Fourth World is arguably the pinnacle of Jack Kirby's creative freedom and earned opportunity in the field that practically would not have existed without him - Mister Miracle is the pinnacle of Fourth World.

He set impossible tasks for himself, and he always surpassed all realistic expectations.
Jack is Scott Free, a lot of the time - and it never mattered that the powers were inconsistent (it didn't matter what they were, or where they came from), it never mattered that time was invested in characters that would fade in and out - - what mattered was that Scott kept escaping death, w/o batting an eye - and the two people who loved him most (Oberon and Big Barta... especially BB) were there to marvel at it, dust him off, watch his back, and share in the partnership of the book. The Mister Miracle troupe.

The stories are defined by the villains - the circumstances. Taking a walk in the woods with your buddy (while wearing one of the most flamboyant costumes ever designed)? Don't be surprised if a demon runs by, chased by other demons, leading you to a haunted house of Satan - which is really a weapon-smuggling operation run by a mutant whose eyes can do whatever the plot calls for.

Superman had silver age powers like this - because everybody knew it wasn't about the powers. It wasn't about realism (which we may be forever mired in, thanks to the gentrification of most comics). It was about incredible graphic depictions of action, and death defied on every other page.

Jack Kirby was a genius, the likes of which seem impossible to ever occur again in the human race. Not necessarily because he was the best at anything except *production*. His dreams spilled out on paper b/c of an inhuman work ethic spawned on fields of gory devastating battle. If any other living soul carried illustration jobs on up to 7 titles a month (at the craziest span) - they may have mined deeply enough to find the gold that he produced as casually as you or I blow our nose.

Kirby was a miracle. Mister Miracle encapsulates some of what he was, in its purest form. Work, wage-slavery, and escaping despair - in the name of pure entertainment (that you learn and grow from) - one miraculous day after the another. ( )