Hey, did you guys hear? Batman, that badass, hard-nosed, ass-kicking, crime-fighting superhero from Gotham City is a total fucking pussy who pisses his pants when he gets scurred?
At least, that's what Kevin Smith, the portly director of Clerks, Chasing Amy, Dogma and whole host of shitty films, has imagined.
While this is far from his only transgression in anally-assaulting the Batman legend--a more elaborate description of Smith's heinous assault on the Caped Crusader can be found at Comics Alliance--it is by far his most damning. I'm particularly fond of Smith's notion that a crossbow, for some strange reason, uses a firing pin. Way to rock the Wikipedia, Kev!
This one trick-pony--two tricks, if you count dick- and shit-jokes--has to be sitting on 14:59 by this point, right? Yes, Kevin Smith is comic chic, I get that. He's written a few series in the past that have been decent, but the storylines have been spiraling down into his normal dog-and-pony show, culminating with Batman's "bladder spasm".
What's the difference between this and fanfic? Is it just that the author of this particular piece of fanfic has thrown up on a reel of film and called it "Mallrats"?
Is this what it takes to write comics these days? I know the industry is feeling the pressure of the southern turn of the economy, but shit like this is not going to fix anything. I stopped reading comics a long time ago (and apparently, so did a lot of people) because the storylines were just getting too fucking ridiculous thanks to terrible writing. Sure, not Kevin Smith terrible, but terrible nonetheless.
Here. Here's an idea. All those years that dweeby-ass Peter Parker was listening to Mary Jane fighting with her dad next door, all the times he saw her running out into her back yard to cry away the pain daddy inflicted on her...well, Peter was standing at his bedroom window with the shades half-drawn, the lights turned out, masturbating. This was his dream girl, and she was just so...vulnerable...and it turned him on so much that he had to relieve himself manually.
See what I did there? I made an early connection between Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson, I appealed to the adolescent males in the audience who can't get the gall to ask out the girl they're pining for, and I gave Spider-Man a much-needed dark aspect to his personality.
I can have my own series now, Stan Lee? Oh, and I'd like a shit-ton of cash to go with that. Thanks, and, I'll be in touch.
Kind of like Petey in his bedroom.
Shit like this frustrates me. It frustrates me to no end. I consider myself to be a writer of some talent who doesn't devolve into dick-jokes at every turn of my writing. Sure, maybe I rape my characters a little too often, but that's for effect, not for a puerile joke. Honest!
I guess it's just the frustration boiling over about not being published yet. Combine that with this past year of being dicked over by publishers and agents and shit, and the frustration doubles ten-fold. I'm doing everything I can to get published (not true, but work with my lying here, please) and yet I'm still holding my manuscript in my hand. All the while, someone is making Batman soil his knickers.
It doesn't seem fair.
I guess what I really want--what I really, really want--is to get published so that someone can make an irreverent song that is full of awesome and win about me. Kind of like this one, which is filled with all sorts of Not Safe For Work lyrics and "book title based double entendres" as Neil Gaiman put it.
For more funny shit, visit: http://www.ucbcomedy.com
I will never look at Something Wicked This Way Comes the same ever again. And, wow...does she have some nice tits.
If that doesn't inspire me to keep writing, I don't know what will...