July 2006

This is one of my favorite pieces ever from The Onion.

Yesterday we went to see Superman Returns. We intended to see Pirates of the Carribbean, because Cristy's boyfriend Johnny Depp is in it, but alas, we were too late. POTC was already sold out. We decided to see Superman instead.

To be honest I wasn't really all that enthusiastic about POTC. I figured it was inevitable that I'd have to go see it, in the same way that it was inevitable that we went to see X-Men III and Alien vs. Predator. And I had been nursing a vague desire to see the new Superman movie, since it has been getting so many good reviews.

How could this movie garner a good review from anyone who wasn't being paid to give it one? How can you make a guy who flies around and breaks rocks with his fists so boring? Imagine the most boring movie you can, being a chick-flick or something plotless where stuff explodes a lot. It was more boring than that. A couple hours before we left for the movies, I felt thirsty. So I filled an eight-ounce tumbler full of tapwater and drank it. During the movie I kept thinking about how interesting and satisfying that glass of water was.

When Superman saved a guy from falling off a building, I remembered that time I almost tripped on the back stoop. Every time Superman said something, my mind wandered off to more engrossing subjects, such as the moldy caulk problem in our shower, or what Cheetos are made of. In some ways it's not the fault of the movie as much as it is the fault of Superman himself. He's a colossal bore. And he doesn't seem very bright either. For instance, if he has all this access to alien technology, and an advanced alien brain or whatever, why doesn't he sit down with some physicists and chemists and whatnot and develop some new technologies to help reduce greenhouse emissions or cure cancer or something? Because he's too busy flying around saving one guy from falling off a building, is why. He's possibly the most inefficient superhero of all time, given his gifts. No wonder Lex Luthor hates him. Luthor is a genius next to this guy.

The first Big Rescue of the movie involves a plummeting airliner whose tailfins are on fire. The plane is in a spinning freefall. Superman tackles this problem by grabbing on to one of the wings of the plane and spinning around. It's hard to say what he thinks he's doing, but what happens is what you might expect: the wing rips off and the plane falls even faster. If it was clear to me that he should have used his supercool breath to put out the rudder-fire and then guide the plane out of its freefall by righting it from the tail, I imagine it was obvious to every other moron in the theater. And yet it wasn't to Superman, which is puzzling. Maybe it's unfair to Superman to second guess how he handles these sorts of emergencies, but there you have it.

When I go to see a movie based on a comic book, I am prepared to suspend my disbelief. Can a guy grow into a giant green thing that runs around smashing stuff and always manage to be wearing purple stretchy pants? Yes, I can believe that. Can Halle Berry wave her arms around and make it rain? Yes, I can believe that. Can an unlimited supply of web-goo come out of Spider-Man's arms such that in reality he would daily have expended his entire body's actual mass several times over? Yes, I am prepared to believe that. But there are limits, man! Can everyone at the Daily Planet stare at photographs of Supermans face all day, then look at Clark Kent and not realize that they are identical cousins? No. I cannot believe that anyone, even a newspaper journalist, is that stupid. Except Superman perhaps.

I have an idea for one of the many upcoming sequels: Everyone in the world figures out that Superman is Clark Kent. At the same time, they figure out that he's not really the sharpest knife in the drawer, so everyone agrees to keep what they know a secret — from Superman. For the sake of keeping him happy. So that there are fewer construction site fatalities.

I have decided that I am not going to spend time growing any vegetables ever again except for chard.  Here's why.

Most vegetables are weak.  Carrots are pitiful.  The big ones grow to about the size of my little toe.  Sugar snap peas deserve nothing but contempt, with their miniscule yield of stunted pods.  Kale wilts if the sun comes out from behind a cloud.  Tomatoes shoot out a multitude of blossoms, which become hopeful little tomatolets, which then proceed to rot on the vine.   Absolutely contemptible.  A bunch of disgusting crybabies.

First they're not getting enough water.  Then they're getting too much water.  Now they're getting too much sun.  Now not enough sun.  You can't win with these horrid little primadonnas. 

But not chard.  No, chard is different.  Chard is like that one good guy you have at your job who actually does his work and makes your life easier instead of harder.  Chard is the little engine who could.  Chard dares you — no, double-dog dares you — to not water it for two days.  It'll wilt, sure.  It might even burn to the point where you think all is lost.  But it isn't!  The chard returns, bigger and juicier and more deliciouser when sauteed with olive oil and garlic than ever.

And guess what happens to chard during the winter?  Nothing.  If you keep watering it, it'll soldier on through the freeze and the thaw* and in the spring it'll be the first thing you harvest.  Chard more tenacious than most weeds.  It's a miracle plant!

* In my town chard will live through the winter.  I've seen it.  Don't cry to me about how it won't live through the winter in your area.  You sound like a damn kale.