Sunday, September 9, 2018
With the first word I ever spoke being "Batman" one might think I was primed for a strong disposition towards superheroes. But I take no particular joy in the media triumph of Superherodom. The Batman whose name I first uttered was a self-aware and quite clever comedy, neither respectful of, nor terribly interested in developing the tropes and mythologies of these worlds that don't have all that much to say. What that sixties TV show was interested in was in making fun of its thrill a minute surface covering an untenable and ridiculous structure. It mocked our culpability. But as any fan of the genre, if we can call it that, will be glad to tell you, clever, deep, rich things have nevertheless come out of the Superhero world as it has developed and grown. And I agree that they have, rarely. But I believe this only shows that you can get blood from a stone if enough people try hard enough. Nevertheless I assure you that you will not get very much blood.
But despite all of this I have long ago here embraced one of the great and ridiculous Superhero tropes, the secret identity.
When I started this blog five plus years ago, it was clear to me I would be saying some mildly spicy things about my workplace, my managers, my co-workers, myself, and my library. As an employee not particularly wanting to invite trouble I thought a veneer, albeit a thin one, of anonymity would be prudent. And so I became, as you see me now, Feldenstein Calypso.
Curiously there is a range in viability of the secret identities of Superheroes. On the one hand you have the most ridiculous version, with, for instance, Superman, wherein he hides his identity through the device of removing glasses and wearing different clothes. On the other hand you have the somewhat more plausible (but not entirely plausible) Spider-Man, who at least has his face covered. If I had to adjudge where my level of secret identity falls on this spectrum I would put it in the middle, at the level of Batman. I have a mask, so to speak, but anyone who knows us both (that is me in daily life and Feldenstein Calypso, writing here) should be able to tell, with only casual observation skills, that we are the same.
At this point you may be wondering "Where is he going with this?"
I was starting to wonder that too.
I guess that for all the stuff that happens on this blog, the tirades and epiphanies, the comedy and the tragedy, and the religious buffoonery and the visions directly from god, I just want to say that we shouldn't lose sight of the fundamental reason for this blog:
I am here to fight crime.
Posted by Feldenstein Calypso at 6:30 AM
Labels: blogging, complete and utter nonsense, culture, satire, tombs
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