Thursday, May 04, 2006

Busy Day

97_4_282
Bicker among yourselves.

5 comments:

Cole Moore Odell said...

Did Infinite Crisis restore Superman's creepy penchant for lurking behind boilers?

Also, Superman self-evidently isn't too busy to be in the room spying on Lois and his effigy. So why does he need a robot double there in the first place? Is it all just a perverted game to him?

I don't care what anybody says. When it comes to deep psychological damage, Batman's got nothing on the Big Red S.

Jersey Shore said...

Since Supes and the Robot are at the same place at the same time, why does he need the Robot there in the first place?

Okay, logic aside, at Super-speed he could don the Robot's Clark kent threads, and toss the Robot into the sun, where Lois will never find it.

Or, at super-speed, he could shop-lift a pair of gloves from the local Walmart and put them on the Robot's hands.

Or, using Super-Hypnosis, he could convince Lois that she has some kind of temporary x-ray vision and she only sees bones in Robot Kent's hands.

Or,using his Super-Ventriloquism, he could have the vat next to Lois say, "Help me!" as if someone was caught inside. While she's looking into the vat, he could fix the Robot's hands, using his power of Super-Sculpt.

Or, using Super-Breath, he could "freeze" Lois, fix the Robot with some Super-Glue, and then, using heat vision, "defrost" Lois.
("Many are cold, but few are frozen.")

Or, using a magic marker, he could draw a face on what's left of the Robot's hand, and have him do Senior Wences' puppet hand, which would distract Lois from what was really happening.

Or, he could let her discover the Robot hands, and then have the Bush Administration tell her that it isn't a Robot and Clark kent isn't Superman. Being a good lapdog reporter, she'll believe every word they say without question.

El Duque said...

I don't get it.

Are you saying we modern human beings have lost touch with our spiritual selves and, thus, are equal to robots?

Well, HARdee HAR-HAR.

Jersey Shore said...

The more I stare at this cover, the more it tells me. I will apologize in advance for the long essay, but this cover gets to me.

If someone who doesn’t speak English looked at this cover, what would the impression be?

This must somebody’s laundry room.

It looks as if the woman has dipped her finger into that gray vat in front of her and is about to taste whatever is in the vat. Is that a military uniform she’s wearing? What’s with the pockets over her breasts? Does she stuff Kleenex into them?

The clumsy oaf in the middle must be her husband. He looks surprised to see that his hands are made of metal. And how could he spill the solvent and not get any on his sleeve?

And he isn’t even aware of the guy cowering on the right. Probably, the clueless husband came home early, and the wife said to her lover – who had just changed into his pajamas in anticipation for a bash on the Beautyrest – “My husband! Quick! Hide behind the furnace! Throw this red bathrobe over your shoulders!”

But we know English, of course. So, what can we gather from this picture?

First, we have bossy, Type A Lois. She doesn’t even bother to look at “Clark” when she orders him to hurry it up. She’s totally unaware that “Clark” might be in pain. Why is Lois wearing white gloves to tour a factory? Quite the little princess, isn’t she?

Also, is Perry White nuts? Why is he sending two reporters for a feature story? I think one would suffice. I’m going to have to sell my Daily Planet stock if this is the way they run that company. I foresee a hostile takeover by Rupert Murdock. That means that – just like the New York Post – no African-American will appear on the front page unless he is in handcuffs. Or maybe Sun Yung Moon will buy the paper, as Metropolis’ answer to the Washington Times. Can’t wait for that one. Can you see Jimmy Olsen as a Moonie?

Why aren’t they scribbling notes? Why is “Clark” touching things in the factory? Couldn’t a plastic solvent also destroy real skin? Why no warning label on the bottle? Why wasn’t a cap on that bottle? Why wasn’t it stored in a safe cabinet, under lock and key? Why isn’t there an eye-wash station nearby? Somebody call OSHA!

What kind of factory is it where we don’t see any factory workers? Most likely, most of the work has been “outsourced” overseas, or south of the border.

And what about Superman? Why is the world’s mightiest person cowering behind a hot water heater?

I mean, if I were Superman, my Fortress of Solitude would be someplace warm, instead of the North Pole. I’d have a whole bank of Tivos, the collected works of Jack Benny, Monty Python, the Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy, Olsen and Johnson, Abbott and Costello and SCTV.

All the Marvel Masterworks, all the DC Archives, all the Peanuts Archives, all the Krazy Kat hardcovers, the Calvin and Hobbes boxed set, the Far Side boxed set and I’d order my slaves to make the Barnaby boxed set.

I’d order the surviving Beach Boys, Kinks, and Who to play for me whenever I was in the mood. I’d order Tom Harris to write another Hannibal Lechter novel, and I’d get James Elroy to write his novels faster.

I’d have a harem that would include Jessica Alba, Halle Berry, Angelina Jolie, Constance Marie (the chick that plays the wife on the George Lopez Show), all the Deal or No Deal babes, Ashlee Judd, Heather Locklear, the cute Bush daughter, and Sharon Stone. But, I wouldn’t stop there.

I’d fly backwards in time and kidnap Angie Dickenson, Edie Adams, Rita Heyworth, and Ava Gardner in their primes and bring them back with me, to add to my harem. I’d put ‘em all in a big bin, naked, and I’d emulate Uncle Scrooge.

In short, I would be a better looking Dr. Doom. But, I wouldn’t be wasting my time worried about what some over the hill spinster is thinking about me.

And that caption. ”Superman’s Toughest Day”? You’re breaking my heart. This guy doesn’t have a wrinkle or a gray hair. Try spending an hour shoved into a New Jersey Transit commuter train in the middle of summer, coming home from a boring job. Try getting up at 4:30 five days a week. Try spending a boring hour at the gym exercising every day. Try being up half the night worrying about how the bills are going to be paid.

Sorry about the rant. You might be depressed now, but at least I feel better.

Gary said...

Hey, accurate! So you didn't enjoy Infinite Crisis either, huh?