So it's Monday, and I had a nice weekend goofin' around with some old friends who know me from way back when I was a strapping young man fresh out of law school, and thinking about how times change and people change and we got to hang onto each other because we could all, like, vaporize or melt or disappear without warning at any time onnacounta any little freaky midget head-of-state can get his/her hands on a nukular bomb, when I stumbled over this piece at McSweeney's by Glen Weldon. It's Aquaman, see, and he's pissed about all the snickering about him and his not-so-cool powers, because it's a bigger deal than you understand to be able to control sea life. Snip:
If I want, you know, a pod of Burmeister's porpoise to ram the hell out of Black Manta's Manta Sub, that shit gets done. If I totally want, like, a southern minke whale to go hump a giant squid (its most hated enemy, by the way), I just go doodoodoodoodoodoo and it's like Show World down there. Not that I would, because, you know, gross, but I'm just saying: I don't ask. I'm not going to be all, If you wouldn't mind terribly much, please, Mr. Southern Minke Whale, go get your nasty freak on with that giant squid.
Just, you know, FYI.
It's part of a serious of short imagined monologues, it's laced with profanity, and it's a great Monday read. Link.