"

To me, the core of that attraction is that she is a better reporter than he is. Think about being Superman for a second. The Olympic record for weightlifting is 1,038 lbs., but you could lift more than that as a child. The record for the 100 meter dash is 9.58 seconds, but you can travel over 51 miles in that time. Going to Vegas? You don’t need your X-Ray vision to win at Blackjack, because you can just count the cards while holding down a conversation about nuclear physics. Without really trying, you are better at just about everything than anyone else in the world.

However, (as Mark Waid once pointed out in a podcast with Marv Wolfman) none of that really translates to your chosen profession. Typing really fast does not help your prose. Being able to lift a tank does not help you convince a source to go on record. It is as near to competing straight up with normal people as Superman would ever be capable of. Even then, it comes easily enough to him that you get a pretty lofty perch at a great paper very early in your career. It is just in this one context, there is someone better than you are: Lois Lane.

As mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent, you reach up for the first time in your life and she rejects you.

To me, it is an inversion of the Luthor story. Luthor sees someone above him and feels hate. Superman sees someone above him and feels love.

"

Dean Hacker, comment on “Giving Lois Lane A Second Look, For The First Time” by Kelly Thompson (CBR: She Has No Head!)

#GoLois

(via wickedjunkie)

(Source: fyeahsupermanandloislane, via wilwheaton)

lauradefazio:

My little brother broke his tiny bone in his wrist that does not heal well.  So we had to spice it up if he was going to wear it for a week.

archiemcphee:

English artist Craig Davison creates series of paintings that beautifully illustrate the awesome power of childhood imagination and our limitless ability to play pretend as our favorite movie characters. He draws from a wide variety of movies, but the pieces seen here all revolve around Star Wars.

Kids play their hearts in the foreground while their shadows loom larger than life in the background as the fictional characters they’re pretending to be. Tree branches have become light sabers, cardboard tubes and a hair dryer work equally well as blasters, a garbage can and a colander are all you need to be R2-D2 and C3PO, and a pair of headphones serve as Princess Leia’s cinnamon bun hairdo.

Visit Craig Davison’s website to check out more of his delightful and nostalgic artwork. Then go grab a tree branch and meet us at the park for a light saber duel.

[via Nerd Approved]

(via fuckyeahillustrativeart)

nevver:

Dead at 46, Philip Seymour Hoffman

I love this man. 

nevver:

Dead at 46, Philip Seymour Hoffman

I love this man. 

(Source: pinterest.com)

(Source: thesaramonster, via wilwheaton)

deviantart:

the dark knight returns… his presents by m7781
nevver:

Picasso

I can dig it.

nevver:

Picasso

I can dig it.

theparisreview:

“Let me repeat. I have not read all the work of this present generation of writing. I have not had time yet. So I must speak only of the ones I do know. I am thinking now of what I rate the best one, Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, perhaps because this one expresses so completely what I have tried to say. A youth, father to what will—must—someday be a man, more intelligent than some and more sensitive than most, who—he would not even have called it by instinct because he did not know he possessed it because God perhaps had put it there, loved man and wished to be a part of mankind, humanity, who tried to join the human race and failed. To me, his tragedy was not that he was, as he perhaps thought, not tough enough or brave enough or deserving enough to be accepted into humanity. His tragedy was that when he attempted to enter the human race, there was no human race there. There was nothing for him to do save buzz, frantic and inviolate, inside the glass wall of his tumbler, until he either gave up or was himself, by himself, by his own frantic buzzing, destroyed.”
—William Faulkner’s from “A Word to Young Writers.”

Just watched the doc ‘Salinger’ last night. Loved it. Highly recommended.
Also, note Faulkner’s use of the contextually-ironic term “tumbler”. Cheers, Bill.
Frantically and Inviolately yours, DRS

theparisreview:

“Let me repeat. I have not read all the work of this present generation of writing. I have not had time yet. So I must speak only of the ones I do know. I am thinking now of what I rate the best one, Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, perhaps because this one expresses so completely what I have tried to say. A youth, father to what will—must—someday be a man, more intelligent than some and more sensitive than most, who—he would not even have called it by instinct because he did not know he possessed it because God perhaps had put it there, loved man and wished to be a part of mankind, humanity, who tried to join the human race and failed. To me, his tragedy was not that he was, as he perhaps thought, not tough enough or brave enough or deserving enough to be accepted into humanity. His tragedy was that when he attempted to enter the human race, there was no human race there. There was nothing for him to do save buzz, frantic and inviolate, inside the glass wall of his tumbler, until he either gave up or was himself, by himself, by his own frantic buzzing, destroyed.”

William Faulkner’s from “A Word to Young Writers.”

Just watched the doc ‘Salinger’ last night. Loved it. Highly recommended.

Also, note Faulkner’s use of the contextually-ironic term “tumbler”. Cheers, Bill.

Frantically and Inviolately yours, DRS