One night, well after bed time, Bobby put down the Superman comic books he was reading. He had just had an epiphany, though he didn't know the word.
The next day, over breakfast, Bobby asked his father and Superman writer, Roger Stern, a few questions.
"Dad, Superman was strong because he had come froma planet with weaker gravity. This could also explain how he flew. Or could it?
"Superman could indeed
jump higher, but fly? To levitate at will and travel at the speed of sound with no visible means of propulsion? Ridiculous. And the idea that someone could indefinitely defy gravity, arguably the strongest force
in the whole entire infinite universe was terrifying. Superman would have to warp space and time, twist the very fabric of the fourth dimension, to maintain such a standard.
"And the super-hearing? If Superman can hear a train derailing in South America, a suicide gunshot blast in Ithica, and a lonely Asian prostitute crying in her pimp's arms--then how could he sleep at night? How could this supposedly compassionate alien bear to be on the Earth at any given moment. Answer: he filters things out.
"At a certain point, he has to say, 'Screw it. I'm going to bed. I got some Clark Kent stuff to do.' And we call him a hero, a modern American myth.
"And finally, laughably, he masquerades as a reporter by day, earning Pulitzer prizes with 'exclusive' interviews with Superman. He's a fraud with no detachment from the story, and if his secret identity were ever revealed he couldn't get a job washing floors at the Daily Planet, let alone headlining it.
"And poor writers like you propogate these lies to kids like me. I feel like my entire childhood has been a sham orchestrated by multi-national publishing conglomorates anxious to sell a well-worn product by keeping it static for sixty years instead of allowing for some growth."
Mr. Stern chewed his eggs thoughtfully, then finally said, "So what are you wanting?"
"An apology?"
"I'm sorry I ever taught you to read."
