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GDBM: Batman Takes the Stage
Reality is once again stranger than fiction. The latest issue of All-Star Batman & Robin -- the comic that brought us the "Goddamn Batman" -- has been recalled with distributors asked to destroy any copies of issue #10 they have. Why? Because the censoring of Frank Miller's dialogue was ineffective at disguising the words. That's just...fantastic, really, on every level. And now back to the slightly less-pathetic Batman, the one who wants to be a ballet dancer.
The would-be ballet star realizes he's still...lacking in the necessary physique. And I don't mean what's behind the computer.
So which is better: a sullen, determined Bruce Wayne lifting weights in a dank cave, or a giddy, bouncing Bruce Wayne skipping rope and listening to the Sci-Fi Channel?
"Dude. Your house sucks. You have exactly one chair facing the TV, and it hurts my back."
"Oh. You're still here? I hadn't noticed. I was too busy SKIPPING ROPE!"
"You can play my Dreamcast if you want!"
"Uh...you know, I'd rather just stare at a turned-off TV."
"Yeah, me too." *skip skip skip*
"Here, I'll buy you a new chair."
"Sweet! Let's play Obnoxious Snowtard!"
"You go ahead. I'll take a nap."
"Master Goddamn, your friend wandered the house until four in the morning."
"Yeah, he was getting on my nerves. Sorry about that, Alfred."
"It's Makoto, sir."
"Ma...toko?"
"Makoto."
"Ma...ko...ko."
"Ma. Ko. To."
"Ma...to."
"Makoto."
"Potato."
"You may call me Alfred, sir."
"Sweet. Thanks."
"Sir, you will not be going to the lab this morning?"
"No need, Tomato. I've got a new job! I'm an aerobics instructor now! And some day I'll be the best ballet dancer the city has ever seen! Swan Lake, starring the Goddamn Batman, big blazing lights across the city. It's gonna be sweet."
"That would explain the tights, at least."
"What do you think, Totoro? I've been blasting my quads and abbing my glutes."
"If you say so, sir. However, for you to advance in your employment, you will require the strength and security that only a true friend may give you."
"Hey, Toronto, what say...."
"No."
"But...."
"No."
14:56 -- The Goddamn Batman dials Cliff Dover, with whom Goddamn Batman has an 18/18 relationship. For those new to the Sims, this is about equal to the empathy you feel when you run over a large branch and then feel sort of apologetic about it afterwards because maybe the branch had feelings or something.
Three hours and change later, Cliff's spirit is utterly broken as he finds himself suffering telephonic Stockholm Syndrome trying to get Goddamn to hang up. But Goddamn Batman has his friend. His pale, weeping friend. Goddamn goes to bed, utterly oblivious to his butler.
4:17 Thursday morning. Goddamn Batman wants omelettes.
Goddamn Batman doesn't seem to notice that his butler cooked lobster thermidor for him last night. It sits, rancid now, on the countertop as Goddamn Batman hacks away at his omelette.
"Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na OMELETTE! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na OMELETTE! OME-LETTE! OME...OH GOD I KILLED IT."
*tear* "Ome...lette...."
Google results for "I burned my omelette and it hurt my soul": Results 1 - 10 of about 8,670 for I burned my omelette and it hurt my soul. (0.24 seconds). Did you mean: I turned my omelette and it hurt my soul? "No, Google. No, I did not."
*chomp* *crunch* *sniffle* *crunch* "I would like to learn how to make omelettes...that aren't black...as my soul."
"That was better. But what smells like dead cat in here?"
"Eureka! You're supposed to jump over the rope! What a fool I've been!"
"Hey. Hey buddy. Hey. You in there?"
"Seriously, I'm on the can. I don't know how you got in...."
"I just wanted to, like, tell you, we've got this gym...."
"Dude, I don't care. You could send me an e-mail or a brochure or something, you know, you didn't have to let yourself in."
"We're that kind of hands-on gym. We're much more personable than your cookie-cutter sterile environments."
"That's terrific, but I'm...kinda in the middle of something right now."
"I can come in. I'll hold your hand."
"Okay, seriously, you've got to leave, right now."
"Dinner is served, sir."
"Oh, thanks, Topato. Listen, I hope you're not still pissed off about the crab thing."
"It was lobster thermidor, sir. I was trained in the mountains of Nanda Parbat by a secret monastic order, learned meals to sate the most Babylonian of appetites, culinary experiences to delight each of the senses, the creation of cuisine suitable for ingestion by gods themselves."
"...Cool. So what's cooking tonight?"
"It's a TV dinner I left under the radiator. Part of it might have thawed. Bon appetit, sir."
"OH WHO SKIPS ROPE BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THIS CITY? HELL YEAH IT'S ME, BOYEE."
*mutter mutter*
"I think I've taken jump rope as far as it can go. It's time to...."
"...Spend my dead parents' money!"
"Hey! Hey! You know...you know who I am? I'm Neil Armstrong!"
*mutter mutter Lance mutter mutter insipid mutter mutter cretin mutter*
"You damn right!"
"OH GOD THE PATTYCAKE MACHINE IS HARD."
"My arms have become like steel tigers of power!"
"Your art of simile has also grown, sir."
"That's what I thought."
"Dude. You know what? After I finish this Powerthirst, I'm totally going to blog about being strong and lifting weights."
"That statement doesn't strike you as at all contradictory, sir?"
"Actually, my eye did start twitching right when I said that."
Secret identity: you're doing it wrong.
"I AM NOT BATMAN!"
"Augh! God! Not so loud. I think I lost a filling."
"Is that Captain Comb-over? I thought he was still in Metropolis."
"Hello! I am the Goddamn Batman!"
"Hey. Call me Larry."
"I'm now a backup dancer!"
"...Is...is that good?"
"It's fantastic! I've almost honed my body to a razor's edge! I'm going to become the world's greatest ballet dancer!"
"Put'er there, man! Yeah! Badass!" *slap*
"And then Dumbledore says, 'If that's Hermoine, then who ate the banana?'"
Goddamn Batman: *thinking* I have no idea what he's talking about but I like having someone over who isn't medicated.
*rrrf* *rrrrrf* *rrrrrrrf*
"So...close to the pinnacle...of human...physical perrrrrfection. Rrrrgh."
Mind you, one point of charisma in the Sims is about approximate to not letting gum fall out of your mouth when you speak.
And, no kidding, the butler is shadowboxing in front of the door. Just like Michael Caine would.
"If you are determined to set forth upon this mission to become the world's greatest detective, sir, might I suggest you also hone your analytical powers, perhaps refine your logical faculties?"
"Dude, I'm sorry, you lost me at 'determined.' All I could think about was purple. It's a weird color, isn't it?"
"Sir, without the proper discipline, you won't be able to function as a true detective...."
"AH NA NA NA NA I CAN'T HEAR YOU I'M GOING TO BE THE GODDAMN BALLET BATMAN AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME."
"Omelettes make me happy. I don't know why."
"You know, there's something missing here. I need to be able to slip in and out of the manor, should the need arise. Something that'll let me go unnoticed."
"Perfect."
"So many buttons to push...."
"Thanks for the lift, Bob."
"A tip, for me, sir?"
"You've earned it, Kodak. You've made lots of food for me and taught me a lot about life, and the important things in life."
"This is a hundred Simoleons, sir."
"Yeah. I know. Great, isn't it?"
"Sir, your family's net worth is over ten billion dollars. Simply counting interest accrued, you could reasonably afford to...."
"Yeah, I know. Don't spend it all in one place, okay? I'm going to go polish my helicopter with a few endangered animals. Feel free to get yourself, I don't know, a hat or something."
"Really? Wow, you're the best, Goddamn!"
"Aw, thanks."
*mutter mutter sarcasm mutter mutter spoiled mutter mutter glad they're dead mutter mutter*
"Nobody responded to my online video of the rat."
"I *huff huff* feel like I'm *huff huff huff* forgetting something...."
"'Ey! Is there a...Goodman Bateman here?"
"I shall repossess all your belongings until your debt has been paid! I shall start with this chair, and...."
"Yeah, that's...that'll do it. Okay. I'll...uh, I'll show myself out, then."
"Yay! Sammich! Does this mean you're feeling better, Monotone?"
"My heart will go on, sir."
"I'm the Goddamn Batman."
"Are you going to give me that look every time I get in the car?"
"Are you going to keep dressing like that?"
"Not for long! Soon I shall be a ballet superstar."
*grips wheel tightly* "Fantastic."
"I'll do it! I can do anything! I'm the Goddamn...."
"...AUUUGH *sob* *sniffle* *wail*"
*R.E.M.'s 'Everybody Hurts' faintly heard in the distance*
"Today's a different day, world. Today's Sunday, and the dawn of the Goddamn Batman is at hand."
"Feel the burn! Push the button! Throttle the yoke! Pommel the horse! Punish the mushroom!"
"YES! I HAVE REACHED PHYSICAL PERFECTION! My iron will has allowed me to become the ultimate athlete, the pinnacle of human strength."
"And the nadir of human hygiene, sir."
"I can actually hear it when you do that, Mr. Roboto."
"Indeed, sir."
The would-be ballet star realizes he's still...lacking in the necessary physique. And I don't mean what's behind the computer.
So which is better: a sullen, determined Bruce Wayne lifting weights in a dank cave, or a giddy, bouncing Bruce Wayne skipping rope and listening to the Sci-Fi Channel?
"Dude. Your house sucks. You have exactly one chair facing the TV, and it hurts my back."
"Oh. You're still here? I hadn't noticed. I was too busy SKIPPING ROPE!"
"You can play my Dreamcast if you want!"
"Uh...you know, I'd rather just stare at a turned-off TV."
"Yeah, me too." *skip skip skip*
"Here, I'll buy you a new chair."
"Sweet! Let's play Obnoxious Snowtard!"
"You go ahead. I'll take a nap."
"Master Goddamn, your friend wandered the house until four in the morning."
"Yeah, he was getting on my nerves. Sorry about that, Alfred."
"It's Makoto, sir."
"Ma...toko?"
"Makoto."
"Ma...ko...ko."
"Ma. Ko. To."
"Ma...to."
"Makoto."
"Potato."
"You may call me Alfred, sir."
"Sweet. Thanks."
"Sir, you will not be going to the lab this morning?"
"No need, Tomato. I've got a new job! I'm an aerobics instructor now! And some day I'll be the best ballet dancer the city has ever seen! Swan Lake, starring the Goddamn Batman, big blazing lights across the city. It's gonna be sweet."
"That would explain the tights, at least."
"What do you think, Totoro? I've been blasting my quads and abbing my glutes."
"If you say so, sir. However, for you to advance in your employment, you will require the strength and security that only a true friend may give you."
"Hey, Toronto, what say...."
"No."
"But...."
"No."
14:56 -- The Goddamn Batman dials Cliff Dover, with whom Goddamn Batman has an 18/18 relationship. For those new to the Sims, this is about equal to the empathy you feel when you run over a large branch and then feel sort of apologetic about it afterwards because maybe the branch had feelings or something.
Three hours and change later, Cliff's spirit is utterly broken as he finds himself suffering telephonic Stockholm Syndrome trying to get Goddamn to hang up. But Goddamn Batman has his friend. His pale, weeping friend. Goddamn goes to bed, utterly oblivious to his butler.
4:17 Thursday morning. Goddamn Batman wants omelettes.
Goddamn Batman doesn't seem to notice that his butler cooked lobster thermidor for him last night. It sits, rancid now, on the countertop as Goddamn Batman hacks away at his omelette.
"Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na OMELETTE! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na OMELETTE! OME-LETTE! OME...OH GOD I KILLED IT."
*tear* "Ome...lette...."
Google results for "I burned my omelette and it hurt my soul": Results 1 - 10 of about 8,670 for I burned my omelette and it hurt my soul. (0.24 seconds). Did you mean: I turned my omelette and it hurt my soul? "No, Google. No, I did not."
*chomp* *crunch* *sniffle* *crunch* "I would like to learn how to make omelettes...that aren't black...as my soul."
"That was better. But what smells like dead cat in here?"
"Eureka! You're supposed to jump over the rope! What a fool I've been!"
"Hey. Hey buddy. Hey. You in there?"
"Seriously, I'm on the can. I don't know how you got in...."
"I just wanted to, like, tell you, we've got this gym...."
"Dude, I don't care. You could send me an e-mail or a brochure or something, you know, you didn't have to let yourself in."
"We're that kind of hands-on gym. We're much more personable than your cookie-cutter sterile environments."
"That's terrific, but I'm...kinda in the middle of something right now."
"I can come in. I'll hold your hand."
"Okay, seriously, you've got to leave, right now."
"Dinner is served, sir."
"Oh, thanks, Topato. Listen, I hope you're not still pissed off about the crab thing."
"It was lobster thermidor, sir. I was trained in the mountains of Nanda Parbat by a secret monastic order, learned meals to sate the most Babylonian of appetites, culinary experiences to delight each of the senses, the creation of cuisine suitable for ingestion by gods themselves."
"...Cool. So what's cooking tonight?"
"It's a TV dinner I left under the radiator. Part of it might have thawed. Bon appetit, sir."
"OH WHO SKIPS ROPE BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THIS CITY? HELL YEAH IT'S ME, BOYEE."
*mutter mutter*
"I think I've taken jump rope as far as it can go. It's time to...."
"...Spend my dead parents' money!"
"Hey! Hey! You know...you know who I am? I'm Neil Armstrong!"
*mutter mutter Lance mutter mutter insipid mutter mutter cretin mutter*
"You damn right!"
"OH GOD THE PATTYCAKE MACHINE IS HARD."
"My arms have become like steel tigers of power!"
"Your art of simile has also grown, sir."
"That's what I thought."
"Dude. You know what? After I finish this Powerthirst, I'm totally going to blog about being strong and lifting weights."
"That statement doesn't strike you as at all contradictory, sir?"
"Actually, my eye did start twitching right when I said that."
Secret identity: you're doing it wrong.
"I AM NOT BATMAN!"
"Augh! God! Not so loud. I think I lost a filling."
"Is that Captain Comb-over? I thought he was still in Metropolis."
"Hello! I am the Goddamn Batman!"
"Hey. Call me Larry."
"I'm now a backup dancer!"
"...Is...is that good?"
"It's fantastic! I've almost honed my body to a razor's edge! I'm going to become the world's greatest ballet dancer!"
"Put'er there, man! Yeah! Badass!" *slap*
"And then Dumbledore says, 'If that's Hermoine, then who ate the banana?'"
Goddamn Batman: *thinking* I have no idea what he's talking about but I like having someone over who isn't medicated.
*rrrf* *rrrrrf* *rrrrrrrf*
"So...close to the pinnacle...of human...physical perrrrrfection. Rrrrgh."
Mind you, one point of charisma in the Sims is about approximate to not letting gum fall out of your mouth when you speak.
And, no kidding, the butler is shadowboxing in front of the door. Just like Michael Caine would.
"If you are determined to set forth upon this mission to become the world's greatest detective, sir, might I suggest you also hone your analytical powers, perhaps refine your logical faculties?"
"Dude, I'm sorry, you lost me at 'determined.' All I could think about was purple. It's a weird color, isn't it?"
"Sir, without the proper discipline, you won't be able to function as a true detective...."
"AH NA NA NA NA I CAN'T HEAR YOU I'M GOING TO BE THE GODDAMN BALLET BATMAN AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME."
"Omelettes make me happy. I don't know why."
"You know, there's something missing here. I need to be able to slip in and out of the manor, should the need arise. Something that'll let me go unnoticed."
"Perfect."
"So many buttons to push...."
"Thanks for the lift, Bob."
"A tip, for me, sir?"
"You've earned it, Kodak. You've made lots of food for me and taught me a lot about life, and the important things in life."
"This is a hundred Simoleons, sir."
"Yeah. I know. Great, isn't it?"
"Sir, your family's net worth is over ten billion dollars. Simply counting interest accrued, you could reasonably afford to...."
"Yeah, I know. Don't spend it all in one place, okay? I'm going to go polish my helicopter with a few endangered animals. Feel free to get yourself, I don't know, a hat or something."
"Really? Wow, you're the best, Goddamn!"
"Aw, thanks."
*mutter mutter sarcasm mutter mutter spoiled mutter mutter glad they're dead mutter mutter*
"Nobody responded to my online video of the rat."
"I *huff huff* feel like I'm *huff huff huff* forgetting something...."
"'Ey! Is there a...Goodman Bateman here?"
"I shall repossess all your belongings until your debt has been paid! I shall start with this chair, and...."
"Yeah, that's...that'll do it. Okay. I'll...uh, I'll show myself out, then."
"Yay! Sammich! Does this mean you're feeling better, Monotone?"
"My heart will go on, sir."
"I'm the Goddamn Batman."
"Are you going to give me that look every time I get in the car?"
"Are you going to keep dressing like that?"
"Not for long! Soon I shall be a ballet superstar."
*grips wheel tightly* "Fantastic."
"I'll do it! I can do anything! I'm the Goddamn...."
"...AUUUGH *sob* *sniffle* *wail*"
*R.E.M.'s 'Everybody Hurts' faintly heard in the distance*
"Today's a different day, world. Today's Sunday, and the dawn of the Goddamn Batman is at hand."
"Feel the burn! Push the button! Throttle the yoke! Pommel the horse! Punish the mushroom!"
"YES! I HAVE REACHED PHYSICAL PERFECTION! My iron will has allowed me to become the ultimate athlete, the pinnacle of human strength."
"And the nadir of human hygiene, sir."
"I can actually hear it when you do that, Mr. Roboto."
"Indeed, sir."