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"My parents reached America the year I was born, 1939. Entering school, I was already exceptionally bright, my perfect scores on early test papers arousing such suspicion that I carefully achieved only average grades thereafter. What caused such precociousness? My parents were intellectually unremarkable, possessing no obvious genetic advantages. Perhaps I decided to be intelligent rather than otherwise? Perhaps we all make such decisions, though that seems a callous doctrine. By seventeen, my parents were both dead, and I faced a different decision. My inheritance offered life long idle luxury, and yet, needing nothing, I burned with the paradoxical urge to do everything. Do you understand? My intellect set me apart. Faced with difficult choices, I knew nobody whose advice might prove useful. Nobody living. The only human being with whom I felt any kinship died three hundred years before the birth of Christ. Alexander of Macedonia. I idolized him. A young army commander, he'd swept along the coasts of Turkey and Phoenicia, subduing Egypt before turning his armies towards Persia. He died, thirty-three, ruling most of the civilized world. Ruling without barbarism! At Alexandria, he instituted the ancient world's greatest seat of learning. True, people died ... perhaps unnecessarily, though who can judge such things? Yet how he nearly approached his vision of a united world! I was determined to measure my success against his. Firstly, I gave away my inheritance. to demonstrate the possibility of achieving anything starting from nothing. Next, I departed for Northern Turkey, to retrace my hero's steps. I wanted to match his accomplishment, bringing an age of illumination to a benighted world. Heh. I wanted to have something to say should we meet in the hall of legends. I followed the path of Alexander's war machine along the black sea coast, imagining his armies taking port after port, blood on ancient bronze. Perhaps because of the challenge it represented: the ancient world's greatest puzzle was there, a knot that couldn't be untied. Alexander cut it in two with his sword. Lateral thinking, you see. Centuries ahead of his time. Heading south, he entered Egypt through Memphis, where they proclaimed him son of Amon, judge of the dead, whose name means "hidden one." Under rule from Alexandria, the classic culture of the great Pharaohs was restored. I followed him through Babylon, up through Kabul to Samarkhand then down the Indus, where he met the first elephants of war. Where he'd turned back to quell dissent at home, I travelled on, through China and Tibet, gathering martial wisdom as I went. Alexander returned to Babylon to die of an infection, aged thirty-three, amongst its ruined ziggurats. I saw at last his failings. He'd not united all the world, nor built a unity that would survive him. Disillusioned, but determined, to complete my odyssey, I followed his corpse to its resting place in Alexandria. The night before returning to America, I wandered into the desert and ate a ball of hashish I'd been given in Tibet. The ensuing vision transformed me. Wading through powdered history, I heard dead kings walking underground, heard fanfares through human skulls. Alexander had merely resurrected an age of Pharaohs, their wisdom, truly immortal, now inspired me. What intellectual magnificence their system encouraged.. Ptolemy seeking the universe's pivot from his light-house at Pharos, Eratosthenes, measuring the world using only shadows … their greatest secrets entrusted to their servants, buried alive with them in sand-flooded chambers. Adopting Ramses the Second's Greek name and Alexander's free-booting style, I resolved to apply antiquity's teachings to today's world. Thus began my path to conquest … conquest not of men. But of the evils that beset them. Today, that conquest becomes assured, in which your unquestioning assistance has proven invaluable. Do you comprehend the triumph which you have contributed, the secret glory that it affords? Do you understand my shame at so inadequate a reward?"

- Watchmen

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"The few publishers who considered the proposal rejected it. Frustrated with the failure, Joe went into a rage and began destroying the manuscript, Jerry intervened but managed to save only the cover. The cover, showing the Superman leaping at a gun-wielding thug, was eerily reminiscent of Mitchell Siegel’s death. Still not quite right. The work continued. As the writer, Jerry took the lead in developing the now-classic story line that finally emerged. Superman is born on the planet Krypton. His scientist father places him in a small rocket ship and launches him toward Earth just moments before Krypton erupts in devastating earthquakes and explosions that kill all the inhabitants. The spacecraft lands on earth, where people discover the baby and take him to an orphanage in a small Midwestern town. A family named Kent adopts him, gives him the name of Clark, and raises him on a farm. After realizing the possibilities of his superhuman powers, Clark moves to the big city of Metropolis and becomes a reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper. In times of trouble Clark sheds his street clothes and peels off his glasses to become Superman. He uses his powers to leap great heights, to hoist huge weights, to deflect bullets, to soar into the sky, and to subdue criminals. His only motives are to protect the innocent, to bring the guilty to justice, ad to crusade for a better world. After saving the day, Superman returns to his guise as the mild-mannered Clark, who works at the newspaper with a gutsy “girl reporter” named Lois Lane. But Lois has little time for bespectacled, nerdy Clark. She only has eyes for Superman. Sensing that the character was special, the two creators worked feverishly to fill in the details of his persona. Before long the full picture was on the page. Superman had his rugged good looks, his shock of blue-black hair, his muscular physique, his flowing red cape, and the bold S insignia on his chest. Joe designed his uniform as a cross between a spaceman suit and a classic circus performer outfit-down to the blue tights, red shorts, and cape. He skillfully captured each of Superman’s actions in single comic panels: the caped crusader raising his arms toward the heavens, leaping off the ground with incredible strength, soaring upward at supersonic speed, and landing with both feet firmly planted on the ground. The Man of Steel-also called the Man of Tomorrow in those early days-stands tall, hands on his hips, bullets bouncing off his chest, as befuddled, gun-packing gangsters fire shot after harmless shot. In time the classic image would evolve: The handsome, smiling superhero would save Lois Lane from all kinds of danger, hoist her in his arms, soar over the flickering lights o Metropolis, and deliver her safely home."

- Superman

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"To breathe life into the Superman character, Jerry and Joe drew upon their love of science fiction, their passion for movies, their fascination for books, and their experienced growing up Jewish during the Great Depression. The Greek and Roman myths they learned at school featured heroes with superhuman strength. Strange visitors from distant planets were common in the science fiction stories they devoured night and day. Daredevil heroes clad in masks and capes were all the rage in the movies they watched at the Crown and the Uptown. Even heroes with dual identities were commonplace on the screen and in print. The silent screen character Zorro was the alter ego of Don Diego de la Vega, a sissified aristocrat who ate, drank and dressed the dandy to throw off suspicion of his role as the night-riding avenger. The Shadow, a pulp magazine character, was the alter ego off Kent Allard, a famed pilot who fought for the French during World War I. Just as the name Clark Kent was a cross between actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor, the name of the mythical city of Metropolis came from the 1927 silent film of the same name. For Superman, the magic was in the mix. Jerry and Joe’s Jewish heritage deeply influenced the makeup of Superman too. The all-American superhero reflected many of the beliefs and values of Jewish immigrants of the day. Like them, Superman had come to America from a foreign world. Like them, he longed to fit in to his strange new surroundings. Superman also seemed to embody the Jewish principle of tzedakah-a command to serve the less fortunate and to stand up for the weak and exploited-and the concept of “tikkun olam”, the mandate to do good works (literally, to “repair a broken world”). Before Superman is blasted off the dying planet of Krypton, Superman’s father, Joe-El, names his son Kal-El In ancient Hebrew, the suffix ”El” means “all that is God.” Then there is the Moses connection. Just before Krypton explodes Superman’s parents place him in a crib-size rocket and launch him toward Earth to be raised by loving strangers. In the Old Testament, after Pharoh decrees that all newborn Jewish males must be killed, Moses’s mother places him in a crib-size basket and launches him down the Nile River to be raised by others. Just as Pharaoh’s daughter rescues the infant Moses from the bulrushes and nurtures him as her own, the Kents find and raise Superman on Earth. The Superman story also resembles the tale of Rabbi Maharal of Prague, who created his own superman, called the Golem, to protect the people of the Jewish ghetto from hostile Christians."

- Superman

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"While Superman was a complex conglomeration of influences, Jerry and Joe left plenty to reader’s imaginations. What Superman “wasn’t” was just as important as what he was. The character had no clear ethnic background, no hint of an accent or dialect, no stated religious preference, and no political affiliation. The Superman character offered a little bit to everyone. Coming from a distant planet, he was the ultimate foreigner. Raised in the Midwestern heartland, he was the quintessential American. Growing up in a small town, he was rural at heart. Moving to a big city, he became more sophisticated and worldly. He was both weak and strong. Hi meek, mild alter ego, Clark Kent, was a sheepish bumbler, but he was always ready to transform himself into the all-powerful superhero. So Superman was relevant to the prairie farmer, the urban factory worker, the white-collar insurance salesman, the hardworking waitress, and the struggling immigrant. Millions or ordinary people struggling through the Depression could imagine themselves shedding their plain, run-of-the mill exteriors to reveal their real power within. True, Superman had descended from the heavens with the power of a god. His intention was godly too-to protect humanity from its own worst instincts. But Superman had characteristics the masses could relate to. He could beam with a smile, burst into anger, and form lasting friendships. Beneath it all Superman seemed like a regular guy. Superman was also a creation of his times. To keep up with those times, Jerry and Joe often spent Saturdays flipping through out-of-town newspapers and national newsmagazines for ideas at the Cleveland Public Library. The headlines described crisis after crisis. The New York Stock Exchange had lost 90 percent of its value Millions of Americans were out of work, a Midwestern drought had engulfed prairie farms in the Dust Bowl, and desperate farmers had to pack up their starving families and head to California to start anew. The international news was no more comforting. Headlines warned of economic collapse in global markets, the rise of fascist regimes in Europe, and the new communist experiment in the Soviet Union. The whole world seemed to be heading toward an explosion."

- Superman

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"The radio show was no more immune to criticism than the comic books were. Some critics claimed that Superman reflected the concept of “der Ubermensch”, a German term that could be translated into “the Superman.” The term was coined by 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who argued that certain people could transcend the influences of religion, culture, and conformity to become enlightened supermen. According to Nietzsche, the person could reach this pinnacle by rising above the pestering of the masses, who buzz like “flies in the marketplace.” After Nietzsches death, the German Nazis twisted his words to mean that their ideal of the blond, blue-eyed German (what they called Aryan) could rise above all “inferiors” to create a dominant race of supermen. The criticism that Superman manifested a Nazi concept showed a complete lack of understanding of the character. While striving to create a popular superhero who would attract a mass audience Jerry and Joe had forged Superman to embody the best parts of the American way of life and to raise awareness of un-American” attitudes. The notion of un-American behavior applied not only to gangsters who broke the law, crooked politicians who violated the public trust, and wealthy industrialists who exploited workers, but also to foreign powers that threatened democracy. So Superman’s creators-too busy to be sidetracked by the critics-aimed their superhero at the looming Nazi threat in Europe."

- Superman

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"THE CREATORS of the superman character had been firing their initial salvos at the then undeclared enemy even before the United States entered the war. At first the creators kept their attacks subtle-by comic book standards. Superman writers never mentioned German chancellor Adolf Hitler, Japanese emperor Hirohito, and Italian dictator Benito Mussolini by name, even though it was clear that the jabs and barbs were aimed at these Axis leaders, as well as their ruthless lieutenants, devious spies, and formidable combat troops. Furthermore, Superman’s team sought to hammer home to their readers that the foreign dictators followed a philosophy of racial and religious superiority and that their quest for world domination included plans to conquer America. At about that time, nationally circulated “Look” magazine commissioned Siegal and Shuster to create a strip entitled “How Superman Would End the War.” For that special assignment, the collaborators took off their gloves and actually named Hitler as the target. So in the pages of “Look” the caped crusader grabbed the Fuhrer by the scruff of the neck and growled, “I’d like to land a strictly non-Aryan sock on your jaw.” Instead of taking justice into his own hands, however, Superman delivers Hitler to a tribunal of world leaders to face justice. In another direct challenge in a Superman strip the caped crusader demolishes part of the German Westwall with France. That’s when Superman’s fictionalized triumphs over the Nazis came to the attention of the German ministerial bureau that tracked foreign press commentary. The German propagandists did not respond well to the Superman stories, and the U.S. press covered their response. U.S. news paper reports that infamous minister Joseph Goebbels exploded ina meeting over the Superman anti-Nazi crusades were almost certainly exaggerated if not outright false. But it is true that “Das Shwarze Korps”, the weekly newspaper of the infamous Nazi Secret Service, denounced Superman. In April 1940 the paper ran the proclamation, “Superman “ist ein Jude”! (“Superman is a Jew!”) The sarcastic, mocking piece referred to Superman’s primary creator as Jerry “Israel” Siegel and accused him of sowing “hate, suspicion, evil, laziness, and criminality in young hearts”: Jerry Siegel, an intellectually and physically circumcised chap who has hid headquarters in New York, is the inventor of a colorful figure with an impressive appearance, a powerful body, and a red swim suit who enjoys the ability to fly through the ether. The inventive Israelite named this pleasant guy with an overdeveloped body and underdeveloped mind “Superman.” He advertised widely Superman’s sense of justice, well-suited for imitation by the American youth. As you can see, there is nothing the Sadduccees [an ancient Jewish sect] won’t do for money! Jerry Siegellack stinks. Woe to the American youth who must live in such a poisonous environment and don’t even notice the poison they are swallowing daily. Superman “did” reflect the culture of his Jewish creators. The Jewish American story was baked into the personality of his character and his exploits. Superman also seemed to reflect the more modern-and frightening-Jewish realities of the time. The story of baby Superman’s journey from Krypton seemed to foreshadow the saga of the Kindertransports-the emergency evacuations of hundreds of Jewish children, without their parents, from Nazi Germany to safety in Great Britain prior to the war."

- Superman

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"Like most Americans, the Superman creative team foresaw the long road ahead and knew that victory hinged on the effectiveness of the nation’s leadership and the bravery and blood of its fighting men. The creators wanted to use Superman to support the war effort, but there was a problem, which “Time” dubbed “Superman’s Dilemma.” Given the character’s power to soar to the sky, to change the course of mighty rivers, to turn back tidal waves, and to survive massive explosions without a scratch, it only stood to reason that he could single-handedly defeat the enemy in short order. More specifically, Superman ought to be able to drop thousand-pound bombs from the sky on German troops, flick Japanese Zeros out of the air, and drag battleships to the bottom of the ocean. In the end the editors decided against publishing what would certainly be several years of highly implausible Superman combat adventures. Instead Superman would be stationed at home in Metropolis and would make only periodic visits to the front lines to support the troops or to handle delicate, secret missions for the top brass. In Metropolis he would serve as a model for life on the home front, and his encounters with villains like Lex Luthor, the Prankster, the Toyman, and the Insect Master would provide readers with an escape from the weighty issues of the war. Once the home-front strategy was set, the writers needed a plot device to explain why the Man of Steel was not joining the Army, Navy, or Marines and going off to war with the rest of the troops. The solution appeared in the “Superman” newspaper strips that ran from February 15 to February 19, 1942. The story begins with Clark Kent arriving at his recruitment center to sign up for duty. The bumbling reporter is so excited about joining the armed forces that he inadvertently botches his eye exam. The reason: His x-ray vision kicks in, and he accidenatly reads the eye chart in an adjacent room. The doctors declare him 4-F (undraftable) and send him packing. As a result, in the pages of “Superman” comics, Kent does not don a military uniform for the duration, and Superman is free to influence the war as an outsider."

- Superman

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"The homebound Superman encourages Americans to buy war bonds, to ration scarce supplies, and to donate to organizations like the Red Cross and the United States Services Organization (USO). In his adventures, Superman travels outside Metropolis to military training centers to lift the spirits of the troops and to prepare them for the action ahead. In one comic book adventure he travels to a fictional U.S. military training center, where he takes part in a mock war game by taking the side of the blue army in a simulated battle with the red army. Superman ferries blue troops across rivers, bombs red airfields with sandbags, locates red snipers with his x-ray vision, and finally tunnels through a mountain to lead blue troops into the red camp. Facing defeat, the red general implores his men to fight on. “What if they were Japs or Nazis?” he asks, “Would you let down the folks who are counting on your to save your country and the world?” At this point the red army summons the strength to repel the blues and win the game. Superman, happily experiencing a rare defeat, concludes that American soldiers are the real superheroes and congratulates the men for being “Super-Soldiers.” Still, from 1941 to 1945 there were stories of Superman’s periodic trips to the front lines, Siegel clearly designed one newspaper strip to draw the attention of American children to the evil of the enemy. In this strip, Hitler Mussolini, and Tojo (Japan’s prime minister) kidnap Santa Claus as part of their plan for world domination. Superman is forced to rescue Old Saint Nick and save Christmas. In addition to these occasional war stories, a number of powerful “Superman” magazine covers trumpeted the war effort, even though there were usually no corresponding stories inside to back up the symbolic cover art; Superman, seen through the periscope of a German U-boat, swimming furiously toward the submarine in the wake of the Allied ship that the sub just sank; Superman holding an eagle on his arm, standing proudly in front of the Stars and Stripes; Superman delivering supplies to an American machine-gun squad fighting in the jungles; Lois Lane, with an Army soldier, a Navy sailor, and a Marine, telling them with a wink, “You’re my Supermen.”"

- Superman

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"Good evening, London. I thought it time we had a little talk. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin … I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here this evening. Well you see, I'm not entirely satisfied with your performance lately…. I'm afraid your work's been slipping, and … and well, I'm afraid we've been thinking about letting you go. Oh, I know, I know. You've been with the company a long time now. Almost … Let me see. Almost ten thousand years! My word, doesn't time fly? It seems like only yesterday… I remember the day you commenced your employment, swinging down from the trees, fresh-faced and nervous, A bone clasped in your bristling fist … "Where do I start, sir?" You asked, plaintively. I recall my exact words: "There's a pile of dinosaur eggs over there, youngster," I said smiling paternally the while. "Get sucking." Well, we've certainly come a long way since then, haven’t we? And yes, yes, you're right, in all that time you haven’t missed a day. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Also please don't think I've forgotten about your out-standing service record, or about all of the invaluable contributions that you've made to the company … Fire, the wheel of agriculture … It's an impressive list, old-timer. A jolly impressive list. Don't get me wrong. But … well, to be frank, we've had our problems, too. There's no getting away from it. Do you know what I think a lot of it stems from? I'll tell you … It's your basic unwillingness to get on within the company. You don't seem to want to face up to any real responsibility, or to be your own boss. Lord knows, you've been given plenty of opportunities … We've offered you promotion time and time again, and each time you've turned us down: "I couldn't handle the work, Guv'nor," you wheedled. "I know my place" To be frank, you're not trying, are you? You see, you've been standing still for far too long, and it's starting to show in your work … And I might add, in your general standard behaviour. The constant bickering on the factory floor has not escaped my attention … Nor the recent bouts of rowdiness in the staff canteen. Then of course there's … Hmmmm. Well, I didn't really want to have to bring this up, but … Well, you see I've been hearing some disturbing rumours about your personal life. No, never you mind who told me. No names, no pack drill … I understand that you are unable to get on with your spouse. I hear that you argue. I am told that you shout. Violence has been mentioned. I am reliably informed that you always hurt the one you love … The one you shouldn't hurt at all. And what about the children? It's always the children who suffer, as you're well aware. Poor little mites. What are they to make of it? What are they to make of your bullying, your despair, your cowardice and all your fondly nurtured bigotries? Really, it's not good enough, is it? And it's no good blaming the drop in work standards upon bad management, either … Though, to be sure, the management is very bad. In fact, let us not mince words … the management is terrible! We've had a string of embezzlers, frauds, liars and lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions. This is plain fact. But who elected them? It was you! You who appointed these people! You who gave them the power to make your decisions for you! While I'll admit that anyone can make a mistake once, to go on making the same lethal errors century after century seems to me nothing short of deliberate. You have encouraged these malicious incompetents, who have made your working life a shambles. You have accepted without question their senseless orders. You have allowed them to fill your workspace with dangerous and unproven machines. All you had to say was "NO." You have no spine. You have no pride. You are no longer an asset to the company. I will however, be generous. You will be granted two years to show me some improvement in your work. If at the end of that time you are still unwilling to make a go of it … You're fired. That will be all. You may return to your labors."

- V for Vendetta

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"My name is Adam Susan. I am the leader. Leader of the lost, ruler of the ruins. I am a man, like any other man. I lead the country that I love out of the wilderness of the twentieth century. I believe in survival. In the destiny of the Nordic race. I believe in fascism. Oh yes, I am a fascist. What of it? Fascism… a word. A word whose meaning has been lost in the bleatings of the weak and the treacherous. The Romans invented fascism. A bundle of bound twigs was its symbol. One twig could be broken. A bundle would prevail. Fascism … strength in unity. I believe in strength. I believe in unity. And if that strength, that unity of purpose, demands a uniformity of thought, word and deed then so be it. I will not hear talk of freedom. I will not hear talk of individual liberty. They are luxuries. I do not believe in luxuries. The war put paid to luxury. The war put paid to freedom. The only freedom left to my people is the freedom to starve. The freedom to die, the freedom to live in a world of chaos. Should I allow them that freedom? I think not. I think not. Do I deserve for myself the freedom I deny to others? I do not. I sit here within my cage and I am but a servant. I, who am master of all that I see… I see desolation. I see ashes. I have so very much. I have so very little. I am not loved, I know that. Not in soul or body. I have never known the soft whisper of endearment. Never known the peace that lies between the thighs of a woman. But I am respected. I am feared. And that will suffice. Because I love. I, who am not loved in return. I have a love that is far deeper than the empty gasps and convulsions of brutish coupling. Shall I speak of her? Shall I speak of my bride? She has no eyes to flirt or promise. But she sees all. Sees and understands with a wisdom that is Godlike in its scale. I stand at the gates of her intellect and I am blinded by the light within. How stupid I must seem to her. How childlike and uncomprehending. Her soul is clean, untainted by the snares and ambiguities of emotion. She does not hate. She does not yearn. She is untouched by joy or sorrow. I worship her though I am not worthy. I cherish the purity of her disdain. She does not respect me. She does not fear me. She does not love me. They think she is hard and cold, those who do not know her. They think she is lifeless and without passion. They do not know her. She has not touched them. She touches me, and I am touched by God, by Destiny. The whole of existence courses through her. I worship her. I am her slave. No freedom ever was so sweet. My love, I would stay with you forever, would spend my life with you. I would wait upon your every utterance and never ask the merest splinter of affection. Fate… Fate… I love you."

- V for Vendetta

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"The authoritarian system we live under is set to benefit a tiny minority — an all-powerful elite gets obscenely rich, while billions are cheated out of realizing their true potential. But the system is rotten. It's ripe for collapse. It's the duty of every revolutionary — everyone of us — to hasten that collapse... It's not a crime to fight injustice... The system's conditioned us — hypnotized nearly everybody into accepting that life has to be the way it is. We're hypnotized into believing war is natural — famine is natural — crime is natural... but they're not. They're products of the system and its all-consuming greed! People have become robots — zombies — too busy scrambling for day-to-day existence to be able to see they're really victims. It's up to us to open their eyes. From cradle to grave, we're taught — indoctrinated! — that happiness depends on always getting more. Buy — throw away — buy more! Doesn't matter if we destroy the planet on the way! Politicians say they can fix the world's problems. Just give them more power. Religions say do more of what they order and you'll be happy — but only after you're dead! They've been making the same hollow promises for thousands of years, and we, the people — the sheep — have listened. But it's time to wake up and smell the coffee — the days of external authority and force-backed power are numbered... that's the way the system is set up! A sham democracy that acts as a front for the elite's ambitions... It doesn't have to be like that. We can change it!"

- Anarky

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"Want to know something, Clark? You were right. What you said earlier. We didn't have to do this. We should have been changing the world... inspiring people to be better than what they are... we were heroes... When we were young. When it counted. When people knew what was good for them. When people appreciated the efforts of the selfless. And look at us now...I've become a political liability, an overcapable embarrassment to a self-serving, malicious, incompetent system, themselves an embarrassment ...and you...you're their tool...you've become a joke... a gullible ignorant instrument of that system... You preach to me about letting the past go, and yet you yourself won't. Because the mighty Superman is just so perfect he thinks he knows what's best. If that were true, Clark...you'd be at my side, as we were before. When we were young. We were friends once upon a time, but that ship sailed when you put your judgement in these weak, conceited wretches. In the greedy. When you threw your lot in with the perpetuators of disorder and ill intent. And you had the gall to lecture me, trying to intimidate me, simply because they asked you to. They've made you weak. But you didn't have to be. Lois, Jimmy, Perry, your parents? They'd all be ashamed of what you are now. But, I didn't have to go easy on you...a different binding agent...a potent mix...no I wanted you to stay out of my way...I wanted you to remember, Clark...In all the years to come... in your most private moments... I want you to remember what it means to be human... I want you to remember my hand at your throat... I want you to remember the one man who beat you."

- Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

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"Bruce, you bastard. You'll ruin everything. For all of us. I always knew you would... The rest of us learned to cope. The rest of us recognized the danger--of the endless envy of those not like us. The normal people. The weak. Diana went back to her people. Hal went to the stars. And I have walked the razor's edge for so long... But you, Bruce--you, with your wild obsession. You never learned to let it all go. They'll kill us if they can, Bruce. Every year they grow smaller. Every year they hate us more. We must not remind them that giants walk the earth. You were the one they used against us, Bruce. The one who played it rough. When the noise started from the parents' groups and the subcommittee called us in for questioning... You were the one who laughed that scary laugh of yours... "Sure, we're criminals," you said. "We've always been criminals. We have to be criminals." We almost threw a party when you retired. By then, the PBI was in it and things were getting out of hand. And then there was that trouble with Oliver. Do you remember why you retired, Bruce? No -- Just look at you -- You'd do it again -- And like a murderer, you'd cover it up again. Nothing matters to you except your holy war. They were considering their options and you were probably still laughing when we came to terms. I gave them my obedience and my invisibility. They gave me a license and let us live. No, I don't like it. But I get to save lives -- and the media stays quiet. But now the storm is growing again -- They'll hunt us down -- Because of you."

- Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

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"So... I see you received the free ticket I sent you. I'm glad. I did so want you to be here. You see it doesn't matter if you catch me and send me back to the asylum... Gordon's been driven mad. I've proved my point. I've demonstrated there's no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once, am I right? I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed. Why else would you dress up as a flying rat? You had a bad day, and it drove you as crazy as everybody else... Only you won't admit it! You have to keep pretending that life makes sense, that there's some point to all this struggling! God you make me want to puke. I mean, what is it with you? What made you what you are? Girlfriend killed by the mob, maybe? Brother carved up by some mugger? Something like that, I bet. Something like that... Something like that happened to me, you know. I... I'm not exactly sure what it was. Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another... If I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice! Ha ha ha! But my point is... My point is, I went crazy. When I saw what a black, awful joke the world was, I went crazy as a coot! I admit it! Why can't you? I mean, you're not unintelligent! You must see the reality of the situation. Do you know how many times we've come close to World War Three over a flock of geese on a computer screen? Do you know what triggered the last world war? An argument over how many telegraph poles Germany owed its war debt creditors! Telegraph poles! Ha ha ha ha HA! It's all a joke! Everything anybody ever valued or struggled for... it's all a monstrous, demented gag! So why can't you see the funny side? Why aren't you laughing?"

- The Joker

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"Wonder Woman failed to challenge the long-standing prejudice that the feminine ideal was white. Not only were Wonder Woman and her sister Amazon's all fair skinned, the Wonder Woman comic books reinforced racism by debasing minority characters. While the grotesque and evil "Jap" enemies that populated Wonder Woman's adventures were the most frequent illustration of this racism, the comic book was rife with other degrading characterizations, like the dim-witted African American porter and duplicitous Mexican "hussy" who make an appearance in Wonder Woman #1, (Summer 1942) (187). Hateful depictions of Asian, African American and Mexican characters reinforced the racist association of "white with "right". This inherint racism undercut Marston's message of women's freedom and empowerment and would have required minority readers to negotiate some serious obstacles in accepting or rejecting, his comic book superheroine as a feminist role model. On top of this racism, Marston's view that women deserved to be in power because that were intrinsically virtuous and would use their power to bring about peace and happiness further complicates Wonder Woman's feminist claims. Although Marston aimed to elevate women, arguments that base women's right to power on a set of assumptions about "the female character" ultimately reinforce the idea that women must adhere to the standards identified by the dominant culture as appropriately feminine. Those women who fail to meet society's expectations, whether by circumstance or by choice, risk being denied the rights that "acceptable" behavior would presumably earn them. For such individuals, Marston offered a rather unsympathetic solution: conform."

- Wonder Woman

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"Careful to show that women's strength and assertiveness did not unsex them, Wonder Woman adhered to the dominant standards of a acceptable femininity. Marston's Amazon princess was kind, nurturing and self-sacrificing; she was also quite beautiful. Wonder Woman was tall and svelte and had a womanly, if athletic body with "perfect modern Venus' measurements" (Marston and Peter, Wonder Woman #6, 139). She had long eyelashes, painted lips, and long, thick shiny hair. She was also very fashionable and knew how to accessorize with earrings, bracelets, a tiara and knee-high high heeled boots. This keen fashion sense undoubtedly came from her interest in shopping, which was one of the first things she did upon arriving in America (Marston and Peter, Sensation Comics #1, 20). Occasionally yielding to a "girlish impulse, "Wonder Woman could be caught dressing up and admiring her appearance from time to time. She even mooned over Steve Trevor, who was known in their comic world as "the strong girl's weakness" (Marston and Peter, Wonder Woman #6, 118) Rather than emasculate Steve with her incredibly strength, Wonder Woman often played the coquette, protesting for him to stop teasing her while thinking to herself "But I hope he won't!" (Marston and Peter, Sensation Comics #22, 166). Attractive, flirtatious and occasionally frivolous, Wonder Woman delivered a healthy dose of traditionally expected femininity."

- Wonder Woman

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"Not only was Wonder Woman a more enduring character than Rosie, her contribution to the war effort was also more direct. Rosie's war job was to make planes, weapons and ammunition that would help men win the war. She was the quintessential woman behind the man behind the gun, Wonder Woman, on the other hand, fought alongside men on the front lines of battle; she was the woman who led the man who held the gun. Defying convention that relegated woman to the role of man's submissive helpmate, Wonder Woman fought not for men, but for liberty and freedom and all womankind!" (Marston and Peter, All Star Comics #8, 15). Whereas Rosie suggested that women work in order to help men, Wonder Woman encouraged women to work because it enabled their independence from men. When misogynistic Dr. Psycho hypnotizes his wife, Marva, and forces her to help him in his plot to enslave American women in Wonder Woman #5 (Jun./Jul. 1943), Marva bitterly laments: "Submitting to a cruel husband's domination has ruined my life! But what can a weak girl do?". Wonder Woman of course, has the answer: "Get strong! Earn your own living- join the WAACS or WAVES and fight for your country! Remember - the better you fight, the less you'll have to!" Because Marston believed that women's economic independence was a necessary step towards their empowerment, he used Wonder Woman to encourage women and girls to pursue work outside of the home for the sake of their own autonomy and personal fulfillment. In doing so, his character directly challenged traditional gender roles in a way that Rosie did not."

- Wonder Woman

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"Mitchell Hundred: Forget who footed the bill for a second, why is this in the same building as Homer and... and Rodin? I'm as open minded as any politician alive, but this is just puerile. Curator Rima Barry: Really? I think Trista Bravings work is quite extra-ordinary. She dares to confront ideologues, those with an aversion to the harsh reality of life. Mitchell Hundred: The artist is she...? Curator Rima Barry: Is she what Mr. Mayor? Mitchell Hundred: Is she, you know... Dave Wylie: Is she black? Curator Rima Barry: I don't see how that's relevant. Dave Wylie: It's relevant because of that word, Rima. That word is all about context, context like the race of the person behind it. Curator Rima Barry: So you have to be part of a select group to use a certain noun? Doesn't that just fetishize it? Doesn't it make it more powerful? I think creators of all colors have a responsibility to appropriate "taboo" phrases form hatemongers. After all, Mark Twain used the N-word dozens of times in Huckleberry Finn, and it's considered the greatest novel in American literature. Mitchell Hundred: Oh fuck, that means she is white. Dave Wylie: Rima, what about our responsibility to the community? The museum's a few blocks from crown heights, for Gods sake! It's been ten years since the riots, and this neighborhood still hasn't finished healing. You didn't think people could be hurt over this? A "Nigger Lincoln?" Mitchell Hundred: Well at least African Americans and Republicans are going to have something they can unite against. How long before the media gets wind? Curator Rima Barry: We sent out press kits an hour ago. Mitchell Hundred: This week is gonna suck, isn't it? Dave Wylie: Like an airplane toilet, sir."

- Ex Machina (comics)

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"Journal: Sorry I’m late Ms. Braving! I live in Queens, and with the blizzard, the only way I could get to Soho was-- Trista Braving: Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my studio? Journal: Oh, uh, my name is Journal Moore, someone from the mayor’s office was supposed to call you? I’m the new special adviser on youth affairs and-- Trista Braving: You know who else destroyed paintings they didn’t like? The Taliban. Journal: Trista, no one is going to destroy your artwork. But the taxpayers are partially funding its display, and if mayor hundred is going to convince them that it’s a worthwhile use of their money, he could use your help. Can you tell me what your intention was with the piece? What you were trying to say? Trista Braving: It’s not my job to explain my paintings. They speak for themselves. Our generation’s been ruined by cliffs notes and director’s commentaries, people should learn to make their own goddamn conclusions about art. I mean, I know you’re just some glorified intern, but if your parents were fruity enough to name you Journal, they probably taught you something about culture, right? What do you think when you look at this? Journal: Honestly I think it’s a joke. I saw your first installation when I was a freshman at Columbia. This stuff you did with an old Gameboy camera? Sweet. Really cool commentary on modern society’s sexualization of young women. You totally deserved the Coyle Medal that year. Your next exhibit was standard sophomore slump though, a little too precious…and it looked like you knew it. Br> But the reviews were still amazing, huh? Like no critic wanted to be the first to say you might not be everything they hyped you to be last time. Your next show lashed out at them for evaluating you and not your art …but they totally missed the point, and the notices were even more glowing than ever. So when it came tim for “30 under 30” you submitted the most inane hateful piece of clichéd taboo you could imagine, just so you wouldn’t have to endure their empty praise again. But instead of catching on to your little prank, they fell for it, and hung it in a fucking museum, where it’s currently delighting pretentious critics and alienating the real people you set out to reach when you started. But I’m just a glorified intern…what do I know? It’s not too late for you to voluntarily remove Lincoln, replace him with something else, a painting you really care about. Trista Braving: If I… If I do that now, do you have any idea what the art world will say about me? Journal: Maybe it’s time you stop giving a shit about what the “art world” thinks about anything. Trista Braving: Get out of here, would you? I’ve got to finish this piece before kickboxing. Take your overpriced B.F.A. and cheap shoes back to whoever you had to blow to get your little ambassadorship."

- Ex Machina (comics)

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