Sell me a superhero!

John K had a post all about superheroes on his blog and that got me thinking about them. There was a time when superheroes were all just cheesy adventure. Then they went 'dark'. I guess The Dark Knight Returns changed everything. From then on, heroes were brooding, miserable beings who dealt with real life problems. Newer heroes were born who took this further and many amounted to some bitter guy with a gun.

So heroes changed from what kids aspired to be - something totally extraordinary - to what they thought they were - miserable alienated outcasts. Because teenagers are an awkward bunch. They think they're miserable and bitter but, truth is, they haven't earned it. They're not old enough to have anything to be miserable about. But, man, when it comes to selling comics to suckers, these sad sacks will lap it up.

On a side note, I think the 'dark' thing helped reassure the adult comic buyers that they were more serious and not in fact the embarrassment they once were. As someone who is into cartoons, I have no right to judge. And yet, I do.

So I thought - if I was to make a superhero to sell to this demographic, who would it be? Not a superhero I thought was cool, but one that was marketable to the Lavinge-buying public and their dodgy fathers.

And so Miserable Androgynous Little Shit Man was born!

Here's the story -

Mild-mannered millionaire scientist, Randall Randallson, was busy looking through a microscope, as scientists are known to do.

Unknown to Randall, someone had infiltrated his lab. A miserable androgynous little shit! Yes, some moany teenager who thought his life sucked, spent all morning doing his make-up and making sure his clothes matched all his friends' 100% and yet considered himself totally unique and didn't want to be judged by his appearance had wandered into the lab. But this wasn't just any miserable androgynous little shit.

No, this was a radioactive miserable androgynous little shit.

Randall was too engrossed in his work to notice. That is, until he was bitten! The little shit had bitten Randall's arm! Suddenly Randall began to change. He spent several hours dying and doing his hair. He spent just a few more minutes doing his eye-liner. He found out what all his friends were listening to and made sure he had the exact same music on his super-pink iPod. He grew big muscles and a chin (because that's super). He became uncomfortably bisexual. And then... the whining began.

And so was born Miserable Androgynous Little Shit Man! Once an ordinary scientist, Randall Randallson was now gifted with the powers of a miserable androgynous little shit.

Oh and he got a sidekick - Emo-Teddy (look, he's all broken, just like the poor teenagers, how totally original and cool - nobody understands him). He's probably got a gun too.

If you're wondering why he's not wearing pants, well, superheroes wear their undies on the outside and what more efficient way to do that could there be than simply not putting on pants? Also, it means there's a space for branding. If anyone wants to advertise on MALS Man's legs, he has no problem whoring himself out.

So there's my superhero. What do you think? Have I got a market? I think kids could totally relate to him.

If you had to sell a superhero, who would he (or she) be? Do me a superhero!

It was only a matter of time

My one escape from reality kicked me in the pants at the weekend with the infamous Red Ring of Death. Goodbye Grand Theft Auto. Goodbye whatever else I played on that thing (can't quite remember). Goodbye.

In terms of hardware failure for just about anything, like any piece of equipment from the Stone Age to now, the XBox 360 has got to be the worst piece of kit ever. Never have I heard so many stories of consoles dying. In fact, I always counted myself lucky being the only person I knew who didn't have a problem.

When I say 'always', I mean for the six months that I owned the console before the RRoD came my way. Six months. That's how long I got out of it. I could buy a 360, then find out I have seriously aggressive cancer all through my body and still outlive the piece of crap. They should warn you about that in the manual at least.

It has to be some sort of conspiracy. I just haven't quite worked out what it's about yet.

That child I once was

It's like the part of me that was a child fades in and out sometimes right where I am. But sometimes you just can't go back.

Indiana Jones was just one. They seem to be remaking and resurrecting everything. Rocky, Rambo and countless other things. Television shows. They're bringing them all back.

Many of us take pride in not growing up. I love video games, cartoons, movies. They bring out the child in us. So I guess coupling that with the nostalgia of things that actually were around when we were kids makes sense.

I remember a documentary years ago on dogs and how they were domesticated, comparing them to wolves and wild dogs. After a lot of research and study, they came to the conclusion that dogs are domesticated by keeping them in a constant state of youth. In a way, their development is stunted - they are puppies all their lives. They don't have to grow up. They are provided for, are told what to do and where to go, just as puppies are by their mother. They are kept safe. Sounds kind of nice but it means they are completely under our control - we control them by keeping them young.

So I'm wondering - by not growing up, by constantly feeding the child in us, are we being domesticated? Controlled?

We're all just puppies and we're getting younger by the day.

I want to be a wolf.

Indiana Jones and the Tin Foil Filled Skull

So I got to see the new Indy film last night. It's okay. Entertaining in parts but it doesn't really have much of a story. I mean, they didn't seem to have any concrete goals most of the time so spent half the movie wandering around getting captured by cartoon Russians.

But it was definitely entertaining in parts, had some good sequences, a few great lines. I found myself wishing Marion hadn't made it into the movie, a complete turnaround from what I thought I'd think. And, in another turnaround, not only did I not mind LaBeouf, I thought he was pretty much essential. He brought life to a film that wouldn't have had any otherwise.

And, man, that bit where Shortround turned up... woah. WHO DA BITCH NOW?!!! EH, DR.JONES?!!! BAM! Fantastic.

Withdrawal

It's pretty hard to describe in words but it's something like this anyway. A slight dizziness and a fizzy feeling. I can't remember from the last time how long it lasts.

The thing about coming off depression medication, which isn't all that different to being on it, is that you question things - am I feeling this way because of the withdrawal? Or the depression kicking in? When you're on meds, you wonder if you're really yourself of if it's the meds.

It's no-win, I guess.

But, you know, sometimes depression can make you feel like things are shit. But, as I said in one of my earliest posts here, sometimes it's simply the fact that life is shit. It's not depression. Not some chemical imbalance. Not withdrawal. It's just that things are not the way you want them to be and life is not satisfying. In that case, pills would just mask the symptoms and not tackle the problem.

The difficulty is that you can never tell if it's the depression or life itself that is the problem.

Even more adventures in advertising

Producer said no problem to this. Director wasn't so enthused. Luckily, it got tied up in the courts before the ad was even made.

My Unmedicated Cartoon Life

As some of you may know, I have been on Lexapro for depression (that's the 'medicated' part of the blog title). Having a glance again at some of the listed side effects, I noticed 'taste perversion' is listed.

What an odd description. Taste... perversion.

Like there are magazines devoted to this stuff that you can only find in the dingiest of porn shops.

Anyway, the reason I was going through the leaflets is that I have decided to go off the meds. I was on Lexapro years ago and felt it made a big difference. This time, not so much. Unlike the previous time, I'm not sure I needed them to begin with and I didn't actually feel they helped me.

So now the great unmedicated experiment begins.