This year I decided to make myself a Kanye West Graduation Bear head out of paper mache and go as the rap stars stuffed alter ego. A balloon form, many layers of newspaper, a thick application of plaster and tons of spray paint induced nightmares later, I got this:
I thought, all around, it worked out pretty well. Now, time to start planning for next year.
An outline for a third Batman movie ripping heavily off of the Frank Miller story:
The story begins with a series of news broadcasters who summarize the major points of TDK, and give a brief overview of the months that followed:
Harvey Dent’s fall from grace was covered up but there is enough suspicion around the mysterious deaths and a few YouTube videos of his face from the hospital that rumors start up, and all of the people that were put away file appeals and are soon released.
With most of the crime families largely disbanded, small gangs begin to crop up. Lots of gangs. Violent activity is highlighted. The Mutants blow this up. The Joker’s Circus blow that up. The Sons of Batman blow something else up.
The hunt for Batman continues, and our hero is becoming more worn. He’s beginning to make mistakes and he’s falling apart.
Robber’s are getting away from him.
Footage of Batman hobbling to the tumbler.
Things like batarangs and ropes are left behind sloppily.
The Mutant’s leader, Bane, has been taken into custody. He mocks Batman, claiming that he would’ve killed him if he hadn’t cheated. Used a gun in a desperate moment to escape amidst a huge police raid of the city dump; his back nearly broken in two.
In national news, the whole country is being torn apart by crime. The federal government is in denial. The governor is busy and can’t take questions. The governor defers to the mayor. The mayor “stands behind” his commissioner. Commissioner Gordon: “I said no comment!”
In international news, tensions are rising regarding foreign policy. The President promises “there’s nothing to be worried about, we’ve got it taken care of, just trust us.”
An assassination attempt on a foreign dictator is thwarted when a bullet is deflected away inches from his head.
A train rigged with explosives in China is miraculously derailed only a mile from a busy government building.
Middle Eastern protests are broken up by mysterious storms; loud thunder-like booms, high winds and what looks like purple lightening streaking across the sky.
Bruce is in some type of contraption. Either what looks like a high-tech neck brace, or hanging upside down from a medical stretcher. He’s in pain, but fighting it. He’s working intensely on something. Either typing on a computer which is controlling something off screen, or with his hands in some type of radioactive containment unit. We don’t see the thing he’s working on, but it’s casting a bright green glow on Bruce. Bruce is wincing from time to time. Giving commands to a voice-activated computer. There’s a glass of wine near Wayne. He’s drinking now. At some point, Alfred delivers the line “That will be all, Master Bruce. I can’t stand to think of future Wayne’s facing an empty wine cellar.”
We get a look at the bat cave which is significantly beefed up. Way more computers. One wall is lined in suits, and at the far end, out of focus, is one that looks a little bit different; bulky like a pressure suit. Wayne has been tinkering with different designs and prototypes. Wayne talks Lucious out of resignation, and promises to never have him compromise his ethics again. Fox is still helping out when he can.
Alfred comes in and interrupts Bruce. He has playboy billionaire things to attend to. Bruce gets up/down and out of his contraptions with Alfred’s help. He’s cut up, and bruised all over. Really falling apart. But he’s bigger than usual. More muscular, more ripped. He’s become a machine. Totally obsessed with his work as Batman since Rachel’s death. He’s more fanatical than ever, but he’s coming apart at the seams. As they walk to exit the cave, Bruce instructs the computer to “Save progress on project: Last Boyscout.”
At some point he needs to be dressed normally as Bruce, but he’ll lash out at Alfred in Batman’s voice.
What follows:
Bruce meets with Gordon. He’s revealed his identity to him so that they can meet, since Batman is a wanted fugitive now, but they still meet in semi-secret because why would a billionaire be talking to a police commissioner. They’re discussing The Mutants. They’re discussing Bane. They’re formulating a way to end the gang wars. They decide that Batman needs to beat up Bane in front of his own gang. They need to embarrass the leader.
The Mutants are tricked into showing up to an all-hands meeting near the dumps. Bane is left to escape prison, and then coaxed into fight with Batman.
Batman is a brutal surgeon. He really messes Bane up. Breaks all of his limbs. Nearly kills him. Walks away.
The Mutants are floored, they disperse, but really end up merging with the Sons of Batman. They overtake the Joker’s Circus and become an overly violent bunch of vigilantes. It’s still a gang, though, despite their intentions and they cause a lot of trouble. This is told in another series of newscasts.
A meeting at the White House between the cocky, conservative, kind of stupid president and an imposing voice that we never really see. Whoever he’s talking to, he casts a big shadow and while his voice is strong and bold, his words are obedient, even subservient. They’re talking about Gotham. The president tells the voice not to worry about Gotham; martial law is in order, but the voice needs to pay Batman a visit. The voice should be more worried about another situation. Northern Korea, and the warheads that are being shipped around.
Bruce meets with Gordon. Gordon is loosing it with the martial law situation. He can’t figure out what needs to be done next. Bruce isn’t sure either.
Batman on patrol. Faces down with some punks. He chases a few of them into a pet store. He’s beating them mercilessly trying to get information out of them about their gang. It’s silent in the store, but then a cage of red and yellow-breasted birds start chirping wildly. Batman looks over at them, and the whole store starts shaking. Something comes blowing through the side of the store. Batman says “NOT NOW!” The voice says, “We need to talk. I’ll let you finish up here, and I’ll come see you tomorrow.” A burst of wind. The voice is gone. Batman punches the punk and leaves.
That night we get the back story. Bruce learned about Clark when he was with the League of Shadows. He’s been doing his research. He knows about him, and all his powers. He also knows that it’s been a long time since Clark was just Clark. He’s an agent of the federal government now; a secret weapon. He’s a pawn, but he’s completely blind to it. He thinks he’s just doing his civic duty. A total boyscout.
Bruce and Clark meet at Wayne Manor. Clark is as huge as a linebacker, but cut out of stone. They have a complex exchange about the ethics of what they do. Clark breaks down the situation: the vigilante thing isn’t like it used to be. You can’t just dispense justice however you want. One day, someone with authority is going to order me to take you down. And when that day comes—
“When that day comes, Clark. May the best man win.” Bruce says.
Clark is baffled. “Hey, now that’s not…” Clark looks away. He hears something. “I need to go.”
Clark is being signaled by the White House. A rogue carrier plane totally armed up and carrying a nuclear device has been spotted off the coast of CA. He intersects the plane which launches missiles at him. He destroys all of them. He takes out the planes engines and flies it to a remote area of the dessert. He sets the plane down, and rips open the hatch. Three guards inside fire their guns at him. The bullets bounce off. They activate the device. Clark rushes to it, and bursts through the ceiling of the plane, but the timer is short and he barely makes it out of the atmosphere when the bomb goes off and sends him hurtling back down to Earth. The explosion destroys several satellites and giant sections of the power grid in the US go dark. Dust blots out the sun and Clark is weakened severely.
Gotham, now in darkness, has been overtaken with chaos. Prisoners escape Arkham. Gangs go nuts. The military there officially is on edge.
Batman rides out to Sons of Batman “head quarters” and convinces them to straighten up. They fight alongside the military and help recapture all the escaped prisoners.
Embarrassed that Gotham has been restored to peace while the rest of the country is mad with fear over the nuclear incident, the president orders Clark after Batman.
Clark burns a message into Wayne Manor’s lawn with his laser vision. It reads “WHERE?” Bruce whispers “Crime Alley,” the place his parents were murdered.
They showdown in Crime Alley. As Clark approaches, Batman sets off a series of booby traps as a “power test” to see how weak Clark is following the blast. He’s not at full strength, but still easily tears through most of the traps.
Batman is dressed in his giant pressure suit which he has plugged into Gotham’s power grid. His strength is enhanced by the suit and he uses its weapons to give Clark a pretty severe pummeling. Then he unleashes the ace up his sleeve. He’s synthesized Kryptonite (the green glow from the opening sequence). It cost him fortune to develop, but luckily he had it. “I’ve become a political liability, Clark. And you’ve become a joke!”
He continues to pummel Clark. But then Clark notices Bruce’s heart. It sputters. “Bruce, your heart,” he chokes out. At that moment, Batman falls to his knees. He’s having a heart attack. He falls.
Alfred, back at the cave, initiates a self-destruct sequence. You see a tear in his eye as Bruce’s life-signs go dead.
Clark rips the section of Batman’s suit with the kryptonite out and tosses it far away. He cradles Batman. “You’d die for all of this?” Clark asks. “It would be a good death,” Bruce replies.
Batman’s identity is revealed. Gotham is shocked. Shocked out of it’s crime-driven funk. At Bruce’s funeral, there are many mourners. Floating above the ceremony, we see Clark. He looks very upset. He hears Bruce’s heart start beating through the coffin. He glances at Alfred, who nods his head. Clark cracks a small grin, and launches off in a streak across the sky.
Bruce had faked his death in order to die as a symbol of goodness in Gotham. He’s still alive and training the now reformed gangs of Gotham to hold the Batman’s mantle. They fight crime in the city under his tutelage, and the legend continues.
There aren’t a whole lot of sappy romcoms or stories written with a flare for the sentimental that can get the better of me. In all truth, there aren’t any at all. I’m a fairly cold hearted person, and that’s what makes my love affair with the Ferrari 612 Scaglietti surprising (how can such a man love?!?!) and apropos (figures he’d be in love with a machine).
Indeed, my love for one of Pininfarina’s most recent triumphs extends beyond its beautifully classic exterior; though, its clean curves and scalloped doors are something to behold. My love extends deeper than the all aluminum, hand-crafted chassis. Even when marveling at the amazing 6 speed, V12 engine it is clear that my love for the Scaglietti is not merely the the resulting sum of its astonishing parts…
No, my love is deeper. It reaches back into the automobile’s heritage. Well before the time that the Scaglietti was a twinkle in its engineers’ eyes. Well beyond the time, in fact, that those engineers were a twinkle in their parents’ eyes.
My love reaches back to 1954 when a real life love story played itself out when Roberto Rossellini commissioned Ferrari to build his wife, Ingrid Bergman, a car as beautiful as she was. The artisan coachbuilders in Modena birthed the 375 MM (what would later be the inspiration for much of the Scaglietti’s design) and “Grigio Ingrid,” a special hue of grey meant to compliment Ms. Bergman’s eyes. The color is still listed today as one of Ferrari’s signature finish options.
She hated the car… But that hardly matters. In this sweet fairy tale, the princess is almost unnecessary. Roberto’s admiration birthed art with a ferocious ignition note, and today the Scaglietti stands as a glittering example of love’s beauty and power… And it makes me sigh every time I see one.
Being rather neurotic and a tad obsessive/compulsive, I’ve managed in my lifetime to amass quite a few quirks. Some of these quirks are rather obvious and I’m helpless to hide them from people, like my penchant for only getting one haircut a year when it starts to warm up. Others are pretty discrete and most people would never notice them, like my conscious decision in 2007 to being always type “ok” instead of “okay” because I hated the way the Y looked in most common instant messenger fonts. The latter was a decision arrived at despite several days of inner turmoil regarding the fact that Microsoft Office red squiggles the two-letter spelling.
Whether subtle or radical, however, one thing remains the same: the sheer ridiculousness of the rituals I find myself committing to for absolutely no rational reason whatsoever. In the spirit of humbling myself through public self-deprecation, I’ve decided to list a small sample of my idiosyncrasies.