Why I Would be a Super Villain

I love Bat­man. Always have. Always will.

I sucked it up and watched all but one of the 80’s/90’s Bat­man movies Bat­man & Robin. (Why any­one would look at that and think it was good is just crazy) and used to col­lect the comic books off and on, watched the crummy 60’s TV show in reruns when I was a kid, so don’t even try and not call me a Bat­man lover. Not in a Batman/Robin…you know…well…not-that-there’s-anything-wrong-with-that kind of way, but I’ve always enjoyed Bat­man. Bruce Wayne went from wimpy kid one minute to crazed future vig­i­lante in the next with the death of his par­ents. He donned the cape, the mask, he became what crim­i­nals would fear, and he ruled, which was the best part.

Superman…yeah, he’s alright, but Bat­man was a nor­mal per­son wail­ing on some­body. You could feel your blood pump and the adren­a­line go up as he started in on, as the Fan­tas­tic Four’s Thing would say, “clob­berin’ time.”

Bat­man never really cared much about the con­se­quences of his actions like Super­man did. Clark was always the fine upstand­ing man that he was raised to be and was sup­posed to be. He was good and kind and saw the world in black and white. But the world has never been black and white, sure there are good guys and bad guys, but some­times the bad guys are on your side fight­ing for your inter­ests The CIA in the 80’s try­ing to get rid of the com­mu­nist San­danistas in Cen­tral Amer­ica, for instance and some­times they’re not. Al Queda Some­times they’re out for world dom­i­na­tion and other times they just want money or power or some­thing that makes them look sexy in the eyes of oth­ers. And it’s those rea­sons that would make me want to be a super vil­lain. But not just your nor­mal run-of-the-mill vanilla super vil­lain. No sir. I’m look­ing to be unique, if possible.

Good guys always have to look out for the inno­cent bystanders and are racked with guilt if they cause an inno­cent life to be extin­guished in the process of sav­ing oth­ers. Look at the fight between Spi­der­man and Green Gob­lin towards the end of the first Spi­der­man movie I’ve read that Warner Bros, the stu­dio that puts out the Super­man films, is think­ing of tak­ing a hint from the Cristo­pher Nolan lead Bat­man films and that they might reboot the Super­man series in a darker light. What are they think­ing? Super­man is sunny, Bat­man is dark. Is Super­man not going to care what he does? He’s the son of Kryp­ton sent to Earth to be this planet’s pro­tec­tor, not some gray-area hero.

Which is why it would be cool to be a supervil­lain. You just wouldn’t have to care. Your whole rea­son for liv­ing is to gain street cred, or cash, or babes, or some­thing intan­gi­ble that makes up for that hor­rific time in your life that made you that evil bas­tard that you became. And it would be fun because tak­ing out your aggres­sion is fun, even if it’s a plane­load of peo­ple you’ve never met before, sure, one of them did some­thing that they deserve a huge pound­ing for. Heat vision to the wing of the plane, that’s the way to do it.

I’d drive a cool car and live in some fore­bod­ing super-fortress in the Himalayas and have a legion of war­riors at my beck and call and have min­ions, evil min­ions, that would do what­ever I com­manded. They’d prob­a­bly be nin­jas. Or some rogue para­mil­i­tary out­fit that I have on my pay­roll. I’d be friends with dic­ta­tors and inter­na­tional crim­i­nals and I’d nat­u­rally flaunt it in pub­lic, because what’s the fun in being a supervil­lain if you can’t rub it in the face of the peo­ple that you call your mor­tal enemies?

And I’d have to be best friends with my mor­tal enemy too, just like Mag­neto and Charles Xavier. I don’t know any­body who is bald and needs a wheel chair, but I’m evil. I’ll put some­one in a wheel­chair and then shave his head or some­thing. And after I’ve been caught and put in some fool­proof prison where only the hard­est of the hard vil­lains reside and my best friend comes and vis­its me we’ll rem­i­nis­cence about the old days and I’ll make allu­sions like I’m plan­ning to escape and he’ll threaten me in veiled terms and we’ll glare at each other and then we’ll laugh as I block his king with my knight in the game of chess we’ve been play­ing and I breathily whis­per, “Checkmate.”

Now that’s a heck of a career right there.

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