Superhero Diaries

Great Caesar’s Ghost! Have you guys seen this??? It’s “Who Wants to be a Superhero”, a reality show about wanna-be superheroes. Grown men and women are going to dress up in outfits and compete for Stan Lee’s attention. Let’s take a look at the roster, shall we? (First of all, if we’re going to have a show about superheroes, let’s not list their secret identities on a website, huh? C’mon Stan.)

Feedback: Feedback is a 34 year old software engineer who gets his powers from video games he plays, and can disrupt electronics. Power lines give him headaches and microwaves give him nausea.

My impression: Yes, and girls make his hands clammy. What an amazing study in contradictions. Power lines give him headaches, but he needs electricity to power the video games where he gets his powers, one of which is to disrupt electronics, or in other words… the source of his powers. It’s like if Batman said he was afraid of the dark. I say feed him daisies until he spits fireballs or gives up and goes home.

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The Superhero Diaries: by those who wear their underpants on the outside.

By Captain America

Now I know what it feels like to be a Washington General.

A few weeks ago, Congress passed the Superhero Registration Act, and I for one think it sucks.  First of all, I don’t need to carry any more cards in my wallet; it’s already like three inches thick.  The Act also seems like a bad idea.  How am I supposed to get a mortgage loan if the bank knows I might be fighting the Skrull Army in a month?  Pretty soon I’ll be paying eight grand a month in car insurance, and I can’t afford that.  Avengers are government employees; I make about as much as a public school teacher in Baltimore.

Besides, how are we going to define what constitutes a “superpower”?  I’ve got a buddy who does the NY Times Friday crossword in pen.  I know another guy who can juggle.  Are those superpowers now?  After all, they both impress me and I can drop kick a fire truck thirty yards.

Of course everyone expects that since I’m Captain America I’m automatically going to toe the party line.  Yeah, right!  America is my country, not my girlfriend.   (Captain America doesn’t have a girlfriend.  Captain America dates lots of women.  E pluribus unum, or something.)

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The Superhero Diaries: written by those who truly wear their underpants on the outside.

By Batman

NOTE: This entry takes place during DC’s ‘missing’ year, chronicled in ‘52′.

I would like to say something, for the record:  I am an open-minded guy.  I don’t discriminate based on race or gender, and I welcome people into the Bat-franchise purely on their qualifications.  To date, I’ve had two Batgirls (one Asian), a female Robin and a Huntress.  (If the Bat-franchise was Wal-Mart, Huntress would be Sam’s Club.)  I’ve also had a Batwoman, but that was in an alternate reality, so let’s say I’ve had a Batwoman and we’ll put an asterisk on it.   I’ve even had a Bat-Hound, so I think it’s fair to say that I am definitely an equal-opportunity employer, even when it comes to species.

Keep that in mind, because when I say that there is a new Batwoman and I am PISSED, it’s not because she’s a woman. 

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Check out this article on a real-life superhero.

Rather than make fun of the guy, I think it’s pretty cool, and no, I can’t explain why.  I like that he admits his ‘Kryptonite’ is just about everything that could possibly hurt a human being.  I appreciate that he goes out with nothing but good intentions despite looking ridiculous. 

I also know that anyone who knows him, from his mom to his eighth-grade girlfriend, all read that article and immediately thought, “That’s totally Evan and that quiet guy he always hangs out with.”

The Superhero Diaries: blogs by those who truly wear their underpants on the outside.

by Spider-Man

As some of you may know, I’ve been in the news lately.  I recently “came out” of the superhero closet, admitting my secret identity on a nationally televised broadcast.  Why’d I do it?  A few weeks ago, some superpowereds were fighting in a suburban neighborhood when there was an explosion, and dozens were killed.  Now the government wants to put a lid on vigilantism and created the Superhero Registration Act, which requires all superpowered people to register themselves with the government. 

I’m all for it, personally.  Some people say I put my family at risk by announcing my identity to the hundreds of bad guys I’ve locked up, but I doubt it’s going to be that bad.  After all, my wife, Mary Jane, is smoking hot.  In my years as a superhero I’ve noticed that the hot chicks almost never die.  Evil doesn’t mean blind.  In fact, I’ve only known one hot girl to die in a fight (Gwen Stacy, my old girlfriend) and I think the only reason she died is because she had a HUGE zit that day.  I told her she shoulda popped it…*

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The comic blogs: written by those who truly wear their underpants on the outside.

By Batman 

It seems like becoming a parent involves a brief mistake followed by a lifetime of regret, but maybe I’m being cynical.  I wonder if all new fathers feel this way.

See, I decided to adopt Robin after his father was murdered by Captain Boomerang.  (Apparently ‘Captain’ is the only rank in the Boomerang Army.  When the original Captain Boomerang died, his son immediately became the next Captain Boomerang, without any sort of basic training or ROTC.)  I am now officially the father of a teenaged boy in a house with explosives and a large collection of rocket cars.

Technically, nothing has changed in our relationship.  After all, I have been endangering his life on a daily basis for years.  But when he was someone else’s son, I was like the cool uncle who showed up with a box full of fireworks and left before fingers got blown off.  Now that I’m his father, everything is different.

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The comic blogs: written by those who truly wear their underpants on the outside.

By Superman

I don’t know about everybody else, but I had a great 4th of July. There must be something about long weekends, because it seems like even evil takes a couple days off, and Lois and I took the chance to see a movie, specifically, yet another movie about ME. So here is my (Superman’s) official review of Superman Returns. WARNING: CHOCK FULL OF SPOILERS!

Let’s just start with some background. When the movie begins, I’ve been gone five years, checking out where Krypton used to be. When I get back, Lois is engaged, she has a kid, and she’s won a Pulitzer for an article titled, “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.”

Now, the guy playing me looks pretty good. I mean, not SUPER-good, but good. It looks like those five years without gravity did wonders for my crow’s feet. He was good in parts, not so good in others, but the woman playing Lois didn’t do my wife justice. Kate Bosworth is a knockout blond but only so-so as a brunette. Plus, she spent the whole movie acting pissed off, and I kept waiting for movie-Clark to write his Pulitzer Prize-winning article, “Why Superman Doesn’t Need a Grudge-Bearing Control Freak for a Girlfriend.” (Also, here’s a little tip, fellas: when you see a movie where your wife is a main character, don’t mention that the actress playing her has a nice body. Not unless you want to spend the rest of the movie hearing your wife mutter things like, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that,” and, “at least my hair is naturally brown.”)

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