This is a metaphor for last night:
I was reading through this old Batman & Robin comic book… I think it was Batman #167 from November, 1964 and I was trying to guess both the artist and the writer without looking at the credits at the reprint index.
Now of course I can’t pinpoint with Stealth bomber-accuracy every ghost-artist that Bob Kane ever had but I was pretty sure it was not Sheldon Moldoff because the way the hands are positioned.
As for the writer it was pretty much a given: It was not a story with a moral so I quickly ruled Gardner Fox out. The sheer statistics of it made me rule out guys like Ed Hamilton (I think he did World’s Finest, by the way) and Frances Herron (more of a “Green Arrows of the World” guy anyway even though I think Bill Finger did that one).
I was, then, pretty much between Bill Finger and John Broome and for some odd reason which I can’t really explain I was almost going with Broome even though he’s more of a sci-fi writer than anything else and it even wasn’t a sci-fi story. I mean, the redwood tree-reference (most certainly picked from an encyclopedia) was definitely a hallmark of Finger’s and I do recall an interview in Alter-Ego from a few years back in which Finger’s son told about his father’s researching for funnybook scripting.

What really left me wondering was, why the hell was I thinking John Broome? Because people said so?!
God if there’s one thing I’ve learned is that 99% of humanity are f*cking apes and the very odds of my being right against something they said is just too immense not to consider.

I can’t believe I actually let my self-confidence wave away like that for so long.
In times like this it’s very important to have a cavalry to call upon even though the cavalry might end up trying to pick you up afterwards or something, ewww.

But hey, I’m 100% Bill Finger, babes…

This is not a metaphor for last night but a direct result of it:
Now please don’t make it look as if I care because to be very honest with you I really don’t think I do, at least not anymore.
Hopefully it won’t make me a lousy person in your eyes- god only knows what you think of me these days- still I woke up this morning with the distinct need of re-evaluating my position on pretty much everything and it begins with my position on what Biff did in Back to the Future II.
See, it all began when Biff or Biff’s descendant or someone even mildly Biff-related stole the sports almanac and traveled through time and created an alternative reality where everything was most foul and…
God it took me how many lines to reach a cliché this time around?

…I can’t whistle to this song in my head because I sure as hell don’t remember the melody only this specific bit from the lyrics anyway. I think I’m probably quoting from a U2 song, or from a book quoting from a U2 song, and it goes We'll slide down the surface of things…

So please don’t make it look as if not caring is bad because to be very honest with you I really don’t and it’s not because I’ve crossed to the dark side nor anything because I haven’t. That’s why I’ve got a “37” tattooed to my right calf, by the way: to remind myself that I’m inherently good regardless of all my immature, post-adolescent antics.
If it seems to you that I don’t care anymore it’s because I’m doing just that: I’m canvassing the boundaries of my own personal infinity, I’m sliding down the surface of things and whenever I pass you by if I ever do I’ll just smile and whisper, Glide…