Hail Hibbler

Odd Jobs, Inc #2

by Ron Goulart

His name was Adolph Hibbler and he had escaped the doom of Hitler's Reich by inventing the cryogenic deep freeze long before the rest of the world. As a human icicle he had been just a circus sideshow for many decades until he finally thawed out—in the 21st Century.

The trouble began with a series of mysterious events and the government had to call in Odd Jobs, Inc. But when Jake and Hildy Pace started uncovering the clues they found an odder job than any previous capers.

There were the lost cassettes of the world's greatest sex fiend to locate. There were model planes that fired real bullets. There was the army of baby-doll killers. And there were the revolutionary gas station attendants and the Arabian shiek who had ignited them.

Only Odd Jobs, Inc. could have connected all these cockeyed clues and come up with Hibbler. When they did it sure looked as if they—and the world—were on a spinoff orbit into infinite disaster!

Genres: Science Fiction, Humor

157 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 1980

About the author

Pseudonyms: Howard Lee; Frank S Shawn; Kenneth Robeson; Con Steffanson; Josephine Kains; Joseph Silva; William Shatner.
Ron Goulart is a cultural historian and novelist. Besides writing extensively about pulp fiction—including the seminal Cheap Thrills: An Informal History of Pulp Magazines (1972)—Goulart has written for the pulps since 1952, when the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction published his first story, a sci-fi parody of letters to the editor. Since then he has written dozens of novels and countless short stories, spanning genres and using a variety of pennames, including Kenneth Robeson, Joseph Silva, and Con Steffanson. In the 1990s, he became the ghostwriter for William Shatner’s popular TekWar novels. Goulart’s After Things Fell Apart (1970) is the only science-fiction novel to ever win an Edgar Award.

In the 1970s Goulart wrote novels starring series characters like Flash Gordon and the Phantom, and in 1980 he published Hail Hibbler, a comic sci-fi novel that began the Odd Jobs, Inc. series. Goulart has also written several comic mystery series, including six books starring Groucho Marx. Having written for comic books, Goulart produced several histories of the art form, including the Comic Book Encyclopedia (2004).

Reviews

[Marc *Dark Reader with a Thousand Young! Iä!* · Rating 1 out of 5]

"What sort of assignment?" Jake turned on the white piano stool to face the secretary.

"It's a booger," admitted Stackhouse.

Before crack P.I. husband and wife duo Jake and Hildy Pace receive this booger of an assignment, in the far-flung future world of 2003 A.D., the book opens on Jake brawling with Italian stereotype androids.

"I'ma gonna puncha you face!" promised the burliest of the low-browed androids.

Fortunately these artificial beings go down easily, such as via karate chop to the "skull-base control center."

The android oofed out, "Datsa hurt!" before collapsing, with considerable clanging and rattling, to the cluttered floor.

(If any Goulart afficionados find themselves wondering whether the Italian-styled andies happen to be slim or hefty, they are described as "thickish".) Fortunately, by the end of Chapter 1, we move on from racial stereotypes . . . to full on hella racist characterization.

"Marse Jake, Missy Hildy, Ise bodacious glad I done foun' you all. Law me, has I got a mess for you to handle, I declare." A large black man had come shuffling into the place.

WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS OF JAR-JAR IS THIS? At this point, I set the book down to groan for a while and think deeply about my life, hoping beyond hope that this would be one of Goulart's patented introduced-then-immediately-disposed-of characters, but no. He's important to the story and is sticking around for a while.

"I ain' signifyin' nor layin' no line of jive, you dig?" inquired the Secretary of Big Business.

He and the Paces were using one of the Manhattan office of the Federal Police Agency, a slowly rotating plazdome fifty stories above the city. The nightlights of the pedramps made intricate connect-the-dot patterns across the clear darkness outside; the blasts of old-fashion explosives being used out in the Borough Skirmishes caused occasional splashes of orange and yellow far off.

"Thought you were cured." Jake was casually seated at a white office piano, noodling out some mid-20th century cocktail music.

"I is, bass . . . that is, I am, Jake," said the heavyset Negro.

You know, just in case you forgot what size and race he is. Jesus Christ.

This was written in 1980.

But see, there's a reason for Secretary Stackhouse to lapse frequently into this horrifying mode of speech. This passage makes everything clear, while also helpfully reminding the reader he's not a slim man.

Roots Stackhouse shifted his bulk. "Dey sho nuff does, honey chile . . . damn it!" He fisted his right hand, tapped himself on the jaw several times. "With a first name like Roots it was only natural I'd become obsessed with my black heritage. Little did I realize, when a mere tad of sixteen, what I was getting into sending five bucks to a genealogical outfit that advertised in the back pages of Jive Magazine. I unleashed a multiple personality problem on myself that'll go down in the annals of goofiness as—"

There you have, a perfectly reasonable explanation. Of course, the real reason this "quirk" is in the book is because Ron Goulart thought it was funny. See, Goulart is known for "satire and anarchic humor," according to his Wikipedia entry. I'm not quite convinced a faux-future setting densely populated by robots AND androids AND cyborgs, where every common object is a portmanteau made of plaz or glaz or neowood, and the bulk of humanity's aspirations are akin to a Benny Hill episode on steroids, in which the main characters play the straight men encountering a series of 'goofy' scenarios based on old-timey comedy routines, counts as "satire", but maybe? Is the following satire?

Immense quantities of light and sound were spurting up from the multi-acre amusement park. Full-size racing cars roared and crashed; full-size last-century combat planes zoomed through the air with mock machine guns chafing away; full-size robot animals snarled, howled and trumpeted as they were felled in an acre-wide jungle; full-size ocean liners sank in scaled-down choppy seas; luxury hotels exploded; shuttlecraft flew mock flights to mock orbiting satellite colonies; clowns, midgets and chorus girls danced, giggled and tumbled. Naked fat ladies wrestled in vats of swamp mud; naked underage girls were flogged by black-hooded mock inquisitors; chimpanzees staged Hamlet; a 1930's dirigible blew up while trying to dock; the music of every decade since the 1890's was blaring out of its own special music hall or restaurant; full-scale trains derailed regularly.

This is the "FUNN!" amusement park. Where you can pay to wrestle a crazed gorilla, have sex with a "highly believable replica" of one of over a hundred celebrities, or, if you are a 14-year old girl, parade around naked being whipped by a priest of the Spanish Inquisition. Such FUNN! Such satire. Or maybe you'd like to fire a lazbazooka? That sounds FUNN!, right? What if I told you that the only purpose of the lazbazooka is to shoot Black people?

Tossed up against the counter of a shooting gallery of immense proportions, he paused to watch a slim, dark-haired girl shooting down African pygmies with a mock lazbazooka. The wrinkled little android natives were scurrying through a 40-foot lot full of jungle.

The girl, who was young and pretty, was wearing a one-piece slaxsuit. She dropped every dodging pygmy she aimed at.

WHAT THE HOLY FUCK????!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! ! ?

Satire.

Because it's "funny".

Most of the time, the intent of the "humor" is obvious. Like, Hildy goes to interview a man named Stoops who works in Looney Tunes Plaza, and he's a sad sack character morosely dragging himself around in a rabbit costume, constantly being corrected on the names of the IP characters.

"But, listen, do you mind if I don't hippity-hop?"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Stoops?"

"See, I'm supposed to hop when I'm togged thusly," he explained. "Like Bert Bunny."

"Bugs."

Or,

"The only thing this punk job is better than is the one I had before, looking after the golf courses while decked out as Alvin Fudd."

"Elmer Fudd."

See? It's comedy! Ha ha ha ha haaaaa.

To be fair, I did chuckle once. It was over this: an elderly incompetent security guard, after a series of "old man" moments, accidentally shoots himself in the ear with a stungun.

"Ear's gone clean to sleep. Think the prickly feeling may be spreading to my center of bal. . . ." A sharp gust of hot wind blew the old man clean over.

But this is more than offset by moments like this scene at a shrine of the Holy Streamlined Christian Church:

Shaking his head, the pilgrim said, "I'm here for a miracle cure. The Shrine of St. Bubbles is noted for that, you know."

"You don't look to be suffering from anything too serious."

The man tapped the side of his head. "I've got inward problems," he explained. "I'm a goat molester."

"Molest goats, do you?"

"Every chance I get."

I cannot convey how many times I had to set this book down, look away, groan, catch my breath, stare into space for a time, then steel myself to continue reading.

Despite all that, the plot manages, for the first half at least, to beat out most of the TekWar series. Why am I citing that series by William Shatner? Because not only was Ron Goulart his ghostwriter, but Ron Goulart apparently wrote the entire Tek series already and published it a decade earlier under his own name. The list of identical features between this book (from the Odd Jobs, Inc. series) and TekWar is phenomenal, from a P.I. main character named Jake, to the "comedic" use of robots and androids, to the entire "futuristic" construction where every place is a sector (the Malibu sector, the Greater Los Angeles sector), lazguns and stunguns, skycars and landcars, Goulart's style of constant dialogue interruptions and obstrusively placed paranthetical clauses within sentences, the serial lead-chasing plot structure, it's identical. There is even a Tech Mafia in this book. So if you ever have reason to consider, with a celebrity authored-book, exactly how much the celebrity contributed, have you considered: nothing? Because as far as I can tell after reading this book, this could be the sum total of Shatner's contribution to his series (be sure to do it in your best Shatner impersonation): "What, if, we spelled Tech, . . ., with a K?" So yeah, TekWar is exactly this book, just with significantly less (but not zero) severe cringe-inducing racism.

For at least the last third of this book, though, any praise I might give it falls off, when the plotting becomes irritatingly dependent on convenience and painfully labored contrivances. Just when Adolf Hibbler, Nazi scientist, (and lookalike of Hitler, natch) appears, it all gets so, so disappointingly boring. But hey, at least Goulart recycled his "compulsively slides into 'humorous' speech" gag from the start of the book, by making Hibbler frequently say, "Oompah oompah oompahpah" because while he was frozen between the Third Reich and 2003 and carried around in a Brazilian circus, he was exposed to a lot of calliope music. Satire!

As far as main characters go, Hildy is clearly meant to be more competent than Jake, who gets into trouble and has to be rescued by her, because of his admitted sometimes "stupidity" and "a touch of the showboat." So I guess Hildy is a good example of a strong female character?

"Hubba hubba!" exclaimed the lot 'bot as Hildy flashed out of the vehicle.

And she was stunning. Her platinum hair flashed, her frontless realsilk dress glowed a brilliant crimson, her deeply tanned flesh gleamed. "Why, thanks for the compliment," she said as she inserted what appeared to be a cokeball into one lovely nostril with a golden nosefork.
[. . .]
"Boing! Boing!" called the appreciative robot after her.
[. . .]
"Danged if you ain't the best lookin' heifer I ever done seen in all by born days! Lordy, what a set of equipment you got, lady."

"I always appreciate a compliment." Hildy smiled. "Now, would you please inform Mr. Smith I'm here?"

"Oh, geeze, he's gonna cream in his jeans when he lays eyes on you! Wowsie me!"
[. . .]
All them folks down there is robots, you know," said Lightning Jim. "We got to mix 'em up as to race, creed, color, country of origin. When you get your lot out on a real SIS colony, however, you won't have to worry about blacks, or Chinamen or Portuguese or Quakers or any other group you might loathe. Space law isn't anywhere near as ballbustin' as Earth law is."

After a brief, bored glance downwards, Hildy said, "Perhaps Mr. Smith's quite lovely secretary—"

"She is cuter nor a pound of honey poured over a kitten, ain't she? You don't always find that in a Jewish Quaker who's part Chinese and part Italian."
[. . .]
"Hot darn! Son of a biscuit!" Skytrader Smith leaped up from behind his desk, smiling broadly. "Danged if lookin' at a hot dang heifer like you don't make me cream in my jeans!"

Hildy returned the smile. "Yes, your associate mentioned that it might," she said.

The only worthwhile takeaway from this book is the ASTOUNDING cover art by renowned artist Josh Kirby, best known for his beloved work on Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels. Subject matter aside, there's no denying this is art!

[Craig · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a strange little book. It's one of Goulart's Odd Jobs, Inc. stories, most of which are fun little books featuring Jake and Hildy Pace, who are two of his best, most likable, and memorable characters. This one (which has one of Josh Kirby's least appealing, most offensive covers) just tries too hard to be funny on every page. It's also aged more poorly than any of his other books that come to mind, with sexist and racist caricatures that were not acceptable in 1980, much less now. The political satire doesn't ring true, either; not even Goulart can make Nazis amusing. On the other hand, Jake and Hildy were fun; she was probably the best female character he ever created. I recommend their -other- adventures.

[Mikepottz · Rating 4 out of 5]

The year is 2003 and Jake chops an android in the skull. The base control centre. Then chops another 6. The androids were Italian and didn't like Jake tossing his own salad. Jake and the great set of equipment Hildy are back. A scandal that would shake the business community. A death, four sex tapes taken out of 7000. A lady with a fake nose. People are trying to kill Jake. He escapes a sinking houseboat by using a cyborgs arm which has a cutter. Hildy is in a toy factory and two foot high dolls with knives are attacking. Chucky vibes decades before baby. The dolls nick Hildy and she rips off a head. Did you know that in 1999 all the grapes in Napa Valley were destroyed. That sucks. A mention of molesting a goat. Geez. Remember that Hildy is so hot she makes men cream their jeans. And her knockers and chabobbies are awesome. Now near the end finally the Nazi Dr Hibbler went to Brazil 50 years before and was frozen. For 20 of those years he was sold to a touring carnival and was known as the Frozen Man. He is alive, looking young and has created a death ray and wants to hold Earth to ransom. Essentially charging 10 percent of all money in the world. This is more bonkers than the first. I really like Odd Job, Inc owners Jake and Hildy.

[Matthew Smonskey · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't believe it has been mentioned, but I feel this book is clearly inspired by the Thin Man movie series of the 1930s and 1940s with the chemistry and characteristics of the married protagonists. While those movies featured a quick witted and sarcastic couple out solving crimes in classic 30-40s style, the twist here is they are in a zany futurist science fiction setting.

The author tries really, really hard to make every page weird and funny. More often than not it kind of falls short of me. You also get some racially based comedy that ages really poorly. It isn't racist per se, just a reflection of the comedic style of the time that wouldn't fly now.

That said, it is a very short and quick read. Having very capable male and female leads was also a nice bonus. So, by all means, try it if you like really eclectic selections on your reading list... or if you like absolutely bonkers paperback cover art. If you want what is probably a better funny futuristic crime novel that is spiritually similar to this, try Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits: A Novel: David Wong.

[Paulo "paper books only" · Rating 1 out of 5]

his was one of oddest books I read this year (or the last to be precise). This book passes in a world a lot different from ours... I found it hard to get into the story and characters. I must say I only finished the book because the book was short or else I would have give up. The only thing worth mention is the funny relation between the detective and his wife (the other detective) and the funny situations they get themselves into... even if they didn't make sence on my head. Maybe that's why this book is part of a series called Odd Jobs Inc. I won't try any more books on this series but I am willing to try reading the famous Vampirella novels he wrote.

[Jack · Rating 5 out of 5]

A "Jake Pace / Odd Jobs Inc" novel. Pure hysteria with Ron's tongue firmly implanted in his cheek.

[Tex-49 · Rating 1 out of 5]

Per me è una boiata pazzesca!

[Jeffrey Anderson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked up a few Ron Goulart paperback originals at Wilson's Book World in St. Pete. He is a funny writer, of course with books like this you don't expect beautiful prose but he can tell a story and is witty. I enjoyed this book and look forward to a few other titles I picked up by him.

[Tentatively, Convenience · Rating 3 out of 5]

See my review of "Wildsmith".