The Taste of Freedom

Heroes have to keep up with what one another is wearing. If we didn’t have some basic love for fashion, we’d all wear orange jumpsuits. Except that’s what the criminals wear.

Checking out some photos from the competition I noticed something odd. Batman has always looked to me like somebody who might just have a teensy S&M dungeon hidden in the Bat Cave. But I happened to notice the armored cod piece.

Wow.

I can’t help but wonder: is the Batman somehow “enhancing” his armor? Is that cod pieced stuffed with some extra trout?

I can see the need for protection. Batman doesn’t have lightning-fast reflexes, and he deserves the right to not get his balls shot off every time he answers the Bat Phone. But his armor is just so big. You can’t stop looking at it.

He’s sending a signal, a cry for help, as clear as the Batman sign flashing in the night sky: “Ladies, I am closed off, unavailable. Do not try to unlock my codpiece, for it is off-limits.”

The guy needs to recognize what he has: even though he has no superpowers of his own, he’s got a fantastic mansion with a swank underground hidden cave, a bank account the size of Saturn and a hit movie. What does he have to worry about?

My fashion advice: you can never go wrong with tights. Forget the body armor. It must get so hot! Tights are lightweight, cheap, easy to repair if damaged, and look great if you want to go out dancing after fighting crime.

Say what you will about the bombastic and yet emotive stylings of My Chemical Romance. They serve an important role in diffusing teenage angst, much in the same way as Clearosil. But what are they doing writing comics?

Gerard Way, frontman of this black parade, insists on writing a comic book.

Think about it. This crossover has the potential to be disastrous. Can you imagine Alan Moore starting an emo band? Perhaps Stan Lee should emcee the MTV Music Awards. Before you know it we’ll have actors trying to be novelists and sculptors acting like ballerinas.

I have no problem with the way Mr. Way dresses, and I think the world might be a better place if more people dressed like they were in a sad marching band. Especially marching bands. But this is a man who uses literature to combat depression. Will his comic feature fuzzy bunnies?

Here’s a brief synopsis from Mr. Way:

But in short, a [closeted] space alien has adopted seven extraordinary children to save the world.

So this is about Angelina Jolie?

I’m not so sure that comic book authors should look, like, how do I put this delacately? Fruitcakes? Comic book writing is a sombre profession, best suited to those straight laced wordsmiths whose appearance gives us comfort while they corrupt our children. Like Alan Moore.

There’s been a lot of talk about Dynasty lately, and I’m not talking about a crappy but hugely successful TV show that helped break up the Soviet Empire. I’m talking about the next president.

People worry about the president’s last name, and the fear that we’ll spend the next seventy years in a Bush-Clinton-Bush-Clinton-Gush-Klingon presidential spiral vortex. But is this new? I don’t think so. Vice President Al Gore’s father was a Senator from Tennessee. President John Adams had a son John Quincy Adams, who not only was also president, but had a hit TV show.

Former Senator Bob Dole and his wife, current Senator Elizabeth Dole, are related to the pineapple.
Then there’s John F. Kennedy, who was related to that annoying MTV girl.

Then there’s House Minority Leader John Boehner, whose last name is pronounced “boner”. I’m just saying.