You All Have a Great Future Behind Me.

Nancy :

You all set, sir?

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

I'm fine, Nancy.

Bring him on in.

Nancy :

Mr. President, Senator Wilkinson.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

Sam.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

Well, you look terrific,

Mr. President.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

Thank you. 

Sorry I can't get up, 

but I can't get up.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

You're in our prayers,

Mr. President.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

I appreciate that,

Sam, I really do.

Now, tell me what I can do to

get your amendment off my budget?

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

"Against Nature.

Men leaving The Natural use of The Woman,

burned in their lust toward one another;

Men with Men, working that which is unseemly."

Romans.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

Would it offend you, Sam, if I said this amendment represents a selective interpretation of The Scriptures,

a complete inversion of The Values of Jesus Christ?

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

No, sir, it wouldn't offend me.

I'm secure in My Faith.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

Isn't there something in That Book about Forgiveness?

Aren't we all God's Children?

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

Of course we are.

Which is why The Government 

shouldn't institutionalise

behaviour in opposition to Our Faith.

What gives us The Right to visit

Our Faith upon The Country?

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

One Nation under God.

What gives us The Right not to?

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

You talked to John Hoynes about this?

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

John's a friend of mine.

But I introduced this amendment because 

I believe  you want to sign it, 

Mr. President.

You told me as much six weeks

ago at The Prayer Breakfast.

That the Civil Unions are one thing,

but that Marriage is between 

A Man and A Woman.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

.......

....I can't stand up anymore.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

Sir?

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

I've lost My Balance.

Should come back,

but it's gone right now.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

Are you dizzy, sir?

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

No, I just can't find 

My Balance. It went away.

I try thinking it back, 

but it's difficult, because 

it's not a static thing.

Once it's gone, it's hard to imagine 

having it back again,

and it's disheartening to realise that

Thinking just isn't gonna get it done.

You've just gotta Trust 

that you'll happen on to it again.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

You only have one more year, Mr. President.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

Yeah, I've got A Great Future behind me.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

Attaching this to The Budget gives you 

all the cover you need.

President 

Josiah 'Jed' Bartlett :

How is this Our Job, Sam?

I raised My Right Hand 

and Swore an Oath to uphold 

The Constitution 

of The United States of America.

Sen. Sam Wilkinson :

......Where was Your Left Hand, 

Mr. President?

So was this Justice, Superman? 

Millions in Property Damage, 

Helpless Bystanders Killed 

by a repeat metahuman felon,

who's now enjoying three square meals a day 

as a guest of The State.

You had The Power to end 

Atomic Skull's Criminal Career 

right there, permanently. 

Why didn't you? 

I'm not anyone's 

Judge and Jury, Professor Baxter. 

Definitely not An Executioner. 

My Powers don't put me 

Above The Law. 

A Noble Sentiment. 

But are you The Superman 

that The 21st Century needs?

 

Why not use Your Power 

To Fix The World? 

Superman :

First, I don't believe 

That The World is Broken. 

Because when We Say 'The World', 

We're really Talking about People. 

And it's always been My Belief that 

People at their core are Good. 

The Grace of Mankind is Everywhere. 

You just have to Open Your Eyes. 

Humanity has a limitless 

Potential for Good. 

My Purpose is 

To Help People 

reach That Potential. 

Tamarev. 

Tamarev is under attack. 

What have you people done? 

How dare you? 

Pokolistan holds to the treaty. 

Liar. My People are dying in The Streets. 

No less than they deserve. 

"Limitless Potential for Good"? 

Superman :

Good isn't Perfect. 

I have to go. 

To be continued, Professor? 

I Never Lie.

PERRY

(walking around)

I want the real story! (bangs desk)I want the inside dope on this guy! Has he got a family? Where does he live?

LOIS is taking notes, and finds a card with a personal message on it.

LOIS

(whispers aloud)

TONIGHT AT EIGHT

YOUR PLACE-

HOPEFULLY-

A FRIEND

SHOT of CLARK craning his neck to see what LOIS is doing.

ANGLE ON PERRY WHITE

PERRY

(walks around)

Tony, who is he?

(the REPORTER shrugs helplessly, PERRY moves on)

What's his name? What's he got hidden under that cape of his - batteries? (SHOT of LOIS looking over her shoulder, CLARK lowers his eyes) Why did he show up last night? (looks at another reporter) Dick. Where does he come from? (to LOIS) Does he have a girlfriend? (moves on) What's his favorite ball team, Kent? (CLARK opens his mouth, but too late PERRY is gone) Now listen to me! I tell you boys and girls - whichever one of you gets it out of him...is going to wind up with the single most important interview since... (grabs a cigar at his desk) God talked to Moses!

One of the reporters lights it for him. PERRY inhales deeply the looks around.

PERRY

What are you standing around about for? Move! Get on that story!

The reporters head for the door, CLARK fumbling with something for a moment. PERRY sits on his desk chewing his cigar, and reading the latest edition of his paper. The phone rings, but he ignores it.

INT. TERRACE OF LOIS' APARTMENT - NIGHT

LOIS, looking absolutely gorgeous in her best evening gown, stares wistfully up into the sky. She glances at her watch: it is 8.05 PM.

LOIS

(turns around to head back inside, says to herself)

Eight o'clock, he says eight o'clock. Eight o'clock. Hm. Some friend. (pours herself some wine) Story of my life. Cinderella bites the dust.

EXT. METROPOLIS - NIGHT

CAMERA PANS along the buildings and skyscrapers, then down to the TERRACE.

EXT. LOIS' APARTMENT - NIGHT

LOIS pours herself some wine and drinks as SUPERMAN lands at the edge of her terrace.

SUPERMAN

(arms crossed)

Good evening, Miss Lane.

LOIS almost chokes on the wine and whirls around in her seat

LOIS

Uh...h-hi!

SUPERMAN

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you have plans this evening?

LOIS

Oh.

(looks at gown)

Oh, this old thing... (gets up) no.

SUPERMAN

Well listen, it's no trouble at all for me to come back later-

LOIS

No! (rushes forward) Don't move! (stops) Um, err, sure you can move, just don't fly away, alright?

SUPERMAN smiles to himself, hops down onto the terrace, and walks forward.

SUPERMAN

Sorry to, uh, just drop in on you like this, Miss Lane, but I've been thinking. You know, there must be a lot of questions about me that people in the world would like to know the answers to...

LOIS

Of course. Yes. Uh...

(rushes to the terrace table and grabs a cigarette, lights up)

SUPERMAN

(sternly)

Uh, you really shouldn't smoke, you know, Miss Lane.

LOIS

(turns around with a smirk)

Don't tell me. Lung cancer, right?

INSERT SHOT - LOIS' LUNGS

Seen through SUPERMAN'S X-RAY vision: a shot of LOIS' lungs superimposed on her back.

ANGLE ON SUPERMAN

SUPERMAN

Well. Not yet, thank goodness.

SUPERMAN walks forward. LOIS blinks, puts out her cigarette.

LOIS

Um, um, would you like a glass of wine?

SUPERMAN

Uh, no, no thanks. I never drink when I fly.

INT. LOIS' APARTMENT - NIGHT

SUPERMAN

(seen in mirror)

Nice place.

EXT. TERRACE - NIGHT

LOIS

Oh thank you. Thank you. Um...should we get started with that interview?

She goes to sit down, there is an uncomfortable moment when he goes to get her chair.

LOIS

Oh, thank you.

Flustered, LOIS sits and starts to collect her thoughts as SUPERMAN sits down too.

LOIS

Well, ah, let's start with your vital statistics. Are you married? (looks up)

SUPERMAN

(almost scoffs)

Uh, no. No I'm not.

LOIS

Do you have a girlfriend?

SUPERMAN

Uh, no I don't, but uh, if I did Miss Lane you'd be the first to know about it.

LOIS

(pause, almost smirks)

Um, how old are you?

SUPERMAN.

Over 21.

LOIS

Oh, I get it, you don't want anyone to know. (SUPERMAN nods) Okay. And how big are you...how *tall* are you?

SUPERMAN

About six-four.

LOIS

Six-four, and, uh, how much do you weigh?

SUPERMAN

Around two, two-twenty five.

LOIS

Two-twenty five? (looks up, SUPERMAN shrugs) Mmm. Well, um, uh -I - I assume the rest of your bodily functions are...normal?

SUPERMAN

Sorry, beg your pardon?

LOIS

Well, putting it delicately. (long pause) Do you...eat?

SUPERMAN

Uh, yes. Yes I do. When I'm hungry.

LOIS

You do. (huge grin) Of course you do. (claps her hands) Well. (gets up, as does he and keeps writing) Well then. Uh. Is it true that, uh, you can see through anything?

SUPERMAN

Yes I can. Well, pretty much.

LOIS

(continues walking around planter)

And that you're, uh, totally impervious to pain?

SUPERMAN

Well, so far.

LOIS

(heads back towards him)

What color underwear am I wearing?

SUPERMAN

(looking)

Hmmm.

LOIS

Oh, I'm sorry, I embarrassed you, didn't I?

SUPERMAN

Oh, no...

LOIS

(interrupting, clutching her head)

I did.

SUPERMAN

...no, no, not at all, Miss Lane, it's just that this planter must be made of lead.

LOIS

Uh, yes it is. So?

SUPERMAN

Well, you see, I, uh, I sort of have a problem, seeing through lead.

LOIS

Oh, that's interesting. (writing) Problem seeing through lead. Hmmm. Uh, d-do you have a first name?

SUPERMAN

What do you mean, like, Ralph or something?

LOIS

No, no, I mean like...

(walks away from planter)

SUPERMAN

Pink.

LOIS

Huh?

SUPERMAN

Pink.

LOIS looks down, gets it, and walks back to the planter.

SUPERMAN

Um, sorry, Miss Lane, I didn't mean to embarrass *you*.

LOIS puts down her pad, flustered in spite of herself.

LOIS

(bad liar)

Oh, huh, you didn't embarrass me. Um, uh, what's your background? Where do you hail from?

SUPERMAN

(starts walking)

Well, that's kinda hard to explain, actually. See, I'm from, um, well, pretty far away. Another galaxy, as a matter of fact. I come from a planet called Krypton. (staring up at the sky)

LOIS

(looks confused)

Huh?

SUPERMAN

(looking back)

Krypton.

LOIS

(fakes it while writing)

Oh, Krypton! With a C-R-I...

SUPERMAN

(comes close)

No, a-actually, it's K-R-Y. Along with P-T-O-N.

LOIS

(writing)

K-R-Y...do you like pink?

SUPERMAN

I like pink very much, Lois.

LOIS

(smitten)

Why are you?

SUPERMAN

I'm sorry?

LOIS

I mean, w-why are you here? There must be a reason for you to be here.

SUPERMAN

(standing very close and looking into her eyes)

Yes. I'm here to fight for truth and justice and the American way.

LOIS

(laughs and walks away)

You're gonna end up fighting every elected official in this country!

SUPERMAN

I'm sure you don't really mean that, Lois.

LOIS

(staring at her apartment interior, says to herself)

I don't believe this...

SUPERMAN

Lois?

LOIS

Hmm?

SUPERMAN

I never lie.

LOIS

(blinks and nods, throwing down her cigarette pack)

Oh. Um....uh, oh! Just how fast do you fly, by the way?

SUPERMAN

Oh, I don't know really. 

Y'know, I've never actually, uh, bothered to time myself.

LOIS

Oh.

SUPERMAN

Say. Why don't we find out?

LOIS

And how do you propose we do that?

SUPERMAN

Take a ride with me?

LOIS

You mean I could fly? (giggles)

SUPERMAN

Well, actually, I'd be handling the flying if that's okay.

LOIS

This is utterly fantastic!

LOIS heads quickly back inside.

SUPERMAN

Wait, wait a minute, where are you going?

LOIS

Are you serious?

SUPERMAN

Sure. What's the matter, 

don't you wanna go? Okay. 

(grabs the pad and pen) 

Won't need these. 

(puts them on the TERRACE table)

LOIS

I mean. A sweater. 

It must be kind of cold?

SUPERMAN

You'll be warm enough.

SUPERMAN crosses over, smiles, takes her by the hand. He looks deeply into her eyes as they stop in the middle of the TERRACE.

SUPERMAN

Ready?

LOIS

(staring at him)

Clark...said that you're just a figment of somebody's imagination. 

Like Peter Pan.

SUPERMAN

Clark, uh. Who's that? 

Your boyfriend?

LOIS

Clark? Oh, Clark, no, he's nothing, he's just, uh...

SUPERMAN

Peter Pan, huh?

LOIS

Uh-huh.

SUPERMAN

Peter Pan flew with children, Lois. 

In a fairy tale.

Relevance

“ The O’Neal-Adams collaborations were state-of-the-art for maturing fans who wanted themselves and their passions to be taken seriously. 

Although a great deal of their “criticism” consisted of little more than sarcastic exposés of the logic flaws in stories, much of it had a learned collegiate twang. 

Along with acerbic critiques, fans offered the kind of wildly effusive praise and serious engagement with the work that made creative and editorial staff feel elevated and appreciated. 

These were teenagers who began to insist that comics could and should be for adults, mostly because they didn’t want to let go of childhood and had to find a new way to sell its pleasure back to themselves.

  These older comic-book hobbyists — often collectors of back issues, compilers of price lists, and publishers of DIY fanzines — favored work that was edgy and defensibly mature, distorting the scale of the adult-oriented superhero’s appeal with passionate and clever letters of comment, fan awards, and relentless rubbishing of everything that didn’t fit the strict diktat of a fan culture understandably keen to establish the art credentials of its beloved comics. 

Anxious to escape the mocking echoes of the Batman TV show and the disrepute it had brought upon the “serious” business of collecting and critiquing comics, these adolescent advocates were ready to embrace any development that validated their growing interest in politics, poetry, sex, and expressions of emotional pain. 

They preferred the artfully stressed and heightened photo-realism of Neal Adams’s illustrative technique to the expressionistic gut drawing of Kirby, or the classical power and weight of Curt Swan’s increasingly old-fashioned Superman work, where the figures had come to seem like waxy statues posed and reposed in a stuffy gallery of recycled, reheated Silver Age attitudes. 

They called loudly and relentlessly for superhero stories to be “relevant,” embrace a new realism, a new vocabulary, and a fresh engagement with the headlines; all of which undermined the success of the comics and drastically limited their mass-market appeal. 

Nevertheless, it was this retreat from the mainstream that gave the comics some quiet R & D time in which to hone a far greater sophistication and develop a “grounded” approach to superheroes that would make them perfect for Hollywood mass exploitation in the twenty-first century. 

As Superman himself might say, leading the charge on-screen with 1978’s big-budget Superman: “IRONIC.”

  Prickly and unself-confident, the new “fandom” especially liked its stories about powerful men and women in Day-Glo Lycra to come embellished with extended Ernest Hemingway and T. S. Eliot quotes, and so more of these odd adventures began to appear — lumpen children of Roy Thomas’s grace notes from Shelley, strange chimeras, that were part cape-and-mask workouts, part campus polemic. At best, there might be a powerful recontextualization of familiar lines played against unfamiliar images. 

At worst, which was more often, the writers became ventriloquist dummies who relied on the proven excellence of others to elevate their ill-conceived and aimless efforts. 

Was it a superhero adventure or an English lit student bitching about pollution with Walt Whitman samples running in ironic counterpoint to the action?

  Aside from the gift to Hollywood of believable superheroes, perhaps the best that could be said for relevance was the way it eliminated any need to hide a comic book inside a poetry anthology for a sneak read in class; lines from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” were just as likely to appear in both. 

As far as I was concerned, the sincere products of the relevance movement helped me justify the excellence of superhero stories to sneering teachers. Although I was clearly well read and articulate, my ever-encouraging tutors regarded the comics reading habit as a warning sign that I was on a collision course with some catastrophic breakdown of literacy that was almost certain to leave me with a fifteen-word “ZAP! KER-POW!” space monkey vocabulary of neuronal pops and frazzles. So these thoughtful and informed comics were powerful ammunition for me, as they were for all the other earnest teenage fans so captivated by the imaginary universes of Marvel and DC that they’d lingered there past the age of twelve and become trapped like Lost Boys. It was easier to be caught reading comics at school if you could smugly direct an infuriated physics master to the award-winning Green Lantern/ Green Arrow no. 86, with its letter of thanks from the mayor of New York for helping to dramatize the scourge of drugs.

    

 

  Thus superhero comics began their slow retreat from the mainstream of popular entertainment to its geek-haunted margins, where their arcane flavors could be distilled and savored by solitary, monkish boys and men — rarely women or teenage girls, who tended to outgrow Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, while their weird brothers were still taking comfort in those pages. 

(Unsurprisingly, given my profession, I do know a disproportionate number of otherwise reasonable women who grew up reading or still read the better superhero comics as part of a general diet of pop culture adrenaline, but as the scorecard element — the collecting crowd — came in, the demographic skewed heavily toward introverted males in their teens and twenties.) 

Color TV, too, played its part in the decline of comics sales, but comics still offered the best, most immersive superhero stories available and showcased the work of some genuinely talented artists. 

By 1970, the field had become flooded with brilliant and restless young innovators like Jim Steranko, Mike Kaluta, Bernie Wrightson, and Barry Smith, and O’Neil opened the door to other “relevant” writers such as Elliot Maggin and Mike Friedrich. Maggin wrote the classic, collegiate “Must There Be a Superman?” in which the Man of Steel’s very role was questioned as if he were real, with no clear resolution.”

Why Narcissists Must Hurt And Punish You

Why Narcissists Must Hurt And Punish You

Being purposefully Hurt and Punished 

is not part of A Normal Relationship.

Only a highly disintegrated being, 

one that is malfunctioning, 

is capable of doing this to Someone Else.

A Narcissist is This Type of Being.

If you don't agree with The Narcissist or you question them, 

or you want them to be held accountable for something then 

You are Not Serving Them and 

You're Bucking The System.

If you're not giving The Narcissist 

what he or she deems is necessary 

then you must be punished 

and while in A Narcissistic Rage they will 

line you up and attack you mercilessly.

In my latest Thriver TV video I go into detail on 

What They're Doing, 

Who They Are 

and 

What They're After. 

I also draw parallels between these 

Personality-Disordered People 

and celestial 

Black Holes 

so you understand that 

Nothing Will Ever Appease Them.

I want you to have 

The Knowledge and Deeper Understanding 

To Take Your Power Back, 

just like myself and thousands 

in This Community have.

📥 Claim your free 16-day recovery course:

https://www.youcanthrivebook.com/free...

✔️Join the Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Program:

https://melanietoniaevans.com/narp

📘 Order your copy of You Can Thrive After Narcissistic Abuse:

https://www.youcanthrivebook.com/order

👀 Read hundreds of free articles on my blog: 

https://blog.melanietoniaevans.com/

💛 Connect with the Thriver Community: 

https://facebook.com/MelToniaEvans/​​

https://instagram.com/melanietoniaevans

https://pinterest.com.au/meltoniaevans/​

#WhyNarcissistsMustHurtAndPunishYou #melanietoniaevans

Judge-Advocate Commadore, 

Imperial Navy :

Cadet Solo --

Still can't decide whether you're 

Brave or Stupid --

Cadet H. Solo :

Well..... I'd like to think, 

I'm a little of both, Sir.

Ah, Moff -- Sir.

Sir-Moff..

Judge-Advocate Commadore, 

Imperial Navy :

It's Commodore.

And if you think that smartarse 

is the way to go here, you're sorely mistaken.

Cadet H. Solo :

Commodore --

Fellow Imperials, 

if You'll Allow Me --

[ HINT : They Won't. And They Aren't Going To. ]

Onyx-II....

Onyx-II was flanked by headhunters --

If I'd followed Command's Directive and returned to formation, instead of going after him, 

he'd be dead now  --

Judge-Advocate Commadore, 

Imperial Navy :

No Place for Daredevil Heroics 

in His Emperor's Imperial Navy --

Cadet H. Solo :

I'm not trying to be A Hero, 

Commodore, trust me.

Judge-Advocate Commadore, 

Imperial Navy :

Well, congratulations --

Your Not One.

This Tribunal -- ME, in particular -- finds you 

Guilty of Disobeying a Direct Order -- 

and you are hereby reassigned 

to The Infantry.

Mapping The Phantom Zone

“Why can’t I TOUCH Them?

Why can’t I DO ANYTHING?”

“The Spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.

Scrooge followed to the window : desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. 

Every one of them wore chains like Marley’s Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were linked together; none were free. 

Many had been personally known to Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant, whom it saw below, upon a door-step. 

The misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.”