Tuesday, February 13, 2007


A few questions

Just for fun. This blog has been way too serious lately. First, what's your superhero name? Any special powers of note? And second, if you were a cartoon character, who would you be?

My answers: superhero - of course it's Miss Know-It-All to the rescue! My synapses fire on all cylinders! And cartoon character - I used to be the young punk Maggie from early issues of Love and Rockets, but I'm afraid that now I'm Lisa Simpson. I'd like to be Gary from SpongeBob. But Lisa it is. No getting around it.

I don't have any candidates for cartoon character, but for superhero, I'm Nap Man, who can sleep in a chair.

Sarah, oh you are sooooo Lisa Simpson. My superhero name is THE ORGANIZER and I can turn chaos into structure (or at least, lots of neat little piles) - Shazam! My idea of a good time is to tackle that junk drawer that won't close any more, or refold that pile of sweaters that has slumped over in the closet. Cartoon character? I can't stop thinking I'm that tiny chicken hawk that keeps trying to capture Foghorn Leghorn. He's a bit rigid, but sweet. "I'm a chicken hawk, and I've gotta have chicken. I'm a chicken hawk, and I've gotta have chicken." Thanks for the fun!
Hee hee... Dan, your trusty sidekick must be La-Z-Boy?? Couldn't resist that one...

Katie - Wonder Twin powers, activate! Hey, I think you could patent The Organizer.

Anyone else? I may start assigning nicknames if no one else jumps in here. So heads up. Mike and Sasha already know that they're Rolf The Dog (Muppets count!) and Tank Girl.
I'm going to have to anoint myself Captain Curmudgeon.

Being a surly twenty-something with utter disdain for much that life has to offer, this chemical and biological change I have undergone was not a result of being exposed to gamma rays, nor have I been bitten by a spider that has crawled out of some ungodly nuclear soup as of late; rather, it is a result of being exposed to constant disappointment and being nicked at on a daily basis by the stupidity of the "everyman".

I don't have a giant laser, or some shoulder mounted stun-cannon, or anything like that; my weapon is my never-ending, biting cynicism in regards to - everything. After an offensive barrage, foes (and friends for that matter) flee, never to return, gobsmacked at the swift, Swiftian arsenal that was directed at them. All hidden under the guise of a mild-mannered antiquarian bookseller. Maybe hidden is improper in this case. Maybe not. Who am I to judge?

Colour me Grampa Simpson, minus fifty years, and lacking any Republican tendencies whatsoever. :)

Phil, I feel your pain, as they say. I used to listen to The Smiths. A lot. And Joy Division. In my early twenties I felt like a used-up cynical little black thundercloud. Oddly (and thankfully), the older I get the better I feel about most things. Including those problematic items known as people (politicians excepted - they're generally as terrible as ever). Books help. I don't know what else I'd be doing if I hadn't found a home in books. Thank god.

You could call yourself Sarcasmo the Magnificent. He cuts through hypocrisy with a single stony glance...
Rolf the dog here.
Superhero name might be...


beta waves trans-mutating to adapt to any situation that might arise! comfort zone? HA!
Hi Rolf... how about The Chameleon - "Okay, you need me to be green, I'll be green! Brown, I'll be brown! Yellow?? Yellow!! Woo hooo!"
>> I'm going to have to anoint myself Captain Curmudgeon.

Don't be too quick to do that.
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