A Very Long Joke

Found this posted somewhere else and just had to share, given the Superman theme of previous posts. BTW, I know that all the characters in this (except maybe one) are copyright DC Comics, but you know, it's just a joke, y'all. **** After Superman saved Lois Lane for the hundredth time, she decided she was tired of waiting for him to make the first move. So when he saves her from Luthor's Meteor Magnet, she says, "Superman, just saying 'thank you' after all the times you've saved me seems so inadequate. So why don't you come have dinner at my place tonight, and then I can thank you properly." Superman says, "I can't tonight, Lois. Sorry." He flies away. Lois figures she just didn't spell things out plainly enough, so the next time Superman saves her, she says, "You know, Superman, when I said I wanted to thank you 'properly,' I meant I wanted you to spend the night with me. In my bed." Superman says, "I know what you meant, Lois, but sorry. No can do." He flies away. Lois decides she's not going to take 'no' for an answer again. She starts wearing her lowest-cut blouses, her highest heels, and her shortest skirts, to make sure she gets his attention. She certainly attracts the attention of Bizarro Superman, who kidnaps her and tries to carry her away, when Superman saves her again. Lois says, "Dammit, Superman, you're not going to put me off any longer. I want you to take me straight to my apartment, tear my clothes off, and fuck me hard. I want you, and I want you now!" Superman says, "I'm sorry, Lois, but I just can't." "Why the hell not?" she asks. "Because I'm Superman," he answers. "I'm all super, all the time. If I made love to you, when I came, it would shoot out so fast and hard that it would go through you like a bullet, killing you instantly. And I don't want to kill you, Lois. You're my friend." Lois says, "Well, when you put it that way, I understand. We'll just forget all about it." Superman says, "Thanks, Lois, you're a brick," and flies away. Lois spends the next couple of weeks trying to figure out a way to get him, but she just can't. And then one night, she sees this TV special where this dude catches a bullet in his teeth. Only it's a trick; the show explains that he's really got a little steel box in his mouth to catch the bullet. A light bulb goes on above Lois's head, and she thinks, "I may not be able to fuck Superman, but I could give him a blow job if I had one of those little steel boxes." So she tracks down the guy from the TV show (she's a reporter, she can do that), and says, "I want to buy one of those little boxes for catching bullets." He says, "I'm sorry, I can't just sell you a box in good conscience. Bullet catching is a very precise skill; you'll have to go through a whole training program as my apprentice." So Lois takes a leave of absence from the Daily Planet and goes through the training program, learning all about steel and rifles and doing special neck-strengthening exercises. And after six weeks, she stands in front of a rifle with a little steel box in her mouth. The rifle fires, and KTANG!, the bullet hits the back of the box and stops. Lois pulls out the box and the bullet and says, "I'm ready." She's only been back at the Daily Planet for a couple of days when Perry White comes running into the newsroom and says, "Great Caesar's Ghost, Lois! Braniac's attacking the city, and I need you to cover the story." "Great!" Lois says and digs her little steel box out of her purse. "This time when Superman saves me, I'll have a surprise for him." Perry looks at her funny and says, "What are you doing with Jimmy Olsen's little box?"

Self-Made Man

There's an interesting review in this week's Entertainment Weekly. This lesbian named Norah Vincent disguised herself as a man and wrote a book about her experiences. The review is worth reading (can't say as much about the book, since I haven't read it) and includes this little tid-bit: And when she steps into the loafers of ''the sad sack pick-up artist, the wooing barnacle that every woman is forever flicking off her sleeve,'' Vincent finds that single American women can be bitter, angry, boring, and maddeningly smug about their emotional superiority. I can relate, sister. Maybe it's just because feminism has been pushed so front and center in the media lo these past 30-odd years, but that image, of the "sad sack" being a "barnacle" that a woman has to "flick off her sleeve," has become a really dominant image in popular culture, especially lately. I remember when Jenny Jones was on, she used to have entire shows devoted to Hot Women Who Can't Find a Date. And of course, the reality was that the Hot Women were either not so hot (e.g., female bodybuilders so pumped up on 'roids that their breasts were sad little tumors floating atop their pecs) or more often, they were getting more offers than they could handle, only the guys were all "losers." So Vincent has only now encountered the dilemma that most men have encountered since adolescence: if you're not blessed with the perfect genes to be a male model/star athlete, or an obscenely famous actor/rock star who has hordes of women actively pursuing him, how do you approach and meet an attractive woman without becoming that "sad sack," that "wooing barnacle?" Because until you've actually met the woman, until you've actually stepped forward and inserted yourself uninvited into her life to say "Hello," "What's your sign?," "What are you reading?," "Would you like to dance?," "Can I buy you a drink?" or any of the other hundreds of pick-up line gambits that basically serve as a chisel for you to try to force open a hole in her awareness and actually see you, you don't know if her reaction will be "He's cute," "He's nice, but no," or "Who the hell does this little creep think he is? He's so out of his league." Like sexual harassment, which is defined as unwelcome sexual conduct, it all really depends on the other person, and you won't know you've done it until after you've done it. I haven't seriously tried to work the bar scene since the late Eighties, and I was never very good at it. But since AFF was such a waste of time and money, I'm thinking about trying this route again. But how do I avoid being a barnacle? Hmmm...

Still Around, Just Quiet

I know I haven't posted much in the last couple of months. First I had the madness of NaNoWriMo in November, then the holiday crush plus promotion madness in December. Now that it's the New Year, I have the time and brething space to post again, but I have damn little to post about. I'm in one of those regrouping periods; so much of the last few months has felt like a desperate scramble, for time, money, attention, affection. Now I'm just chilling, saving up my money and my strength. In a couple more months, I'll probably burst forth again, but for now, I'm just being quiet.