Why So Serious?

Comedy gets kind of a bad rap. On the one hand, a comedy might be considered a perfectly acceptable vehicle for a goofy little idea, an energetic lead, and a lot of humorous dialogue. But everybody knows that if you want fiction that plumbs the depth of human emotion, that has heart and soul and is willing to challenge you intellectually and empathetically, you need to look under serious drama.

The general phrasing of things gives away how we feel about this. If a writer has a story or character they want the audience to really invest in, or an actor wants to be appreciated for a deeply nuanced role, they want the audience (and critics) to take them seriously. The amount of respect an entertainer receives seems irrevocably tied to how serious they take themselves and their craft. And it applies to every media: either you're Leonardo DiCaprio, or you're Jack Black; either you're Stanley Kubrick, or you're Shawn Levy; either you're Radiohead, or you're LMFAO.

And this distinction is more extreme now that it ever was before. Silent actor Charlie Chaplin was incredibly well respected for his physical comedy and was able to perfectly balance silliness with anti-Nazi social commentary. With the exception of classic Star Trek, most of television's great strides in racial equality took the form of sitcoms. Jackie Chan made a career out of films where any moment could bring either unbelievable stunts or simple slapstick. Even as late as 1997, we got The Fifth Element, one of the best action movies ever made, and it was more than willing to engage in its fair share of schtick.

Great action movie, or the greatest action movie?

The point being that drama, emotion, social commentary, or just sheer undeniable skill as a performer used to cooperate with comedy, but nowadays it feels like the only action movies with comic relief are Michael Bay pictures.

And you really have to stretch to call those “humorous” or “relieving”.

This era of distinctly separate comedy and drama had its own beginning in each of the media individually, but the thing that seemed to spur it all on in the mainstream pop culture was the Bourne Identity. Despite the fact that it shares a nearly identical plot with Jackie Chan's arguably superior Who Am I?, this humorless and baleful look at the life of a rogue, brainwashed assassin started gritty and depressing, and would only get moreso in the following two sequels. Meanwhile, Hollywood (and the rest of the medias) have been playing catchup ever since, constantly one upping each other in terms of how dismal they can make life for their protagonists.

I think partly it's just that everybody wants their creations to be taken as seriously by audiences as they the creators take it, and the only way they know how to be sure it will be is to flat out demand the audience do so. Obviously, there's some commercialist creators who took a look at the Bourne Identities, the Dark Knights, and the Hunger Games and said, “Whoa, personal tragedy is way in right now, I need to get me some of that.”

“Put the plucky sidekick back in the box, we've got some expositional families to kill.”

But a lot of these I honestly think are the result of writers who don't want their hard work to go unrecognized. Take a look at Young Justice, for instance. It's actually been pretty decent so far, a little angsty at first, but it has recently mostly overcome that. What I consider its biggest flaw, however, is that it seems to feel embarrassed about being a cartoon. It has a tightly knit continuity, in depth character development, shifting status quos and beautifully realistic animation, but these partly feel like the result of the writers constantly working too hard to get noticed; that they're constantly vigilant to always be serious, as if a little bit of levity will undermine all the hard work they've done. Half the time it feels like they're looking right at the camera and saying, “This is very serious, you guys, we demand that you recognize it as such.”

Thankfully, there are others out there who do understand the benefit of balancing comedy. More than that, there is a growing underbelly that for perhaps one of the first widespread times in mainstream fiction has taken to attempting to tell drama and emotional depth through the comedy. Previously, if an important lesson or dramatic moment happened in a comedy, it occurred in a break from the humor; very special episodes, or moments where the laughter died down and an announcement was made that wiped the smile right off your face. But recently there have been more and more stories that have been giving in depth character or plot development while they never stop being funny. Kieth Giffen and J.M. DeMatteis' Justice League International, originally started in 1987, chose to portray its superheroes comically, even goofily, because it was a way to look past the veneer of superheroes' public face and show their personalities when they could be themselves. There's been a resurgence of this team as of late, with two miniseries written by the original creative staff within the last couple years, and multiple episodes devoted to them on the recent Batman: The Brave and The Bold. Brave and the Bold, meanwhile, just finished its three season run of being able to make me laugh out loud with scenes like this:

and then make me cry with scenes like this:

often within the same episode. If the death of a character brought tears to your eyes, it was because they worked their way into your heart by being hilarious. Kieth Giffen and John Rogers made headlines a few years ago by creating Blue Beetle Jaime Reyes, one of the most prominent Mexican superheroes, but what made his comic among the best I've ever read was the level of characterization given to the entire supporting cast, all done through humor, and the fact that there were only two moments in two years where it stopped (briefly) feeling like a comedy. Scott Pilgrim, the movie and the comic, wowed critics and audiences alike with its honest portrayal of modern love and romance, which it presented through a hyperbolically comedic series of challenges to the main character. Community has quickly developed a reputation as the most heartfelt and emotionally deep sitcom currently on TV by embracing the humor as a means to further our care for these characters. These are all stories that understand that the best way to get an audience to take them seriously is to get the audience to want to take them seriously. Not everyone will when you spend more (or even equal) time joking than chin stroking, but not everyone will get into a constant stream of grim and gritty drama. Not everyone agrees with me, but I took Batman: The Brave and The Bold more seriously than I ever could take Young Justice, because instead of constantly demanding my attention, it was willing to just entertain me most of the time, and only occasionally would it ask me (politely, even) to pause, reflect, and feel something. This balance, this style is out there, and hopefully we'll get to see more of it, because frankly, it's way less tiring than than the modern grit we've become so used to. Until we see more of this, I'll be forgoing most of the big summer blockbusters, the new drama shows, and the upcoming comic book crossover events, and I'll be watching endless reruns of the show that perhaps best blends humor and drama, silliness and seriousness. I think you know who it is.

The Internet Just Wants a Hug

I've long believed that you can tell a lot about a civilization by its entertainment. When Romans loved to watch people fight to death in gladiator fights, it said something about what large percentages of that people found entertaining, and the same can be said today. When reality shows and Saw sequels make so much money that studios will not stop making them, it says something about the civilization that we live in. It says that a large enough percentage of our population loves watching dumb people and fictional torture that the people who bring us our entertainment will make sure we are never without a steady supply of new idiots to gawk at and fresh and innovative ways of killing people painfully. But if people in general really do love these things, how come Hollywood says it's struggling? If our entertainment is being made based on what people really want, why does everyone complain that there's nothing good on TV? The entertainment industry has begun to base nearly all of its production line on what's lucrative, but given the growing despondency of audiences, I'm starting to think that money making can be deceptive as to letting us know what people really want. After all, a movie can flop for stupid, stupid reasons, and the same can be said for success. Reality shows, while they certainly have their audience, are really so popular with TV execs because they're cheap to make when script writers aren't being paid. Meanwhile, John Carter, a great movie with a pretty high audience satisfaction rate, pulled in low audiences because of a terribly executed ad campaign and is considered a flop chiefly because its budget was way higher than what it made back. So what can give an accurate depiction of what people are looking for in entertainment? Hows about just straight up asking them?

This is what brings me to the internet.

You see, the internet right now can truly be said to be a cross section of humanity. Not long ago, that statement wouldn't have been accurate. The early internet was comprised mostly of brainy types, because only people who were good with computers could maintain or navigate early websites. Most of the sites that popped up at the beginning, therefore, catered towards the likes and dislikes of that demographic. This opened up a cycle that caused more nerdy people to flock to the internet, and more sites to pop up that were tailor made for nerds. Even as the internet grew and offered a little something for everyone, it first took the form of sites and forums for fans of certain things. Even when there were forums for sports teams and musicians, it still meant that most websites were essentially made for one demographic at a time.

This is basically as unreadable as Egyptian hieroglyphics.

But all this changed. Google, Myspace, Facebook, Reddit, Tumbler, DeviantArt. Sites began to show up that were made without one particular demographic in mind, and now they're the dominant type of non-commercial website on the internet. You're not required to be a nerd or a fan in order to find something worth your while on the internet; all that is required is a computer and internet access, and it will find something that is right up your alley, even if that thing is just talking to the friends you already have. And what this means is that the internet now truly can represent all of mankind (or at least the ones with wifi). And what does this mean for things that the internet latches onto? It means that if a show is big on the internet, it's big with representatives of all demographics. Seeing as how the folks that make our entertainment for us are more concerned with what's successful than what's popular, taking a look at what's the most talked about on the internet is a much better way for people like me to judge the rest of humanity based on what they fill their heads with when they're bored.

As I've begun to look into what the internet finds entertaining, the results have actually vastly improved my outlook on mankind. Want to know why? Let me begin with a specific example.

I'm a really big fan of the show Community, which as you may know (or statistically, not) is on the verge of cancellation. To be more accurate, is basically canceled already with a shortened season coming up before the end. Now, the show hasn't really had the best of times with the ratings, partially because it's been up against Big Bang Theory. Community itself is a show about a group of people in a community college, and and while it certainly has its share of nerdy references, it's moreso a show with a little bit for everybody, the kind of show that anyone with a sense of humor should find accessible. Big Bang Theory, on the other hand, is a show about outdated nerd stereotypes from 80's films, and the dialogue of every episode consists 50% of references to whatever geek fare is closest to mainstream at that particular moment.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm not really a fan.

The interesting part? Big Bang Theory is doing splendidly in the ratings (which is completely inexplicable from my point of view), while Community is doing poorly ratings wise, with the exception of its huge internet presence.

Now, my point isn't that the internet is great simply because it has vastly superior taste to the Nielson families. It's something more; it's why the internet loves Community so much, but can only give an unenthusiastic “meh” to Big Bang Theory, despite the fact that it seems like it would be (ostensibly) aimed directly at them.

Why wouldn't nerds enjoy this accurate, loving depiction of their culture?

Gawker recently asked this question, and their answer is, I think, a good reason to give the internet a second chance. Essentially, it boiled down to the way each show portrayed the relationships between the characters; Big Bang Theory just shows us some people who hang out together and plays their personal conversations for laughs; Community portrays a group of people coming together, becoming friends, and overcoming obstacles to remain friends. The point of one show is “ha, those nerdy types sure are a hoot, aren't they?”, while the point of the other is, “let's all be buddies here”.

And the internet is eating it up.

Gawker's conclusion was that the internet finds appealing entertainment that emphasizes friendship, closeness, communication, and, if you will, a sense of community. I find this suggestion very encouraging, and it got me to take a closer look at what else is popular. Stuff like My Little Pony. Have you heard of Bronies? That's the name given to the vast hordes of adult, male fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It sounds horrible, mostly because any portmanteau that features the word “bro” is horrible. But when you stop to think about it, it's actually kind of sweet. I was morbidly curious when I heard how oddly popular My Little Pony was, so I watched the pilot. I'm not going to lie, I kind of loved it. The aesthetic was obviously not made with me in mind, but there was a core essence of kindness that I enjoyed thoroughly. There was an extended sequence where one by one, each of the protagonists (I can't say “each of the ponies” and still have you take this sentence seriously) individually overcomes an obstacle through some unique, positive trait and gets the group one step closer to their goal. This even included taming a furious manticore (I know, right) by removing a thorn from its paw, and I'm not afraid to say I teared up a little there.

I'm not going to continue watching My Little Pony, mostly because I simply cannot allow myself to belong to a group with “bro” in its name, and also because as much as it was my perfect idea of a fairy tale, I just can't watch a show about ponies.

Also, the dragon sidekick is pretty annoying, and gives me a serious Max from Dragon Tales vibe, which is entirely the wrong kind of nostalgia.

But just look at how much this show which is designed for young girls is bringing together fans from all sorts of demographics, just because they want to be entertained by something sweet and kind. And it's all over the place. Plenty of shows get canceled every year, but which ones get noteworthy fan campaigns to save them? How about Firefly, which features a tight knit, familial crew of a spaceship. Or Kim Possible, about a tight knit, familial trio of teenagers who fight crime (and also spend time loving their own, literal families). Or Jericho, which is about a tight knit, familial group of people trying to survive in a post apocalyptic wasteland (seriously, Wikipedia even says, “Several themes regularly addressed in the show included... community identity, the value of family, and the hardships of fatherhood”.)

What about comic books? Yeah, it's true that Batman is the most popular character right now, but if you want to know what's big on the internet, look for what the publishers refer to as “fan favorites”. Fan Favorites include Birds of Prey, an all girl superhero team that has dealt with strengthening the bonds of friendship on so many levels; the All New Atom, about the adventures of Ryan Choi and his ever loyal supporting cast; Blue Beetle, which featured the teenaged Jaime Reyes coming completely clean to his whole family and best friends about having a secret superhero identity by the third issue; even Secret Six, which got about as dark as a comic about a mercenary team of supervillains could get, but still managed to make you love the characters because of how close knit and familial they were.

The lesson here? For every Yahoo Answers trolling, there's someone talking about how the happy ending to the latest Doctor Who episode made them cry. For every YouTube comments Flame War, there's a forum hoping for a full series of Super Best Friends Forever. And for every Craigslist killer, there's about 50,000 internet users who just want a hug.

Gee, maybe humanity isn't so bad after all.

Gimme Some Candor

So it’s closing in on summer and another Transformers movie is heading our way. Now, I've never cared too much for the franchise, and I snickered aloud first time I saw the latest preview, but truth be told, I probably will be seeing it. Being honest, this is mostly because I am, at heart, 12-years-old, and there will always be an itch that only giant robots bashing each other into explosions can satisfy. But a small part, I will say, is the candidness of Michael Bay. You see, the last installment was widely derided for being a montage of mindless explosions. So when it came time for a third movie, no amount of aping the Inception noise for the new trailer would placate the audiences who were starting to doubt that there would actually be a little plot to go along with the robot fight scenes.

To allay our fears, the director was primed to take the stage to tell us that this sequel would indeed be better, but to do that would require admitting the previous one needed improvement. Would he be willing to make that admission? Bravely, Bay did just that when he point blank and without sidestepping, said “that was crap.”

I appreciate that. He’s right, the movie was crap. You know what else was crap? 80% or more of what the rest of the media has been feeding us, completely unapologetically. I appreciate that for once, a director took the time to essentially apologize for what he’d done and promise to do better next time (and have that apology actually be about the movies themselves and not some sort of drunken fiasco). My biggest question at this point is why aren’t there more people doing that?

Seriously, it’s a legitimate question. I sat through Wolverine: Origins, I played Metroid: Other M, I read Brightest Day, and I still have yet to receive an apology for any of those. The time and money I spent on those went off into a black hole of wasted resources, and I have nothing to show for it but disappointment. At this point, I’m not even angry that these things sucked, but that their makers show no sense of reprehensibility for the sucking. I understand sometimes things go wrong. Deadlines need to be met, creative differences arise, certain risks are made that don’t always pay off. I am more than willing to forgive a cook a few broken eggs it means he’ll learn to make the omelet. But I walked away from these instances, and have no indication that an omelet is coming; all I can reasonably expect is more broken eggs and blank looks as to why I’m not enjoying this.

And I’m not the only one who’s hurt by this lack of candor: these makers are hurting themselves. As with addiction rehabilitation, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Without this admission, they will never learn from their mistakes. That’s why honest disclosure is so important. Think about Superman Returns (or don’t, if you prefer). Bryan Singer, who’d been so successful in adapting the mopey, edgy X-Men, dropped that franchise in order to jump to Mr. Bright-and-Shiny superheroes himself, Superman, in what should have been recognized as the most inappropriate pairing of director and material since they tried to get Tim Burton on Superman. As a result, he ruined both franchises.

What we should have gotten:

What we got instead:

If ever an apology was overdue, this would be it, yet when Singer finally addressed the issue, the most he faults the film for is being “a bit nostalgic and romantic”. Seriously, the movie refused to delve any deeper into Superman’s vast mythology than “Holy crap, this guy has super strength”; they cast Lois Lane as a pouty banshee; and they gave the big blue boy scout an illegitimate son that he abandoned, but the most the director said was wrong with it was that it was too respectful to its successful predecessors, and that the big thing he would fix would be to ‘tighten up the first act’? If the fates were to frown upon us and Bryan Singer got another shot at Superman, apparently he would make the same mistakes, just without the exposition.

And here we get to the crux of the matter, the fact that this lack of candor not only can, but has and is still leading to the same mistakes being repeated. Take DC Comics. Once upon a time, they were more than willing to not just admit mistakes, but to take action with the audience’s express desires in mind. When they paired Batman with the much maligned new Robin Jason Todd, they heard the cries of anguish at how terrible a character Jason was. Time kept going, and so did the complaints, so eventually they did respond, and how: the audience was polled on whether this new character lived or died. This was not only an admission of guilt in creating a truly unlikable character, it was offering the audience to be a part of correcting the matter, while simultaneously adding a touching new layer to the Batman mythos. In terms of creative penance, this is the gold standard. Fast forward 22 years, and what do we have? The latest Robin is as unlikable as the original Jason, is the illegitimate spawn of Batman and someone-who-is-not-Catwoman, and also Jason’s been brought back too. (Though to be fair, in a bizarre twist, the story that brought Jason back is actually so good it makes it hard to complain). They’re not just not apologizing for current mistakes, they’re actively taking back previous apologies and seeing how many times they can make the same ones again. Last September, they drastically altered Wonder Woman’s costume and back story to something terrible enough to offend just about everybody. A year later, they still haven’t said they’re sorry, and instead they’re going to do the same thing with every other character (including Wonder Woman, again, for good measure). The costumes are even being designed by the same guy who made the much hated last one; they actually picked the guy who thought Wonder Woman needed a leather jacket with football player shoulder pads, showed him the entire collection of DC superheroes and said, “Do your worst.”And he did.

"And don't come back until you've ruined everybody."

Seriously, Hollywood, and TV Land, and Comics World, enough is enough. I really want to like what you have to give me. Without you I’ll have to spend my free time talking to my family or doing something productive, and neither of us want that. But if you don’t admit your mistakes, then I can’t help you. You’ll keep doing the same things wrong over and over, and I’ll give you the cold shoulder for a while and try to pretend nothing’s wrong. We’ll just keep growing more and more distant until we don’t even know each other anymore. Then one day you’ll wake and look for me, but it will be too late, and I’ll be long gone.

I'm not enjoying this any more than you.

Property Claims

I want to ask a question here, and I hope I don’t end up sounding like a bigot; how come gay men can claim heterosexual women as their representatives? I’ve recently become a big fan of Wonder Woman comics, and while my reasons for enjoying them stem from their propensity towards superpowers, sword fighting, beautiful and ageless warrior women, and mythological creatures, I’ve found out that Wonder Woman is also considered a gay man’s superhero.

Nothing says male homosexuality like a hot chick punching demons at the Lincoln Memorial.

I don’t understand this, for the same reason I don’t understand why that demographic is so attached to Judy Garland and Julie Newmar. I suppose Garland I can kind of get, what with “Over the Rainbow”. It’s a bit of a stretch, almost a pun, like when Stephenie Meyer used Arcade Fire’s “My Body is a Cage” for her book about Bodysnatcher aliens. It’s a tenuous connection, but I suppose it’s there. But really, how do you make the leap from the hottest Catwoman ever (no offence to Eartha Kitt, Lee Meriwether, Michelle Pfeiffer, Halle Berry, and Anne Hathaway), to movies about men in drag? Same goes for Wonder Woman. I’m honestly at a loss at to where the logic lies in making the leap from a superhero clad in the American flag who represents a pinnacle of the perfect womanly behaviors of peacemaking and nurturing to male homosexuality. If Wonder Woman has to be used as a representative for one specific demographic, I’d just as soon assume the obvious one: women.

But really, this is a wider phenomenon. How can any one demographic really lay claim to one particular character or celebrity? Sometimes it seems simple and makes sense. John Wayne, Jackie Chan, and Bruce Willis are seen as men’s kind of actors, and that makes sense: they specialize in cool and manly things like shooting people, kicking people, and blowing people up (in some cases, all of the above). But when you really stop to think about it, couldn’t they just as easily be women’s kind of actors? Aren’t they physically attractive to women? (I’m honestly asking here, because I’ve come to realize I really don’t know. I just found out that the three closest women to me at work all think Nicolas Cage is, quote, “Hot!”, so my world view has been turned entirely upside down and I don’t know who to trust anymore.)

Sexy!

Gone With the Wind gets a rap as a women’s movie, but why? At it’s core it’s about war and the Confederacy; you don’t get much more manly than that. I’m pretty certain you’d be hard pressed to find a man who didn’t find Julianne Moore, Cate Blanchett, and Minnie Driver attractive, and yet ohmygodtheyreallinthesamemovie and it’s considered only for women.

Sometimes the ones who get claimed by one group or another don’t make any sense between the two of them; Samus Aran, interstellar bounty hunter in a robo suit and one of the first female video game heroes is played mainly by boys it seems, yet Lara Croft, reigning queen of polygon assets, is a feminist icon.

From left to right: chick with a gun, chick with guns

Now, sometimes a celebrity is particularly outspoken for a certain demographic, so I can understand when Buddhists claim Shirley McClain, or blue collar workers with fancy cars claim Bruce Springsteen. But I don’t think that any person or piece of fiction should belong to any one race or religion or gender or creed. I don’t have to work at an automobile factory in Michigan to jam to “Thunder Road”, nor should I have to.

I have a dream. I dream of a world where men can enjoy Wonder Woman and women can enjoy Power Girl; where chicks can play video games and dudes can enjoy baking; where white people can love watermelon and fried chicken and black people can eat mayonnaise and free range brown eggs; where Americans can appreciate soccer while baseball and apple pie are products of the world instead of one country; where you don’t have to be a poindexter to like edutainment and you’re never to old to watch a Saturday morning cartoon. If we as a people can learn to see ourselves beyond social labels with preset lists of allowable likes and dislikes, then we can finally learn to like all things indiscriminately. This, this is my dream.

Time to Take a Break

A wise old fortune cookie once told me, “If you love something let it go. If it returns, it’s yours forever, if it doesn’t it was never yours to begin with.” Wise words indeed, but I’ve been thinking recently that this should start applying to things we don’t love so very much; things we have perhaps gotten a little bit sick of. I propose that we, as a world, just stop doing certain things for a while, let them sit, and when the time comes (believe me, we’ll all just know) let them start up on their own again. If these things are truly something to have around, they’ll crop back up eventually, and our love and appreciation for them will have grown exponentially during the time they were away, something about absence and hearts and fodder (again, fortune cookie). If everyone forgets about them during the break, and no one ever brings them up again, then we’ll be able to congratulate ourselves on dodging a societal bullet and never have to deal with it again (much like what I hoped would happen every summer break from school, although this idea never seemed to have caught on.)

This may sound like pretty out there notion, but let me assure you there is a precedent to this sort of thing. Take a look back at Romantic Comedies. They hit a heyday in the times of early cinema, but after the Audrey Hepburn years ended in the early 60’s, they just kind of drifted off the map and everyone forgot all about them. The genre had run out of steam, all the stories had been done and all the clichés had become too commonplace; everyone was bored of Romantic Comedies. So humanity did itself a favor, and just stopped making them. It was a nice long break from the French film Irma La Douce in 1963 until someone decided to make another major Rom-Com, when Woody Allen made Annie Hall in 1977. His new and innovative take on the genre revitalized the public’s interest in Romantic Comedies, paving the way for Matthew McConaughey.

Woody Allen’s fault.

My point is, this has happened before, albeit by accident. What’s to stop us from joining together as a global community, and doing this kind of thing on purpose for the benefit of all mankind? So let’s just take a break from things like:

Romantic Comedies: Boy howdy, what ever were we thinking bringing these things back? I mean, I suppose the genre has its merits when it’s starring the likes of Audrey Hepburn, or even later generations actresses like Goldie Hawn, but it has once again reached a saturation point well beyond the time when we should have stopped making these things. Look at this list of the top examples of Romantic Comedies on Wikipedia. You can see that clear break between 1963 and 1977, but even more importantly, compare the size of the lists before and after the break. Yes, Woody Allen decided the world needed to bring back the Romantic Comedy, but I’m not sure even he knew the floodgates he was opening. Not only are the plots tired and rehashed, but the genre is also a prime breeding grounds of heinous criminal careers like the aforementioned McConaughey and Dane Cook (although, he also has benefited from the “dysfunctional family on vacation in a Vermont cabin” genre , one which is also desperately need in a semi-permanent break). So, it’s time to give ourselves a break and stop this madness for now, or possibly forever.

The “F” Word: Seriously guys, this is one that has gone far enough. Aside from pronouns, articles, and conjunctions, can you think of a single word that pops up with the frequency of the “F” word. One of the first rules of writing is to refrain, as much as possible, from using words like “thing” and “it”, because they are purposefully vague and end up sounding like filler words for when we can’t think of anything else. The “F” word is exactly that as an adjective, except it has become accepted and even encouraged. For instance, if a movie is rated PG-13, it’s merely a commercial project pandering to the lowest common denominator. If you toss in the “F” word enough, bumping it up to an “R” rating, it’s to be taken seriously as an Oscar contender. It’s a vague, often meaningless word, made inane by its overuse and overdependence. It’s barely even a foul word any more, because it’s barely even a word anymore. With such a Brobdignagian vocabulary at our disposal, we can come up with better adjectives for our everyday use, and that is why we should all just take a break from this word, for now, and possibly forever.

Autobiographies: I don’t have that much of a problem with autobiographies themselves, but their biggest problem also stems from their biggest strength: they’re a biography written by the person they’re about. The problem therein is that the person pretty much has to be alive to write it, and right now there’s really no one alive that has led a life that worthy of a biography.

The progress of autobiography readability over time.

The lack of biographable people combined with the public’s continued acceptance of autobiographies still being published has led the massive, dirty autobiography industry to horrible, horrible crimes. Don’t believe me? Three words: “Miles to Go”. And since those three words were so popular, I’m going to revise that to add another two words: “Extended Edition”. Also, since the only thing a person needs in order to be worthy of an autobiography is a pun based title describing the most frequent hardship overcome in their life, this is one of the few genres of literature, where you can actually judge the books by their cover. For this reason, we really have to take a break from this genre of books for now, or possibly forever.

Comic Book Deaths: Okay, this is a big one. This is a problem that has been going on so long that it has its own Wikipedia page. Once people said, “No one stays dead except Bucky, Jason Todd and Uncle Ben”, but it has become so all encompassing that it has been revised to leave out two thirds of its own original exceptions. The problem is not necessarily it’s own impermanence, but the fact that when it is impermanent it means it shouldn’t have been done in the first place. I have multiple t-shirts with Aquaman on them, and yet someone thought it was a good idea to kill him. When someone decides to bring him back to life, undoing a mistake that should never have been made, the act of solution adds to the ridiculousness of a situation. That is the problem. The idea of a comic book character dying is often employed as a cheap tactic for dramatic effect, emotional heart string tugging, or possibly just shock value. But all of these things rely on the rarity and permanence of the trope, and without them it is useless, thus it continues to exist without any real purpose. My suggestion serves two purposes; it lets us take a break from having to endure these mistakes in writing, and also it allows the trope to rest and regain its meaning for potential later use. I hereby challenge DC, Marvel, and everyone else to set aside a lengthy period of time to just not kill anyone. No casualties, no cannon fodder, no red shirts, no women in refrigerators. Just have everybody live for a while year or so, and see what we think at that point. You might find that we only want to pause this trope for now, or possibly forever.

Vampires: Long time coming. On the one hand, they’re already pretty overdone. But look deeper at what we, as a civilization, are doing with vampires right now. They pretty much fall into three categories: either they’re gory slasher villains, or they’re sexy, sexy bad boys, or they sparkle. It’s those three choices, or nothing.

As a fourth choice, they can sell breakfast cereal.

With all the things you could do with vampires, from a cutting commentary on the members of society who figuratively drink the blood of the innocent all the way to Blacula, the only thing we have to offer right now is the most basic array of sex, violence, or sparkles. No range, no variety, nothing deeper, just those three things. The problem isn’t that we’ve told all the tales there are to tell about vampires, it’s that we’re limiting ourselves to the best portrayals a Middle School mind could come up with. This is why we need to take a break from vampires, for now, or possibly forever.

Reality TV: No explanation needed, just take a break from this. Forever. Period.

What Not to Wear

I’ve tried to mind my own business, but there is a certain problematic segment of society who I believe are ruining it to its core. They are known by many names. Some call them Indie, others call them Hipsters. I myself simply prefer to call them Stupid. And while my normal stance on public displays of stupidity is to live and let live, sometimes the stupidity of others encroaches on my very way of life. As a result I would like to submit a simple law to govern certain aspects of lifestyles of the dumb and proud of it.

Specifically, you cannot wear merchandise ironically.

I think I should probably elaborate on the events that led to this decision. I was very hungry Sunday afternoon, and despite how much I despise hipsters and every hipster friendly restaurant, sometimes food needs to be consumed, regardless of the source. So as I warily made my way through the parking lot at Chipotle, gingerly avoiding any cars with fedoras and tambourines on the dashboard (I am not even kidding), eventually gaining my food and finding an empty table. My goal was to get through this meal as quickly as possible, so as spend as little time in that foul den of irony as I humanly could. Still, the hope that someone of these wicked hordes might indeed have some form of humanity left within their oxidized soul is too great to prevent my eyes from peering at one, then at another, in the vain possibility of some semblance of personality and purity. All seemed lost, until I spied one young man in a group, specifically it was a faint splash of green that caught my eye. Further gazing prevailed upon my doubts to reveal an answer to my hopes; goodness could indeed be found in someone among these denizens, and here it was the proof before me: a man in a Green Lantern t-shirt! Dare I approach? I dare, for the prospect of locating someone else who found themselves so lost among this crowd of barbarians was too great to ignore. Slowly I picked my way across the room, the dismal din of soft cooing backed by repeated acoustic power chords caterwauling against my ears, enhanced by the faux-artistic style of concrete floors and steel walls. Halfway across the arena, I froze. My mouth agape, I spotted a horrible apparition that showed my previous discovery to be nothing more than a hoax. Joining the table, the same as the man who bore the emblem of the emerald gladiator, was some kid in a Thundercats shirt! The horror, the pain, the wretched ignominy! How dare he, HOW DARE HE! Thundercats was all the evidence I needed; no one wears anything Thundercats related in any way other than ironically. And where one person wore ironically, so did others, including he who would defile the mighty name of the Corps! Steadfast and manlike now I strode across the floor, before coming to a halt before the vile wretches at the table. With a look of stern reprimand wrote across my face, I stood with feet apart, shoulders back, and fists on hip as I stared straight at the man’s chest. My worst fear confirmed; his Green Lantern shirt was artificially faded. My lips spread involuntarily in a scornful grimace.

The wretch looked up at me, and confusedly asked, “Can I help you, space cadet?”

I ground my teeth and paused, lengthily, before responding. “Recite the oath,” I ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“Recite the oath, scumbag.”

“What oath?” while, puzzled he still managed to convey a sense of self righteous pride.

“You know very well what oath I’m referring to. The Lantern Oath. The Oath associated with the uniform you wear so callously.” Despite the fact that I did not use any “P” sounds in that sentence, I forced my mouth to spit extravagantly as I spoke.

“Are you some dumb comic nerd?” he asked, haughtily.

“Do not dare impugn the reputation of a Lantern wielder, evildoer. Now recite the oath or remove that sacred uniform from your person.”

“Dude, it’s a t-shirt.”

“This is a t-shirt!” I retorted. In retrospect, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

“No, that is a Halloween costume.”

“Excuse me?”

“What you’re wearing. Did you buy that at the comic book store?” He must’ve been referring to the green and black body suit I was wearing, complete with green domino mask and ring.

“And what is wrong with the comic book store?” I queried.

“Nothing, if it’s an independent comic book store…” I think that’s how he was going to finish that sentence. He really couldn’t have gone many other ways with that. I’ll never know however, as my fist (again, involuntarily) began to repeatedly punch him in the side of the head as soon as he said the word “independent”. Then I began to punch other people, too. I believe I exhibited a decent sense of self control during the whole ordeal, as I refrained from punching anyone not wearing scarves, converse shoes, or shirts for bands I’ve never heard of. But there were a lot of people wearing those things. I believe the police reports claimed assaults again 27 people, but I swear it was no more than 14.

Either way, this is my basis for enacting this rule from now on. Hipsters, you are no longer allowed to wear merchandise for comics, cartoons, movies, bands, or breakfast cereal “ironically”. From this point onward, any store carrying t-shirts, pins, stickers, or any other form of imprinted clothing or accessories must quiz any customer buying said products, to make sure they truly are a fan who is wearing this for the merit of displaying their affection of something. I know this may seriously damage the sales of certain properties, but if an 80’s cartoon cannot enough to support a thriving t-shirt industry without the crutch of indie people, it wasn’t that good to begin with. Many store franchises may go out of business, but if Urban Outfitters goes under and there’s no other place you can get shot glasses with filthy words written on them in cursive, I think the world will actually be a better place.