They’d Put These in The New Yorker if my Parents were Famous:
A collection of satirical shorts
Food for Thought
I’ve always felt that the confusion faced by 20-year-olds goes unnoticed. To sum it up nicely: it’s the choice between facing embarrassment when being greeted at the dentist’s office with “Bubble Gum or Marshmallow Fluoride?,” versus being underwhelmed when you’re met with absolutely no greeting at all. As a 20-year-old myself, I cannot place my finger on the better option.
The Recipe for the Perfect Superhero is as follows:
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The hero needs a cape. If no cape, then what's the point? What will little boys and girls go around in public wearing, while their parents desperately beg for them to take it off out of embarrassment. It’s the epitome of any high grossing superhero film.
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He or she must possess any superhuman trait except the power to read minds. There's no way that can, or will, end well.
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While we’re on this topic, the answer is she. The hero will be a she.
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Other essential qualities: a strong moral compass. So much so, that the hero doesn't even take credit for saving the world at the end of the way. They attribute it all to the little kid they saved, and everyone believes them.
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A high pain tolerance. Unless someone gets a scrape. Then, by all means, unleash the tears.
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A mediocre sidekick who, let's be honest, is the only reason we like the superhero in the first place.