Tuesday, November 19, 2002

Once upon a time, Superboy had a whole menagerie of Super-Pets. Among these was Krypto, the Super-Dog. There was a Super-Cat (Streaky?) and a Super-Horse (Comet). But I think the most potentially disastrous among these was a Super-Monkey.

His name is Beppo.

The art of the day was not exact, but when I imagine things in my head, I figure the monkey was a Rhesus Monkey.

I have two problems with the whole concept: Here in Casa de Big Stupid Tommy, we refer to monkeys as Tree Clinging Crap Flingers. And the monkey, with the proportionate super-strength a'la Superman, could probably fling crap with super speed. That's the first problem.

The second problem is that Superboy limits himself with his moral code. He is in possession of powers of higher reasoning. He knows how to control his temper, and he knows right from wrong.

Beppo, the Super-Monkey, unless he is possessed of some form of super-monkey-moral-code unheard of among his brethren, finds himself possessed of many of Superman's powers, upto and including super strength, heat vision, super speed and freezer breath, but without the constraints of human intellect or Jonathan and Martha Kent infused strict moral code. He's a monkey. In my experience, monkeys live by instinct. They're happy when they have food or sleep or whatever their little monkey hearts desire. But when things go against them, they lash out violently.

What I'm getting at here is that I'm terribly, terribly afraid. Afraid that I'll be sucked into a DC Comic from the 1960's and come face-to-face with Beppo the Super Monkey.

This Site says that Beppo is mischievous and inquisitive.

But I'm sure the cameras of DC Comics only caught the good side of Beppo. (All television and media is this way. They don't show Regis Philben eating toilet paper, either, but it doesn't mean it doesn't happen!)

I'm afraid.

I'll get sucked in.

I'll make Beppo mad.

And he'll start flinging crap, super speed style. Faster than the eye can see and more powerful than a bullet from a gun.

And that's how I'll die. Riddled as if shot with a 12-gauge.

Only instead of Scatter Shot, it's Monkey Feces that causes my ultimate demise.

Make sure to watch the NWA-TNA Wednesday. It's Jeff Jarrett vs. Ron Killings for the World Title.

Mail Big Stupid Tommy


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