Just exactly why the Batmobile sucks

Batmobile

There is nothing that cannot be redeemed by the love of a true fan; nothing, that is, except, apparently, the Batmobile!

And we’re not even talking about the penile one from those gay movies with the molded rubber nipple suits. Even the classic Batmobile sucked ass, apparently.

And here’s why:

What a fucking hassle it must be for Batman to get around.

He has two primary modes of transportation: swinging from gothic clock towers on his Batline, and cruising around Gotham in the Batmobile. Sure, he’s got a Batwing and a Batjet and a Batcopter and even a Bat-Segway, but mostly Batman relies on his ride to get from point A to point B.

Now, the Batmobile is a seriously tricked-out car, and you can’t blame the guy for wanting to drive it, but it must be a serious pain in the ass dealing with the Batmobile every night.

As anyone who lives in or near a big North American city knows, urban driving can be a maddening experience. Heavy traffic, one-way streets, swerving buses, crazy-ass taxi drivers, potholes, inadequate signage, kamikaze bike messengers, oblivious pedestrians – don’t even get me going about parking. The shit is hard enough to deal with in a normal city in a normal car. Now just imagine trying to navigate Gotham City’s rat nest of streets and alleys in an extra-wide custom hot rod with a wonky torque converter and limited visibility.

——”If Batman wants to change lanes, you will let him into your lane.”——

Okay, the actual driving itself would probably not be an issue, as Batman probably has advanced defensive driving skills and an intimate knowledge of the street layout of Gotham. Plus, people would get the hell out of the Batmobile’s way. If Batman wants to change lanes, you will let him into your lane.

But what about parking? Can that thing even fit into a standard parking spot? Have you ever tried to parallel park a car that has huge scalloped bat wings on the back while wearing a rubber cowl that prevents you from moving your neck more than five degrees in any direction? I want to see a director’s cut of Tim Burton’s Batman where Michael Keaton tries to slide that beast into a parking spot without scraping the curb or bumping into another car. Now that would be some amazing shit.

and so on, at length. My theory is that he just tucks Alfred in the trunk (it has one, right? or else where do the badguys stuff Robin when they kidnap him and steal the car?) and lets him out when he starts hoofing it, “Here’s the keys Alfred, I’ll be back in twenty minutes, have the Chardonnay chilled,” or whatever.

That makes total sense to me.

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Cthulhu couture!

Our favorite fashion fuggers have delved deeply into the murky waters which are trends and look at what they’ve fished up from the bottom: fishy fashions; Cthulhu couture; R’lyeh wraps. They’re what everyone is wearing to the formal hoe-down at the Esoteric Order of Dagon Hall (no relation to Anthony Michael Hall).

See for yourself, if you dare. Behold John G’halia-no’s wakame sake-inspired Kelp Me, I’m Falling:

Kelp me I’m falling

And, if you still retain sanity and will, scroll downward to view what every halfbred Deep One will be wearing to her prom, or her Transition, whichever comes first. Behold the Chitin Blossom, from B’hyll Bass.

Scales Dress GFY

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What’s your warning label

I don’t think this is anywhere near fucking strong enough; there’s nothing about tentacles! Stolen from Herbivorous, who at some point linked to me, for what reason I cannot imagine. I only keep the plants alive so I can hide in them when those nosy journalist types come around.

PARENTAL
ADVISORY
RAINCOASTER CONTAINS
EXPLICIT LYRICS

 

From Go-Quiz.com

Should be more like this:

Cthulhu crossing!

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five THOUSAND things

five fingers

In groups of five. I kind of love this idea for a blog. Dan Pink‘s blog was Just One Thing, just one thing per day, quite often just one sentence. This is Just FIVE Things, five demented things. And we may not be so much about the numbers around here, but we are VERY MUCH about the demented. Passed along by the normally quite steady Timethief.

A sample of the fivefold delights of the 5ives blog:

Five things, besides “your ride,” that you might wish to “pimp”

April 5th, 2007

 

  1. your sideboard
  2. your clergyman
  3. your thoughts on transubstantiation
  4. your hypothalamus
  5. your ranch dressing mix

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Doing the gene pool a favour

Sex for dummiesYou know those books…the For Dummies books. They’re pretty good books, all in all, but every now and again they come out with one that makes you think at least some of their target audience works at their headquarters.

Sex for Dummies.

Think about it. Look around you. I’m not sure where you live, but around these parts the dummies are breeding like rabbits. Even Britney‘s managed to drop a couple of spawn, and she’s just a puppy herself. At this rate by 2020 most of Southern California will be descended from Britney Spears, God help them.

But here’s a fellow who knows his station; ya gotta luv him. Me hearts dumb people who know they’re dumb and who know that’s a bad thing. Don’t give me any of this “Dumb Pride” stuff: that shit is whack. It was Camus, the wise, who said that it was the moral responsibility of the intelligent to oppress the stupid, otherwise the stupid would take over the world. I see some of us have been slacking a bit, and just look how that’s turned out!

But Shiv Charan Yadav knows his place and his duty to the gene pool. He’s sworn not to marry until he’s passed his high school exams. He is now 73 and has just failed his 38th attempt. It’s like poor, sweet, decorative John-John, only more like John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John-John- times – 38. Without the looks, money, family, or fame. Or, on the plus side, the pilot’s license.

Shiv Charan Yadav has been taking the exams – normally given to schoolchildren at the age of 15 -every year since 1969, without success. He was in his 30s when he first decided to better himself through education.

This year, he failed everything except Sanskrit, scoring only 103 out of a possible 600 points.

Also, he wants to marry a girl under thirty. Yeah, do you wonder if the papers would happen to be graded by twentysomething local females…it would explain alot.

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