Postcards from Arkham Asylum
You know who really loved their jobs? Those supervillains on the Adam West-era Batman. Think about it; they were always cackling & rubbing their hands together gleefully. They could barely contain themselves as they hatched each week's nefarious scheme. You never saw Caesar Romero dragging his heels as he poisoned the Gotham City reservoir. Frank Gorshin never had to be prodded into coming up with those tantalizing clues, in the form of riddles. If you think about it, he didn;t have to leave the clues at all, he could've just robbed the banks & been on his way.
I kind of like living in the industrial part of downtown (KIND of; I'm not crazy about it), partly because when you live a good distance from those farty lofts, the buildings around you look like the hideouts of those classic villains. Abandoned toy factories, paper recycling plants, decrepid self-storage units & slaughterhouses; these are the places you would find the Penguin, or even Vincent Price's Egghead ("Eggsellent!") sitting around chastising their bumbling gang in matching turtlenecks.
Let's see...there was the Bookworm, who was that, Roddy McDowell? And There were a couple of different Mr. Freeze's. Or were they Dr.Freeze. And I know there like, at least 3 Catwomen. Eartha Kitt & some other chicks. And, uh...King Tut, & the Black Widow...I don't think the Scarecrow was on that show, though. When you think about it, it all comes down to the Riddler, that's the quintessential supervillain. I mean, he lays it all out on the table, no bones. Plus he always had snappy comebacks for Burt Ward & Adam West. What did he call 'em? Now I forget. "Boy Blunder" & uh, what did he call Batman? Must've been funny or I wouldn't have thought to mention it.
Hey that reminds me...my mind really is starting to show some signs of age. Or signs of abuse, whatever you want to call it. Why, just the other night, I was in line at Big Mac's Liquor, right there on Sunset & Lucile, & some dude walked in who I vaguely recognized as someone I should be pissed at. Why I should have been pissed I have no idea. None whatsoever. But I started to get pissed anyways, & was giving him the stinkeye even though he showed no signs of recognizing me. Was he someone who talked shit to me at my old job? Did he steal a parking space from me? Maybe he was one of those pricks who walks in front of you on the sidewalk like you don't exist, then gets all huffy when you bump him out of your way with your forearm? WHO WAS THAT ASSHOLE!?!? Ah, fuck it. Next time he does whatever he did, I'll be all over him. Maybe I oughtta start writing these things down in a notebook I can carry with me.
Heh heh. Everybody in the office is at lunch so I'm blogging at work. I'm getting paid to blog! Hey...Does this make me a professional writer? No. No, it doesn't.
It's a long way to the top when you wanna be a supervillain.
I kind of like living in the industrial part of downtown (KIND of; I'm not crazy about it), partly because when you live a good distance from those farty lofts, the buildings around you look like the hideouts of those classic villains. Abandoned toy factories, paper recycling plants, decrepid self-storage units & slaughterhouses; these are the places you would find the Penguin, or even Vincent Price's Egghead ("Eggsellent!") sitting around chastising their bumbling gang in matching turtlenecks.
Let's see...there was the Bookworm, who was that, Roddy McDowell? And There were a couple of different Mr. Freeze's. Or were they Dr.Freeze. And I know there like, at least 3 Catwomen. Eartha Kitt & some other chicks. And, uh...King Tut, & the Black Widow...I don't think the Scarecrow was on that show, though. When you think about it, it all comes down to the Riddler, that's the quintessential supervillain. I mean, he lays it all out on the table, no bones. Plus he always had snappy comebacks for Burt Ward & Adam West. What did he call 'em? Now I forget. "Boy Blunder" & uh, what did he call Batman? Must've been funny or I wouldn't have thought to mention it.
Hey that reminds me...my mind really is starting to show some signs of age. Or signs of abuse, whatever you want to call it. Why, just the other night, I was in line at Big Mac's Liquor, right there on Sunset & Lucile, & some dude walked in who I vaguely recognized as someone I should be pissed at. Why I should have been pissed I have no idea. None whatsoever. But I started to get pissed anyways, & was giving him the stinkeye even though he showed no signs of recognizing me. Was he someone who talked shit to me at my old job? Did he steal a parking space from me? Maybe he was one of those pricks who walks in front of you on the sidewalk like you don't exist, then gets all huffy when you bump him out of your way with your forearm? WHO WAS THAT ASSHOLE!?!? Ah, fuck it. Next time he does whatever he did, I'll be all over him. Maybe I oughtta start writing these things down in a notebook I can carry with me.
Heh heh. Everybody in the office is at lunch so I'm blogging at work. I'm getting paid to blog! Hey...Does this make me a professional writer? No. No, it doesn't.
It's a long way to the top when you wanna be a supervillain.
posted by I. P. Frehley at 1:29 PM
1 Comments:
Lee Meriwether
Eartha Kitt
(to Wong Foo, thanks for everything…) Julie Newmar
The villains today are not as entertaining as the Vaudeville hold-overs that were employed on that show.
If William Frawley were around and active at that time I’m sure they would have tapped him as a villain. Even better if Dick Van Dyke could have stayed sober long enough to twirl a handle-bar he would have been in our list of snydley villains. HOLY HOPPS BAT MAN… THE DISTILLER!
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