Mary Jane Watson?
A fucking supermodel?
Give me a break; that’s when I knew the professionals had left the building, and been piled into the dumpster.
Funny how no one EVER questions “Supermodel Mary Jane”. Well, natch! She’s a fucking supermodel, who would question that? Hey loser, what’re you trying to prove?
It kind of makes me sick.
We wouldn’t even be having these RETARDED discussions if she wasn’t a fucking supermodel, now would we? I mean who would care? Oh, gosh, Spider-Man’s fucking MARRIAGE! Woe is fucking ME! So debilitatingly HARD to write stories about THAT, about him being married to some girl from QUEENS…!
Here’s two things: one, JMS’ decision to make Peter Parker a high-school teacher was SELF-SERVING and WRONG — actually let’s not blame JMS — NO, LET’S BLAME HIM! — no, let’s not blame him, that’s silly. There were times, after all — TIMES! — when he made it work. Well, but anyone can make anything work in a comic-book, for God’s sake, and so what? Jesus Christ, I’m surprised Joey Q. didn’t physically tackle him in the hallway. What makes Spidey look older, and therefore (by Q logic) more boring? Having a supermodel wife? (oh my God, she never will live that down, will she?) Or being some old fucking coot telling kids about the way thing were when he was young? Seriously. SERIOUSLY.
I hated the marriage.
I hated the unmasking more.
And I hate this. Harry Fucking Osborne. You know, I always loved Harry. I loved his hair. I loved his skinniness. He was a great character. That I learned about through reprints in the early Seventies!! When he would boast about his new fucking jalopy. Christ Almighty, am I really being asked to go through that AGAIN? Holy Jumpin’ Shit, if you ever wanted to see that this new Marvel has no fresh ideas at all…
Of course JMS’ whole thing was new fresh ideas. And, did he deliver? Tell you what, I thought JMS treated the marriage squarely, sometimes delicately, often beautifully. He did a good job. He made it new. Overall, I thought his run was less than stellar, but he never took a knee where the marriage was concerned, and you can give him that, and that’s a fair bit.
But I don’t care abouut the marriage anymore. That was — what? In the Eighties? — a long time ago, anyway.
Don’t care about it. Choose to have stopped paying attention to it. They broke up? They’re back together? Whatever, just stop the chain-yankin’.
I despise the “Mad-About-You”-ism of having MJ always know Peter was Spider-Man. To put it plainly: it’s not in continuity. Or if it it is, Mary Jane is a bitch in the Seventies scripts of just about everyone. No, seriously, the Enchantress has got nothing on her. MJ ain’t too nice in some of those Spider-Man scripts, and I can live with that, but if she knows the big secret then she’s a huge cow. Really an awful person. No good. He should not be with her. She should not be with anybody. I mean even with her not knowing the secret it was borderline…
But no one cares, do they?
Okay. On to One More Day.
It’s bloody stupid.
You mean I exerted myself for you, so as to tolerate the new status quo, and now you want me to go back?
Tell ya what: NO.
Fuck, is it 2007 or what? And pardon me for being a bastard, but isn’t this really about aging married comic-book geeks wanting to fuck the Black Cat? I mean, when you boil it all down. The word is unseemly. It’s fucking unseemly. Why it’s so unseemly, it’s practically unseelie. Anyway, whichever way you look at it, it’s wrong. Wrong to make me try to care, when I don’t. When I forgot how to, years ago.
“Hail the conquering hero!!”
“Oh, Petey…I call you Tiger ’cause you’re not.”
I’ll stick with my MJ, thanks. And, oh yeah, forgot to mention, my goddamn Peter Parker!
Hey, Marvel, guess what?
That’s not blood you’re hemorrhaging: it’s my goodwill.
Oh, but maybe I’m not being fair.
Well, fair to who?
To One More Day, Brand New Day, whatever, I say:
You lost me at hello.
Actually, you lost me at “The Other”…now what the fuck was that huge pile of nonsense about?
Okay, goodbye, Spider-Man. I’m blocking your calls. Fool me once, and all that.
When, oh God? When will I finally learn that NuMarvel, that once brought me back, is over?
It’s really over.
Welcome to the Nineties, people. You can have your old room back, too.