So, last night, I had some horrible Weekend at Bernie’s-style dream, which is weird, because I have never seen Weekend at Bernie’s, so why am I dreaming about it?
(I also dreamed about a friend coming by my house with a busload of superheroes with really lame powers, but that’s neither here nor there.)
Anyway, I woke up wondering, Can I write a comic book about that? and also Hey, what are the best places to drag a corpse along with you and people might think it’s a living person?
(A bad place is a check-cashing joint near a cop, if you were wondering.)
After much thought, I came up with this list. (Note: some of the thinking might be done during the typing of said list, but I’ll never admit it.)
1. A morgue. On an old episode of Homicide, I remember the coronor was having a really busy day. So busy, in fact, that when he got done autopsying all the bodies in the morgue, he came up with one extra. Now, that guy turned up dead after a fight in the morgue, but I can totally see two guys lugging in dead ol’ Clyde and saying, “Oh, the loss of Grannie has hit ol’ Clyde really hard.” Why can I totally see that? That’s up to my therapist to find out.
2. A vampire convention of some sort, except not a Twilight one, because those vampires are pussies. Everybody is already pretending to be the walking dead here, with the black capes and pasty makeup or pasty skin from living in their parents’ basement, whichever. Why not take it a step further? Why not toss ol’ Clyde into a black cape, stick some fangs in his mouth (draw for the short stick; loser gets the job) and tell everyone he’s very serious about his cosplaying.
3. The mall. “What? No, this isn’t a dead guy. This is a really realistic mannequin. We call him ol’ Clyde. He’s for modeling men’s suits. Be careful bending his arms.”
4. The movie theater. It’s dark, it’s crowded, and everybody’s already sneaking tons of stuff in there under their coats, like beer and babies. This is especially good if it’s a 3-D film, because once those stupid glasses go on, everything looks like death warmed over anyway.
5. An actor’s studio that specializes in “the method.” “Ol’ Clyde here’s playing the part of the corpse.” “Man, he’s good.”
6. A poetry reading/art show/chamber concert. Pssh, like anybody’s go to be able to tell the difference between living and dead at one of these events. They’re boring is what I’m saying. Ha! Take that, poets, artists and chamber concerticians! (That’s like an unholy combination of “musicians” and “chamber concert.”)
7. A crowded train in Japan. With everybody squished in there like sardines in a can, and possibly smelling very much like said sardines, it will seem like ol’ Clyde is standing on his own! And the stench of rotting corpse will be hardly noticeable over the stench of commuters.
8. Santa’s workshop. Not the real Santa’s workshop, that would be really hard. First, there’s all the traveling, and then there’s Santa’s awesome security system. I mean a Santa’s workshop with minimum-wage employees dressed like elves and children pulling on Santa’s fake beard. Just toss ol’ Clyde into a Santa Suit, glue a beard to him (unless ol’ Clyde had his own luxurious, snowy-white beard in his life, then you’re set!) and push him into a sitting position. He won’t need any bathroom breaks. Best Santa ever.
9. The beach. If worst comes to worst, and people notice you’re dragging this corpse along with you, just pretend like the waves washed him up and you only just noticed. “Gahhh! I thought it was driftwood!”
10. Work. Your superiors will probably give ol’ Clyde the position that you’ve been eyeing, actually, so maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
Today, I launch a new category on this site, wherein I propose to fictional characters. Yes, I know they’re just make-believe. I love them anyway. No, mom, it’s not my love of fictional characters that keeps me from meaningful relationships, it’s my crippling commitment issues.
Moving right along, let’s start off with a fictional character I’ve already proposed marriage to a couple of times on Hollywood Hates Me: Planetary’s Elijah Snow.
Dear Elijah Snow,
Let’s get married.
I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think I would be perfect for you. Sure, you’re a character in a comic book who is over 100 years old and has superpowers and I’m a real person who is not that old and my only superpower is being snarky, but just hear me out.
We would be perfect together.
Your power is to make things cold? I’m always cold!
You’re a two-dimensional figure? Coincidentally enough, I am also very two-dimensional! (It’s kind of a joke. Work with me here, Elijah Snow.)
You’re 110 years old, but you look quite a bit younger? I totally have a thing for older men! (I also have a thing for younger men, but that’s got naught to do with you, Elijah Snow!)
In addition, you’re fighting to save the world from evil and you also keep archives of your doings! Hey! I love to write. I could totally come along with you on your adventures and write things down. Please protect me from the crossfire, Elijah Snow. You wouldn’t want your lovely bride to die tragically. Or, ooooh! Maybe you do. Maybe I could die tragically as you hold me in your arms and cry, “NOOOOOOOOO!” Except I don’t think you would actually do that, unless Warren Ellis gives the rights to Planetary to a lesser writer.
Also, I think me and Jakita Wagner would get along like a house on fire. That’s a thing old people say, right? “Get along like a house on fire”? Should I stop emphasizing your age here? Is that kind of ruining my argument for our future bliss?
Because I think we could be very happy together. Even if you’re one of the evil incarnations from an alternate universe where you’ve killed Superman. ‘Cause you know what, Elijah Snow? I’ve never really liked Superman. So it’s okay! Let’s get married!
I forgot to mention I enjoy baking. And since I would be married to one of the richest men in the world, I wouldn’t have to work (except for when I follow you on your adventures and write stuff down about it, stuff like, OMG, my sexy silver fox husband was soooo awesome when he saved the world today, and Jakita Wagner’s hair was totally cute!) and I would bake all the time.
I assume, since you’re a superhero and drawn on paper to boot, that dieting isn’t an issue.
And we could have a white wedding! Your hair, my gown, snow! It would be perfect.
Please marry me, Elijah Snow. We would be perfect together.
Dear Veronica Mars,
I know your real name is Kristen Bell. I know that. But I can’t help but always think of you as Veronica Mars, because that was the last good role you ever had.
So anyway, you’re currently starring in When in Rome, a rom-com about a magical fountain! And love! And being a successful New Yorker!
(Because God knows we won’t watch a movie unless it’s about New Yorkers.)
So, from what I grasp of the trailer, the storyline is this: You, Veronica Mars, are a happy young professional. A happy young single professional. Until! You run into your ex, who’s all like “I’m engaged,” and you’re all like “Son of a –” Clever editing, that. Or not, whichever. So anyway, ex is happily engaged and all of a sudden you’re like, “Must Find Love!” and so you steal coins from a fountain in Rome after a godawful amount of footage of you being clumsy at your sister’s wedding and finding the guy of your dreams. Wait…. You steal coins from a fountain in Rome after meeting the guy of your dreams. I don’t follow. I mean, I’ve never been that drunk, and I’ve been pretty godsdamned drunk. But even then, my thought processes go thusly: Oooh, it’s the guy of my dreams! I should try to talk to him! And then sleep with him! You know what I won’t do, though? Especially in my inebriated state? Climb into a godsdamned fountain and steal coins out of it.
I mean, who does that? Are we even supposed to be rooting for you, Veronica Mars?
And then the guys who threw coins into the fountain all fall in love with you, like, really? That’s the magical power of the fountain? How drunk was the screenwriter when they wrote this, because I’ve been really drunk and this is a frakking stupid script.
Anyway, I can’t help but notice that Danny Devito is also slumming in this movie, but you know what? At his age, he deserves an easy paycheck.
But you, Veronica Mars? You need to get a new agent. An agent who will step up and say “No more godawful romantic comedies! Veronica Mars can do better than that!” But your agent will probably call you Kristen Bell, because, after all, that is your name.
As a child in grew up in the ’80s or thereabouts, I went through my share of ridiculously faddish toys. From the Transformers knock-offs The Go-Bots to Trolls, I had it all. Even a few “girl toys” here and there.
Of course, none of those toys survived the trip to adulthood. Some were donated, either to a shelter or to my cousins via a loan that was never returned. Some went missing. Some were simply taken by the ravages of time. And some of them were destroyed, either by myself or my little brother.
This post is about those toys.
1. The Stuffed Elephant. This is the first toy I remember my brother breaking, that little bastard. It was a cute stuffed elephant that I had gotten at the hospital for some reason. Do kids still get toys at the hospital? I don’t even know. Anyway, my beautiful, wonderful stuffed elephant was ruthlessly murdered by my brother and his tremendously hard head as I beat him with it. What a jerk.
2. The ugly Barbie my grandma gave us. Once, after a trip to visit our father’s mother, my brother and I returned home with a Barbie doll that we hated soooo much. It was so ugly, we popped the head off and threw the body away. The head remained in my drawer of stupid, useless things for years and years, as a reminder that you shouldn’t pop the heads off of toys that were made in the 1950s and are now worth hundreds of dollars.
3. Castle Greyskull. For Christmas one year, my parents let me in on a little secret. They had found an entire set of He-Man toys at a garage sale and were hiding them in their closet until Christmas day, when they would make the trek out to the tree for my younger brother. Of course, until then, I had free rein to play with them whenever he wasn’t at home (and my parents didn’t know what I was doing). My little brother always thought it was odd that the gate on Castle Greyskull never closed quite right; I told my parents it must’ve come like that.
4. A lightsaber. As I was enjoying a mighty lightsaber battle with one of my younger brother’s friends at his birthday party, a little boy who didn’t know me remarked that he wanted the toy that boy had. I was that boy, or, alternately, a girl with a cool 1980s short haircut. My girlishness enraged by the thoughtless comment, I wailed on the poor bastard who was battling with me, unto the ultimate death of my awesome lightsaber. My parents never bought me another one.
5. Stupid Go-Bots. Yeah, for some reason, I never had Transformers as a kid, only Go-Bots. They sucked, but I regret breaking them because those little pieces sank into the carpet to strike back at our bare feet another day. Stupid Go-Bots. You guys suck so much.
6. My comic book collection. Now, comic books aren’t actually toys, per se, but I loved them like they were. I read my copies of Elfquest till the covers wore off. I had a special spot on my bookshelf reserved for comic books alone. I made my parents take me to the local comic book store, which they believed was a den of drug addicts and child molesters, and bought back issues. Those were the days. The glorious, glorious days. Then my mom wanted me to clean my room and I wouldn’t do it, so she threw away everything that was on the ground, including that comic book collection. I still miss that issue of “Outsiders.”
7. Bicycle. I hate bicycles. I hate them so much. But I really regret blowing out the front wheel on my bicycle by crashing it into my brother’s bicycle and landing flat on my face so that I ended up with a scab that prevented me from eating for a week because it formed over my mouth. And the kids in my class made so much fun of me, the bastards. I hate kids and bicycles so much.
8. Legos. How do you break Legos? With a lot of stomping, that’s how.
9. AT-AT Imperial Walker. Another of my brother’s Christmas presents that my parents rescued from garage sale hell. Seriously, who puts up their kid’s Star Wars collections for sale? Desperate people? Evil people? At any rate, we played the hell out of that AT-AT. We walked it up the stairs. We walked it down the stairs. We threw it down the stairs. Gods, we were really a couple of little assholes.
10. Speak & Spell. After ET came out, every kid wanted a Speak ‘n’ Spell. And I got one. Stupid know-it-all Speak ‘n’ Spell. I beat it to death one day in our driveway, pounding it against the concrete. I’m not quite sure why, but I do know it deserved it. Stupid egghead toy.
It’s a battle of cancer-stick-smoking icons!
Technically, the Marlboro Man was more like a model than a character, but he kind of embodied this whole cigarette-smokin’ spirit of the west thing, and, whatever, you know? It sounded funny in my head.
On to the action! (Note: Actually, words rather than actions follow.)
Physicality. Joe Camel was a cartoon camel who smoked cigarettes. The Marlboro Man, as previously asserted, was a model. You know what models’ jobs are? To look good. That’s what models’ jobs are. (Unless, I suppose, they are the models who are in the “before” pictures, but that’s a whole ‘nother thing here.) Plus, he had this whole rugged cowboy thing going on, and the chicks are mightily into that, or so I’m told by my cowboy-loving friends. Winner? The Marlboro Man.
More likely to make your kids believe smoking is cool? That depends on what kind of kids you raised. Do your children listen to talking cartoon camels who are supposed to be cool? Then your children are assholes. Gods! Who listens to talking camels? I blame you, parents, for your children’s failings. You suck. On the other hand, every kid wants to grow up to be a cowboy! With cancer! Winner? The Marlboro Man.
Probably had dirty sex scenes embedded into his/its flesh? Can you really call a camel a “him”? I mean, it doesn’t feel right. Sure, there’s male camels and there’s female camels, but they all seem rather “it”-ish to me. Anyway, we can’t know for sure what kind of tattoos The Marlboro Man had (or maybe we could, if we weren’t too lazy to do any research, but I think we all know that sooooooo lazy), but we do know that there was a big hullabaloo (is that how you spell that word? Wait, no, here’s a better question: is that word much, much too lame to use?) about the dirty stuff that had been drawn into the Camel on the Camel cigarette packages. That camel was Joe Camel. Winner? Joe Camel.
Snappier dresser? You know, I’m really sounding old today, what with the whole “hullabaloo” and “snappy dresser” thing. What’s the lingo that today’s hip young cigarette smokers are using? Anyone? Moving right along, where you stand on the whole “snappy dresser” issue depends on whether your preferences run toward cowboy chic or “camels dressed in the current fashions.” Whatever. I can’t in good conscience give this category to a cartoon camel. Winner? The Marlboro Man.
Didn’t die of cancer? Joe Camel was a cartoon camel, and is thus immune to nature’s laws. In fact, to this day, Joe Camel resides in the cartoon countryside, smokin’ cartoon cigarettes and doin’ cartoon lady camels and drivin’ cartoon Ferraris. Life is just one big cartoon for you, isn’t it, Joe Camel? On the other hand, several Marlboro Men got cancer (specifically lung cancer) and died, which proves that method acting is the worst acting of all. Winner? Joe Camel.
Has a lamer anti-smoking counterpart? Joe Camel has been re-imagined (like Battlestar Galactica! Only lame!) as Joe Chemo, “a camel who wishes he’d never smoked cigarettes.” And seriously, if you think about, what sort of sick bastard makes a camel smoke cigarettes? I mean, they’re not like monkeys, right? Not that I think making monkeys smoke cigarettes is okay, but there’s a whole portion of society that’s into that sort of thing. And putting them in little tiny people clothing.
The Marlboro Man has no such counterpart, just a bunch of depressing ads featuring real-life dying Marlboro men advocating against cigarettes. I feel sad on the inside right now. Winner? The Marlboro Man.
Overall winner? The Marlboro Man, but it’s mostly because of my strong aversion to camels. Gods, I hate those things.
Continuing the supra-teen-angsty adventures of Whatserella and that demon guy! Featuring: Random Zombie Guy!
Ever since she saw the flicker of jealousy in Johan’s black eyes (they were black like a piece of coal that had been mined from the blackest pit in the blackest part of hell, and also, there were no lights there, so everything looked black), Whatserella’s heart had been racing. Like the hare racing the tortoise. Like the lion racing the mouse. Like some other fable and running or something.
He still cares, she thought. He still loves me.
Just the thought alone made her heart pound, pound, pound, like the heart of that guy in the story about the one guy who murders the other guy and then sticks him under the floorboards and then says “It’s the beating of his hideous heart!” Except his heart probably wasn’t actually pounding, what with the whole being murdered and all, but Whatserella wasn’t too good with symbolism and stuff.
So: He still loves me, she thought and boom went her heart.
With these thoughts in her head (you know, just the two of them: He still cares and he still loves me), she sat down to have lunch in the cafeteria with her rebound boyfriend.
She was going to have to break up with him. It helped a bit that she had been calling him her “rebound boyfriend” to his face for a couple of months now.
“Random zombie guy,” she said to him, because the author can’t be arsed to give anyone in this teen romance a proper name. “You’ve been there for me and I want you to know I appreciate it. So much. You don’t even know. But I want you to know.”
“Argh,” said Random zombie guy. It was all he ever said and frankly, Whatserella wanted to have a decent conversation with someone.
“Frankly,” she said. “I want to have a decent conversation with someone.”
“Argh,” Random zombie guy agreed sadly.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” Whatserella went on. “The way you avoided eating my brains. That other stuff you did. Mostly the brain-not-eating, though.”
As she spoke, the cafeteria meatloaf in front of her seemed to look more and more like brains. Eventually, she shook off the image and her inhibitions.
“We have to break up,” said Whatserella firmly, but femininely, exactly the way a heroine of a supernatual teen romance would do.
“Argh,” said Random zombie guy. A single tear fell, gleaming, from his eye.
A specific quality I look for in my famous people crushes is “Is this guy prettier than me?” That takes a lot of doing, of course, as anyone who knows me will testify that I am quite the looker. (No photographic evidence will be provided.)
This opening paragraph gives me an excuse to insert a photo of Takeshi Kaneshiro as the perfect example.
But there’s some guys out there who … well, just ain’t pretty. Some of them aren’t even all that tall, which is another trait I look for.
Which gives me an excuse to insert a photo of the 6’5″ Kyle Secor.
Right, right, moving on to shorter, less pretty guys, I present you with a list of 10 of them!
1. Simon Pegg. Yes, we’re all aware that recently, I’ve found Simon Pegg to be very, very hot. But if I’m honest with myself, which, we all have to admit, I rarely am, Simon Pegg is not actually all that hot. Except that he is. It’s like a paradox or oxymoron of some sort. I don’t know.
2. Adam Baldwin. Adam Baldwin is the opposite of pretty. He’s growly, he’s scary, he’s built like a brick …house! And every time he shoots at people or punches them in the face, I giggle like a schoolgirl. A schoolgirl with a gigantic crush on Adam Baldwin.
3. Jackie Earle Haley. Yeah, so, Jackie Earle Haley, huh? Jackie Earle Haley is shorter than me. He’s shorter than me! (By a quarter inch, but still!) And one of the best things about him playing Rorschach was that he was exactly the right shade of ugly. (I mean this as a compliment, Jackie Earle Haley! I love you!) Anyway, he’s mysteriously hot. It’s probably the whole Rorschach thing, I don’t know.
4. Eric Elbogen. (Of Say Hi.) Hey, it’s a musician! His lyrics make me laugh, and he seems to be about as geeky as I am. But he’s no (insert hot musician name here, because I can’t think of any), am I right?
5. Bruce Campbell. Bruce Campbell is hot because he’s Bruce Campbell. That is all.
6. Timothy Omundson. I watch USA’s Psych for two reasons: 1) to see how many pop culture references they can make in one minute; 2) because there’s something about Timothy Omundson that makes me feel all squishy.
7. (Nonpuffy) James Spader. James Spader, in his prime, was geeky, thin and pasty. And soooo sexy, right, ladies? I can’t even watch Boston Legal these days, and not just because it looks like a horrible show.
8. Kyle MacLachlan. One of my very first posts at this here blog was a faceoff between Agents Cooper and Mulder. Mulder came out ahead, but only just. I love you, Coop.
9. Speaking of the X-Files, Mitch Pileggi! Don’t ask me either, but he totally is, all right?
10. Britt Daniel. This Spoon frontman is a musician, much like Eric Elbogen, except he’s skinnier and blonder. I don’t know what that has to do with being a musician, but whatever. What makes him hot? He is the frontman of Spoon. That’s so hot.
Before I get into the “movie I’m not seeing this weekend,” I just wanted to send a personal message to The Rock, more lamely known as Dwayne Johnson. That message is WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY? How much money could they have offered you for your dignity, Mr. The Rock? Was it enough?! Was it enough???!!!
Moving on, we have Legion. (Cormac McCarthy’s The Road finally got to the theaters in my town like, what?, six months after it opened? I won’t be seeing it because the book was a soul-sucking vortex of depression, but at least it should be good, so I can’t make fun of it. I mean, I could try, but I’d probably just end up wanting to kill myself instead. So. Legion?)
Legion is about how God has decided to rid earth of the human race.
Announcer guy says something like: “Last time, He sent a flood. This time, He’s sending angels.” Now, I don’t want to tell God how to do His job or anything, because there is surely nothing that will send me on a path to hell faster than that, but I feel pretty confident I can tell Movie God this: You want to destroy humanity? And You’re God? Why don’t you just send a giant comet this way or have the sun flare up really big? Why bother with the creepy angel-things? What’s that you say, Movie God? Because there wouldn’t be a “Legion” otherwise? Well, you can kind of see my point then, can’t you?
I’d seen clips of a creepy old lady in some little podunk restaurant going all flesh-eating zombie on the patrons, but I never connected it with the movie about the angel with the battle wings until I watched the trailer. I had always assumed they were playing that bit for laughs, but I’m starting to think perhaps not.
So, anyway, the trailer opens with the creepy zombie lady who is apparently an angel? Like, really? God loves zombies as much as I do? That’s so cool! Then there’s some other angel that gets all Mr. Fantastic on us, but actually makes me think of the spider-head monster (head-spider monster?) from The Thing. Then there’s our hero, some angel! IMDB seems to think it’s Michael, played by Paul Bettany, but that can’t be right, because he’s not an action star. I mean, he’s just so … gangly. I mean, if he’s humanity’s hope, then, well, whatever, you know?
Dennis Quaid is also in this movie, but I can’t even bring myself to care about why.
Also, there are some lame fight scenes that try to be awesome, but can’t, because there’s no such thing as an awesome fight scene with wings. There’s just not.
(Also, there’s no such thing as an awesome fight scene with Paul Bettany, because, I swear, isn’t he a character actor? Seriously, who thought of this? What a bad idea!!)
The special effects try to be awesome too, like this creepy scene with a bunch of angels swooping down like giant, angry locusts, but they all hit me the same way the scene in the restaurant with the kindly old face-eating zombie lady: like they should have been played for laughs instead of for serious.
Oh, there is one good line. Well, it’s a combination of two lines that together make pretty good: “I don’t even believe in God.” “Well, he doesn’t believe in you either.” (P.S. That might not be right, but please don’t think I’m watching the trailer a second time just for accuracy.)
Anyway? Final thoughts on Legion: 1. Kill us harder, Movie God; 2) Unless you are planning to send Paul Bettany as our savior, in which case, your plan will almost certainly come to human-exterminating fruition; 3) Tell Dennis Quaid to start investing his money so he doesn’t have to do this sort of thing anymore. Thank you.
Here is a fun exercise wherein I take dialogue from The Matrix (or at least what the internets tells me is dialogue, because I saw that movie a loooooong time ago and have no plans of seeing it ever, ever again, so what do I know?) and replace Keanu Reeves’s lines with my favorite Reeves replacement of all: the wooden spoon. That means every time you see the wooden spoon, Keanu Reeves was emoting or something.
I’m not sure if this is all that funny in execution, but rest assured that I had a grand ol’ time thinking of it.
In this scene, we have Neo meeting Morpheus for the first time. It’s a dramatic scene. Neo is just beginning to learn that the world is not what he always believed it was. For some reason, the Wachowski Brothers thought Keanu Reeves would be able to effectively portray that. Heh. Silly Wachowski Brothers.
Morpheus: Hello Neo. Do you know who this is?
Morpheus: Yes. I’ve been looking for you, Neo. I don’t know if you’re ready to see what I want to show you, but unfortunately you and I have run out of time. They’re coming for you, Neo, and I don’t know what they’re going to do.
Morpheus: Stand up and see for yourself.
Morpheus: Yes, now. Do it slowly. The elevator.
Morpheus: I don’t know, but if you don’t want to find out I suggest you get out of there.
Morpheus: I can guide you but you must do exactly as I say.
Morpheus: The cubicle across from you is empty.
Morpheus: Go, now…Stay here for just a moment. When I tell you, go to the end of the row, to the office at the end of the hall. Stay as low as you can…. Go, now…. Good. Now, outside there is a scaffold.
Morpheus: We don’t have time, Neo. To your left there’s a window. Go to it…. Open it. You can use the scaffold to get to the roof.
Morpheus: There are two ways out of this building. One is that scaffold, the other is in their custody. You take a chance either way. I leave it to you.
Since I’m still on a Chuck high from the beginning of the new season, I thought we’d have one of my favorite characters, Captain Awesome, face up against Marvel’s Captain America.
(But I’ll bet you figured that out from this post title.)
(I mean, I hope so.)
Captain Awesome’s superpower is the power of being awesome. Captain America’s superpower is the power of being … well, actually, also awesome. But who’s more awesome? And will lokifire go for a record useage of the word awesome in this post?!
We can only hope so!
On to the awesome battle!
Physicality. I’ve finally started spelling physicality right on the first try. I’m feeling really good about that. To make up for it, I’m probably going to spell awesome wrong every time I type it. Back on task, here, though: Captain Awesome is a preternaturally well-built blonde with awesome eyebrows. Captain America is a … well, actually, preternaturally well-built blonde with awesome eyebrows. Winner? I’m picking Captain Awesome, because he is a real person and Captain America is a drawing. Who should be played by Captain Awesome in a live-action movie.
Rallying cry? Captain America gets to say “Avengers Assemble,” which is pretty cool, but not as cool as something like “Avengers avenge!” because you’ve got the whole Thing That Their Name Is in there. Captain Awesome says “awesome” and variations thereof. Winner? I think you can probably tell from my tendency to overuse a certain word (that certain word is the word “awesome,” in case you thought I was trying to avoid overusing it in this case) that my bias here is for Captain Awesome. You would be right in believing that, and Captain Awesome wins.
Hangs out with superheroes? Among his friends, Captain America counts Thor, the Scarlet Witch, the Incredible Hulk and possibly Spider-man. He and Spider-man might just be acquaintances, though, and I wouldn’t blame Captain America for secretly finding him annoying. Captain Awesome is married to Ellie, sister to supercomputer-in-his-head Chuck, who is spy buddies with Sarah Walker and John “The Best Baldwin of All” Casey. Sadly, however, no matter how much ass Sarah Walker and John “So Hot” Casey kick, they are not actually superheroes.
Chuck comes the closest, because having a computer in your brain seems like it really should be considered a superpower, but his soul-crushing awkwardness kind of makes up for that. Winner? Captain America.
Is a doctor in real life? I think Captain America’s job is being Captain America. Don’t quote me on that, because I’m not a big fan of Captain America and his Marvel wiki entry is realllllly long. Also, see previous posts re: lazy. Captain Awesome, however, is totally a doctor! And a heart surgeon of some kind to boot! Whattaguy! Winner? Captain Awesome.
Best uniform? You can’t think of Captain America without thinking of that television movie where he wore a motorcycle helmet for some reason.
Ha, ha, I’m just kidding. Everybody knows what Captain America’s costume looks like! The flag, only a really ripped guy is wearing it!
Captain Awesome wears scrubs, and sometimes goes shirtless. Which is awesome.
The winner? I love a shirtless man more than just about anything (well, a specific kind of shirtless man, which is to say a shirtless man who clearly spends more time on his abs than he would on me), but “shirtless” does not a uniform make. Captain America.
Has a cute brother-in-law? Is Captain America even married?
Wait … waaaaiiiit. Are you stacking the deck in Captain Awesome’s favor? Obviously.
Why would you do that? Because Captain America is boring.
Well, let’s make that a category. What, so Captain America can win at being boring?
No, so Captain Awesome can … you know what? Shut up. You shut up.
You do realize you’re the only person writing these, so you’re arguing with yourself? And that I referred to myself in second person!
Moving right along, is an actually fun and interesting character? Some people would say Captain America is a fun and interesting character. Those people are wrong. They need schooling. Either of the traditional sit-in-your-desk-and-do-homework kind or the less traditional getting-your-ass-kicked-by-Captain-America-haters kind. People complain about Superman being a boy scout? Captain America is a boy scout. On the other hand, Captain Awesome tangoed shirtless and pantsless (not boxers-less, though) with his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Two observations here: 1) That’s interesting! 2) I have never used this many hyphens before in my life. Winner? Captain Awesome.
Let’s just end this already and pick an overall winner. Captain Awesome, because he is awesome.