For those of you who doubt the extent of my craziness. For all you out there who overestimate my sanity.
Allow me to give you a glimpse into the inner workings of my sick, diseased mind.
This morning… I had a runaway train of thought. An uninterrupted stream of consciousness that ends with a crash landing into a valley of self loathing.
This morning I thought to myself… “I might be the next Hitler!”
How did I come to this realization?
You’ll have to imagine me as Richard Attenborough in a white safari outfit and straw hat, crouching down to whisper in your ear, “I’ll show you” as a beautiful John Williams score melds itself with the majestic braying of a genetically engineered Brachiosaurus.
This morning I woke up smiling and thinking to myself, “Goddamn, do I LOVE Batman!”
It’s not uncommon for me to think this, or something like it, first thing in the morning but today I did something a little different.
I got up, still smiling, and sidled up to my bookshelf to survey my collection of Batman books.
While purusing Snyder & Capullo’s amazing run on New 52 Batman, I looked at the inside of the cover page and saw the “Batman created by Bob Kane” credit.
I noticed the original publication date of 1938.
I chuckled to myself when I thought idly, “They had Batman during World War II.”
This is where things turn ugly.
In my head, I CANNOT FATHOM the idea that someone doesn’t love Batman.
Anyone I meet who says “Yeah, I’m not a fan,” or even worse “I like Superman better,” is immediately added to my enemies list. I feel like they’re liars. Contrarians who like to disagree with conventional wisdom in an attempt to seem interesting and different.
So OF COURSE, I think to myself “Hitler was probably a Batman fan.”
Now I start to panic.
If you’ve had a 5 minute conversation with me, or worse, if I met you at a party and you didn’t know why you were, seemingly for no reason, the target of my scorn and derision, then you know that I passionately hold fast to the belief that “It’s WHAT YOU LIKE, not what you ARE LIKE that matters.”
I’ve made friends with terrible human beings because they understood that Ron Moore’s Battlestar Galactica WAS NOT science fiction but rather an exploratory drama about the human condition.
So I started thinking. If Hitler loved Batman… would I be his friend?
To my everlasting shame, I couldn’t help but tell myself, that if he in addition to loving Batman also hated Superman and people who prefer Clark over Bruce then…yes
This is where I start to hyperventilate and start with the hardcore whiskey cravings.
I’m just like Hitler.
“But you love the Jews,” I tell myself reassuringly.
Then I start thinking… I’ve dated a girl or twelve in my time on this earth and I’ve never discriminated.
Italian, Portuguese, Good Ol’ Fashioned White Canadian, Asian, South East Asian, Middle Eastern and of course a Jew or two.
Does it count as anti-semitism if I treated my Jewish girlfriends poorly?
What else, besides an all consuming love of Batman, do I share with ol’ Addie… Jesus Christ I’m already giving FUCKING HITLER a diminutive pet name!
Fuck that guy!
What a fucking asshole!
And now here I am… I’m as bad as Hitler…
I’m just the goddamned fucking worst!
As if I needed more reasons to hate myself…