Spooky Chicago, my ass. Aw crap, its Holy Week, I'm doing another 52 years in purgatory, ah well. No, I did not write about the goth dead chicks, I had an article about all of the hallowed haunting grounds in this sinful city. It was 70 degrees on Sunday, and it is currently 28 and dropping. What the Geronimo H. Bald headed Christmas is going on? Who has my slice of the global warming pie? The only saving grace from this frightening return to semi-winter is the wonderful panel of Superman--ahem!--trying to explain to Supergirl why they can't have sex. Or go see a movie. Or read Roald Dahl stories aloud to each other as they sat from opposite ends of a big, giant bubble bath. Wearing fedoras.
6 comments:
Ah, the comics of my youth. Such silly things, and so unintentionally hilarious in the light of old age.
I recall that one. I really miss all of the early 60s silliness of the Superman universe. Superman Red and Superman Blue remains an old favorite of mine.
Ever read "Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex" by Niven?
I fear Planet Earth is all but ready to serve you up many steaming helpings of Global Warming Pie in the coming years.
wwwhoohoooo....I got a guide to wearing fdoras.
very kewl post:)
I'm glad that on Krypton they were well aware of inbreeding error. And Wayne, if you ever do write a book on goth dead chicks I'd buy it.
Un-freakin-believable, isn't it? It was 27 this morning, and snowed up here yesterday.
At least Superman had some scruples.
Summer barely touched us here. We just slid from cold wet spring to cold wet autumn with maybe a week's break in between.
Sounds like it's just getting worse and worse.
I'd have nailed Kara.
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