Sunday, June 22, 2008

Day 366, My House

It's been a year now since my first post on this blog, and this is my hundredth post. Unbe-frikkin-lievable. Hell, I'm still shocked there was a post two. This calls for a celebration. It's time to dance.



See, I think this is what people think of when they think of superheroes. They can make us look like anything, but it's not true. I think the idea of heroism has become a caricature, with monumental challenges, incredible abilities and above all, simple solutions. It's the meteor hurtling towards the earth with only one person who can stop it.

I haven't seen any of that in the past year. If that's what a hero's supposed to be, I'm never going to live up to it. I'm just a guy that can fly.




Saturday, June 14, 2008

Dude Totally Stole My Style


As I see the posters going up around town for this brand-spanking new Hollywood film with a major movie star (which is totally going to suck), I can't help but wonder where my royalty check is. Okay, so maybe I'm not as well known as some of the other super heroes, your Batmans and Hulks and everything, but I know about likeness rights from a little movie called Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, and I have the phone numbers of at least two lawyers. At least, I had them in my old phone. Maybe I can find some of that stuff they sent me when they lost my house in court.




Monday, June 9, 2008

Damsel In Distress

A strange thing happened to me this afternoon. I was waking down the street, and some car was stuck at the intersection, uselessly revving away. I could smell the engine trouble half way down the block. I went closer to find a cute brunette behind the wheel, confused as hell, so naturally, I intervened. "Put it in neutral, and I'll push," I said, yet every time I got behind the bumper, she started revving the engine again. "It's not my car," she said in a vaguely Brittish accent. She was clearly from out of town.

Three cycles of the stop light later, I was as befuddled as she, so I flagged down another pedestrian, some big muscle-bound guy. "Help me push the car," I said, and he took control of the situation. He told the girl what neutral was, and we got her to the side of the road. "What do you do," he asked her through the car window. "I'm a philosopher," the brunette replied. Suddenly, I was the fifth wheel of the situation.

"Are you gonna be okay?" I ventured through the passenger side window. She nodded. The burly guy kept chatting her up. I walked away, confounded by my failure. Finally, a chance to be a hero, and I handed it away. To the victor go the spoils. Super lame.