Thursday, October 13, 2005

I am Seymour

Man, some of you people took that “goddamn ball player” thing personally. Which I guess was my point. Derek Jeter may well be the finest man to ever walk the face of the Earth. He means nothing to me. On the other hand, while I am well aware he is a fictional character, Superman... well, Superman matters (in case you hadn’t noticed). Feel free to mock yer socks off.

My point is, sports fanaticism is not only tolerated in our society, it’s encouraged. It’s normal. Being a comic book fan is still and always something that’s barely tolerated, more often outright scorned and ridiculed. That’s why I took the mocking of “Kal-El” personally. Let’s move on.

ENID: You are like, the luckiest guy in the world. I would kill to have all this stuff.
SEYMOUR: Please. Go ahead and kill me.
ENID: Oh, come on. What are you talking about?
SEYMOUR: You think it’s healthy to obsessively collect things? You can’t connect with other people, so you fill your life with stuff. I’m just like all the rest of these pathetic collector losers.

The collector in me has resurfaced lately, and I’m not happy about it. I blame it on disposable income combined with a lack of responsibilities and that disconnectedness Seymour mentioned. But I think I’ve shaken it off. Except for recordable DVDs (oh, yes, the day has come).

I will cop to being really bitter and angry lately, though. I’ve waded knee-deep into serious nihilism and it’s a chilly, fetid swamp (as opposed to the warming waters of my usual cynicism tinged with hopefulness). I don’t like it in here. I’m going to try to find my way out. In the meantime, hide yer kids, dogs and wimmens (there’s shrapnel flying).

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