On Superheroes
When I was a kid, all of my friends were into The Hulk, Spiderman, The Human Torch, various X-men. But I had to be different. I had to find a superhero no one else liked to call my own. So, I settled on Doctor Strange.
I knew a little about Doctor Strange from the Defenders comic book series. He seemed a little square for a superhero, and probably was the first to possess an AARP card. But then again, he was pretty cool with The Hulk and the others so I figured, how bad could the guy be?
I remember going to the drug store one Saturday, hellbent on buying myself my first Doctor Strange “solo” comic. I had already shot my mouth off to the other kids in school a little prematurely, stating that Doctor Strange had the best superpowers and could probably defeat all their favorite superheroes with his occult-y magic, and so on.
So, when I got home, I went straight up to my room and began to read. And to tell you the truth...I didn’t understand a single damn thing that was going on in the comic. And there’s a good reason I found it so incomprehensible…
I was too young to take acid. The entire plot line clearly was written under the influence of LSD and represented the supreme. bad. trip. I threw the comic away and spent the rest of the weekend devising some cockamamie reason for dumping Doctor Strange as my favorite superhero and adopting that pompous shmuck, Submariner.
Hey, he’s got little wings on his ankles. Isn’t that the coolest?

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On Superheroes

When I was a kid, all of my friends were into The Hulk, Spiderman, The Human Torch, various X-men. But I had to be different. I had to find a superhero no one else liked to call my own. So, I settled on Doctor Strange.

I knew a little about Doctor Strange from the Defenders comic book series. He seemed a little square for a superhero, and probably was the first to possess an AARP card. But then again, he was pretty cool with The Hulk and the others so I figured, how bad could the guy be?

I remember going to the drug store one Saturday, hellbent on buying myself my first Doctor Strange “solo” comic. I had already shot my mouth off to the other kids in school a little prematurely, stating that Doctor Strange had the best superpowers and could probably defeat all their favorite superheroes with his occult-y magic, and so on.

So, when I got home, I went straight up to my room and began to read. And to tell you the truth...I didn’t understand a single damn thing that was going on in the comic. And there’s a good reason I found it so incomprehensible…

I was too young to take acid. The entire plot line clearly was written under the influence of LSD and represented the supreme. bad. trip. I threw the comic away and spent the rest of the weekend devising some cockamamie reason for dumping Doctor Strange as my favorite superhero and adopting that pompous shmuck, Submariner.

Hey, he’s got little wings on his ankles. Isn’t that the coolest?

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Groundhog Day

Well, here we go again…

Sorry. I have nothing if not time on my hands and it has got me thinking. Thinking about how the entire country, replete with the best-trained meteorologists money can buy, still puts their long-range forecast in the hands (paws?) of a portly, smelly rodent.

And the big irony here is that groundhogs are the least proficient underground-dwelling creatures when it comes to predicting the arrival of Spring (and remember folks, Spring arrives on March 20, despite what the critters say). But I digress.

Moles. That’s right, the tiny, blind mole with what looks like an open hand balanced on its nose is remarkably accurate at predicting weather trends. Remember the extremely high number of tornadoes hitting the midwest this Summer? The mole, Pittsburgh Paul, totally saw it coming. Now, if there was something called Mole Day, perhaps billions in property damage could have been averted.

Earthworms. Yes, those squishy things that look the same coming and going (and just where does the poop come out?) also are quite prescient weather-wise. The current drought in California? The earthworm, Eureka Eunice pointed its way years ago. Too bad that crow got to her first. Had that gone differently, perhaps celebrities would have avoided washing their Hummers during peak hours.

Pillbugs. Truth. The trilobite-looking, creepy-crawler has had a long history of correctly anticipating major changes in our atmosphere since, well, forever. Remember the Ice Age? Well, guess who came out of the ground to alert the people of the Great Western Hemisphere Land Mass of what was to come? Pillbugs, that’s who. Sadly, none of them were quaintly named because there were no cities or towns then. Or names, for that matter.

A Letter To My Congressman

Dear Honorable Rep. [redacted],

I’m not sure that you’re aware, given your busy schedule, but there was another mass shooting at a public facility a couple of days ago. Well, maybe “mass” is a slight exaggeration. I think only 3 or 4 people actually were killed if you don’t count the shooter.

Anyway, I am aware of your pro-gun opinions. Second Amendment, right to bear arms, defend oneself, and the like. Well, I just wanted to say that I’m in complete agreement. Part of the experience of living in a great, free-market state such as ours is taking our life into our hands each and every day as we go to school or go to the mall to buy a new pair of Uggs™. Furthermore, I am very aware that there are MANY countries where their citizens are not free to look death square in the eye when they go to the grocery store, and for them I feel nothing but profound sadness.

But we have to admit that the many shootings occurring recently are casting a somewhat gray pallor on this great country of ours. They are…the ultimate bummer. But how do we discourage them without barring our citizens from their God-given access to automatic, high capacity firearms — you know, for hunting squirrels and stuff?

To that I say, place the focus on the real villains here. Some say, “Guns don’t kill. People kill.” but that isn’t completely correct either, in my opinion. 99% of the person has NO role in a shooting. But the fingers? Now that’s a horse of a different color. That’s right. “Guns don’t kill. FINGERS kill.” So here’s my proposal:

Let’s dispense with the whole gun registry (which we all know doesn’t work), replace it with the FINGER Registry and take the firearms away from the fingers that would otherwise use them in the most unwholesome way imaginable. Heck, we can even register the fingers of teenagers. Well at least the middle ones.

So perhaps you will consider my idea and share it with your esteemed, likeminded colleagues during your next filibuster. I’m sure I would remember such action on the next Election Day. Whenever that is.

Yours In Christ,
David Leibowitz