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From the Desk of J. Jonah Jerkson Thursday, 16-Mar-2000 13:57:52
From the Desk of J. Jonah Jerkson Today’s editorial for the Daily Trombone, telling it like it is for five million Paradopolitans Superheroes. Some say they can’t be trusted and should be stamped out. Others think they are the scum of the Earth. Today I want to remind the good people of our fair city why we can’t trust those masked men and woman who walk amongst us, toppling our buildings, wearing obscene costumes, and causing alien invasions. I remember how it used to be. This was a great city. Sure there had been a few super-guys wearing their underpants outside their trousers during the second world war, but hell that was a tough time and lots of guys would do anything to get sectioned out of military service. But for a long, long time, Paradopolis was free of the evil we call superheroes. Then came Jarvis. He said he was a butler, serving mankind by protecting it. Sure. The first thing he did was discover Nazi war criminal Baron Heinrich Zemo and provoke him into leaving his South American hideout and attack mankind. The next thing he’s gathered together his League of Regulars, his so-called Lair Legion, and Paradopolis is one Twin Tower short. And just look at who that bunch of misfits think we should be worshipping as our saviours. Visionary, a man who has trouble figuring out how to tie his shoelaces up, and who has to hide behind his spin-doctor wife to cover up his blatant incompetence. What power does this man have to make him a superhero anyway? Has he ever had gainful employment other than as a shiftless art student? Why does he have a green diamond on his yellow coat? Then there’s Fin Fang Foom. We’re all supposed to forget how he rampaged across the city when he first appeared, how he’s knocked down buildings, trodden on tanks, cost the government millions in repairs to their Sentinoid technology. He swans about dating bimbo actresses like Lania who need the cheap publicity of sleeping with a giant reptile, and ignores the lawsuits mounting up from the North Pole Elf Construction Co. regarding a trained reindeer they claimed he ate. And there are ugly rumours about him eating worse than reindeers. NTU-150. Bautista Enterprise’s living publicity blimp, as dangerous and explosive as a Bautistamax VCR. Is there even anything human inside that armour, or is it just some kind of bizarre and deadly robot experiment gone wrong? And if there is something human under that red and gold tinfoil, how the hell does he go to the lavatory? spiffy, the very epitome of useless heroes hasn’t been around much lately, but frankly I’m not surprised after faking his own death for the publicity, burning down his real estate (possibly for the insurance), abusing indigenous wildlife (lawsuits from the Beaver Protection League still pending over them getting food poisoning when the bit him) and failing to get a date no matter how much he hangs found the Twelfth Avenue Blind School. I’m going to set my best photog Mark Hopkins to dig up some dirt on this guy that will bring him down. Hopkins’ career depends on it. Then there’s Messenger. Does anyone care that he’s a serial murderer spitting on our proud criminal justice system, defying the law (doubtless with the complaisance of his Lair Legion cronies)? If the Legion’s supposed to be so hot on truth and justice why don’t they bring in the psycho postman, answer me that? And what about that so-called Dark Knight, going around peering in womens’ windows, hiding in the shadows like a super-powered perv? Do the citizens of Paradopolis enjoy having to wear bathing suits in the shower to protect themselves from this creepy crimefighting voyeur? And don’t forget the women. Lisa Waltz seems determined to win the public over to the superheroes side by convincing the male population of the city one at a time – usually. Her costume breaches public indecency laws before she even puts it on! Doubtless that cross-dressing Yo-woman and the laviscious phallic-symbol wielding Troia 215 (215 what, we must ask) are equally debauched, attracted to this dubious profession for the easy sex, cheap thrills, and tawdy exhibitionism that it seems to allow. While we consider Yo carefully, how many of us have seen Yo and Visionary together close up at the same time? Can we even keep track of these multiplying so-called heroes? I have exclusive proof that many of them are actually all the public menace called Goldeneyed in different guises. Publicity-hungry and seeking to dupe the general public, this pustulent malefactor has appeared at different times pretending to be some kind of super-Elvis, to be the annoying archer Trickshot (hasn’t even the good sense to impersonate heroes who aren’t dead), to be several winged heroes with the name Falcon worked into their increasingly long and improbably name, to be the ineffectual Nats, the over-violent Green Ninja, the irritating Saint, the arrogant Hunter Victorious, the female-impersonator Sorceress, the pungent Rocket Racoon, the banana-wielding Cobra, and the inconceivable Yurt. See our expose next week for details and photographic evidence (to be provided by Mark Hopkins). But all of this pales into insignificance against a plot which the general public has remained naively unaware of, a plot that strikes at the very heart of American democracy. Has? nobody noticed the slow takeover of the Lair Legion by… Canadians! Yes, Canadians! These sneaky, underhanded, untrustworthy commie-loving hippie free love Northern-hugging people are gradually – and oh so politely you can be sure – gaining the majority in the U.S. of A.’s superhero community. First Hatman, sending up the very concept of superheroes with his bizarre powers. Does anyone believe he really gains the powers of walking funny when he wears a Charlie Chaplin hat? Then Goldeneyed, Frog-Man’s undistinguished and incompetent sidekick, and now Exile, who is rumoured to keep a harem of white slaves locked in a secret fortress location. Close observers have notes a very familiar relationship between at least Goldeneyed and Exile, by the way. We need look at those tight, buttock-hugging costumes and say no more. Even that doesn’t plumb the depths of the Lair Legion’s depravity, of course. The pantsless alcoholic Space Ghost continues to be a blemish due for removal from society. His recent meeting with Hilary Clinton has to be one of the blackest moments in American history. The electric chair is too good for deviants like this! The so-called King of the Sea Monkeys, Banjoooo (a creature who cannot even decide how many o’s to put in his name) refuses to wear any clothing at all. And let us not forget the insolence of the so-called CrazySugarFreakBoy! who, in addition to handing out pornographic videos of his family to members of the CrazySugarFreakFanClub! has the temerity to assault your very own favourite publisher in his own office, pinning him to his executive toilet for over an hour with some kind of silly string! Nor must we forget the sinister aspects of the succession of deaths of mayors of our fair city. Is it any accident that an alien, a self-proclaimed Puppeteer now squats in the Mayor’s chair, with his minion spiffy occupying a similar position in most other towns and cities across our land? I say enough is enough. The time has come to bring these renegades to heel. We the people of Paradopolis demand a public enquiry, tarring, and feathering for the Lair Legion and their cronies. We will no longer tolerate their sleaze and profiteering. Fight back the only way you can, people of Paradopolis, by buying more copies of the Daily Trombone to read more about the superhero menace. J. Jonah Jerkson – the people’s guide. Today’s editorial for the Daily Trombone, telling it like it is for five million Paradopolitans |
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