I used my brain once. Why not? It uses me all the time. It's what you might call a "symbiotic relationship."
But sometimes my brain is mean to me. It mocks me. It won't tell me where I left things. And sometimes it just shuts down when I'm in the middle of some physical feat, and THWACK. Oh, the messes I've cleaned and the stationary objects I've run into.
Mostly it's o.k. though, and it would be a cold day in hell before I wept bitter tears and asked myself what "Brad" would do, I tell ya' that. Who the fuck is Brad?
The brains of comic book writers are funny things...at the same time that he was making Sue mouth idiotic words like this he was making her into a character who had more strength and independence than her previous history (in which she required constant rescue). But that might just be because he wanted to draw more things going boom.
First of all, babe, I'm not dead yet. I'm quite defective, but there's a doc in a Mobile, Alabama Urgent Care that says I'll pull through. So there's that.
Next, what I'd do? That's obvious, isn't it? You essentially have to options in cases like this. One, you can go all nutso and light a bunch o'shit on fire. That's doesn't always actually help, but it's dramatic and it makes you feel better. The other option is to take a nap. Have a couple big glasses of the Sailor Jerry's and crash out for a few hours, then get up, make some bacon for breakies and see how things look. Who knows, maybe the whole thing blew over while you were sawing logs n shit, gnome sane?
15 comments:
"Brain, brain, brain! Always brain! What is brain?!?"
Lonk for my comment.
It's o.k., zrm. We're all geeks here.
~
Geeks and Punks and Metalheads, Oh my!
thundra, I wanted to pre-emptively point out that my initial comment had the quote rong.
You said it, babee!!
I used my brain once. Why not? It uses me all the time. It's what you might call a "symbiotic relationship."
But sometimes my brain is mean to me. It mocks me. It won't tell me where I left things. And sometimes it just shuts down when I'm in the middle of some physical feat, and THWACK. Oh, the messes I've cleaned and the stationary objects I've run into.
Mostly it's o.k. though, and it would be a cold day in hell before I wept bitter tears and asked myself what "Brad" would do, I tell ya' that. Who the fuck is Brad?
Oh. It's "Reed". Well, who the fuck is "Reed". Don't care what he would think or do either.
"Brad" is an honest mistake.
So go ahead, Man, splain this to us.
It's what you might call a "symbiotic relationship."
Sounds like a dysfunctional relationship to me. Co-dependency. I am surprised that ZRM has not yet offered to stage an intervention.
This is the next panel
The mansplanation is that this is a panel from the John Byrne run on the Fantastic Four comic book. Here is Byrne justifying Dr. Doom's dictatorship.
The brains of comic book writers are funny things...at the same time that he was making Sue mouth idiotic words like this he was making her into a character who had more strength and independence than her previous history (in which she required constant rescue). But that might just be because he wanted to draw more things going boom.
...but oh no! I think I left my brain on the bus....
First of all, babe, I'm not dead yet. I'm quite defective, but there's a doc in a Mobile, Alabama Urgent Care that says I'll pull through. So there's that.
Next, what I'd do? That's obvious, isn't it? You essentially have to options in cases like this. One, you can go all nutso and light a bunch o'shit on fire. That's doesn't always actually help, but it's dramatic and it makes you feel better. The other option is to take a nap. Have a couple big glasses of the Sailor Jerry's and crash out for a few hours, then get up, make some bacon for breakies and see how things look. Who knows, maybe the whole thing blew over while you were sawing logs n shit, gnome sane?
Anyway, hope that helps...
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