When one thinks about costumes and outfits, I find Mr Kent’s one of the most insulting of all.
Would you ever hit a guy with glasses?
Ah ha! I knew it was he! I saw him walk into the phone booth and come out flying, saving the helpless city and stuff of the sort. I knew it was he! When I went back to work, I stared at him all afternoon. He came back in with his neatly pressed shirt and tie. He walked past me and gave a
reassuring smile, but I knew his game. He thinks I don’t know but I know. I know who you are, Clark Kent.
Clark was a senior journalist in my workplace. Because of the cuts, the work place required you to squeeze two job roles in one. Unluckily, Clark was a terrible photojournalist so I was told to tag along with him on occasions to take pictures. He thought he was clever but I read him like a 96 page novella. When on the road with Mr Kent, he would always say those jokes that bring a strong awkwardness in the room. It was not that the joke was cheeky, it was just that the joke was not funny; but it looked like he put effort into it. He did this weird jerking thing with his upper body in silence before he would say anything. And if Mr Kent thought he said something utterly revolutionary, he would push his slacked spectacles back to the top of his nose bridge. I was not buying any of this.
In actual fact, I find Mr Kent quite insulting. For those who are unawares, Clark Kent is Super-man. The thing about Super-man is that he was born Super-man. He came from another planet down to this pretty blue one. Super-man was found as a baby in the clothes you see him wearing when he flies around. He can fly on our planet because of the difference in the gravitational pull. Super-man’s costume is not the blue and red pants you see him wear, funnily enough he was born in those. Super-man’s costume is Clark Kent.
This is when blood boils a tad.
Clark Kent is not the coolest cube of the bunch. Clark Kent is a joke. Clark Kent is annoying and awkward. Clark Kent thinks he knows it all but is pretty dim. Clark Kent is just the typical weirdo. He is the kind of guy you’ll see on the train with a vacant seat next to him, but despite there
being no more seats, you refuse to sit next to him because he is just that weird. That’s the insulting thing about Super-man. Clark Kent is Super-man’s alter ego. When he is out saving the world, that is just Super-man being Super-man. When he is in my work place looking like a loser… he is in disguise.
He can look like a loser and still blend in our society because it just might be so that the look of a loser is Super-man’s perception on western civilisation. Think about it, he roams our lands dressed like an outcast but no one stops him and questions. In his view, we are all outcasts. We all look weird; we are all awkward creatures.
Must I touch on the jheri curl and glasses? Super-man takes his insults to another level when he transforms from zero to hero. He does two things:
1.Takes his glasses off
2. Twists the front of his hair into a jheri curl
Do you mean to tell me that when the public saw Super-man, no-one ever said ‘Hey, you kinda look like Clark Kent only with your glasses off and a jheri curl’. What about the phone booth? If you knew Super-man was going to fly out of the phone booth, wouldn’t you be more cautious when people run into it? Who runs into a phone booth? Who uses phone booths nowadays?
But Super-man would never change the formula because the public would never put the two and two together.
Then it made me think about myself. Am I stupid? Do you say those awkward jokes because you believe I would find it funny? Do you dress the way you do so you can match my dress code? Do you perceive me to be a loser, Clark?
I felt like it was time for a revolt. We do not need Clark Kent, dear readers. Why have a superhero that has no respect for our race? I felt to slap the specs off his face. It would be there where he would show how clearly he could see, and the world would know him for being the big phony he is. Better yet, how about I slap his face. Yeah, if I slap his face hard and loud enough, his instant reaction would be to hit me back. Fair enough my bones would be crushed into a million pieces, but he will show the people that he is Super-man. And then people would harass him, and he would have to leave our planet. We would never have to feel intimidated by the character again.
So do you know what I did? I gave him the swiftest clap across the face ever recorded in the history of man.
And then I waited. I waited long and I waited hard.
Maybe he was going to use his laser ray vision to slice me into pork chops. Or maybe he was going to use his ice-cold breath to freeze me to death. I tensed my body so I would be able to withstand but a fraction of the force he is going to hit me with. Instead, he filed a complaint against me to the boss.
I no longer work as a freelance photographer for The Daily Bundle.