Phobia

phobia (n.)

"irrational fear, horror, or aversion; fear of an imaginary evil or undue fear of a real one," 1786, perhaps based on a similar use in French, abstracted from compounds in -phobia, the word-forming element from Greek phobos "fear, panic fear, terror, outward show of fear; object of fear or terror," originally "flight" (still the only sense in Homer), but it became the common word for "fear" via the notion of "panic flight" (compare phobein "put to flight; frighten"), from PIE root *bhegw- "to run" (source also of Lithuanian bėgu, bėgti "to flee;" Old Church Slavonic begu "flight," bezati "to flee, run;" Old Norse bekkr "a stream").

 

The psychological sense of "an abnormal or irrational fear" is attested by 1895. Hence also Phobos as the name of the inner satellite of Mars (discovered 1877) and named for Phobos, the personification of fear, in mythology a companion of Ares.

Fear of The Dark

Now They will know 

Why They are afraid of The Dark. 

Now They learn 

Why They fear The Night.

Thulsa Doom

Iron Maiden - Fear Of The Dark 

(Live At Donington Park)

I am a man who walks alone

And when I'm walking a dark road

At night or strolling through the park

When the light begins to change

I sometimes feel a little strange

A little anxious when it's dark

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a constant fear that something's always near

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a phobia that someone's always there

Have you run your fingers down the wall

And have you felt your neck skin crawl

When you're searching for the light?

Sometimes when you're scared to take a look

At the corner of the room

You've sensed that something's watching you

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a constant fear that something's always near

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a phobia that someone's always there

Have you ever been alone at night

Thought you heard footsteps behind

And turned around and no one's there?

And as you quicken up your pace

You find it hard to look again

Because you're sure there's someone there

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a constant fear that something's always near

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a phobia that someone's always there

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

Watching horror films the night before

Debating witches and folklores

The unknown troubles on your mind

Maybe your mind is playing tricks

You sense, and suddenly eyes fix

On dancing shadows from behind

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a constant fear that something's always near

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a phobia that someone's always there

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a constant fear that something's always near

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

I have a phobia that someone's always there

When I'm walking a dark road

I am a man who walks alone

Authority

“It is a good thing to be An Authority. People are fragile. Because of that, life is difficult and suffering common. Ameliorating that suffering — ensuring that everyone has food, clean water, sanitary facilities, and a place to take shelter, for starters—takes initiative, effort, and ability. If there is a problem to be solved, and many people involve themselves in the solution, then a hierarchy must and will arise, as those who can do, and those who cannot follow as best they can, often learning to be competent in the process. If the problem is real, then the people who are best at solving the problem at hand should rise to the top. That is not Power. It is The Authority that properly accompanies ability.

  Now, it is self-evidently appropriate to grant power to competent authorities, if they are solving necessary problems; and it is equally appropriate to be one of those competent authorities, if possible, when there is a perplexing problem at hand. This might be regarded as a philosophy of responsibility. A responsible person decides to make a problem his or her problem, and then works diligently — even ambitiously — for its solution, with other people, in the most efficient manner possible (efficient, because there are other problems to solve, and efficiency allows for the conservation of resources that might then be devoted importantly elsewhere).

  Ambition is often — and often purposefully — misidentified with The Desire for Power, and damned with faint praise, and denigrated, and punished. And ambition is sometimes exactly that wish for undue influence on others. But there is a crucial difference between sometimes and always. Authority is not mere power, and it is extremely unhelpful, even dangerous, to confuse the two. When people exert Power over others, they compel them, forcefully. They apply the threat of privation or punishment so their subordinates have little choice but to act in a manner contrary to their personal needs, desires, and values. 

When people wield Authority, by contrast, they do so because of their competence — a competence that is spontaneously recognised and appreciated by others, and generally followed willingly, with a certain relief, and with the sense that Justice is being served.

  Those who are power hungry — tyrannical and cruel, even psychopathic — desire control over others so that every selfish whim of hedonism can be immediately gratified; so that envy can destroy its target; so that resentment can find its expression. But good people are ambitious (and diligent, honest, and focused along with it) instead because they are possessed by the desire to solve genuine, serious problems. That variant of ambition needs to be encouraged in every possible manner. It is for this reason, among many others, that the increasingly reflexive identification of the striving of boys and men for victory with the “patriarchal tyranny” that hypothetically characterizes our modern, productive, and comparatively free societies is so stunningly counterproductive (and, it must be said, cruel: there is almost nothing worse than treating someone striving for competence as a tyrant in training). “Victory,” in one of its primary and most socially important aspects, is the overcoming of obstacles for the broader public good. Someone who is sophisticated as a winner wins in a manner that improves the game itself, for all the players. To adopt an attitude of naive or willfully blind cynicism about this, or to deny outright that it is true, is to position yourself—perhaps purposefully, as people have many dark motives—as an enemy of the practical amelioration of suffering itself. I can think of few more sadistic attitudes.

  Now, power may accompany authority, and perhaps it must. However, and more important, genuine authority constrains the arbitrary exercise of power. This constraint manifests itself when the authoritative agent cares, and takes responsibility, for those over whom the exertion of power is possible. The oldest child can take accountability for his younger siblings, instead of domineering over and teasing and torturing them, and can learn in that manner how to exercise authority and limit the misuse of power. Even the youngest can exercise appropriate authority over the family dog. To adopt authority is to learn that power requires concern and competence—and that it comes at a genuine cost. Someone newly promoted to a management position soon learns that managers are frequently more stressed by their multiple subordinates than subordinates are stressed by their single manager. Such experience moderates what might otherwise become romantic but dangerous fantasies about the attractiveness of power, and helps quell the desire for its infinite extension. And, in the real world, those who occupy positions of Authority in functional hierarchies are generally struck to the core by the responsibility they bear for the people they supervise, employ, and mentor.

  Not everyone feels this burden, of course. A person who has become established as an authority can forget his origins and come to develop a counterproductive contempt for the person who is just starting out. This is a mistake, not least because it means that the established person cannot risk doing something new (as it would mean adopting the role of despised fool). It is also because arrogance bars the path to learning. Shortsighted, willfully blind, and narrowly selfish tyrants certainly exist, but they are by no means in the majority, at least in functional societies. Otherwise nothing would work.

  The Authority who remembers his or her sojourn as voluntary beginner, by contrast, can retain their identification with the newcomer and the promise of potential, and use that memory as the source of personal information necessary to constrain the hunger for power. One of the things that has constantly amazed me is the delight that decent people take in the ability to provide opportunities to those over whom they currently exercise authority. I have experienced this repeatedly: personally, as a university professor and researcher (and observed many other people in my situation doing the same); and in the business and other professional settings I have become familiar with. There is great intrinsic pleasure in helping already competent and admirable young people become highly skilled, socially valuable, autonomous, responsible professionals. It is not unlike the pleasure taken in raising children, and it is one of the primary motivators of valid ambition. Thus, the position of top dog, when occupied properly, has as one of its fundamental attractions the opportunity to identify deserving individuals at or near the beginning of their professional life, and provide them with the means of productive advancement.

“Don't be scared by the word ‘Authority’. 

Believing things on Authority only means believing them because you've been TOLD them by someone you THINK Trustworthy. 

Ninety-nine per cent of the things you believe are believed on Authority. 

I believe there is such a place as New York. 

I haven't seen it myself. 

I couldn't prove by abstract reasoning that there must BE such a place. 

I believe it because RELIABLE people have TOLD me so. 

The ordinary man believes in the Solar System, atoms, evolution, and the circulation of the blood on authority - because The Scientists SAY So. 

EVERY historical statement in the world is believed on Authority. 

None of us has SEEN the Norman Conquest or the defeat of the Armada. 

None of us could prove them by pure logic as you prove a thing in mathematics. 

We believe them simply because people who DID see them have left Writings that TELL us about them: in fact, on Authority. 

A Man who jibbed at Authority in other things as some people do in Religion would have to be content to know nothing all his life.

— C.S. Lewis

Mount Moriah

“I’ll buy you a Delicatessen..!

In Stainless Steel..!!

Please..!!!”

You remember what you said? 

That 007 actually died 

in the assault on Piz Gloria. 

I've been thinking, maybe 

you were right about that. 

Died... and then reborn in 

The World to Come. 

[Davros' laboratory]

(The Doctor enters.) 

Mister Six : 

I see you've been busy. 

DAVROS: 

Whereas you have 

been stupid, Doctor. 

Mister Six : 

Prerogative of a Time Lord. 

Where's Peri? 

DAVROS: 

Safe, for the time being. 

Mister Six : 

I must say, 

I'm surprised to see YOU. 

The last time we met, 

Your Ship blew up — 

I thought, with you on board. 

DAVROS: 

Not when there is 

An ESCAPE-POD 

to be had.

OHMSS is the first one 

which doesn’t end 

with The Escape Pod.

and he STAYS Angry 

about that —FOREVER.

THAT’S His Story.

“007. Glad you came back. 

I wanted to take up that discussion we were having.”

“I can't right now.”

“About Abraham and Isaac. 

You remember what you said? 

That Isaac actually died 

on Mount Moriah. 

I've been thinking, maybe 

you were right about that. 

You remember what you said? 

That Isaac actually died 

on Mount Moriah. 

I've been thinking, maybe 

you were right about that. 

Died... and then reborn in 

The World to Come. 

You remember what you said? 

That Isaac actually died 

on Mount Moriah. 

I've been thinking maybe 

you were right about that. 

Died... and then reborn in 

The World to Come.

007, •STOP•. 

WHERE Do You THINK 

You're GOING? 

Don't You Know?  

There's Nothing UP There.

For My Culture

In the distant past, a dying alien race creates a number of containment devices in which to preserve their CULTURE. They send them into space with contact teams, intent on meeting other civilizations. When a small group of these aliens arrives on the planet Krypton, they are met by the militant Kem-L, who kills them and corrupts one of the devices. Its new mission is to preserve his ideal of Kryptonian CULTURE by eradicating all others — and thus the device becomes known as “The Eradicator.”

In its original form, The Eradicator resembles a stylized small rocket. Its top section is a prolate spheroid, which exudes a blue glow and is approximately three times the size of an egg. This is connected via four thin mounting brackets to a glossy orange tail fin section of equal length. The ten equally spaced fins each have the shape of a pointed quarter ellipse, with the tapered end extending slightly beyond the rear of the squat main cylindrical body tube.

On Krypton, The Eradicator does all that it could over the years to protect Kryptonians, EVEN FROM THEMSELVES.

When a group of Kryptonian explorers leave Krypton in search of a new planet to colonize, The Eradicator alters their birthing matrices and makes them fatally allergic to lead, thus creating Daxamites. To further ensure that nobody left Krypton, the Eradicator alters Kryptonians by encoding in them a genetic defect so that they will instantly perish if they leave their world.

One of the surviving aliens, known as the Cleric, takes the Eradicator and leaves Krypton with a group of followers. Unfortunately, they die soon thereafter, as the Kryptonian genetic link to their home planet precludes their survival off-world. The Cleric keeps the Eradicator for 200,000 years, until he encounters Superman on Warworld, while Superman was in self-imposed exile from Earth due to his guilt over executing three Kryptonians from a pocket universe.

With the device, the two exchange memories – which explains that Kal-El was able to leave Krypton thanks to genetic treatments his father had undergone to cure his DNA of the Eradicator’s defect – and the Cleric has a vision of Superman in combat with Mongul. The Cleric wishes to save Superman’s life, and the Eradicator transports Superman to the Cleric’s asteroid.

The Cleric notices that the device has changed to protect Krypton’s sole survivor, and he and Superman use it to heal their wounds, both physical and spiritual.

As they talk about their pasts, the Cleric assures Superman that his departure has only deprived his world of a great hero rather than sparing it from the threat he perceived he had become, confident that Kal-El would only have killed when he had no other choice to preserve justice. When the Cleric gives the Eradicator to Superman, he rapidly ages and dies as the link to the Eradicator extending his life is severed. Superman marks the Cleric’s grave with his symbol to reflect the impact the Cleric had on him.

Although Superman initially kept the Eradicator as a simple memento, it eventually attempted to activate and psychologically convert Superman into a ‘true’ Kryptonian, causing him to adopt Kryptonian clothes and a more ruthless attitude as it assembled the Fortress of Solitude in Antarctica. Superman was initially untroubled by this, even after Professor Hamilton tried to point out how he had nearly killed the alien gladiator Draaga when he could have just defeated him and ended the bout, but when the Eradicator attempted to kill Jonathan Kent, Superman fought off its influence and hurled the Eradicator into the sun.

The Eradicator’s controlling consciousness was able to use the energy of the sun to give itself a humanoid form, but Superman and Hamilton were able to drain its energy back into the Fortress.

WHY is Everyone Ashamed of This Shit?

“I mean with that stuff and Batman it was more like going back to what's all this stuff with Batman that's been swept under the carpet? 

What's everyone ASHAMED of?

‘Cause I thought there's got to be material in here. There's a ton repressed. 

WHY is everyone ashamed of this shit? 

So I dug all that out, and it was more to do with that. 'Cause I wasn't AROUND for those.”

Escape

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

A.) Hercules.

This is our famous hedge maze. 

It's a lot of fun. 

But I wouldn't want to go in there unless I had an hour to spare to find my way out. 

“I did not look at it again for a number of years until it came out in rental. And then I picked it up a couple of times. And, what, you had three days in order to watch a rental? 

And so, I can remember watching it over and over again during those three days and really taking a good look at it then. And I was able to think "Oh, yes, this is what I remember. This is what I thought I saw," and then catching more things. 

But it wasn't, of course, until DVD came out that I was really able to sit down and take a good look at it as far as just running through it over and over and over again. 

Kubrick presents these things where it's, you know, real... you know, it's realistic. You're not supposed to see what's actually going on. 

You've got Danny. He's in The Game Room. He turns around. We're supposed to be focused on the two girls there. 

And than you... I saw... over on the left, I see this skiing poster. 

And the thing is that you already have Jack. 

He's already asked about skiing. But why isn't... you know, "What about skiing? Isn't the skiing good here in the hotel?" 

And he's already given the story of why it isn't good, why they can't do that. 

But you got the skiing poster. 

And my eye is drawn to it. And I realize that's not a skier. That's a... that's a minotaur. It just leaped out at me. 

And so that was something that I was able to look at later on VHS and say, "Yes, I had actually seen a minotaur there," where the upper body, you've got this really, you know, overblown physique, very physical physique. 

And then you've got the suggestion... you have a suggestion of a skiing pole there, but it's not really there. It's just a suggestion of one.

And the lower body is positioned, the way the legs are, it's like a minotaur, the build is. And you've actually got the tail there. 

And so it is a minotaur. 

And this is in... on the opposite side of the door you have a cowboy on a bucking bronco, so... and so you got a kind of echo there, where you got the minotaur on one side, the bull man, and on the other side, you got the cowboy, the man on the bucking bronco. 

And this is just following the scene where they... Ullman has been taking Jack and Wendy through the Colorado Lounge, showing off the Colorado Lounge. And they go into the hall behind the Colorado Lounge. And what's there, but on the wall, there is a painting of an American Indian with a buffalo headdress on. 

And at that point, Ullman is discussing with Wendy who has stayed there at the hotel. 

Royalty, the best people, stars have stayed there. Royalty? All the best people. 

You have "monarch" on the bottom, which, you know, keys in with royalty. And you also have this whole idea of the stars. And the minotaur's name is, what, Asterius? His name is Asterius, which means "starry." So you know, you got several things there to do with mythology that fit in. It's very exciting to me. That was the... you know, that's the kind of leap-up-end-down moment where you go, "Oh, wow, look at what Kubrick has there." 

Yeah, I mean the minotaur lives at the heart of the labyrinth. He's a part of the labyrinth. The labyrinth, at least in the myth... you know, in this particular myth... was built for the minotaur. 

The Hotel is... you know, it is The Labyrinth. 

And Jack is The Minotaur. 

You have scenes with him where he... such as in... what is it? The Thursday scene. The snowfall has started. You have Wendy and Danny outside playing. And Jack is inside the Colorado Lounge, and he's looking out at them. His head is tilted down, and his eyes are somewhat... his eyes are elevated. They're pointing up. And his eyebrows are drawn up. But he has this expression on his face that he gets progressively throughout the film that is very bull-like. It has a very minotaur-like expression. It's the same kind of expression that Kubrick pulls out in other films, such as it was on Private Pyle's face in the berserker scene in the bathroom in Full Metal Jacket. So it's, you know, not specific to this film. There's more minotaur imagery and labyrinth imagery. There's the Gold Room. In front of the Gold Room, you have the "Unwinding Hours" sign. And that plays in with the labyrinth, where you have... Theseus enters into the labyrinth, and he has the thread with him that he ties at the beginning that, you know, assists him in going through the labyrinth, where he can find his way back out. And so I see the "Unwinding Hours" sign as having to do with that thread. For a while there, I was into baseball. And I get very excited with baseball when I'm into baseball. You know, I can be by myself, and I will be leaping up and down. And Kubrick is like that for me, where all I have to do is see the minotaur poster there, and I go, "Oh, my goodness. Look at this!" Because you're not supposed to see the minotaur. Danny is shown riding his big wheel through the hotel three times. The first ride, I think, is about realism. That's Danny is a... Danny is doing a loop around the lounge set. You know, he goes through the service hallway and then he goes through the lounge and then he goes back into the service hallway. And, you know, when you first see the movie, you're like, "He's just wandering around. It's crazy, it's just"... But it... no, it's very... it's just a very simple loop. He does it once. But that gives you an idea of where... of what that place is. I mean, you know, all right, you understand that that set is real. You know, like, it's a continuous shot. There are no tricks. In the second ride, in the hexagonal hallway, there are a lot of... there are more tricks. Like, he doesn't do a loop. He does kind of like a key-shaped... you know, or a p-shaped loop around this hallway. And you see the realism of the connection to the lounge set. And... but you also see the fakery of the fake elevators. And you see... for just one second, you see the big stained glass windows out of the corner, in the corner of the frame right before he takes a turn around the elevator. Like, that's incredible because, like, that connects that whole hallway to the giant Colorado Lounge set. I mean, that's just for one second. They didn't have to do that, you know? But it's also... you know, it's a metaphor because he's also elevated. He's one level up from where he was before. Like, he starts in the same place, just one floor up, you know, in the northeast corner of the set. So now he's in the northeast corner and one level up. And if you take it as a metaphor of, like, going from a mundane reality to up into your head to more of a fantastical reality... The third one is even stranger, 'cause he starts off in the service unit. He starts off in the same, you know, northeast corner of the lobby hall, of the lobby service hallway. And then he takes a turn, and suddenly he's upstairs in the area outside their apartment So, like, it's a kind of a combination of the first two, where like he's down low and then he's up high. And then he takes a turn, and he's suddenly... he's in that that yellow, yellow and blue wallpaper. Let's say that's in the service hallway area. He's, you know, right outside his parents' bedroom, so there's this connection between him going on these big wheel rides and dreaming. Like, he's near his bedroom. He's near... like, you see his parents are working downstairs, but he's upstairs. You know, like, you see his mom on the telephone, and then he's flying. He goes above her to the bedroom, which is above where she's working, just as the hexagonal hallway is above where his dad is working. 

So these big wheel rides become like a visionary way of Danny to explore his parents' headspace. 

You know, like, room 237 is his, like... that's his father's fantasy chamber where, like, he gets it on with the witches. 

And the twins are like his mother's fantasy... fantasy headspace where, like, they're these double blue women who want to play with Danny forever and ever. We're all gonna have a real good time. 

My interpretation of The Shining is that there's many levels to this film. 

This is like three-dimensional chess. 

And he's trying to tell us several stories that appear to be separate but actually are not. 

And he's doing this both through the overt script that he wrote. 

He's telling it through tricks of the trade, the subliminal imagery and these constant retakes, giving him odd angles and things. 

And he's also telling you through the changes that he made to the Stephen King novel. 

So if you watch those three things, you begin to understand this deeper story. 

And this deeper story has its birth, I guess, in the idea that Stanley Kubrick was involved with faking the Apollo moon landings.

Look Like

Imagine A Cave 

where those inside never see 

The Outside World.

Instead, they see 

shadows of that world 

Projected on The Cave Wall.

[MONKEY CHATTERING.]

The World They See 

in The Shadows is not 

The Real World.

Three, two, one, liftoff.

But it's Real to Them.

If you were to show Them 

The World as it actually is, 

They would reject it as incomprehensible.

Now what if, instead of being in A Cave, you were out in The World, 

except you couldn't see it.

[OVERLAPPING VOICES ON PHONE.]

Because You weren't Looking.

[PHONES CHIMING.]

Because You Trusted that The World You Saw through The Prism was The Real World.

[CLUCKING.]

[CAMERA CLICKS.]

[TYPING.]

[PHONE CHIMES.]

[TYPING.]

But there's A Difference.

[PHONE CHIMES.]

You see, unlike 

The Allegory of The Cave, 

where The People are Real 

and The Shadows are false, here, 

Other People are The Shadows —

Their Faces.

Their Lives.

This is The Delusion 

of The Narcissist, 

who believes that 

They alone are Real.

- [PHONE CHIMING.]

- [TYPING.]

[PHONE CHIMES.]

Their feelings are the only feelings that matter because Other People are just Shadows, 

and Shadows Don't Feel.

Because They're 

Not Real.

[HORN HONKS.]

But what if everyone 

lived in caves? 

[LAPTOP CHIMING.]

Then no one would be Real.

Not even you.

Unless one day you woke up 

and left The Cave.

How strange The World would look 

after a lifetime of staring at Shadows.

[TYPING, PHONES CHIMING.]

[PHONE CHIMES.]

[THUNDER CRACKS.]

[THUNDER RUMBLING.]

“We end the Golden Age as it began, with Superman—one of the last survivors of the initial brief expansion and rapid contraction of the DC universe. It had been too much too soon for the superheroes, but although many of them would lie dormant for decades, no potential trademark truly dies. The superheroes, like cockroaches or Terminators, are impossible to kill. But in 1954 a sinister scientist straight from the pages of the comics tried to wipe them all out and came close to succeeding.

  As the lights went out on the Golden Age, characters such as Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, who’d achieved a wider recognition thanks to serials and merchandising, survived the cull. Because of their status as backup strips in Adventure Comics, second stringers like Green Arrow and Aquaman weathered the storm—perhaps undeservedly—but the survivors did not always flourish.

  For instance, a popular TV series (1953’s The Adventures of Superman) had cemented Superman’s status as an American icon, but budgetary restrictions meant that its star, the likeable but ultimately troubled George Reeves, was rarely seen in the air. At best, he might jump in through a window at an angle that suggested methods of entry other than flight, possibly involving trampolines. The stories revolved around low-level criminal activity in Metropolis and ended when Superman burst through another flimsy wall to apprehend another gang of bank robbers or spies. Bullets would bounce from his monochrome chest (the series was shot and transmitted before color TV, so Reeves’s costume was actually rendered in grayscale, not red and blue, which wouldn’t have contrasted so well in black and white.)

  Reeves, at nearly forty, was a patrician Superman with a touch of gray around the temples and a physique that suggested middle-aged spread rather than six-pack, but he fit the mold of the fifties establishment figure: fatherly, conservative, and trustworthy. The problem with Superman was more obvious in the comic books. By aping the kitchen-sink scale of the Reeves show, Superman’s writers and artists squandered his epic potential on a parade of gangsters, pranksters, and thieves. The character born in a futurist blaze of color and motion had washed up on a black-and-white stage set, grounded by the turgid rules of a real world that kept his wings clipped and his rebel spirit chained. Superman was now locked into a death trap more devious than anything Lex Luthor could have devised. Here was Superman—even Superman—tamed and domesticated in a world where the ceiling, not the sky, was the limit.