There are typically two kinds of people who get excited about local politics: journalists and the local politicians themselves. It's understandable; after all, who in their right mind wants to hear about capital improvement plans and fights over zoning easements? But for some, there's nothing more dramatic than a heated city council meeting. Sure, it took Jon Stewart and the brutally sarcastic anti-pundits at The Daily Show to show the masses that politics is funny, but it's been a handful of comics and graphic novels that have made politics gasp-exciting.

The latest entry into the four-color political arena is "Ex Machina: The First 100 Days." A collection of the first five issues of the new DC Comics series, "Ex Machina: The First 100 Days" follows the beginning of the doomed political career of Mitchell Hundred, former civil engineer turned superhero turned mayor of New York City. A freak explosion leaves Hundred with bizarre circuit-like scars on his face and the ability to talk to complex machines. Hundred uses his skills as an engineer and his newfound powers to become a superhero. Calling himself "The Great Machine," he flies around New York with a jet pack, stopping crooks, pulling people out of burning buildings and doing the standard superhero stuff. A confrontation with the city's hard-line police commissioner forces him to reconsider how much good he's actually doing as a vigilante, so he hangs up his costume and runs for mayor. Before the campaign is over, Hundred dons his costume one last time-and stops the second plane from hitting the World Trade Center. From there, Hundred moves into the corner office after a landslide victory.

The book isn't all jetpack heroics, though. Much of the series is about mundane policy issues and backroom dealings that political junkies love. Brian K. Vaughn keeps the book moving at a quick pace with plenty of "West Wing"-esque dialogue and flashbacks to Hundred's brief career as a hero, and artist Tony Harris gives the book a dynamic, realistic style. Even when the characters are standing around talking, there's still a sense that important things are happening. In the book's second chapter, when Hundred goes to the Brooklyn Museum of Art to check out a painting that his chief of staff calls a catastrophe, the painting is question is a portrait of Abraham Lincoln-with a racial epithet emblazoned across the front in big red letters. As if the painting isn't trouble enough, Hundred discovers it was taxpayer funded and the artist is white. There's no easy answer, and as Hundred ponders the political firestorm he's about to face, it's clear he'd much rather be punching some two-bit crook in the mouth. After all, when you're a superhero, you don't have to worry about opinion polls and special interest groups.

"Ex Machina" is the latest in a continuing trend of politically influenced comics. Warren Ellis and Derek Robertson's landmark series "Transmetropolitan," published by DC's mature readers imprint, Vertigo, tackled presidential corruption and big media with a mix of heady sci-fi concepts and Hunter S. Thompson-style black humor. At the opposite end of the spectrum is Greg Rucka's "Queen and Country," published by Oni Press, which follows the exploits of Tara Chace, a spy for Britain's intelligence service, MI-5. The book is gritty and realistic, with many plotlines directly inspired by current events. What makes "Q&C" so remarkable is that, like "Ex Machina," it makes the seemingly banal aspects of civil service-the fights with supervisors, the failed bids for promotion, inter-office romances-seem intense and compelling. Vaughn is far from first comics creator to come up with a political hero, but he's the first to spend so much time with the city council. Unlike Captain America and Superman, those stalwart representations of political ideals, Hundred is more concerned with the requirements of balancing the budget and preventing the police union from striking than he is with larger ideals of preserving truth, justice and the American way. With "Ex Machina," Vaughn writes a story that, without the superhero trappings, could easily be found every morning on the front page of a newspaper.