Yes, every Gothamite is either at the beach, or closeted. With fans. Specifically, delicate little Japanese fans, which they flutter, coquettishly.
Heh. I was going to type, "Sound familiar, Storm Boy?" but I just remembered, he's the one with the (alleged) fancy new boyfriend ("Ox"), and I'm the one who's nearly bankrupted himself with an addiction to man-whores. Hmm. Maybe this "Ox" guy is a man-whore. He's got the name for it, and -- aw, hell! What if I've slept with Ox? That puts me just one slab o' beefcake away from sleeping with Storm Boy!
...I don't feel so good.
6 comments:
Don't worry, it's just Monday. Things are bound to pick up, right?
Right?
I can't single out O'Neil here, but really, if watchu got to bring me into a story is the weather, you don't have a very good story. That's what they told Bulwer-Lytton, that's what we should have told Young Gerry Conway with his slightly moist afternoon, and that's what the editor should have told O'Neil.
Having Batman fight a mishapen bald guy in a pink muumuu and matching goggles doesn't excuse anything. Especially when Batman is less disturbed at getting knocked to pieces as he is at not knowing the bespeckled gentleman's name.
Also: Fans or not, closeted "watching a ball-game" is phrased so perfectly that it's hard to imagine O'Neil meaning anything else in the high-stereotype world of the eighties.
"So, what are you doing today, dude?"
"Watchin' the game, baby!"
"What game?"
"You know. The...ball-game."
"Is any major sport playing today?"
"The...one with the...ball? And the team who...runs to...keep the other team from...scoring?"
"Well, I'm going to the beach around blistering noon or so."
Featuring Tor Johnson as the Perfect Fighting Machine!
Jon: That's what I keep telling myself. (I also tell myself, "Goddamn, you're a freaking dreamboat!" And then I pose in the mirror for a minute or so.)
Anonymous: Haw! You should blog! (If you don't, already.)
Bill S.: Time for go to bed! (Permanently!)
"He's Creaming Me -- and I Don't Even Know His Name!"
Every Friday at 5:00 p.m., that's what I hope I'm going to be saying on Saturday at midnight.
And when my wish comes true: Heaven. :)
Heh. When I wrote this post, Stephen, I couldn't help but think of you. (As a friend! As a friend!)
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