For whose black Spider-Man coffee mug the bell tolls

I’m sort of pissed at Hemingway and I think at Metallica too, only by proxy with both of them.
One must learn to focus his anger towards a proper object: Namely in my case, this preacher guy from back in the Mesozoic or something called John Donne.

I have been preached a lot by different sources in the last few years and even though the words are different the message they carry usually sticks to the No man is island sequence. Which comes from Donne. Which they use on me whenever they say that clean, neat boys in their late-20s shouldn’t be hanging around without girlfriends. Which happens because most of the free-world still rides the XIX century.

Anyway. I’ll grant them the point on this one occasion only, when I actually missed having someone with me:
I went to the movies yesterday, see, and regardless of how bad that Spider-Man 3 sucked… and boy, did it suck… I wanted the black Spider-Man coffee mug they were giving at the cinema when you bought along popcorn and such, but given that no man except for your truly, is an island, and yours truly isn’t really up for popcorn because I makes his fingers all wet and sticky… I ended up returning home sans mug.

I mean, Christ, at least McDonald’s sells their Happy Meal Justice League giveaway figures without the need of actually buying the Happy Meal.


So.
Whenever someone asks you- and we’re still quoting from Donne here by the way- “For whom the bell tolls”, you damn well bet it tolls for my black Spider-Man coffee mug.
Man, I wanted that mug so bad…



(Well actually the bell ends up tolling for the black goo thing as well, in the movie, in the end, and quite literally, when that guy from the 70s Show who looks like Gizmo from Gremlins, only, sans all the white fur coat, is standing there and… et. al.)