For every list-based article that I've published here, there have been tons of article ideas that never quite got off the ground due to lack of material. I'll read a captivating story about someone who successfully installed a clock into his top hat, and I'll immediately start writing an article titled "The 10 Greatest Hat and Time Collaborations," only to realize, to my colossal disappointment, that there are only, like, two relevant examples, (the second one being that time Morris Day put on a hat). I've had to abandon a ton of neat little bits and pieces, strictly because no one would want to read a list with just one or two entries. It is, to put it lightly, nut-blendingly frustrating. You might think I'm overreacting, but I guarantee you that every single writer on this site or, for that matter, anyone who deals almost exclusively with lists, is nodding violently, perhaps muttering "Yes, yes, fuck yes." So, instead of a) making a bunch of one- or two-itemed lists or b)abandoning the ideas altogether, I've decided to just throw them into one stupid article that, (due to its total lack of focus and consistency) not one person will fully enjoy. Call it Early Spring Cleaning, or poorly-conceived, or just general laziness. Whatever. I call it a half-formed excuse to talk about Super President.
Super President
Super President was the short-lived, 1960s Saturday morning cartoon show about a president who receives superpowers after getting caught up in a cosmic storm. (Sure!) By day, he is James Norcross, President of the United States and, by night, he is Super President, the shape-shifting, crime-fighting superhero with the ability to change his molecular structure to turn into "steel, granite or whatever the need requires," as theWhy It's Shitty
It's honestly one of the most poorly-written shows I've ever seen, even by crappy superhero cartoon standards. And I'm not cynical guy. Not only do I believe that it's possible to gain spider powers after getting bitten by a radioactive spider, I actively pursue this dream by regularly hanging around nuclear testing facilities covered in spiders. I desperately want superheroes to be real and am prepared to buy whatever garbage backstory anyone wants to come up with, but "He was caught up in a friggin' storm or whatever" just doesn't cut it for me. And, maybe I'm nitpicking, but I think it's important that we have a president who's at leastWhy It's Actually Brilliant
Norcross is the President and, while he keeps America safe from monsters of various sizes, he does so at the expense of the trust of the American people. Every night, when he puts his little costume on, Norcross is betraying the trust of those who elected him, and he doesn't even pretend to give a shit about it. He fights crime in a way that America, on principle, does not condone. Norcross/Super President is concerned first and foremost with keeping his nation stable. Morality, Honesty and Principle are all afterthoughts; America's ends justify Super President's means. James Norcross has found a way to be both lovedThe Mayor of Batman
This was a story that was so wonderful and retarded that I can't honestly believe the internet only wasted, like, a day making fun of it. A while back, Hüseyin Kalkan, the mayor of a town called Batman, in Turkey, (popular for its oil and its absurd amount of female, honor-related suicides that occur each year), actually attempted to sue Christopher Nolan, the director ofThis little Shit
Alec Grevin is a 9-year-old boy who recently published a book with HarperCollins. The book is a guide on how to talk to girls and is titled "How to Talk to Girls," because 9-year-olds aren't creative or interesting.My Toilet Exploding
I check my toilet, on average, four times every hour, (in addition to my regular schedule of standard toilet visits). I just pop my head into the bathroom for a second to make sure my toilet isn't up to anything funny. I can't help myself. And I don't do it with other appliances or pieces of furniture. I only look at my bathtub when absolutely necessary, and I can sometimes go weeks without seeing or even speaking to my toaster. But this fucking toilet has my number. I believe, for no coherent reason, that my toilet will explode, or more accurately, that all of the sewage that currently hides beneath Los Angeles will get tired of being ignored and will decide to burst triumphantly out of my toilet. Sewage would flow majestically, as if my toilet was some sort of nightmare shit fountain that hates me. I have visions of myself staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed completely helpless, because who do I call? When you're dealing with an unstoppable volcano of waste, who do you call? A plumber? The police? Mommy? Jesus? What could they do? They, like me, could do nothing to stop this. Even a plumber is, without a doubt, unprepared for a disaster of this magnitude. So I'd just stand there and wait until this stopped which, in my mind, is never. There's no childhood fear behind this. I've never been witness to any out-of-the-ordinary toilet-related complications. I don't even know if this kind of powerful vertical shit expulsion is something a toilet is actually capable of doing. All I have to go on is my terrible, terrible visions and this drawing I made to explain it to my therapist.