How to be a Superhero

I always wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid.  Not one of the lame-assed superheroes like Aquaman, but one of the cool superheroes like Superman, Batman, or Spiderman.

John Holmes was ten times the superhero that Aquaman was.

I realized a little while ago that I cannot be a superhero.  That is because I missed the opportunity.  You must begin the process of becoming a superhero when you are very young.  So that you do not make the same mistakes I did, this post is about some of the things you will need to do for yourself (if you are very young) or for your children in order to become a superhero.

As I said, I realized a few years ago that I had missed my opportunity to become a superhero like Superman or Spiderman.  These superheroes have super powers.  I have very mediocre powers, like the ability to sleep for twelve hours straight and the ability to drink very hot beverages but only later realize I burned my tongue.

When I realized that I would not gain superpowers, I decided to become a sort of human superhero like Robin Hood.  The only problem was that stealing from the rich and giving to the poor seemed totally fucking stupid.  Rich people have good security and poor people have big mouths.  Also, poor people scare me.  I didn’t want to go through all the trouble of stealing from the rich only to get robbed on my way to drop off the loot.

So, I came up with a fiendishly clever plan.  I would steal from large corporate retail chains and I would keep the stuff that I stole.  Large retail chains like Wal-Mart are rolling in money and they don’t have all that much by way of security, either.  Still, I am not stoopid so I knew that eventually I would get caught.  But when I got caught, since I had no criminal record to speak of, I would almost certainly get community service.  That’s giving to the poor!  Voila!

Unfortunately, I have very mediocre powers of thievery.  I got caught after only about ten times.  I was stealing a big bottle of vitamins from a chain drugstore.  I tried to talk my way out of it.

For my community service, I volunteered in an orphanage on weekends.  Really.  An orphanage.  My job was to keep the orphans company.  So I would tell them stories.  Wonderful stories, about my own childhood and family vacations and Christmases when I was a child.  Sometimes I would bring pictures and Mother’s Day cards I had written.  Invariably, these stories had the kids in tears because they were so touched by my mediocre storytelling abilities.  Then, to cheer the kids up, I would share the first important lesson of being a superhero: your parents must be dead.

See, Superman’s dad packs Superman up in a spaceship when Superman is only an infant and shoots him off to earth just minutes before Superman’s home planet, Krypton, explodes.  Batman’s parents are killed right in front of him by a street thug who undoubtedly thinks that they are bringing goods stolen from the rich into his shitty poor neighborhood.  We don’t even know what the fuck happened to Spiderman’s parents.  They are just dead.  And those are the nicest parent stories that superheroes have to tell.  For instance, Catwoman’s mother committed suicide when she was very young and her father eventually drank himself to death.  Sweet, huh?

So, rule number one: if you are a child and you want to be a superhero, your parents must die.  If you are a parent and want your child to be a superhero, what are you waiting for?  Your child is not getting any less mediocre while you continue to breathe.

On to rule number two: if you are a parent of a superhero, you must be a total fucking douchebag until your last goddamn breath, which will hopefully come sooner rather than later. 

Superman’s dad was a scientist on the planet Krypton.  If he could save his own baby, he probably could have saved hundreds or even thousands of babies.  What a fucking selfish prick he was to save only his own goddamn son!  I mean, the least he could do was build a rocketship that could fit, let’s say, ten kids.  Oh, but he wouldn’t want to send dozens of Supermen to Kansas in little infant-sized rocket ships because then his son would not be so fucking special.  So let them all die.  Fuckhead!  And think about it: through this act of utter selfishness, he guaranteed that the entire race of people of Krypton would perish because he didn’t even send one infant girl along with Superman so that he could later procreate.  What earth woman could possibly withstand Superman’s Superdick?  And forget about procreation with earthlings.  A superbaby probably breaks the fucking sound barrier on its way out of the womb.

And for those of you thinking of Supergirl, look her up.  She, along with one entire city, is saved by luck from the explosion of planet Krypton.  Superman’s father could have cared less about her or her city and, if he had known they would survive the explosion, probably would have gone out of his way to kill them all.  As it turns out, though, Supergirl is later sent by her father to earth just like Superman was after — you guessed it — her father watches everybody in the entire fucking city die but does nothing.  Nothing!  Then — correct again! — her father dies, too.  Boo-fucking-hoo.

Batman’s father was like an uber-billionaire in Gotham City.  Gotham City is just about the shittiest, grimiest rat-filled maggot den on the face of the fucking planet.  It is the Calcutta slum of modern American cities.  What is Batman’s father doing to help the good people of Gotham City who fuel his empire?  Well, on the night Batman’s father dies, he gives the wife some jewels worth about a million dollars and then they head out for a night on the town.  I’m sure some of that wealth would have trickled down eventually.  Maybe you’re wondering why I’m getting all socialist on your asses, right?  You’re asking yourselves why the fuck Batman’s father should have helped anyone?  Well, for one, self-fucking-preservation.  He would probably be alive if he had spread the wealth a little instead of being a cheap fucking billionaire bastard.  Second, what is Batman’s awesome superpower?  How the fuck does Batman become a superhero?  He is mad fucking rich, that’s how.  Batman hasn’t got one fucking superpower to his name besides his dead father’s money.  The whole goddamn comic book is about how, given enough money and leisure time, we could all be superheroes and stop suffering entirely.  Who’s the fucking socialist now?

I already mentioned Catwoman’s traumatic childhood.  But I didn’t mention that her mother loved cats more than her daughter.  I also didn’t mention that her father abused her because she reminded him of her off-her-rocker fucked up mother.  She was much better off with her parents dead than with those two insane losers.

Spiderman is harder to call because we don’t know jack shit about his parents except that they are dead.  Or are they?  Peter Parker lives with his Uncle Ben and his Aunt May at the beginning of his story.  We learn then that his parents are dead.  But where are his paternal grandparents?  Umm, dead too, I guess.  His maternal grandparents?  I guess they’re dead, too.  He doesn’t have any living relatives at all except for Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and we don’t even know which of Uncle Ben and Aunt May is actually related to Peter Parker by blood rather than by marriage.  But the biggest problem with this whole goddamn story is that Uncle Ben and Aunt May are both about fifty fucking years older than Peter Parker!  Now, there could be some nasty explanations for this, because families can be pretty fucked up.  And that would explain why at least one set of grandparents is dead: they died of old age, probably before Peter Parker was even conceived!  But here’s my explanation: Aunt May and Uncle Ben really are Peter Parker’s parents.  It’s a goddamn miracle that he is not a deformed freak.  Either that, or they are really his grandparents.  Or they kidnapped him from his parents because they were old, childless, lonely losers.  At the very least, the police should investigate why every fucking body except these two in Peter Parker’s family has mysteriously died.  Whatever the explanation, there is douchebaggery afoot.

So, those are the first two rules.  If you are a parent of a child you want to be a superhero, you must in some way, shape, or form, be a rotten douchebag to the core.  Then, when you die — and you must die soon! — you will pave the way for your children to be superheroes.

If you are a child, you know that your parents are already douchebags.  It’s true that your parents may not quite live up to the Catwoman standards of loving household pets more than you and hating you for how you look.  And they may not be quite as bad as Superman’s dad, who let an entire race of children die in an apocalyptic explosion although he obviously had the means to save many of them.  But, let’s face it, they don’t really understand you.  And they are cheap.  That’s enough.  Now, they must go.

Stay tuned for more tips on how to become a superhero.  But first, probably more porn and cake.