It’s Batman. Eating a grape.

In 1988 my friends and I killed a kid.

He was just a boy really. We had help it wasn’t just me and my pals. there were adults involved, lots of them. I mean we were young we were just thirteen and really couldn’t comprehend the ramification of our actions, the adults knew what they were doing. I’m painting it to sound way more sinister than it was, and in today’s society, wouldn’t trend on Twitter but maybe in the ’80s, it was probably considered quite ominous.

I see you put nipples back on the bat suit….No. I’m just titillated.

Bats don’t ride horses. I have a car.

Take the billionaire who pretends to be one thing through lies and subterfuge and then breaks a list of laws to combat what he sees as crime and corruption. We love that guy. He’s a hero, right? 

Who doesn’t love Batman?

Batman – Sorry I didn’t come from another planet like you, or that I’m not some meta-human freak, or a woman. I have money and I have bullets. And a cool car.

Got a big interview for that dream gig? How about throwing on that Spider-Man outfit and nailing it? On a tight deadline to get those spreadsheets completed by the end of the day? Slip into the company washroom and emerge as Storm from the X-Men! That presentation to the company about your team P&L's? Do it dressed as the Fantastic Four and if people can forget how shitty all the movies have been, you will wow them!

Facebook is making me so depressed
I don't know if I can write this poem.