Читать книгу I, Superhero!! : - Mike McMullen - Страница 9

or, All the Good Names Are Taken

Step 2 on the Threefold Path to Superherodom is Guise. I need a pseudonym to use in my exploits to keep my true identity hidden, my family safe, and my Facebook account free of super villain friend requests.

I look to “Those Who Came Before” for inspiration and soon realize I need much more than just a name: I need a persona, an entirely new identity. For instance, Batman is the dark, lonely crusader for justice; Spiderman is the witty, happy-go-lucky kid; and Superman is the overgrown Boy Scout. As I mentally page through hero after hero, there seems to be precious little in the way of defining archetypes left for me. “This calls for a brainstorm,” thinks I, so I get out my “stay up too late and have a brainstorm” kit, which is pretty much just Diet Mountain Dew and Allegra. In no time, or maybe it just seems like no time because my heart’s pounding so fast, I come up with a list of possible identities. And I’m not gonna lie; some of these work better than others.

Potential Personas

DOGGUNNER

I could roam the streets with a pack of dogs of various sizes and breeds, each with a proportionally sized firearm strapped to it. Think Chihuahuas with handguns, golden retrievers with.410s, and Irish wolfhounds with M-60s. I would have a different call for each of them, so if I was trapped under a steel girder, about to be snuffed out by the maniacal Dr. Crazyevil, I could whistle Dixie and a poodle with a .357 would run to my aid.

Pros

Let’s do the math on this one.

Dogs = Cool

Guns = Cool

DogGunner = Cool²

Cons

Having to carry the Super Pooper-Scooper everywhere may cut into the first-mentioned coolness.

THE ANTIPUSSYFOOTER

The Antipussyfooter would be the hero who, while the super villain is soliloquizing about world domination, sneaked up from behind and donkey punched him. Plus, I could call the bad guys names like cupcake, and princess, and it would fit perfectly into my chosen milieu.

Pros

Results. Dammit.

Cons

Well, there’s the obvious problem with the name.

THE TINKERER

I could be the good guys’ equivalent of a mad scientist, dreaming up and constructing various gadgets in pursuit of justice. Think James Bond if he built his own stuff.

Pros

I like to tinker.

Cons

I have no scientific, technical, electrical, or chemical training or experience. Most ideas would never leave the bar napkin on which I’d sketched them. Plus, the name sounds too much like The Tinkler. This is likely to erode the intimidation factor.

JUNKPUNCHER

This one is fairly self-explanatory.

Pros

Being hit in the inventory is absolutely debilitating, so the one move I have would be quite effective.

Cons

After our first few encounters, my nemeses would probably see it coming. Plus, the move would be fairly ineffective against castrati and masochists, groups that probably make up a statistically disproportionate percentage of the super villain population as well as chicks, who make up a tiny fraction of the super villain population.

Hmmm. None of these seem to be working. Maybe if I turn to the animal kingdom for inspiration? I explore that avenue for a while, but the longer I think, the more it seems like all the good animals are already taken. There’s Batman (and Man-Bat), Hawkman, Wolverine, King Cobra, Copperhead, Killer Croc, the Lizard, the Vulture, the Scorpion, the Black Widow, Doctor Octopus, Killer Shark, Black Manta, Man-Bull, Monkey Man, White Tiger, the Penguin, Hawk, Dove, The Badger, Ant Man, Black Falcon, Black Panther, Yellowjacket, the Wasp, Rhino, Spider-Man, the Blue Beetle, Diamondback, and those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. There are innumerable others and, just to cover the rest of the bases, the generic the Beast and Animal Man. I think the only animal-or insect-related name left available is Daddy Longlegs, which sounds more like a pimp than a crusader for justice.

The problem, as usual, comes back to my ordinariness: I have no special powers or skills. I’m a thirtysomething, middle-class, white male. If I was a minority or had some recessive trait, it would give me something to work with. If I was an enraged, indignant black man, I could be something coolly ethnic like Pitch-Black Midnight Panther X. On the opposite end of the spectrum, if I was a muscular, albino Israelite, I could be the Vanilla Jewrilla. Hell, even a genetic flaw/birth defect would help. If I had a parasitic twin, I could be One and a Half Men, taking the underworld with one hand tied behind my back—because that’s the one of the four that didn’t work so well, and it was already behind my back to begin with.

Then it hits me: maybe I can capitalize on my weakness and embrace the genericism that is Middle-American Male. Personas start popping up in my mind like fresh, air-popped popcorn with no butter or salt: Mmm-mmmm, plain!

Professor Cacasoid

Fighty Whitey

The Blank Slate

The Universal Tool

The 50th Percentile

The Standard Deviation

Doctor Par

The Amazing Whitebread

Hmmm. I kinda like that last one. Not only is it descriptive, but it opens the door to a possible endorsement deal with A&W Root Beer. Maybe Wonder Bread, if I include some multicolored balls on my costume. Oh, and that’s when the money starts rolling in—endorsement deal, the sweetest apple on the tree of celebrity moneymaking fruit and bad analogies. I tried to picture myself in costume, saying things like:

After a long day spent foiling diabolical plots, it’s hard to get li’l Whitebread to wake up for playtime. Plus, they don’t call him li’l Whitebread for nothing. That’s why I use Peniloft for natural male enhancement. Because a hearty precoital laugh just ruins the mood. For her. You’re a guy, though, so what do you care?

or

Ever get that not-so-fresh feeling? After chasing doers of dastardly deeds on a hot summer’s day, The Amazing Whitebread sure does! That’s why he uses Crotchasin, the first unisex personal odor eliminator.

O-o-or not. Regardless, the name works. I’m making progress. That’s good. It’s late, I’m tired and wired, and I’m kinda loopy from all the OTC medication, but I have a name that lets people know exactly what they’re getting. One that screams, “I’m average, but I’m not so average that I can’t self-apply a slightly egotistical adjective in front of my name to let people know that I’m not completely average, but just average enough, like in the ‘I’m one of you, just slightly better’ kinda way.”

Better yet, the name could serve to set an example for Biscuit. If he ever feels like he can’t do something or isn’t smart or fast or strong enough, he can look at what Daddy, who wasn’t smart or fast or strong enough, did with his limited abilities. Heroes aren’t just there to take care of us; they’re there to let us know that we can take care of ourselves, and that spirit of empowerment is one of the things I’d like to pass on to the boy. To paraphrase Ahicus Finchin Tokilla Mockingbird, “Courage is when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway, and you see it through no matter what.” And if anyone is licked before he begins, if anyone has no business confounding evildoers, it’s some nobody named Whitebread.

Now all I—all the Amazing Whitebread—needs is a snappy yet intimidating catchphrase to complete the attitude. Unlike names and costume ideas, plenty of good catchphrases remain to choose from. A brief look at what’s already been snatched up confirmed this:

“Up, up, and away!”

That, of course, is Superman’s catchphrase. Or so it’s called. To me, it’s much less of a catchphrase than a description of the direction where he’s headed. It would be like Spider-Man swinging around yelling, “To that building! Now to that other, taller building to my right! Now veering slightly leftish to that one building that looks kinda like the Chrysler Building but not really, it’s a little less art deco and has this amazing blue drapery in all the windows that really pulls everything together!”

Speaking of Spider-Man, anyone who’s ever seen the movies or read the comics (which, at this point, means everyone but the guy on the corner who yells at shrubbery and smells like the danker parts of a Turkish prison) knows that his catchphrase is:

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Nice catchphrase, Pete. Get that from a fortune cookie? You might as well go around telling people “Riches will soon find you” or “Today is not a good day for anything involving wicker” or “Your lucky numbers are 32, 47, 58, and 63.” Seriously.

I don’t think Batman has a catchphrase (“To the Batcave, Robin!” doesn’t count) but if he did, it would probably be something along the lines of “My parents got jacked and shot right in front of me in a dark alley one night when I was a child, and all I got was this all-consuming, emotionally crippling desire to punish the entire criminal fraternity.” While that’s pretty tough sounding, it’s a bit wordy. If he started yelling it just before swooping down on the baddies, he’d have them Bataranged into unconsciousness before he finished. Which begs the question, “If a superhero bellows forth a bad catchphrase and no one can hear him, does he still sound like a jackass?” (Note to self, add this to list of Superhero Zen koans, just after “What is the sound of one cape flapping?”)

So now that I know what a bad catchphrase looks like, what about a good one? The tiny wheels in my mind churn out two criteria a good catchphrase should meet:

1. Succinctness

2. Badassness

The closest I’ve ever seen to a good catchphrase was in the awesomely bad movie They Live, which featured one “Rowdy” Roddie Piper in the lead. (If you don’t know who that is, ask your dad or older brother or uncle. While you’re at it, ask about the Von Erich brothers and the Iron Sheik.) At one point in the film, Mr. Piper tells the evil aliens, “I’m here to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I’m all out of bubble gum.”

Succinct? More or less. Badass? Really close. Unfortunately, it also meets a primary criterion for bad catchphrases, which is

1. Dumb-as-hellness

If he’d gone with “I’m here to kick butt and put human babies all up in your alien womens” instead, that would have been a lot closer, but it could still be more succinct.

Okay, so announcing that I’m there to kick butt is a good start. I decide to run with that.

“I’m here to kick your butt.”

Near perfect. Now I just need a closer. As it stands, it’s good, but a touch generic. I need something to bring it home and make it scream “Amazing Whitebread.” Or rather, “Amazing Whitebread!!!”

How about:

“I’m the Amazing Whitebread, and I’m here to kick your butt.”

Hmmm. That loses some punch. It almost sounds like a public service announcement.

“Hi! I’m The Amazing Whitebread, and I’m here to talk to you about kicking your butt, because knowledge is power.”

Maybe it needs some kind of witty, bread-related euphemism, à la:

“Prepare to have your crusts cut off.”

That’s along the lines I’m thinking, but it sounds too much like a nurse talking to a burn victim. How about:

“I’m The Amazing Whitebread, prepare to be breaded.”

Huh? Unless I’m fighting North Atlantic Cod, I doubt any of my archenemies would wet themselves at the thought of being dipped in batter and rolled in breadcrumbs. That one’s out.

Okay, I can do this. One catchphrase. Short, witty, violent like Danny DeVito in Ruthless People. I need the Danny DeVito of catchphrases. Of course, now all I can think about is delicious North Atlantic Cod, battered and fried and served dripping with yummy grease. Maybe make a nice fish sandwich.

Wait…. “Sandwich.”

“I’m the Amazing Whitebread…prepare to be sandwiched.”

Get it? Because sandwich is like something you make with bread, and it also means “to get squeezed between two things,” i.e. my fists of fury. See? That’s why it works. I could even yell “Sammich!” every time I punched someone.

Okay, so it’s not perfect, but it’s also 5 a.m. and Daddy needs his sleep. I wonder if it took Superman this much time to think of “Up, up, and away.”

What am I thinking? Clearly not.

Heh heh. Loser.

Death by Sneer: Working on Your Game Face

One of the most overlooked aspects of superheroing is the need for a good game face. What’s that? I’m glad you asked. It’s the look you give your villains as you swoop down from the darkness like an avenging specter, the glare from across the room that tells him he’s been a bad boy, the warm smile you give him along with a gentle kiss on the forehead after a rainy afternoon of gentle lovemaking. You know, a game face. You need more than one, too, or your enemies will grow accustomed to it, and the effect will be watered down and seem clichéd, like Matthew McConaughey making rom-coms or Tommy Lee giving college girls hepatitis.

After much thought, meditation, and hours spent sitting in front of the bathroom mirror drinking NyQuil and Hot Damn (schnapps) to get my mind right, I’ve come up with ten distinct game faces for The Amazing Whitebread. I suggest you come up with at least five for your own hero. And no fair ripping off mine. They’re all copyright and trademarked My Foot Up Your Ass If You Steal Them.

PHOTO COURTESY MARY ELLEN LACAVA

Manimalistic

PHOTO COURTESY MARY ELLEN LACAVA

All Bid’ness

PHOTO COURTESY MARY ELLEN LACAVA

Hurtin’ fo’ Certain

Your Worst Nightmare (unless you have the one about the bears that escape from the circus and eat your mom’s face—that one’s way worse)

PHOTO COURTESY MARY ELLEN LACAVA

The Mocking Chuckle of Heroism

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

Steaming Pile of Justice in Your Face

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

Calling Dr. Pain

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

The Rabid Squirrel

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

Rage-a-licious

PHOTO COURTESY LIZ LACAVA

The Flared Nostrils of Vigilantism