Last night, Warner Bros announced that Ben Affleck would follow Christian Bale as the next Caped Crusader, taking on the role of Batman in 2015′s still-unnamed follow-up to Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel. Within minutes, social media imploded.
Internet, I love you, but you’re bringing me down.
I’ll admit it: I don’t get the outright disdain and fear for the idea of Affleck playing Batman. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen Daredevil in years — or perhaps it’s because I have seen movies like Hollywoodland, The Town and Argo more recently, and think that Affleck’s a pretty good actor when he’s got decent material to work with. Coincidentally, I was watching Argo last night when I got the news about Affleck; When a friend texted to complain, I thought, “But he’s… good…?”
A lot of the criticism of Affleck’s casting relies on old jokes and lazy humor for effect, but doesn’t really have much substance when you start to think about it: Yes, he has a Boston accent — Is that a disqualification for playing a fictional character who lives in a geographically vague fictional city? (I hope those complaining about that don’t realize that Jor-El, Superman’s alien father, was played in Man of Steel by a human with an Australian accent.) Other jokes revolve around the fact that he’s married to Jennifer Garner and friends with former co-star Matt Damon, which — so what? The Damon thing, in particular, is weird; according to IMDb, Damon and Affleck haven’t appeared onscreen together since 2004′s Jersey Girl. That’s nine years ago. Let it go, people.
While remodeling his newly purchased home in Elbow Lake, Minn., David Gonzalez noticed something unusual amid the old newspapers that had been used as wall insulation.
It was a copy of Action Comics No. 1 from 1938, the very first comic to feature the granddaddy of all superheroes, Superman.
StarTribune.com spoke with Gonzalez about his amazing find as well as a subsequent family accident that knocked down the value of his windfall.
I have always maintained that, excepting perhaps the deeply religiously cynical (Fred Phelps?) anyone who comes out in public opposition to homosexuality is almost certainly a homosexual himself. For many years now this thumb rule has served me well, filling me with the warm rosy glow of human hypocrisy and giving me an excuse to raise a frosty mug at the bar to the angry face on the television screen while pronouncing the verdict, “probably gay, poor fellow.”
There seem to be three mechanisms in process that make this law work. One is that some homosexuals, finding themselves in an intolerant environment (school, work, home, church, community, state, the inside of their own head) wish to appear “more straight than straight,” to the point of being a loyal attack dog for their imaginary straight side. The second reason this rule works is that for the most part, genuinely straight people don’t care enough about homosexuals to express an opinion, generally feeling that “if it neither breaks my leg nor picks my pocket” that it is none of their business. After all, it is not as if gay marriage will become mandatory for everyone any time soon. And the sight of Kim Kardashian playing a bride at her own wedding—making her one of the highest-paid actresses in the industry—has pretty much wilted the argument that gays are going to weaken the institution of marriage. The third reason this rule works is that it is hard to prove a negative, so I can always claim that time will out the hypocrite.
So. I read, many years ago, Orson Scott Card’s iconic opus, “Ender’s Game,” which—laden with homoerotic scenes of naked boys fighting in the shower while preparing to combat mankind’s enemy, the “buggers”—had left me with the vague impression that Card might be a homosexual. Not in itself very interesting, but then this came up: Card is a member of the board of the National Organization for Marriage, a group that seeks to prevent the legalization of same-sex marriage, and this association has aroused a lot of opposition to his latest project: a Superman comic.
Apparently there is a cost for public bigotry. Not that he needs the work—his books have been extremely successful and his Mormon family is not all that large, yet. Still, in 2004 he penned an essay titled “Homosexual Marriage and Civilization,” in which he wrote:
The dark secret of homosexual society—the one that dares not speak its name—is how many homosexuals first entered into that world through a disturbing seduction or rape or molestation or abuse, and how many of them yearn to get out of the homosexual community and live normally.
There is little doubt in my mind that Card has unresolved issues, and if so, is suffering for them. And so I raise a mug to his health. Probably gay, poor fellow.
But Superman’s sex problems are strictly physiological, and quite real.
The purpose of this article is to point out some medical drawbacks to being a kryptonian among human beings, and to suggest possible solutions. The kryptonian humanoid must not be allowed to go the way of the pterodactyl and the passenger pigeon.
Let’s make this perfectly clear at the outset: I don’t work for NPR, and what I’m about to say doesn’t represent NPR. I’m but a lowly freelancer they’re dumb enough to publish a bunch, and what I say now I say as me, which is to say:
1. An inveterate Superman nerd, and
2. A gay dude.
DC Comics has hired Orson Scott Card to write the first two issues of a new digital-first Superman comic. I won’t be reading it.
I’ve known that I’d ignore the Card written Superman since I first heard of it. That said, this is the best explanation of _why_ one should ignore this blip in the history of Superman. What Superman is and how he relates to us and why, in the end, it’s a terrible thing for a bigot like Card to be writing for Superman.
This Superman reboot is looking better than I expected from the previews.
Commie bastard!Wonkette has the goods:
When even the nation’s beloved cartoon superheroes are saying “Eh, fuck this place and your loser god,” your country might be on the “wrong track.”
So here’s mythical metrosexual King of America and lamestream media reporter Clark “Superman” Kent pledging to join the U.N. or something. Teabaggers will be very upset! Even though the only comics they read are “Mallard Filmore” and those emailed pictures of the Obama Chimp Family picking watermelons outside the White House.
Will that stop teabaggers and Palin slobs from “boycotting” something they don’t read and would never purchase. Of course not, c’mon, are you new around here? Behold the stupid:
Bleep Superman. I urge a boycott of Warner Brothers, all DC franchises, and particularly Superman. They intended this to be a political statement, but it is really a slap in the face of the American identity. Show me any one country that has done more for the world than America. We have fought for more people and sacrificed more treasure than any other country in history.
Great point! And we’re still remembered really fondly for all we’ve done in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, El Salvador, Guatemala, Cuba, Panama, Japan, Afghanistan, the Koreas, the Philippines, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, South Africa, Colombia, Chile and a bunch of other countries we can’t think of right now, because we’re not looking at any random spot on a globe.
This better be some one shot crap shoot or everyone will need to get to work on boycotting DC Comics and the new Superman movie. I am getting tired of these leftist writers taking characters to push their own twisted agenda on the guise of some greater cause.
More, with links, at wonkette.
A friend who knows I love this kind of stuff gave me four old issues of Superman’s Girl Friend Lois Lane, a DC Comics title published between 1958 and 1974. These relics of a time gone by are hilariously terrible! I’d always thought of Lois as the practical, hard-nosed reporter, but I guess that was all Margot Kidder’s doing. In these comics, without fail, Lois is a posessive, jealous, needy, self-centered harpie who repeatedly attempts to persuade, bully or trick Superman into marrying her.
Read more: uk.jezebel.com
In “Lois Lane, GUILTY!” — published in February of 1970, Lois Lane and Lana Lang get into a hair-pulling brawl over Superman.