I’m impressed with your knowledge of the superheroes. Frankly, they are all boring, and I lump them all into embodiments of fantasy. We all have our escapes, and if you find Batman more appealing, then fine. In regard to your suggestion that we ALL deceive ourselves, that is true in various amounts and ways. I only wished to point out the way in which the “team” embodies a superhero.

A snowflake does not melt when it lands on the eyelash of a deer because the temperature of the eyelash is below freezing as is the temperature of the snowflake. This simple truth has eluded you as has the falsehood of the rest of your rant about the natures of women. But like I said above, you are right in character now, irritating, insinuating, drumming up reaction from the common folk for your insults.

You say something like that whenever you've been beaked to the max.

Pull quotes, will you? How very impressive. The fact is, Mr. P.I., you have not done your research. You are utterly and colossally wrong, which makes you an utter _________ and a colossal ___________. Fill in the blanks from your vast vocabulary of moral turpitudes. Pity my Venetian blinds are not dusty.

You make yourself a laughingstock. Please read it again and note the kind of thinking this poem addresses and then tell me whether you think it is productive ergo worthwhile.

lol. You say something like that whenever you've been beaked to the max.

Of course your lost. Everyone is. That's what happens when you try to explain things to Dovina. She is unable to sustain a thought for anything longer than the time it takes for a snowflake to melt on the eyelash of a startled deer. As my analogy may suggest, it's a typical female trait. It is well known that women are generally better at multi-tasking than men. This makes them good at house work, and nattering, but when it comes to moderately intense concentration their brains go higgledy-piggledy, and they start parping-off in all directions at once. And then they probably think something like, "Oh these men! They just can't keep up with me!" I'm surprised you persist. I gave up on the Superman-Spiderman thing the second she earnestly began correcting my use of superlatives :(

I'm lost. Are you admitting that mouth-plums are real plums? Or that slang-use is irrespective of class (or the opposite of what you thought)? Or that it's meant to be unintelligible to most? Or that someone of greater worth can, but doesn't need to, assert it? Or that your "arguements", like so many sunwilted and spoiled-smelling meat-hats, have collapsed around your greasy ears, so the only thing you can think to do is Poot loudly enough to cover the sickly squelch?

Oh God, your so lost. It's touching, really. Try this: The difference between Superman and Spiderman is Superman was born on Krypton, Spiderman was born on Earth. And Superman works for the Daily Planet, Spiderman works for the Daily Bugle. The difference between Batman and most heroes is Batman is a millionaire recluse who gets out of tough spots by using the gadgets on his toolbelt. In his latter days, he's a wheelchair bound superrecluse mentor to a string of protege Batpeople. and he's not even a reporter at all. Are you suggesting -=Dark_Angel=-,P.I., is seeking betterment through either an alien or a genetically-enhanced human? Of course not! You just think it's cool to seem to make more-or-less irrelevant distinctions between virtually indistinguishable things, and not get real distinctions between discrete things. In your real, outside life, people probably nod politely and say "Oh, yeah your right," and then conveniently neglect to invite you to St Crispin's Day parties.

Excuse the bumblings of an admitted simpleton, but I'd say the epitome of pretentious self-deception is something like "I'm not a pretentious self-deceiver". You could even say that's a meta-epitome of meta-pretentious meta-self-deceit, which would probably appeal to you, things like "meta" seeming to appeal to you. Of course, I would never dare suggest I wasn't a pretentious self-deceiver. Would you?

Obviously, I didn't really fly through a window. I obviously wasn't in Tennessee, either, but I needed a bathroom for the old man, and there's nothing doing of the kind here. Incidentally, the reason I'm defending this poem so much is I think it's the first thing I've written in ages that doesn't contradict itself every three lines. You'd have done better to start with an earlier one, I think.

Both of you are wrong. Thinking produces thoughts, ergo productive. To Dovina: Yes, the earlier, deleted version of this comment IS funnier. Repost it and make me a laughing-stock if you want. My hands were cold.