Thus always to boy-sidekicks

Ever read the Bible? Me neither, at least not entirely.
Here’s a pretty interesting bit from the Genesis book, from a Vulgate Bible. It’s from Genesis 3.5 or 3-5 or whatever. I never really understood how Christians divided their chapters anyway.

It says:
"Et eritis sicut dii scientes bonum et malum"
This is Latin for, and you shall be as gods, knowing good and evil, which is basically what would happen to Adam and Eve were they to eat from the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge. Which is why Christianity sucks so bad: It turns knowledge into a forbidden thing.
It’s sort of like coc*ine in a sense, if you stop to think about it: Knowing of coc*ine will not make you into an addict, see, so that’s why there’s no point in saying knowing of death would render immortal, mortal.

This is why chicks dig the d*vil so much, you know? All that W*cca, Earth-Mother-type things? It sort of goes back to Milton. Milton was blind, but he did see the d*vil like the ultimate rebel… and chicks, chicks just love rebels. They go crazy on anti-establishment guys with big cars and sports jackets and stuff.

This post is about Robin the Boy-Wonder, though.

I was back at my parents’ last weekend and they were having this couple over to play cards and eat some pizza, and at some point in the evening my mother decided to walk them by the place, basically to show the woman the apartment, that kind of stuff.
So by the time they reached my bedroom it’s sort of a no-brainer they ended up asking to see my things. My comic books and action figures.

Best thing of keeping a child’s hobby under an adult’s budget is that you get to do some pretty neat stuff: Like, gone are the days when my dad’s friends would mock my fascination with super-heroes. What I get from most men these days is, “So how much have ya got in there anyway?”. I often shrug, honestly not really thinking about it, then answer very nonchalantly and without adding any actual numbers, “I don’t know. Car and a half. Maybe a couple. Maybe a little bit more.” – To which they stand back appalled, in awe, but with some respect too.
I do this, mostly, in order to vindicate teenage sidekicks. I mean, you’re supposed to stick to your guns, right?

The ladies, on the other hand- and this is the bit that always kills me- they ask every single time whether it’s really true that Robin’s gay. That they’ve “always” wanted to know that. Then I ask them in return, where the hell did they get that idea from?, and they just shrug themselves and reply no more than half-mumbled you-knows…
“But no,” I finally tell them. “He’s not. He’s actually pretty good with the ladies in the comics. What you’re all doing is, you’re looking at this figment from the early-1940s as shot through mid-1960s lenses, you know, from the old TV show which was played mostly for laughs anyway, but with your eyes firmly set in the 21st century, and what happens as a result of that is that you actually end up benchmarking your own sexu*lity over a model that ultimately means nothing anyway. So may god help you where you’re all really getting the gay bit from.”

Oddly enough it does no more than to simply disappoint everybody and make them return to their card game, basking in the anticlimactic afterglow of discovery… so maybe the Bible was right, you know? I mean, in the end…
Jesus Christ. This is brand-new. Christianity as a cover-up for boy-sidekicks in comics. Here’s that feeling of running out of topics again…