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CLOSED for Repairs
Wednesday, Aug. 07, 2002 - 9:58 AM
Over the last several days I've given it a lot of thought and I think it's time to turn in my tights and donate my cape to the Smithsonian. I've come to realize that I have never been, nor can I ever be a superhero. I have not been nor am I a hero. Of any kind. Ever. It takes two things to be a superhero -- neither of which I have. You can either have superhuman abilities such as flying and mind reading and web slinging and talking to fish (I never did understand Aquaman) or else you can have a sidekick. I have neither. I used to think I could save the world. I thought I could at least save someone. From something. But it's come to my attention that my ability to be a comfort and a help have diminished over the last several months. I no longer have the ability to console. I no longer have good advice. I've been reduced to listening and saying, "Oh, that's too bad. I'm sorry." And so I feel like Kalel in Superman II when he goes to the Fortress of Solitude and gives up his superpowers and being Superman forever so he may become Clark Kent -- Lois's Husband. The first thing that happens after they leave the Fortress is they find something to eat at a greasy spoon. There a man is rude to Lois and Clark Kent, chivalrous man that his parents reared him to be, steps up to defend her. He simply wants to sit next to the woman he loves. And he takes a pounding. He bleeds for the first time. He's hurt and confused. He can no longer be the superman he once was because he's been rendered powerless by his own needs and desires. By the way, I don't blame him for wanting to be with Lois that badly. I probably would have made the same decision. So, anyway, here I sit. In my greasy spoon. Without any powers. Without any hope. Because I don't have a Fortress of Solitude and a piece of my Krypton to restore me back to Superman status. I guess I can't sit next to the girl I love. I guess that guy will be rude to her all he wants, because I can't stop him. All that's left is Clark. Clark Kent. Mild mannered reporter. Bleeding lip and crumpled shirt. Until further notice, I'm CLOSED for Repairs.
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