Friday, June 30, 2006

I Kick Rich People's Asses

So yeah, I'm a superfly vigilante crimebuster now! And I don't just deal with stuff like wallet theft and grave desecration, I'm totally bringing true justice to the oppressed, relevant streets and hitting the "fat cats" and "slum lords" where they hurt. I mean, technically, Ollie was doing all that stuff, but I totally helped. I even swung down this giant rope that he fired from an arrow! AND IT ROCKED! I looked so good doing it I might just travel that way all the time now, like when I need to go to the laundromat or something. That's what socialism is all about, apparently, so I guess you can call me The Red Elongated Trotsky now because I'm totally down with the communists! I told Ollie and he called me a running dog, which is probably liberalese for 'brother of the breadline' or something.

I see a new career developing as a tough-talking, famous celebrity, speaking out against the shameful tactics of those in power where it'll do the most good, on high-profile late-night sports blooper shows, and endorsing ethical products only UNLIKE BOOSTER. Or I could even run for Mayor! I was dropping all sorts of hints to Ollie when I saw him that I should become the new Mayor of Star City, but I don't know if he liked the idea. Maybe he sees the responsibility of power weighing down my youthful shoulders. I can't blame him. It's only natural he should want to look out for somebody much younger and handsomer than himself.

(I should mention that the reason I was in Star City in the first place was to visit Ollie, because Ollie threatened to sue over the beard. I don't know if you can copyright a beard, but I do know what it's like to feel the touch of jealousy because somebody is better than you at everything and that somebody is Ralph Dibny. Or I can imagine what that must feel like. So I took pity on him and shaved.)

But the big news is that on the way from the train station I saw one of those upside down 'S' symbols like the one on my wife's grave! So instantly the case was open again thanks to my incredible detection skills. Obviously I had to pretend to Ollie that I was following a giant lead or he wouldn't have come along. I felt bad lying to the guy but I still got to kick down a door! Take THAT, you wallet-stealing fat-cats! Unfortunately nobody was home, so I had to pretend that this was all par for the course with these freaks. In the detective game you have to fly by the seat of your pants and roll with the punches, particularly if you're as brilliant as I am, but Ollie might not understand that and the last thing I need when I'm looking at a golden statue of Superboy with an immense Tom of Finland-size dingus dangling out is Ollie pointing his finger at me.

Seriously, I couldn't stop staring. What's with these people? I don't need to see Superboy's idealised schlong. It's not right. That wasn't the worst thing, though - the worst thing was when I turned around and saw a giant phallus with Connor's grinning face on top of it. It had veins. I almost couldn't finish my sentence. Anyway, after I threw up on Ollie he gave me the finger and left, but screw him! I don't need Ollie! I don't need anybody, because I'm the world's greatest detective and everybody else sucks. This case is as good as solved and then I'm dragging these wallet-stealing, obscene-statue-building scum through the courts. I'm unstoppable. I am Ralph Dibny. You have been warned, crime and criminals!

Oh, I almost forgot - according to Dr Willis, I'm in my 'manic phase' and I'm probably going to swing back towards suicidal depression. Apparently I need to start taking my pills again. What Dr Willis doesn't realise is that I'm a golden, glittering success and he's a pathetic, shoddy failure with an ugly, unkempt beard, unlike me - yes, I'm talking to you, you godforsaken shyster.

Watch your mouth, Willis, or it might be time for another consultation with Doctor Fist Punchington, MD. THINK ON THAT.

EDIT: Another postcard from Ram. He's now in Ibiza, 'raving to some wicked E and banging the honeyz'. So Mr. E has turned evil and teamed up with the Queen Bee. I assume. This all goes deeper than I thought.


Blogger SUPERNOVA!!!!! said...

Hey, Ralph, you know what you should do?

Fight to the death with that Supernova guy!

PS: I hate you, and Ollie's beard has always been the best.

9:59 AM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

You're just the kind of arch-capitalist the All-New All-Socialist Ralph Dibny exists to destroy! You and the pharmaceutical industry! They've been trying to force Imipramazol(TM) down my throat for weeks. Well, no longer! You and Dr Willis can both go and jump in a lake, corporate-boy.

P.S: How are Lit Beer sales today, Booster old pal? In the toilet? Thanks to you? That's what I thought, you grotesque shill.

10:24 AM  
Blogger SUPERNOVA!!!!! said...

Yesterday, Skeets told me that RAM, is a thief and a leech, and will probably go back to kill you.

8:27 AM  
Blogger Rick Tyler said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

3:18 PM  
Blogger Rick Tyler said...

Ollie called me up after your little meeting with him in Star City. (We became friends when he came to New York to visit Dinah.) He told me that you implied to him that you no longer wanted to be stretchy, that you'd "lost your taste for Gingold". I think it's irresponsible of you to complain about not having superpowers when there's something you can do about it! The world needs its famous Elongated Man back, but maybe with a cooler name, like "Stretch Dibny" or something.
E-mail me when you finally come to your senses.

By the way, I saw an excellent shrink when I was overcoming my addiction to Miraclo, and if Dr. Willis doesn't seem to be helping any more I could give you this guy's card, and he could maybe help you out...also, his fee is considerably cheaper.
Booster sucks big time - and has really been acting like a world class dick, but Ollie has his own problems to deal with, so cut him some slack. I like you just fine, even though you called me a pusher. At least I can understand that you have some serious shit to deal with, unlike some other people.

3:21 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

Well of course I'm going to tell Ollie it's my choice! I don't want to act like I lost all my powers in front of him. The fact is, I could drink eight gallons of Gingold and it wouldn't do crap. When I say I've 'lost my taste for it' I mean it's stopped working. Like, say, if you keep using a DRUG you build up a tolerance. You know all about DRUGS, don't you, Pusherman? And while we're on the subject of tolerance I have ZERO TOLERANCE for your drug-pushing ways! I know all about that 'therapist' you want to 'recommend' to me - his name is Sweet Sweetbread and he hangs out on the corner of Broadway and Third wearing a giant fur coat full of plastic bags! Plastic bags full of DRUGS FOR SALE!! Well you can go back to your pimp and tell him that you're just going to be blowing him for the next fix, CAPTAIN JUNKIE, because your attempt to drum up a new customer has failed! I told Dr Willis and I tell you now - Ralph Dibny is clean! I don't need your filthy crack to help me have a good time!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a gun to stick in my mouth.

1:45 PM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...


1:46 PM  
Blogger Wolverine said...

either kill your self or stop looking for attention!

7:24 AM  

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