*Why does no one think it at all strange to be gluing appliques on their baby? And what about gluing shit on boys? How about little bow-ties, since we’re going for that whole gender essentialism thing?
Tired of your baby girl being seen as a genderless imp? Afraid strangers might not recognize your sexless proto-human as the soft femme heartbreaker she is? Well now you can glue some shit on her head! That’s right, just glue some gender conformity right onto her unclosed fontanelle! Say goodbye to awkwardly explaining that no, despite her bald head, your androgynous poop machine is actually a demure coquette! Glue your fucking baby today!
*Once I sit down in my house, that’s it! I’m not having any more interactions with ppl for the rest of the evening. And no, don’t even be in my neighborhood.
*I think it might have been a mistake for NASA to ask for suggestions on this. I mean they’re talking to Americans and I think we invented snark.
*This is the most plausible explanation, I’ve ever seen, for why people don’t recognize Clark Kent as Superman, and its not the eyeglasses:
I still think it’s hilarious that the reason nobody ever figures out Superman’s secret identity or where he lives or what he does when he’s not saving the planet, is because he already told them all the Kryptonian stuff that can’t be tied to any of his human friends or family. I guarantee you the in-universe wikipedia article on Superman lists his name as Kal-El and the “personal life” section says that he lives full-time at his private fortress of solitude at the north pole. Nobody in the world looks at Clark Kent and thinks “oh my god, maybe he’s superman!” for the same reason nobody ever starts to suspect that their coworker who looks KINDA like Barack Obama is actually secretly Barack Obama – They know who Barack Obama is and know what he does and they know their coworker Greg is Greg and not Barack Obama. They have no reason to assume Barack Obama secretly moonlights as Greg The IT Guy at their workplace even though they’ve never seen Greg and Obama in the same place. At best, “Greg is secretly Obama” would be a running joke at the office, and the same is true at the Daily Planet. “Kal-El of Krypton, who lives in a CRYSTAL PALACE at the NORTH POLE and whose dayjob is SUPERMAN, sometimes puts on a suit and pretends to be a clumsy reporter and lives in a one-bedroom walkup in Metropolis” is a ridiculous concept to anyone who doesn’t already know it’s true
“Hey, that— that guy, in the corner, is that— is that Superman?”
Clark looks up from his computer at the new intern. “Oh, no,” he says. “You caught me.”
“Clark, you pull this shit every time, man,” his desk neighbor Steve says. “Shut the fuck up.”
“No, the kid’s right, I’m Superman,” Clark says. He gets out of his seat and cracks his back out. “I guess we’re gonna have a superhero fight.”
“Clark, sit back down.”
“Nope. Superhero fight.”
“Clark if you don’t sit the hell back down and finish your article by lunch I am going to tell Perry on you.”
Clark points at the intern. “You get off easy this time, buddy,” he says, and sits back down.
“So…” the intern says, very lost. “Uh…”
“That’s Clark,” a slightly older and more experienced intern says. “He’s Superman’s asshole twin.”
*This is, very possibly, one of the best reviews of Fences. Ever! Or, as clueless White people at awards shows like to call it, Hidden Fences!
Art Art by John Ueland