would write for his 7th grade newspaper trying to sound as smart as the Mr. T letters page. They would show it to their mom who, of course would say, "Oh, that's wonderful, honey! Now, please let mommy and her friends have their tupperware party." And the paper's editor, Mr. Slapass would be just as supportive since he spent his childhood jammed in a locker writing about his fruit-bearing concerned meetings and coo, "Oh! Super article! Your classmates won't pull your underwear up now!"

So normally, rude spiteful people would be there to ridicule the nerd early on to keep a letter like this from being written, but it didn't work here. Because nobody reads the god damn 7th grade newspaper - they either don't care if a good time was had by all at the mandatory pep rally, or they just can't fucking read. (their letter continues...)

"If only adults could resolve problems as children do, without violence, this land would have been reunited a long time ago.
Al Richter Jr., TSgt."
This guy has jammed too many live artillery shells in his ear. Why in the name of Ass would you sent a cheesy peace loving letter from a military base to a comic book featuring Mr. T kicking the shit out of bad guys for 40 pages? Isn't that like the tobacco industry sending a letter to McDonalds about how people need to get in better health? Plus, Sarge has some really screwed up concepts of children. What the fuck kind of kids solve problems without violence? Kids attack each other over a stick of gum, much less a real problem. Hell, I didn't even need to be in a bad mood to walk over and kick my brother in the head. I just figured a good fight was more exciting than the damn afternoon television programming. (the T-Force team responds to their letter...)

"Dear Al:
You're right about a non-violent approach being a better solution to the problems of the world, but unfortunately, you're also right about violence being the way most people handle things. MR. T AND THE T-FORCE is trying to show that the way things are done now isn't the way it has to be."
This part confuses me. Assuming the person who wrote this had any idea what language they're speaking, they're trying to tell us that the lesson of all of Mr. T's fights are, "Violence is bad."

I think even the mentally handicapped members of the T-Force subscription club (which is 92% of the total membership of 17) can see right through that moral lesson, asshole.

"Dear T-Time:
Issue 8 was great! I thought that Mr. T handled himself very well with Lester in this story line. I run a clown ministry at my church and we use the gospel to get to teenagers and older folks. One of the messages they receive from us is that if you do wrong, you'll get caught. Even if you have a change of heart later, you still have to pay for what you've done. I've been recommending your comic to all the kids that I come in contact with--even big kids like me!"
I think this guy was too busy putting clown makeup on his altar boys to come up with a good moral lesson to teach kids. "You'll get caught if you do bad things." Yeah, that's just what that Jesus hippie was trying to tell you people. And what kind of psycho is so proud of his church clowns, he has to write to a fucking Mr. T comic book to brag about it? I think the editors make these letters up to get the high school girls they abduct to laugh. And being one myself, I can let you know it works.

"MR. T AND THE T-FORCE #9 was exciting! I'm glad Mr. T didn't let that drug deal go down, even if the cops were there to take care of business (T.C.B.). Too many people let bad things happen every day, and the police can't be everywhere."
This new theory of his about law enforcement not being ubiquitous seems to contradict the main message he and his wacky-shoe-wearing choir are trying to send. If his most notable religious moral is "be scared of police because they catch you," he probably shouldn't make statements about how police can't be everywhere. Especially in such a widely read publication like the T-TIME page in MR. T AND THE T-FORCE. I did like how he slipped in the TCB line, though. He's a true taking-care-of-business T-Fan, fool.

"We all need to get together and take a stand for what's right. And that's exactly what MR. T AND THE T-FORCE is all about! I hope Mr. T can save Holly. I can't wait to see what happens! As always, Mr. T is my hero. Always be cool (A.B.C.)!
Your buddy,
Jeffrey Harnel"
Jeffrey gets so excited by the end of the letter, he just starts smashing the exclamation point key. This letter is a good example why you don't let Christian clowns near pens, sharp objects, or anything they can fit in their expandable snake-like mouths. You know after he finished this fan mail, Jeffrey covered his face with lipstick and sang a song to troubled children about looking both ways before crossing the street. But because of a massive head wound suffered during an attempt at cutting his hair into a mohawk with a kitchen knife, he got the lyrics horribly wrong. Seventeen children in Mr. T shirts were found wounded or dead in the street the next morning gurgling something about Taking Care of Business. More senseless Christian clown-related deaths.

"Dear Jeffrey:
I'm happy to hear that the Mr. T comic helps you reach children. Keep up the wonderful work with your ministry. Thanks for all the support!"
Can you imagine walking into a church where everyone is dressed like clowns, and the minister is preaching something about a Mr. T comic book? I bet when it's time to sing hymns, they all hum the tune to the A-Team. When the audience gets excited and starts screaming out "Amen" or "praise him!", they add "sucka!" to the end of it. And faith healing is a punch in the mouth. A.B.C., God.

I like your comic books because there's a lot of action and it was cool. Where do you live? And I also wanted to know how I could make a "war against drugs" club. That's all. 'Bye.
Eric Sherrill
Kula, HI"
I'm almost positive the editors made this one up -- let's look at the evidence:

There is little to no chance that Mr. T and the T-Force received three fan mails.

Nobody could write a letter this pathetic. Even if a stupid kid wanted to stop evil drugs, he couldn't really be stupid enough to write to a comic book for help. And the whole thing sounds like a god damn infomercial. "How can the juicer help me save money?..." "...I am glad you asked that, Linda!"

The first sentence has the same tense change error as the last letter. Not only were they both made up, they were made up by the same guy.

So maybe I applied too much of my cryptology/essay interpretation degree, but I don't think it takes Batman to figure out these letters are bullshit.

"Dear Eric:
Mr. T lives in Chicago's north suburbs with his family and their four dogs, Suicide, Pesticide, Genocide, and Danger."
Keep in mind that the man who named his puppies Suicide, Pesticide, Genocide, and Danger preaches a magical message of non-violence.

"I'm glad you want to start a war against drugs. The police wanted to do the same thing, so police departments all across the country have started a program called D.A.R.E. If you ever visit the police station in your town, they can help you get involved with D.A.R.E. Remember, don't call 911 unless you have an emergency--use the non-emergency number."
I don't remember anyone asking for phone instructions, but from what I know about Mr. T's readers, this is probably very necessary advice. I'm surprised they didn't stick something in about not playing on power lines, or not jamming things into electrical outlets.

That's the end of the special Mr. T letter section, and remember readers, don't lay down in traffic, light yourselves on fire, or sleep with women that are constantly scratching crotch itches unless you do them all at the same time.

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It's a man with strange priorities that wears $80,000 worth of gold and fine silverware around his neck and holds his pants up with a rope.
Plus, I think that's a paper towel in his back pocket. I've known squatters that don't even re-use paper towels.

He doesn't just beat up drug dealers and wear handy eating utensils, he's a very responsible apartment manager. Instead of fixing a plumbing problem, he'll tell you you smell like flowers.
And if your heater stops working, he'll grab your ass and tell you it tastes like chicken.

I think it was Dr. Paraplego who said, "Mr. T couldn't possibly be stupid enough to leave all his jewelry on and think he could fool me with a fake name tag and sunglasses! Or is that just what the impudent worm wants me to think? Oh, this T is a crafty fool - always one step ahead."

Hey, fellows!

Join Mr. T and his pals on the Mr. T hotline to get your weekly changing motivational message. Go here to read a report about it.

You think you're living life to the max sitting in your inflatable Darth Maul chair, clicking your Pokemon mouse, and eating out of your Hugh Downs-Barbara Walters lunch pail, but you should know that you're living a lie. The real apex of icon merchandising happened over 15 years ago.

The Mr. T air freshener (one of my many pictured here) made our boats and homes - shit, our everywheres protected and smelling great for most of the 80s.

My favorite part of the T-Force comic phenomenon is that it was released in 1994. And if you can do math, you've probably figured out by now that that's over a decade after Mr. T had anything resembling a career. Maybe that's why the comic went out of business like NOW comics' other topical merchandising ideas like Magnum PI's Bathtub Fun Play Book, Knight Rider bingo cards, Golden Girls vinyl motorcycle covers, and Airwolf vaginal wart remover.