“He… He’s Weird… Grotesque!”
Even by the standards of 60’s Silver Age wackiness, what is this?
What the everliving fuck is this?
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“There’s a Kid in the White House!”
And yet this is still less absurd than what’s actually occurring in the White House of this fucked-up fun house mirror dimension we’ve all been sent to.
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Batman’s No-Kill Code is Open to Interpretation.
Jet fuel can’t melt steel beams.
Wax candles can’t melt silver statues.
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Normal Service Will Resume in 2019.
No, Superdickery has not been shitcanned like a Netflix Marvel Comics-licensed show. I made a baby and I’ve been busy doing the dad thing.
See you all next year.
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My First Response to Finding a Giant Fossil Egg is to Hit it With a Hammer Too.
How does that arm even fit in that egg, let alone whatever it’s attached to?
(I swear to God, if any of you make some sort of quip about Dr. Who or TARDIS, I will slap you.)
