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.

Friday, June 23, 2006

My New Beard Makes Me Look Dignified

It's a keeper. I mean everybody used to say that I could only grow a sad haze of fluff there, but now I'm a jet-setting, world-class detective and television star, I need a world-class Tom Selleck to match. And the new chin foliage is starting to look pret-ty stylin', let me tell you. I'm like the thin Orson Welles. I'm probably going to get maybe a pipe as well, or a watch and chain - something to really say to the world "Ralph Dibny is here! And one of you is - a murderer!" Take that, Audrey Steiner! (Audrey Steiner dumped me in college because she thought my moustache made me look like a hobo. Dr Willis knows all about it.)

Also, Booster can suck it. He can suck it on live television. And did! I think it's on YouTube now if you type 'booster sucks' into the search bar.

Basically, after all the promises he made in the comments section, Skeets never came. Meanwhile, things with Bob have totally deteriorated. He peed in the kitchen sink last night and the dishes were still in it. He goes in the shower too. I mean, where did this guy learn manners? He keeps muttering about how there's "things about me you don't know, super-cop" and how he's going to get revenge on Uncle Sam, which I assume is some kind of tax-related thing. I don't know. He's starting to really freak me out.

Anyway, no Skeets, and I still need a decent lawyer. So I decided to play it cool and went over to Booster's place to flash him my new beard. I made up this thing about how I'm investigating the theft of my wallet so I didn't seem needy, but seeing Skeets floating around doing nothing when he could've been evicting Bob - well, I got pissed off and started calling Booster a famewhore again, which he totally is by the way. Although who's the famewhore now, Booster? Eh-h-h? It's not me, buddy. I'm a respected television celebrity and talking head. Call me if your career ever recovers, babe.

Oh yeah, also I shoved his head into the wall.

I kind of realised while he was standing there that his whole thing is being from the future and since I'm a World-Famous TV Celebrity now, (suck it Booster) that means my wife would be in the history books as a famous celebrity murder or something. So obviously I attacked him. Dr Willis says I need to keep these violent impulses in check, but he's only saying that because I broke his nose that time.

Anyway, I was totally on a roll, so I gave him this huge speech that I can't remember now about how he's a giant famewhore. And then he's all in my face about not having the stretch powers, blah blah blah, thanks for rubbing it in Booster, and then he has to do some boring rescue stuff or stop a riot or something... and then the coolest thing in the world happened! You can go watch it on YouTube, but suffice to say I saw the opportunity to totally stick it to Booster. And get some of that sweet, sweet celebrity cash in the process! Who's the man? I'm the man! I was like 'All cameras! All microphones! Here! Soak up the sweet beard action of Ralph Dibny, the World-Famous Elongated Man!' I swear I was getting an erection. It was like the first time I ever hung a giant sign on my back saying how world-famous I was.

I notice since my live television debut some folks have called me a hypocrite, and Dr Willis seemed really disgusted with me for some reason when I told him how great it felt to screw up Booster's life, but let's face it, every word I said in my new status as famous television commentator on current events was true. Booster is a total famewhore and I'm not afraid to say so on any television, or while holding up any product. I've already got a two-minute slot on "Steve Lombard's Late Late Sports Bloopers Show" (3.30am Tuesday on GBS) to talk about how much Booster sucks, and I'm sure I can parlay that into worldwide fame soon enough. When I started, all I had was a purple costume and a big sign to go on my back. And now I have a beard.

That's what happens, Booster. That's what happens when you owe me $230 and you don't pay up. Think on that.

EDIT: Another postcard from Ram! This one's from Jamaica. He's apparently found 'the most powerful herb ever', so I assume he's talking to Swamp Thing about a way to reach Loring through the astral plane. That's a hero you can really count on, Booster.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Dr Willis Is Really Starting To Drive Me Nuts

He's become an objectivist now. So now - at $122.77 per session, mind you - I have to listen to him banging on and on and on about how A is A and there can be no compromise between good and evil and if you choose any part of evil (black) you will become grey(corrupt). NEWSFLASH Dr Willis that's not very theraputic, especially when you wear the scary white metal mask and jump around on the furniture.

Still, it is nice to be told I'm a heroic being (damn right Dr Willis) and that my own happiness is the moral purpose of my life! YEEEAH! I always knew that was true. Also, I can't change reality by just wishing it were different. I mean, I have been able to in the past, usually on adventures involving wishing wells or mystic wish-granting rings, but that isn't the case any more. As Dr Willis would say in his scary monotone voice, Man must deal with reality by understanding it, accounting for its constraints, and interacting with it in accordance with one's power to effectuate material changes consistent with one's rational desires.

Which is what I was doing when I punched Dr Willis in the face.

I probably got caught in the moment. Anyway, I put an extra $10 on the check, so hopefully he'll still agree to see me next week - I don't know if I could handle finding another therapist right now, and some of that objectivist jazz really was making sense to me. I mean, say what you like, A isn't B.

I'm going to have to start effectuating a few more material changes around here, like getting my wallet back and getting the bank to issue me a new credit card and also getting rid of Bob, who's eaten all my food that was clearly marked with my superhero symbol like a god-damned hog. I had a whole steak that I was saving for dinner and he cooked and ate the damn thing while I was seeing Dr Willis. And then he said it was cool because I could help myself to a breadstick any time I wanted one. I mean, that's pretty goddamn grey (corrupt) if you ask me.

When the hell am I going to be able to eat steak again? It's not cheap. Oh yeah, also I need a proper paying case to solve, seeing as The Adventure Of The Desecration Of My Wife's Grave And Also Theft Of $175 Bucks And My Credit Card seems to have petered out. Apparently there's a missing cat in the neighbourhood so we'll see where that goes, and if Mr Levin is sleeping around like Mrs Levin keeps screaming through the wall, she might require a certain no-longer-ductile detective to try and catch him doin' the mambo. As we call it in the super-hero game. It's not exactly fighting Le Fromage Fou in the beautiful bohemian quarters of Paris, but I'll take whatever I can get right now.

One lucky break - I managed to get some free legal representation! Skeets apparently has some serious legal knowledge, although when I talked to Booster about it on the phone, he sounded like he was freaking out about something. He kept asking me about my reach and if there was anything I wasn't smelling. I mean the things I am smelling are bad enough because they're huge puddles of pee. Anyway, all I know is I have a binding agreement with him to get use of Skeets for one day a week. I figure I'll only need him one day to sort all this out once and for all, so as long as nothing happens to Booster next week, Bob is GONE by the end of the month.

Finally things are going my way!

Friday, June 09, 2006

This Week I Ate A Sandwich

Which doesn't sound like much, but let me tell you, it was a really amazing sandwich. I just picked it up at this random deli - it was Cantonese-style barbecued pork with three different kinds of lettuce and tomato on a fresh-backed sesame seed roll, and the bottom of the roll has sesame seeds in it too. How awesome is that? The only problem is that I kind of forgot that the bank was still trying to sort out my credit card, so I had no money on me, which basically meant that I had to grab the fresh sandwich and run out of the deli shouting "Write to the Justice League Satellite! I am a superhero and there's an emergency!" That used to work when the satellite existed, kind of, but it wasn't working now because this old chinese guy chased me for about six blocks. Eventually I ducked into a big office building and lost him. I had to eat my sandwich in their breakroom - this big metal box of a place - and thank God the lady in there didn't say anything.

But I didn't have any time to be embarrassed because the TV was on in there and it was all Lex Luthor talking about crazy superpower drugs. I had a mouthful of sandwich and when he said 'every man and woman can be a superhero' in his special President Voice - he's got a President Voice and a Car Salesman Voice - I spat it across the room. I mean, this is the return of the stretch powers we're talking about. I was seriously already rehearsing cool things to say in my head, like "You're going away for a long STRETCH Loring" and "I hope you can STRETCH to doing some time for murdering my wife because you're totally going to".

Oh, and guess what? It turns out that lady in the break room used to work in a diner, and one time Lex Luthor drove up in a big limo and offered her a whole wad of cash to be his sex slave! How bizarre is that? She actually thought about it for a few minutes - I mean, we've all seen Indecent Proposal, and this would've been like Fat Proposal or something - but then he drove off. Apparently to this very day she can't help wondering about what kind of drugs he was on. True story! Anyway, she kept the security tapes and sold them to the National Enquirer when Lex was President - used the money to move to the city and get a degree in Information Technology. Now she puts away 50k every year. Good old Lex, huh?

Anyway, the return of the stretch powers. Leave it to Dr Willis to rain on my parade like a jerk made of rain. "Ralph, I worry you've placed too much of your self-worth in having amazing superpowers blah blah blah blah." Apparently he thinks there's some Freudian implications. Oh really Dr Willis do you think so. Boy I can't imagine how the fact that I miss being able to elongate any part of my body led you to dive into the Freud. The man's a complete dildo. At least while he's babbling about penis envy he's not yakking away about the trickster god and the hero's journey. I don't care if he's dead, if I ever meet Joseph Campbell I'm going to send his head on a heroic journey into a toilet. The flushing symbolises the rebirth of the fertility god Mithras Joseph Campbell you giant nerd.

Oh yeah, speaking of flushing things, it turns out not only does my new roommate Bob not flush, he leaves big puddles of pee all around the toilet. I'd kick him out but he's signed the lease and stuff so I totally don't know where I stand. I need to get in touch with a Lawyer Superhero but the only one I can think of is some guy from an alternate dimension which fought our dimension once. It was completely insane - I was fighting this guy with a pipe for no reason and he knocked seven shades of crap out of me, and then our universes merged so I was suddenly The Elongated Fantastic and married to Susan Storm Dibny and had The Sun Boy Torch in my house - I don't know what the hell he was meant to be except he was on fire all the time which was terrifying. And Cliff Steele was there, only he was called Cliffben Grimmsteele the Robothing. This is totally the last guy I'd have living in my house as my supposed best friend because he utterly creeps me out. Every time I see him he introduces me to a new girlfriend and then takes me aside and says something like "listen, I don't want you to act funny because she used to be a man" or "I know she's twenty feet tall right now and her head's been replaced by a sun but she has a mental disability so please don't stare" - it's like he's flaunting it in my face how goddamned PC he is to be dating all these troubled women. And I wish Larry would make up his mind about what his genitals look like. Is he a hermaphrodite or isn't he? You can't have it both ways, Lar.

Man, this whole blog thing is really theraputic. I guess Dr Willis was right for once.

Oh yeah - good news from Ram. He's on a beach in Tahiti following a really important lead, so watch out Loring because you're going down baby. He sent me a postcard with all these women's asses on it and it distinctly said the trail was definitely getting hotter if I know what he means and he thinks I do. So that's good news, I assume.

Friday, June 02, 2006

The Bastard Sons Of Bitches Got My Wallet

I had a hundred and seventy-five bucks in there! Those god-damned corpse-worshipping ass-munchers. God damn it. I'm sorry, I've been drinking since nine this morning and I only just found an internet cafe.

Anyway, this is meant to be my journal for the whole week, so I should mention that this is all the fault of you Dr Willis. You god-damned quack. I know you're reading this.

I should have known something was up when I turned up at Dr Willis' office and saw that old guy being taken away in a straitjacket. He must've been 90 years old if he was a day - Stuart something or somebody Stuart. He kept yelling about how he lived through WWII because he could see ghosts. "I tried to tell them, General!" He screamed. "I tried to tell them how the tank was 'haunted'! How you were the 'ghost' of the 'haunted' tank!" I swear to God he was doing finger quotes.

"I tried to tell them you were there! General! You were real! Even your beard was real! Especially your beard! It was the most real part of you! I remember everything you taught me... how a brave man can outwit a howitzer in the face... how a well-trained horse is better than a thousand nuclear bombs... how the South will rise again and sweep the Yankee scum into the sea! Yes, General Jeb! I HEAR YOU. The black men must be kept in their chains for the sake of our noble Confederacy. FOAM FOAM. YIB YIB YIB."

And that was when six men came in and beat him around the face with truncheons. Sometimes I wonder about Dr Willis' success rate.

That said, apparently ol' Jeb back there was a minor abberation. Dr Willis was really pleased with how I was doing - apparently by investigating this whole vandalism thing I'm confronting my own deeply buried inner truth. Frankly, that was all I needed to stand up like the true hero I am and get my wallet stolen by a bunch of cultists.

I walked right out of there, confronted Cassie and her frigging monk sect, got half drowned because I was expecting a free massage and had my wedding ring stolen. My wedding ring from my dead wife. And my wallet. With one hundred and seventy five bucks and a credit card. So I went back home and sat around with my gun in my mouth for a few hours. Thanks Dr Willis.

There's some good news this week - I got in touch with an Internet Superhero who can help me with that bitch Loring who killed my wife and is now haunting my comments section. His name's Ram and he used to be in the New Guardians. This guy has been bringing cybernetic justice to the pick-up joints of San Francisco since the days of the Atari ST, and let me tell you he's just as powerful now as he was then. So your days are numbered Loring. Shake in your shoes, you wife-murdering freakshow - Ram is on the case! Or he will be when he gets back from The Horny Toad bar and grill, where he's been since last night. Apparently he's 'perfecting the technique of passing on his DNA' which is some high-level cosmic crapola, let me tell you.

Plus, I got a new apartment! I'm renting with this guy Bob Coleman. He's an architect. It'll be great! Like Friends. Wish me luck!

EDIT: It turns out Bob doesn't flush.