Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Robin, Son of Batman #13

The Review!
Ray Fawkes finally convinces me that he's capable of writing Damian well. He may have done it an issue or two but I'm only now publicly acknowledging the fact. He had a lot of help from my crush on Maya. Without that, I might not have cared enough to finish reading this series. That's a lie. I would have finished reading this series whether I cared about it or not. Having horribly inappropriate feelings for an underaged fictional character just helped! The important word in that last sentence was "fictional". Now I'm wondering if Nabokov wrote Lolita so he could look at every man who ever read it and think, "You probably got aroused reading that, didn't you? You pervert!" It is a pretty awesome accomplishment to write something that should so horribly offend the social and cultural norms of the reader but still allows them to get all hot and heavy about the sexy bits. They're just as disgusting as the protagonist of the novel! Whose name I can't remember because his name wasn't used as the title! I would also like to say that I totally didn't find any bits of Lolita sexy. Maybe my penis did. But my mind was all, "Ew! Who would want a relationship with a young girl?! I can't even imagine having a relationship with somebody in their twenties at this point in my life! And I'm not even sure I could deal with somebody in their thirties! To me, they're all just unwashed twelve-year olds playing Dungeons and Dragons around their parents' kitchen table! No matter how hot they might look!" Also, A+ or 8 out of 10 or 77% or whatever rating you want to choose for this issue. What do you care if I liked it?! Formulate your own opinions!

The Commentary!
Damian has decided that to truly atone for his wickedness and bad behavior, he's going to rehabilitate Naimad! Err, Suren! Suren is currently the physical manifestation of Damian's bad attitude. Maya probably totally thinks he's hot. Except she's way older than him, by like two years or something. That might not seem like a lot but it's vast when you're eleven and thirteen. Or ten and twelve. Or thirteen and fifteen (although maybe not so much there). I really don't know how old any of these kids are!

Maya is super cute so if I write anything disgusting involving her and my seedy desires, just remember that it isn't my old, perverse man desires talking! It's the naive, innocent longing that still lives in my head which allows me to remember being that age! Boy, the things I would do to Maya if I were her age again! I'd sit and stare at her creepily! I'd avoid eye contact! I'd develop several different spontaneous speech impediments if I were somehow forced into a situation where we had to speak! I'd write down the lyrics to Lionel Richie's "Hello" on a sheet of paper and think about giving it to her! After I was through with Maya, she'd never even know I existed!

Oh Maya! You're so dreamy!

Sometimes when I was younger, I found it hard to know if I wanted to be with a girl (in an innocent, I have no idea what to do around a girl but my heart is dying kind of way) or if I wanted to be that girl. I wanted to have that power to allure boys like me! For some reason, I associated that power to capture hearts as only one that girls had. But I'm sure there were just as many girls my age (probably more!) wishing they could also be the cute girl I was pining for. So it wasn't so much being a girl as being a cute girl! And that thought just made my mind think of doing a parody Robert Frost poem that I probably shouldn't type but will anyway.

Bitches By Grunion Frost

When I see hot bitches bend to left and right,
Across the lines of taller, uglier girls,
I like to think some boy's been doing it to them.
But doing it to them doesn't bend them down to stay
As text-books do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with books a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They clique upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stares watch the wind lift their hemlines.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed fuzzy sweaters
Plopping and tumbling on the snowy bench--
Such heaps of frilly warmth abandoned
You'd think a passing Gap truck lost its merch.
They are dragged from class to class by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bored
So bad for so long, they never write themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the mall
Years afterwards, trailing their jackets on the ground
Like birches bent over by ice from an ice-storm, their limbs
Before them on the ground, leaves darkening in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the text-books
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to "fetch the cows"--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only porn was porn he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could jerk alone.
One by one he subdued his school's 'B's
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not propositioning too soon
And so not driving the girl away
Clear to her home. He always kept his poise
With the hot bitches, escalating carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he swung forward, lips first, with a swish,
Groping his way down through the clothes to the mound.
So was I once myself a doer of bitches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a loveless bang
Where your face burns and tickles with MDMA
Racing across it, and one eye is weeping (if you get my meaning)
From a "twig's" having jacked it off across the room.
I'd like to get away from maleness awhile
And then come back to it after being a hot bitch.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
To return me an ugly girl. Hot bitches are right for love:
I don't know who it's like to go better with.
I'd like to go by climbing a bitch
And climb black limbs up a chocolate trunk
Toward heaven, till the girl could bear no more,
But doffed her top and got me off again.
That would be good both going and coming and coming and coming.
One could do worse than be a doer of bitches.

Just remember as you judge me that that was a playful parody of a poem I love very much! It never even occurred to me to turn "Birches" into "Bitches" or how it might be manipulated to, um, sort of work. Kind of. Not really but remember, it was playful! The only reason it sprang to mind was the line about some fate half granting the wish to leave and come back to Earth when I said I sometimes fantasized about being a girl but, of course, realized what I wanted was to be an adorable girl. I mean, who doesn't?! Anyway, you either forgive me for that playful bent or you don't. Either way, let's get back to Robin, Son of Batman!

While eating dessert, the kids are attacked by some Lu'un Darga Ninjas. They're a little bit angry that Suren fucked up the world ending ritual because they had already told all of the people they owe money to fuck off. Now imagine how embarrassed they are to have to deal with those people again, seeing as how the world didn't end! I'd be mad too.

The Ninjas drop down dead, killed by some energy draining power from one of Suren's still living relatives. He or she probably should have coordinated the attack with the ninjas so that the ninjas weren't accidentally killed. Maya is able to trace the energy drain to beneath the crater in Tunguska, Russia.

Even in the face of unspeakable evil, they're adorable!

Deep under Tunguska, Damian, Maya, Goliath, and Suren encounter Suren's father, Den Darga! That probably means this story is almost over! Suren is about to come to term with his Daddy Issues! That's always the ultimate story in any DC character's character arc. I think Marvel must deal with the Mommy Issues. Is that why DC begins with a "D" and Marvel begins with an "M"? Did I just crack the comic book equivalent of the Da Vinci Code?!

Den Darga is surprised to see his son alive while the world yet lives. But I'm glad they had this encounter so I can point out another great moment in Grandmaster Comic Book Readerdom!

As I said in the commentary on Issue #12: "His father may or may not have loved him but he certainly doesn’t love him now, the little failure!"

Robin's great big plan to stop Den Darga is one of his dad's favorite plans: play the martyr! That always gets the girl! So Damian destroys Den Darga's Apocalyptic Battery of Souls but, in so doing, collapses from the strain. He's probably dead, right? Totally dead. It's not like Gotham and Gotham Girl could be bothered to save a fricking Robin.

Damian is only mostly dead and his spirit is able to reenter his body through the encouragement of his friends and the obliteration of Daddy Issues. I would scan the page where Robin cries (not letting his friends see his joy in being loved so well) but there's a really cute picture of Maya's butt on that page and I fear I might get creepy talking about it. I think it's okay to talk about it in this paragraph where you can't actually look at it. Also she's a fictional character and I'm going to believe she's thirty-eight years old. And you know what they say about thirty-eight year olds and their butts! Yeah, you know what. I don't either. I think maybe nobody says anything about that.

So, you know, that's it! The end! The kids win! Suren has defeated his father just like every child must if they're going to become an adult. I think that's why I'm still not much of an adult. I should probably get on solving all of those Daddy Issues and/or destroying my father.

I wanted to end with this picture saying, "So cute!" But the cynical, disgusting part of my brain keeps screaming, "Suren has a boner!"

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