Yo, groupie.
How delicious when Peter Parker, dork extraordinaire, dons his Spidey costume and starts zapping baddies with shots of uber-jizzweb; no one's gonna kick sand in his face anymore. And the disguise itself is less a disguise, the act of donning it less a transformation, than a revelation, a proud outing of the very qualities that mark the Otherness. It's only as Superman that Clark can declare his alien nature, can leap tall buildings in a single freaktastic bound, that Bruce can gear up in black leather and cool gadgets and say, "Yeah, I'm a fucking whack-job with issues! If you don't believe me, check out the ears."

Del post/ensayo de Thamiris Exposing the Minotaur: Watts and the Modern Super-Freak