Superhero Diaries

Anytime you make a “best-of” list, it’s obviously going to be subjective, and few people, if any, are going to agree with you. So after reading MSNBC’s list of the five best comic book villains, we here at Superhero Diaries thought we’d sit down with some of the big-bads who didn’t make the cut: Magneto, Doctor Doom, Brainiac, Darkseid, and Galactus.

Superhero Diaries: Gentlemen, hello. Let’s get right to it – number one, Lex Luthor.

Brainiac: I’ll start. Look, I will admit, I’ve hung out with Luthor on a number of occasions, and I want to say that I like him - I consider him a friend. And when it comes to the ladies, there is no better wingman out there. That being said, the guy is a human. When it comes to offensive capabilities, he has his body guard Mercy who we’re pretty sure is a post-op trannie, and a suit of high-tech armor…that Darkseid built for him.

Darkseid: Respect. Respect for DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS!

Doctor Doom: What? Some guy with a store-bought suit is #1?? What a crock! I built my first suit out of a Peugeot and an Apple 2E! And it was awesome!

Brainiac: See, that’s what I mean. He’s a good guy and a great businessman, but when you break it down, he’s just a rich man with nice toys who gets by on his rep. I’m not sure what the silly looking guys in the capes have ever done, but I shrunk a Kryptonian city and its entire population for fun. I keep it in a mason jar.

Superhero Diaries: Good point. Still, Lex Luthor is Superman’s arch-enemy; I suppose he has to be on the list. Plus, he makes bald beautiful…

Brainiac: So? I’m bald.

Darkseid: As is DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS!

Superhero Diaries: Yes, but I’m just balding, not turning green or a sickly grayish purple. And speaking of bad complexions, let’s talk about #2, the Joker.

Brainiac: I bet you think I’m going to pooh pooh the Joker too. I’m not. Just because he works on a smaller scale doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve respect. First of all, he dreams big. Most of us just want to rule the world, but he wants to kill it. That’s pretty villainous. Second of all, he fights Batman to a standstill, and even I think Batman is pretty bad-ass.

Darkseid: Word. That guy punched me in the face, and that takes some brass ones. For I am DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS!

Magneto: Who are these guys? Who are they talking about?

Doctor Doom: I have no idea.

Superhero Diaries: Batman is most definitely bad-ass. Okay, so the Joker is legit. I can’t say the same for the next villain, Ozymandias. For anyone not familiar with Alan Moore’s Watchmen* Ozymandias was a hero who claimed to be the smartest man on Earth. Later he staged a fake alien invasion, killing millions, but he did so to avert a growing nuclear crisis.

Magneto: Why would he want to avert a nuclear war? What fate would better fit homo sapiens, with fire clearing a path for Earth’s true rulers, mutants! Homo Superior!

Doctor Doom: Yeah – he’s not even a villain!

Brainiac: Can someone please calm the Superior Homo and his R2 unit? Nice capes, fellas – don’t go getting them in a bunch. Though I must protest: Ozymandias is the smartest man on Earth? Hello…my name is Brainiac? Plus, look at what he’s wearing! Is that a loincloth? A toga?

Darkseid: DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS OBJECTS! The guy may be a tool, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing something loose fitting. THE RULING TESTIKALS OF APOKOLIPS MUST BREATHE!

Magneto: Of course you say that – you’re wearing a skirt. Hey Doom, can you find out who this windbag is?

Doctor Doom: I’m Googling him, but I can’t find anything. Is Dark Side one word or two?

Darkseid: One word, but it’s actually spelled “d-a-r-k-s-e-i-d”.

Doctor Doom: Is that Jewish or something?

Darkseid: I actually get asked that a lot. The answer’s no. But Apokoliptan spelling is very similar to German.

Superhero Diaries: So we’re all in agreement that Ozymandias was a ridiculous choice and an obvious attempt by the author to prove he SHE read Watchmen and therefore seem cool, like when I reference Fugazi songs. But let’s stay on track, fellas. Doom, Magneto, we now come to someone from your neck of the woods: Dark Phoenix. How do you feel about this one? She did eat a star…

Doctor Doom: You mind if I go first?

Magneto: Not at all (filthy human).

Doctor Doom: What?

Magneto: Hm? Oh, nothing.

Doctor Doom: Anyway, as I was about to say, Dark Phoenix caused billions of deaths, and I think we’d all agree that’s very impressive. [Everyone nods, except Galactus, who shrugs] But then she went and killed herself with remorse.  If you’re a bad guy, you can’t get all weepy every time you kill people, whether it’s a village in Latveria or a system of planets. Honestly she comes off less like a villain and more like a pouty fifteen year old.

Superhero Diaries: Galactus, you’ve been awfully quiet up until now –

Galactus: That’s because I’m Galactus, Destroyer of Worlds. I eat planets. The Silver Surfer is my man-servant. Why don’t you guys work out which one of you is the best villain, and then I’ll come along and stir-fry your solar system.

Brainiac: Sounds like someone’s jealous…

Galactus: Of what – that she ate a star? Whatever. I can eat a star; I just don’t do it very often. You know what they say: “it burns like nuclear fusion going in, and it burns like nuclear fission on the way out.”

Doctor Doom: Ew.

Superhero Diaries: You said it. Okay one left. Let me see here…the Red Skull? That can’t be right…

Magneto: It’s preposterous! He is merely a Homo Sap-

Brainiac: Wait, why not? He sounds interesting, no matter what kind of homo he is.

Darkseid: YES, DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS, FINDS SKULLS TO BE BAD-ASS!

Magneto: But he’s just a Nazi!

Brainiac: Really?

Darkseid: DARKSEID, RULER OF APOKOLIPS, DEMANDS TO KNOW: what’s a Nazi, dude?

Brainiac: I’ll explain it to you later. Wait – so you mean he doesn’t have any super powers?

Magneto: Nope.

Brainiac: What sort of weapons does he use?

Magneto: Guns, mostly. And the ‘Dust of Death.”

Brainiac: What the hell is that?

Magneto: I don’t know. Asbestos, maybe?

Brainiac: Well, why do they call him the Red Skull?

Magneto: Got a face like a red skull. Used to be a mask; then it got melted on.

Brainiac: He sounds like a carnival act. And you’re sure he’s just a Nazi?

Magneto: Yep.

Brainiac: Huh…well, that’s just stupid.

Magneto: Yep.

Doctor Doom: Uh-huh.

Galactus: I’m out of here. I’ve got a planet size casserole in the oven.

Superhero Diaries: There you have it – out of five top villains, two are pretentious dickheads with no superpowers and one is the type of girl who can eat a sun, but then gets all sad because she’s a big fat pig and boys will never like her. But then again, the author did read “Watchmen”. I’m sure he SHE knows what he SHE’s talking about.

*I’m contractually obligated to say that Watchmen is the greatest thing of all time ever, and it revolutionized comic blah blah blah – I’m sorry, as good as it is, the Prince Charming and text interludes are boring. There, I said it. And while we’re on the subject, the interdimensional – psychedelic warp scene in 2001 sucks ass.

The Main Event: Iron Man vs. Steel. Both represent the respective efforts of Marvel and DC, respectively, to toy with the hopes and dreams of their readers. Their hero status symbolizes that you don’t need superpowers to be a member of the Justice League/Avengers – all you need is to be smarter than everyone around you, especially if you like playing with robots*. Next thing you know you’re nineteen years old and still playing with your toy AT-AT. I hate Iron Man and Steel.

In the red corner: Iron Man – When he’s not fighting crime, Iron Man is also Tony Stark, a wealthy playboy, notorious womanizer and recovering alcoholic. The suit’s primary weapons are “repulsor rays” in the gauntlets (which I’ve already discussed, and are violations of everything we know about physics), though since Iron Man is basically a human-shaped version of Batman’s utility belt, he can really have any weapon writers can think of concealed somewhere in the suit.

In the blue corner: Steel –John Henry Irons (get it? Irons/Steel? BRILLIANT!) was a high-tech weapons designer until one of his designs was used to kill people. For some reason, this made him sad – clearly he never read his own business card. To ease his (nonsensical) guilt, he began working construction.

One day Irons fell from a construction site, and would have died had Superman not come to the rescue. Inspired, Irons built a suit of armor with a big Superman-style S on the chest, tied a cape around the neck, and went out to fight crime. Basically, Steel is the world’s most powerful groupie. (Take THAT, Jimmy Olsen!)

Aside from being Superman’s Number One Fan, Steel doesn’t have that many powers. His suit gives him increased strength and flight, but really his only weapon is a giant sledgehammer. But wait, it’s a “smart” sledgehammer! That means that the farther Steel throws it, the harder it hits, according to Einstein’s Second Theory of Shit That Can Never Happen. It also has the ability to analyze its target’s defenses and steer towards any weaknesses. Forget Luke and his ability to bull’s-eye womprats - this thing could have totally taken out the Death Star all by itself. What’s up now, R2?!?**

The Handicap: Given that Steel really hasn’t put much time and effort into his actual armor, I’m teaming him up with Troy Hurtubise. As some of you may know, Mr. Hurtubise is the designer of the Ursus Mark VI, a suit of armor that would allow him to live his dream of beating up a grizzly bear, or at least not dying when he walks up to one and punches it in the face. In any case, I’ve seen the guy take a shotgun blast to the chest in the thing – that’s pretty damned awesome. Plus, he was inspired by Robocop. I won’t lie, I really want to hang out with him.***

Round One: With the numbers on their side, Steel and Hurtubise go on the offensive. Hurtubise charges while Steel challenges, “I understand you used to be an alcoholic – let’s get you hammered!” Iron Man easily dodges both while chiding Steel for the awful pun.

Iron Man takes to the air. Steel follows while Hurtubise is helplessly stuck on the ground. Iron Man kicks him in the head, and while the blow doesn’t hurt Hurtubise, he is tipped over onto his back and unable to turn himself over. He spends the rest of the round praying he never meets a flying bear.

As for Iron Man, he seems bizarrely unwilling to engage Steel. He only defends, and no blows are exchanged.

Intermission: After helping Hurtubise off the ground, Steel and the inventor take their helmets off to discuss strategy. Across the jar, Stark shouts, “Wait a minute! I though I was fighting Superman and that redheaded life partner of his!”

Hurtubise suggests they mark Iron Man’s territory with their own urine – Steel ignores him. He then suggests they stand on two legs so as to seem bigger and more aggressive – Steel disdainfully shakes him off. Hurtubise then says, “I got it! Let’s play dead!” Steel agrees, Hurtubise falls to the floor, and Steel turns to fight.

Round 2: Iron Man and Steel hover several feet off the bottom of the jar. Steel attacks again, but a sledgehammer is unwieldy and slow, and Iron Man dodges easily, talking all the while: “So wait…I still don’t understand why you have the S on your chest. And what’s with the cape? That’s just plain stupid.”

The banter infuriates Steel. He backs away from Iron Man and growls, “You may be Iron Man, but I’m Mr. Irons,” and hurls his hammer. Iron Man’s eyes roll with disgust as he sidesteps the attack.

Suddenly, Steel’s hammer veers off-course. Having analyzed Iron Man’s armor, the hammer’s software determined that Tony Stark himself was the suit’s biggest vulnerability, and given his well-known weakness for women, the hammer concluded that Iron Man’s Achilles’ heel is, in fact, his junk. Iron Man is unprepared; the hammer collides with a tremendous crash as he collapses. Fortunately the round ends before the referee can count to ten.

Intermission: Steel shouts apologies across the jar, saying he had no idea the hammer was going to do that. Iron Man does not reply. Hurtubise mentions that he would never kick a bear in the nads, then goes back to playing dead.

Round 3: Even with a limp, Iron Man looks imposing as he stands in the middle of the jar. Steel attempts to reconcile, saying, “Listen, I can’t tell you how sorry I a-,” but he is cutoff when a clear liquid jets from a hidden compartment in Iron Man’s midsection. Steel shouts, “Holy – did you just piss on -,” but again he is cut off. The liquid was Loctite, freezing the joints in Steel’s suit.

Iron Man unleashes a flurry of punches on the helpless Steel, as Hurtubise, lying as still as possible, shouts, “Play dead, dude! PLAY DEAD!!!” The outcome of the match is clear, but Iron Man insists on adding insult to injury. While singing “If I Only Had a Brain”, he poses Steel in a series of compromising positions involving Hurtubise, who can only lie there muttering, “I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead,” as Iron Man takes photographs.

The Winner: Iron Man and his last functioning testicle. For the record, Steel doesn’t actually use such awful puns. Maybe I was a bit rough on him, but to be honest, I always thought he was a terrible character born out of an awful Superman storyline. No superhero who isn’t a Norse thunder god should rely on a hammer.

*Yes, one could argue that Batman and the archers (Green Arrow, Red Arrow, Hawkeye, and probably a bunch of other dudes I can’t think of) also represent normal people who became superheroes based purely on effort. But even a thirteen year old boy knows that

1. They don’t have the money, charm or testicular fortitude to be Batman, and
2. The archers have ZERO job security, and they are a pink slip away from being attractions on the Renaissance Fair circuit.

**I have no idea why I’m on such a Star Wars kick today.

***I think this is because the grizzly suit seems like something my friend OG would build, leading us to the following conversation:

Z: Why on Earth would you want a grizzly suit, dude?
OG: Because it’s high time we stopped being afraid of some punk ass grizzly cub that weighs less than my Labrador. We have opposable thumbs. I am going to build me a grizzly suit, and make some grizzly cub my bitch while his mom sits there and does nothing. I’m gonna take his lunch money.
Z: You’re insane.
OG: Whatever, dude. Chicks dig guys who have punched grizzly bears in the face.
Z: …do grizzly suits come in size ‘small’?

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

Today’s Author: Batman

Ugh.  I have to go to the doctor today.  I hate going to the doctor.  Admittedly, it’s not the most convenient pet peeve to have when you get shot at on a nightly basis, and routinely fight superpowered space aliens.  The thing is, I don’t have a problem getting bullets removed or having my shoulder popped back into its socket - I’m sorta tough, as it turns out – Alfred takes care of all that, though it means the floors go another week without sweeping. 

What I hate is the “normal” doctor things: peeing in a cup, getting X-rays, etc.  Why?  Because I can’t punch cancer in the face and you’d better believe that bad boy is coming for me.  Think about it:  I have been exposed to Scarecrow’s Nerve Toxins, Joker’s Smile Gas, Poison Ivy’s… um, let’s skip what Poison Ivy has exposed to me.  I also get X-rayed about 50 times a month by that oversized Kryptonian a-hole.  He thinks it’s funny.  My mask and codpiece may both be lead-lined (there are many good reasons for this), but I keep telling him, “Dude; it’s RADIATION.  Not cool.”  Half the time he’s not even using his X-ray vision; he’s just squinting at me because it makes me squirm.  For the umpteenth time, I wish I had Kryptonite breath.

(And yes, I hate needles too, but I want it on the record that use after years of training I have difficulty just LETTING someone stab me.  It is in no way because they are EXTREMELY scary and totally gross and they make me feel all nauseous to look at them.) 

So yeah, I hate going to the doctor, and now I have to go because in the future, people fight like dicks. Allow me to elaborate:

A while back Superman wrote about the band of nitwits and pseudo-strippers that make up the new Justice League of America.  Well, we’ve got ourselves a doozy of a case now.   Without warning, seven members of the Legion of Superheroes arrived in the present, in some sort of hypnotic trance with no idea of who they were or what they were doing here.  Think Twelve Monkeys, if Bruce Willis could fly.

About the Legion of Superheroes:  Sometime in the future, a band of intrepid youngsters from across the galaxy will join forces to create the single lamest group of people in human history.  First of all, they have the boundless, annoying enthusiasm of honor students; The Legion of Hall Monitors would be a more appropriate title.  Second of all, here are several examples of their codenames: Sun Boy, Ultra-Boy, Saturn Girl, Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lad (way to go off-script there, LL), Chameleon Boy and…I kid you not…Karate Kid.  Let’s ignore Karate Kid for a second; I need to point out that these guys have been in the business for several years.  What I mean is that it’s cute when an eight-year old decides that the chameleon is the coolest animal ever, then puts on a cape and calls himself Chameleon Boy.  When “Chameleon Boy” is thirty-five, you don’t get the feeling that his tree house is the safest place to be.  Someone should tell them that it’s okay if they want to rename themselves, though I don’t get the feeling that’s what they want.  They say “sprock” instead of swear words.  Again…they’re middle-aged.  They give me the willies; I won’t lie.

The Legion originally appeared when Clark was a young teenager.  He was moping around Kansas, feeling sorry for his superpowered self because none of the other boys could fly and he couldn’t play games with them for fear of…well…obliterating them.  What a baby.  Around here in the Batcave, we have a rule: No sympathy for anyone with parents.  Anyway, one day these kids showed up in dopey outfits and told him that they came from the future, and that he would grow up to be a hero whose legend is their inspiration.  For some reason, this didn’t depress him, and they all went off to the future and had a bunch of adventures that make Lassie episodes seem edgy. (Clark doesn’t think it’s funny when I call them the Ghosts of Lameness Future, but Green Lantern cracks up every time.)

Earlier I mentioned Karate Kid; he was one of the seven who appeared the other day (along with his blatant copyright infringement).  Black Lightning, (whose name seems downright MYSTERIOUS next to the Legion of Dorks) caught him dressed up as a villain named Trident, knocked him unconscious, and brought him back to the Batcave so I could figure out what was going on.   I started by hacking into Clark’s files.  I bet you can’t guess what his power is.  Did you say “karate”?  Oh.  Damn it.  HOW DID YOU KNOW???

In Clark’s files, Daniel-san is listed as a “class 15” fighter.  For comparison, I’m a “class 12”, but I’m not too broken up about being rated lower.  It’s an arbitrary rating system; Superman made it up.  More often than not, your rating indicates how much he likes you.  (Pa Kent is rated “a kabillion.”)  So when I heard Mr. Miyagi waking up behind me, I wasn’t exactly pissing myself.

I also wasn’t about to warn Black Lightning, who had yelled at me a couple days earlier when I called him, “my brother from another mother.”  (I don’t even know why I said that.  I never say that.  I just get uncomfortable around him sometimes.)  Karate Kid chopped him in the neck, which I figured made us even.  It was time for me to hand down a blast-from-the-past ass whooping.

Remember what I said earlier about having to go to the doctor?  You probably can guess how the fight turned out.  I got in one good punch, then before I knew it, my face is bleeding, my Batsuit is ripped to hell, and the cocky mothersprocker is wearing my utility belt over his shoulder.  I also notice my right side kind of hurts.  That’s when he says, “Your stance just shifted to your left leg.  That pain you feel in your right? I gave you a hernia.”

What. The. Sprock.  A hernia??? What kind of bitch-fu is that?  I swear to God, if I ever heard of one of the Robins doing that, they’d spend a looooooong time-out in the most guano-deep corner of the cave.   Luckily Black Lightning woke up and shocked him from behind before the kid could start pulling hair and scratching.  (Of course when I tried to give B.L. a “thank you” fist pound he just snorted and shook his head.  Prick.)

So that’s why I have to go the doctor – a hernia.  In case none of you readers know how a hernia exam works, the doctor puts his fingers right above your testicles, then pushes in and up like he’s trying to sneak up on your esophagus.  But I got my revenge: I gave Karate Kid AIDS.  Before you start calling me a monster, remember, the guy came from the 30th century - AIDS to them is like syphilis to us.  He’ll have to go on antibiotics for a week and everyone will assume that he slept with a hooker.  (At least, that’s what I assume.  They’ve GOT to have a cure by then, right?)

Whatever.  The guy is a sprocksucker.

This Diary was based on JLA #8 by Brad Meltzer.  I THINK the writing is good, but admittedly I”m distracted by the level of uncomfortable-fantasy-hotness in both the covers by Michael Turner and the art by Ed Benes. 

Something tells me that both of them have interesting stuff in their locked desk drawers.