In 1967, some maniac greenlighted an “animated” Spiderman program for kids. The episodes were about 10 minutes long and consisted of about 13 frames of cell animations. The true travesty of the series wasn’t the horrible animation, nor was it the “story,” which usually consisted of some retarded mental-hospital escapee throwing pies at old people until Spiderman tied the villain’s forehead to his ankles with webs. It was the arch-fiendish theme song.
Fair enough. If I had theme music, though, it would start with, “Shut up, y’all bitches, and listen to this!”
Does whatever a spider can
He actively does whatever a spider can. A spider can die. Spiderman dies all the time. A spider can eat bugs. Spiderman chronically eats bugs. A spider can stand on only seven of its eight legs. Spiderman is always doing this. A spider can also stand on only six of its legs, which Spiderman also does constantly. How, exactly, he stands on six legs and seven at the same time without destroying himself in some sort of logical paradox explosion bomb I have no idea. That’s why he’s a superhero and I’m just a jackass with a Web site.
Spins a web, any size
Again with the absolutes. If Spiderman wished, he could create a web larger than the known universe, which is infinite. See? This is another reason why he’s a superhero. In addition to super powers, he is not limited by natural law.
Catches thieves just like flies.
Flies catch thieves? Okay, I’m being obtuse. This is why God hates people who use similies.
Look out, here comes the Spiderman.
“The” Spiderman? He’s “the” Spiderman now? In that case, I’d like to be called the Justin.
Is he strong? Listen, Bud:
He’s got radioactive blood
What the hell are you talking about? Radioactive blood doesn’t make you strong. It kills you. The only people with radioactive blood I’m familiar with are radiation-therapy cancer patients and victims of nuclear power plant meltdowns. I wouldn’t use the adjective “strong” to describe most of them. Instead, I’d say “bald” or “riddled with tumors.” Or “dead.”
Can he swing? From a thread.
It’s not thread, damn you. It’s a web. If it was thread, he’d be Tailorman. Dumbass.
Take a look overhead.
Hey, there; there goes the Spiderman.
Why is that word repeated?
In the chill of night
Apparently, you’ve never been to Atlanta at night. Even the ice cubes in my vodka are boiling during the summer.
At the scene of a crime
The White House?
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time.
Isn’t light a constantly present thing? It’s not like light shows up only in one brief flash when a crime is being committed. Seriously. I have a light on in my house right now and I’m not doing anything illegal.
Friendly neighborhood Spiderman
Wealth and fame? He’s ignored.
He’s in the newspaper all the damn time! Everyone in the damn city knows him because he wears his jammies outside! If he’s too stupid to contract, that’s not our fault. He could be the richest guy in the world, but he’d rather shoot purse-snatchers in the face with web-glue than make the big bucks. He’s responsible for his own actions, just like those dumbass kids who ran over each other.
Action is his reward
Try paying your rent with “action,” shithead.
To him, life is a great big bang-up.
What a miserable life. A constant automobile accident. Take comfort, though, Spiderman. If there is a god, your car-wreck of a life will kill a couple hundred SUV drivers in the process.
Wherever there’s a hang-up,
You’ll find the Spiderman.
Oh, that is so not true. I have more hang-ups than Puerto Ricans have cousins and Spiderman hasn’t come by once.