I was scrolling through my dash on mobile and I saw this drawing by Rob Liefeld and I was like
“Hey this doesn’t look too bad.”
“oh”
“oh god.”
“she’s like fucking long cat”
“enough”
I don’t think people understand.
Back in 1996, Marvel “killed” the Avengers in the normal Marvel Universe and created a new universe with fresh new versions of the Avengers that weren’t weighed down by decades of continuity.
Rob Liefeld was one of the people put in charge because back in 1996 this was incredibly popular. That picture isn’t from some obscure little comic, it’s from the relaunch of The Avengers, one of the biggest moments in comics from that era. And that picture is not a shoop.
who even draws that panel, sits back, and says, “yes, this is fine”
A non-exhaustive list of things first and second graders have done in my classes:
broken a glowstick over their hand and become immediately convinced that the fluid on their hand was going to kill them
proceed to come to me for the rest of the day, after the offending hand was washed and no damage found, and ask if they could do x activity with the not-really-injured hand
fallen out of a tree
kicked each other in the ribs while cartwheeling
informed me I looked like a monster when I wore black eyeliner instead of brown
wrote a rhyming ditty about me in which I got hit by a car
illustrated me before and after the aforementioned fictional car accident (smiling on the left, x’s over my eyes to the right)
cried hysterically for ten minutes upon not receiving the prompt card labeled “cat”
coined the phrase “so-and-so is feeling like the snail today,” to indicate when a peer is feeling overwhelmed and momentarily antisocial
inquired, in a very skeptical tone, if I was always smiling and always this happy
exclaimed that I am “really pretty!” under my uniform smock
collectively decided that I am the ideal human coat hanger, both in the sense that I myself am human, and as well as in the sense that tiny humans are the ones that hang themselves off of me
angry!cried for fifteen minutes straight upon hearing that “ballet” had a t in it
touched my waist when I showed her what I was wearing under my smock, and said, “wow, you aren’t fat at all.”
pointed at the cover of my Greek Mythology book, at one of the shirtless and ripped men, and asked me very skeptically if that was what Hades looked like.
Easter Camp edition!–expanding out to some older and younger kids, hot topic being Ancient Greek mythology:
asked me, for almost two hours straight, to “tell another story!” about Ancient Greek mythology, thus coming to hear about 90% of my knowledge of the Greek mythos (and unknowingly engaging in the several-thousand-year-old oral tradition)
asked me skeptically why the gods invented man, but not woman until much later (I told them that the gods have no imagination)
carried out a discussion, wrt Chronos, as to why eating your own children is bad
decided to act out the Pandora myth, namely performing Pandora opening the box, and all the little miseries that fly out of the box
proceeded to characterize the little miseries, e.g. “I’m the old-age monster. I’ve got saggy flappy muscles and lots of wrinkles!”
upon telling the version of the myth in which Pandora is heroic, for having closed the box on the last and worst misery, Foresight, thus saving humanity from knowing every bad thing that would ever happen to them, and thus becoming hopeless: one little girl insisted that this was actually awful, because “if we knew every bad thing that would happen to us, then we could just give up!”
consequently, all interested got to sit through a brief explanation of nihilism
an anecdote i think ive neglected to share with you up until this point is about this one time when h.p. lovecraft was part of a round robin exercise with a bunch of other well-regarded pulp weird fiction writers
the resulting story, “the challenge from beyond” is, frankly, not….good. like, at all. what it is, however, is HILARIOUS, particularly when conan the barbarian creator robert e. howard, taking his turn at the writing wheel directly after that other howard, slam-dunks every single generally accepted round robin rule about not contradicting things that the previous writers have already introduced/established in the story, not dramatically shifting the tone, etc. STRAIGHT IN THE GARBAGE in one of the most gloriously petty displays of trolling/ Fuck That-itis i have ever seen in this kind of game (and i mostly hung out with the creative writing + theater crowd in college, soooo)
basically you have lovecraft being lovecraft, going on and on and on, making the protagonist faint from terror a solid three times in maybe 1,500 words (just a guess there, i didn’t actually bother to count), and concluding with a HORRIFIC REVELATION:
But even this vision of delirium was not what caused George Campbell to lapse a third time into unconsciousness. It took one more thing—one final, unbearable touch—to do that. As the nameless worm advanced with its glistening box, the reclining man caught in the mirror-like surface a glimpse of what should have been his own body. Yet—horribly verifying his disordered and unfamiliar sensations—it was not his own body at all that he saw reflected in the burnished metal. It was, instead, the loathsome, pale-grey bulk of one of the great centipedes.
yup. dude turns into a grotesque giant centipede alien monster and TOTALLY LOSES IT. truly, this hellish transformation is too great a burden for his fragile human mind to comprehend, let alone bear while remaining conscious, or sane–
but wait! ENTER ROBERT E. “CONAN THE BARBARIAN” HOWARD:
From that final lap of senselessness, he emerged with a full understanding of his situation. His mind was imprisoned in the body of a frightful native of an alien planet, while, somewhere on the other side of the universe, his own body was housing the monster’s personality. He fought down an unreasoning horror. Judged from a cosmic standpoint, why should his metamorphosis horrify him? Life and consciousness were the only realities in the universe. Form was unimportant. His present body was hideous only according to terrestrial standards. Fear and revulsion were drowned in the excitement of titanic adventure.
THE EXCITEMENT OF TITANIC ADVENTURE
talk about mood (and philosophical outlook on existence) whiplash, right??!
the best part, though, is that he KEEPS GOING ON LIKE THIS for about four more paragraphs:
What was his former body but a cloak, eventually to be cast off at death anyway? He had no sentimental illusions about the life from which he had been exiled. What had it ever given him save toil, poverty, continual frustration and repression? If this life before him offered no more, at least it offered no less. Intuition told him it offered more—much more. With the honesty possible only when life is stripped to its naked fundamentals, he realized that he remembered with pleasure only the physical delights of his former life. But he had long ago exhausted all the physical possibilities contained in that earthly body. Earth held no new thrills. But in the possession of this new, alien body he felt promises of strange, exotic joys.
etc., etc.
…and then george-as-centipede monster goes on a STRAIGHT UP BLOODTHIRSTY RAMPAGE like some arthropodian conan and then just totally CONQUERS THE FUCK out of the ENTIRE centipede planet because why not and someone please make john darnielle write a song about this, i am begging you
Okay so I found my dead grandfather’s journal from 56 years ago. This is some old stuff, okay, and I was like yeah I’m gonna read a page or two.
Basically he wrote down this road trip he did with a friend of his (name is Giulio) but at some point it gets so weird.
I’ll try my best to translate it from italian to english (english is not my first language) and well, I’m also having a hard time trying to read my gandpa’s writing cause he wrote like a drunk snail.
Now, beware, my grandfather was an italian man dedicated to work, church, work and work, who believed in the traditional family and all that Jazz. But at some point I reach this part where he writes: “yesterday me and Giulio slept in the same tent as mine was stolen at the gas station. As it was really cold, we slept close. In the middle of the night I realized that the warmth next to me did not belong to my Nadia (his fiancé at the time, my grandmother). It was the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt”.
And I was like allright that’s some weird no homo bullshit but who cares.
BUT THEN IT JUST GETS WORSE.
“I was having a cigarette whilst Giulio was asleep in the car, having a nap before we hit the road again. In the midst of the smoke of my tobacco, I saw his face and thought that the woman who is going to marry him will be lucky”.
Grandpa, what the hell?
BUT OH NO IT JUST GETS BETTER.
“We shared a bed. Old motel did not have spare rooms, it was awkward at first. Then I started thinking that the warmth of Giulio’s body is somehow becoming more familiar to me then Nadia’s.”
Now, I have like seventy more pages of this goddamn journal but I am pretty fucking sure my gandfather had the worst crush over his best friend.
Due to popular demand I have translated some highlights cause damn it gets gayer and gayer.
So at one point my grandpa kind of stopped talking about Giulio and I was like (there we go, denial. Been there done that).
Then out of fucking nowhere, date 23 of may 1960, my grandpa writes:
“We finally reached Palermo. It is a beautiful city, full of art and good food, tomorrow we will visit some of the churches. I am now writing in our hotel room, a cheap place that still looks lovely in it’s way. Giulio is taking a shower. The noise of the water is keeping me awake, although I suspect that’s not the only reason I can’t shut my brain down”.
First of all, my grandpa wrote like a fucking professional writer. Second of all… grandpa, you can’t sleep cause your best friend is naked in the shower?
Anyway, they visit Palermo, everything is nice, they hit the road again and tHEN THIS HAPPENS.
“We stopped in a little bar. We ate something, chatted with the bartender and asked him directions for our next stop. We then had a few beers to celebrate our good times. A young girl then sat on the stool next to mine: she told me her name, Enrica, and she was pretty and lovely in her dress. Yet I did not make conversation with her and dismissed her after she made her intentions somewhat obvious. The main reason is, of course, my devotion and love for my Nadia. The second reason is that Giulio was watching me.”
AND HE JUST SWITHES TOPICS TALKING ABOUT THIS MOTEL THEY FOUND AND FOR FUCK’S SAKE GRANDPA YOU CAN’T JUST STOP THERE CAUSE THIS IS SOUNDING LIKE A GREAT FUCKING FANFICTION.
My granfather was totally pining after Giulio.
Now, there are like fifteen pages where he doesn’t really say anything about Giulio, he talks about cities they want to visit and that their car broke down in the middle of the street and got some help from, and I quote, “a handsome young man, probably not older than 16″. Like, really grandpa?
This is the last thing I read.
“I believe Giulio will have my back no matter what happens. He made that much clear.
-What happens after this trip? -he asked me at the reastaurant where we had dinner.
-We go back to our lives, I have my workshop to look after.
-And Nadia. You are going to marry her, I hope.
-Of course. -I answered, as my love for Nadia is strong -Will you be at the wedding?
-If you want me to.
-Of course I do.
-Then I’ll be there. By your side, as usual. That much wont ever change
I am now realising that I’ve never felt such intense feelings for anyone before, because my love for Nadia is strong but yet this is a different emotion. He is my brother, my friend and a half of my heart. That will never end. It almost seems like I am enamoured.”
And he then starts talking about the food of the reastaurant.
MY GRANDPA TOTALLY WENT INTO BRO MODE. I AM DYING INSIDE CAUSE WTF AM I DISCOVERING?! THIS IS SOME PARABATAI BULLSHIT
I am so going to translate the whole thing and publish it changing the names.
Signs like this are supposed to let truckers know what they can eat at the next exit and usually list some restaurants but this one I sometimes pass by says there’s literally nothing to eat in an entire small town but Drew’s Chocolates
Here’s the worst part: It’s not even a store. The sign just tell you to go into Drew’s house and steal his chocolate. Dude hasn’t had the taste of a tasty chocco treat in ages.
I ACTUALLY CHECKED IT OUT JUST WEEKS AGO FINALLY AND IT IS JUST SOMEONE’S HOUSE.
I mean it’s an actual candy shop yeah but it operates out of the owner’s house with a big hand-made sign and nobody else was parked there and I felt too awkward to stop and go in to buy food out of someone’s home
so all the stuff that’s been going around about hamilton & the founding fathers has been reminding me of my personal fave hotheaded alexander, alexander sergeyevich pushkin. pushkin also died in a duel, despite having written an entire novel largely about how tragic it is when talented poets die in duels. here are some of my fave pushkin facts (these facts are mostly taken from “pushkin’s button” by serena vitale and “the sunless parlour” by laura biyuts):
D’ANTHES FACTS:
georges d’anthes, the man who killed pushkin, was bisexual and had an older lover, the baron heeckeren. heeckeren was unmarried & childless and wanted to pass his inheritance onto d’anthes, but obvs they couldn’t get married at the time, so he wrote to d’anthes’ parents asking for their consent to adopt him. he legally adopted d’anthes and from then on out d’anthes refers to him in correspondence as like “my father, the baron heeckeren”
one of his contemporaries literally wrote a pamphlet in which he contemplated whether d’anthes or heeckeren topped: “I don’t know what to say: whether he took Heeckeren or Heeckeren took him… Judging by all, … in the intercourse with Heeckeren he was a passive partner.” so, there’s that
also pushkin wrote in his diaries that sex workers at the brothel d’anthes frequented told him that d’anthes liked to have his ass licked until it bled. so, uh. do with that information what you will
heeckeren was madly in love with d’anthes but d’anthes was famously a huge flirt; he loved heeckeren but he also told him all about his passions for other people. heeckeren was just kinda sad and gay about it
PUSHKIN FACTS:
pushkin was famously hotheaded (he was also mixed race & if you read stuff from that time period there’s a lot of racist shit about his ~hot african blood~ or w/e). he was supposedly involved in 29 duels in his lifetime, although most of those didn’t make it all the way to the shooting part
one time he was at the theatre, and a man came up to him and told him he was speaking too loudly during the show. pushkin showed up at his house the next morning and was like “ok i’m ready for our duel” and the guy was like “what no what is wrong with you”
one time he got into a duel because at a ball some dude ordered the band to play a mazurka and pushkin ordered them to play a waltz instead, and they played a waltz. not even that guy but his commanding officer challenged pushkin to a duel
at one of his duels he showed up without a weapon and just stood there in the snow eating cherries
people said he was as good at facing bullets as he was at poetry
pushkin was so superstitious that during the 1825 decembrist revolt he was out of town and he wanted to go back to st. petersburg to rise up with his contemporaries; however, on the way to the train he saw a rabbit run across his path and turned back because it was a bad omen
however, on the day he was shot he broke a powerful russian superstition by going back to his flat to change his coat (in russia once you leave the house it’s considered very unlucky to go back for something you forgot)
DUEL FACTS:
d’anthes and pushkin dueled because d’anthes was openly courting pushkin’s wife. this was common knowledge in st. petersburg society at the time. we don’t actually know if anything ever happened between d’anthes and natalia pushkina but it probably didn’t. but the public shame was the part pushkin cared about
they would have dueled earlier but d’anthes headed it off by marrying pushkin’s wife’s sister. “see, i’m not interested in your wife, i married her SISTER.”
what finally pushed pushkin over the edge was a series of anonymous letters delivered to him and to a bunch of his friends composed official certificates welcoming pushkin to “the cuckold society” (WE STILL DON’T KNOW WHO SENT THEM)
then pushkin wrote a letter to heeckeren being like I HATE YOUR SON SOOOOO MUCH
dueling was illegal in russia, so after pushkin died, d’anthes was tried for dueling. pushkin was also tried for dueling, posthumously. they were both sentenced to death.
d’anthes appealed and got his sentence changed to exile, so his sentence was less severe than pushkin’s, who was dead.
my favorite thing that Clark Kent does is try to figure out how a Normal Human Man would respond to getting injured
like if someone shoots at him he can say “oh he missed” and if someone tries to punch him he can kind of roll with it and barely avoid getting hit so they don’t smash their hand while going “oh ow oof what a punch ouch”
but then here comes the Joker with a comically large wooden mallet and now Clark has to figure out how Normal Human Man Clark Kent could conceivably survive this without making it obvious that he is not actually a Normal Human Man. just “oh goddammit i’ve never even seen someone get hit with one of these before, the joker’s probably seen all kinds of people get hit, he knows what this is supposed to look like but i have no goddamn idea i am so fucked”
superman may have the power of flight and super strength but clark kent has the power of improv
BUT YOU FORGOT THE BEST PART
POLITELY ASKING JOKER TO STOP
you are completely right, clark kent asking people to please stop trying to murder him is definitely way up there on the list of reasons he is amazing
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