Krypto Jones

“It is said that what is called 

The Spirit of an Age 

is something to which one cannot return. 

That This Spirit gradually dissipates 

is due to 

The World's coming to An End. 

In the same way, 

A Single Year 

does not have just 

Spring or Summer. 

A Single Day, too, 

is The Same. 

For this reason, 

although one would like 

To Change Today's World 

Back to The Spirit of 100 Years or more ago, 

it cannot be done. 

Thus it is Important 

To Make The Best 

out of Every Generation.

Kal-El : 

[Floating about in The Fortress of Solitude]  

You... enjoyed it.

Superman : 

I don't know what to say, Father. 

I'm afraid I just got carried away.

Kal-El : 

I anticipated this, My Son. 

I...

Superman : [surprised]  

You couldn't have! 

You couldn't have imagined...

Kal-El : 

...How good it felt.

[Jon nods] 

Kal-El : 

You are revealed to The World. 

Very well, so be it. 

But you must still keep 

Your Secret Identity.

Superman : 

But why?

Kal-El : 

The Reasons are Two :

First, you cannot serve humanity 

twenty-eight four hours a day.

Superman : 

Er, twenty-four.

Kal-El : 

Or, twenty-four, as it is in Earth time. 

Your help would be called for endlessly, 

even for those problems which human beings could solve themselves. 

It is Their Habit to abuse Their Resources in such a way.

Superman : 

And, secondly?

Kal-El :

 Secondly, 

Your Enemies will discover their only way to Hurt You : 

By Hurting The People You Care For.

Superman : 

Thank you, Father.

Kal-El : 

Lastly... 

Do not punish yourself for your feelings of Vanity. 

Simply learn to control them. 

It is an affliction common to all, 

even in The Silver Age. 

Our Destruction could have been avoided 

had it not been for The Vanity of some who considered us indestructible. 

Were it not for Vanity, why... 

at this very moment...

[sadly] 

I could embrace you in my arms. My Son.

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Junior! Junior! 

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

Elsa… Elsa, don’t. 

Elsa… Elsa… 

Give me your other hand, honey. 

I can’t hold you! 

Elsa, 

The Austrian Nazi Chick :

I can reach it. 

I can reach it.

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

 Elsa, give me your hand.

 Give me your other hand! Elsa! 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Junior, give me your other hand! 

I can’t hold on. 

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

I can get it. 

I can almost reach it, Dad. 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Indiana… 

Indiana… 

Let it go. 

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

Dad… 

Please, Dad. 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Elsa never really believed in The Grail. 

She thought she’d found A Prize. 

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

What did you find, Dad? 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Me? Illumination.

 And what did you find, Junior? 

Prof. Henry Jones Jr. :

“Junior”? Dad… 

Sallah :

Please, what does it always mean, this… 

This “Junior”? 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

That’s His Name : 

Henry Jones, Junior.

Indiana Jones Jr. :

 I like 'Indiana'. 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

We named The Dog 'Indiana'! 

Marcus Brody :

May we go home now, please? 

Sallah :

The Dog?

 You are named after the dog? 

Indiana Jones :

(wounded)

I’ve got a lot of fond memories of that dog…

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Ready? 

Indiana Jones :

Ready. 

Marcus Brody :

Indy! Henry! Follow me.

 I know the way! Ha! 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

Got lost in his own museum, huh?

Indiana Jones :

 Uh-huh. 

Prof. Henry Jones Sr. :

After you, Junior. 

Indiana Jones :

Yes, sir! Ha!

The Magic Christian

The Male Ego

I didn’t know what to do, 

because I could act like 

I could fight good. 

I’m an actor, 

I ain’t no fighter. 

You put me in a movie where I’m the star, 

I’ll kick your ass. 

This is real shit. 

He’s going, 

“Come on.” 

I was frozen, man. 

I was standing there, 

My Ego jumped out of my body 

and said, 

“Punch him in the face, Ed.” 

I said, 

“I ain’t punching nobody.” 

My Ego said, 

“Well, give me your hand.” 

Clocked that boy in his eye. 

Boy fell on the deck holding his eye, 

he was all fucked up. 

I looked at my ego, I said: 

“What the fuck you do that for?” 

Ego said, 

“Because you’ve got an image to uphold. 

You kicked the dude’s ass. Relax.” 

The dude was laying there, holding his eye. 

My ego said, 

“Now talk some shit so people know not to mess with you.”

And I was like, 

“Yeah…!

I’m tired of people messing with me.” 

“Now tell them if somebody else move, you gonna kick their ass.” 

“If somebody else move, 

I’m gonna kick their ass?” 

“Do some rhyme with your name. 

That always scares white people.” 

“Because I’m Ed 

and if you mess with Ed, 

you be dead.” 

“That’s all right. 

Just worry about… Shit, you doing fine. 

You just relax, don’t worry. Just be cool. 

Ain’t nobody gonna move after they seen you kick this dude’s ass. 

Just relax and cool out.”

 I start cooling out. 

My ego said: 

“Every now and then 

you gotta whip somebody’s ass, 

let them know 

where you stand.” 

I said, 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” 

I ain’t see this dude’s brother standing behind me. 

And he has seen Rocky too. 

And he swung around my back and punched me in the mouth… 

…real, real hard. 

Because the punch said: 

And my ego said, 

“What was that?!” 

I said, 

“I don’t know.” 

And my lip said, 

“Hey, fellas!” 

So I’m standing there with my lips hanging down, looking like J.J. from Good Times and shit. 

And I ain’t know what to do, 

so I scream for security. 

I said, 

“Security!” 

And that’s when 

one of my boys jumped over the table 

like Linc Hayes from the Mod Squad 

and grabbed that boy and started going: 

Boy hit the deck. 

My boy jumps up 

and starts fucking this boy up 

and his brother woke up, 

jump on top of my boy 

and started kicking his ass. 

Then somebody says, 

“Fight in the back!” 

And all the people, the bouncers, came and saw two n i g g e r s fighting two white guys. 

They jump on the n i g g e r s. 

“You n i g g e r s have to learn 

to stop fucking up our club. 

Didn’t we let you in here, n i g g e r? 

“We saw you laughing 

while we were dancing. 

We saw you.” 

Then all the brothers saw 40 white guys beating up two black guys, 

“Hey, you can’t beat up the brothers.” 

They jump in the fight. 

Then it looked like 40 white guys 

fighting 40 black guys, 

it was a big race war 

and suntan lotion 

and Jheri-curl juices 

shooting all over. 

And at the end of the fight, 

everybody sued me. 

Everybody claimed 

I whipped their ass. 

I’m 5’10”. 

I weigh 165 pounds. 

I can’t whip a disco’s ass by myself. 

Even people that didn’t fight sued me. 

People that watched 

the fight was in court. 

“No, I didn’t actually fight, 

but I was there watching. 

And it was a discotheque 

and a strobe light fell off the ceiling, 

creating a weird effect 

with the mirror 

and I saw this 

and my eyes were sprained, 

the eyes, and I need 12 million 

for my sprained eyes.” 

Brothers sued me. 

Yo, man, the brothers 

came out and sued. 

I was like, 

“Ain’t no brothers gonna sue me.” 

Brothers sued Ed. 

The brothers went to get paid. 

I was, “Brothers don’t sue brothers.” 

They was like, “Fuck that. 

I’m getting paid, motherfucker.”

Superman Emeritus

“It's something I've come to terms with and pared down to it coming down to The Patriarchal Structures that have been oppressing us and Superman can easily be made to be representative of that. 

This Dad-like figure looking out for us can be made authoritarian but I think that's a mistake,

I think the idea that Superman would react to the death of Lois Lane by becoming A Tyrant is ridiculous; •my• mum and dad died and •I• didn't become a tyrant. 

If •I• can handle it, Superman can handle it.

We're kind of leaning into

The Idea that He's a really Good Man 

and wants to Do The Best for Us, but 

He's NOT ACTUALLY HUMAN. 

He doesn't want to Break Us  but he's gotten to The Point where 

He Thinks maybe He should Break Us, maybe We NEED This. 

It's slightly scarier than  Superman as An Authoritarian Dad with Heat Vision Eyes, it's more of an ALIEN perspective saying, 

“I've had enough of you. 

You've been messing up TOO long 

and are REALLY going to Hurt Yourselves if •I• don't DO Something.”  

— G.M on Superman and The Authority

Papa Spank!

Emeritus (/əˈmɛrɪtəs/; female: Emerita),Note 1 in its current usage, is an adjective used to designate a retired chair, professor, pastor, bishop, pope, director, president, prime minister, rabbi, emperor, or other person who has been “permitted to retain as an honorary title the rank of the last office held”.1

For the Scarface album, see Emeritus (album). For the eldercare company, see Emeritus Senior Living.

In some cases, the term is conferred automatically upon all persons who retire at a given rank, but in others, it remains a mark of distinguished service, awarded only to a few on retirement. It is also used when a person of distinction in a profession retires or hands over the position, enabling their former rank to be retained in their title, e.g., “professor emeritus”. The term emeritus does not necessarily signify that a person has relinquished all the duties of their former position, and they may continue to exercise some of them.

The title emeritus is not used for a deceased person, except in obituaries, where it may indicate their status at the time of death.

Etymology

Emeritus (past participle of Latin emerere, meaning “complete one’s service”) is a compound of the Latin prefix e- (variant of ex-) meaning “out of, from” and merere (source of “merit”) meaning “to serve, earn”. The word is attested since the early 17th century with the meaning “having served out one’s time, having done sufficient service.” The Latin feminine equivalent, emerita (/ɪˈmɛrɪtə/), is also sometimes used, however, in English the word emeritus is often unmarked for gender.

NOAH :

[•BROKEN•]

I cannot do this.

(ILA CONTINUES SOBBING)

SHEM: 

It's all right.

(CONTINUES SOBBING)

(SHEM SHUSHING)

(SHATTERS)

SHEM: 

Hide your eyes, Japheth.

NOAH: 

Ham?

SHEM: 

He's here.

(SOBBING)

NOAH 

(SOBBING) :

You don't have to go.

I don't belong Here.

For what it's worth,

I'm glad that it begins again 

with you.

Maybe we'll learn to be kind.

HERMIONE GRANGER :

Will he come back?

NOAH'S WIFE :

Some things cannot be unbroken.

NOAH'S WIFE :

I have to know...

Why did you spare them?

NOAH :

I looked down 

at those two little girls, 

and all I had in my heart 

was love.

NOAH'S WIFE :

Then why are you alone, Noah?

Why are you separated 

from Your Family?

NOAH :

Because I failed Him.

And I failed all of YOU.

NOAH'S WIFE :

Did you?

He chose you for 

A REASON, Noah.

He showed you 

The Wickedness of Man 

and knew you would not look away.

But then you saw Goodness, too.

The Choice was put in Your 

hands because He put it there.

He asked you to decide 

If We were Worth Saving.

And you chose Mercy.

You chose Love.

He has given us 

A Second Chance.

Be A Father.

Be A Grandfather.

Help Us to Do Better this time.

Help us Start Again.

(SNIFFLES)

(SOBBING)

(NAAMEH SIGHS)

(LAUGHS)

NOAH :

The Creator, made Adam 

in His Image,

and placed 

The World in His Care.

That Birthright, 

was passed down to Us.

To My Father, 

then to Me, and to My Sons,

Shem, Japheth, and Ham.

That Birthright is now passed to you, 

Our Grandchildren.

This will be 

Your Work, 

and 

Your Responsibility.

So I Say to You --

Be Fruitful & Multiply, 

and 

Replenish The Earth

Angelus: 

Everything That I am, 

Everything that I have done, 

Has led me Here. 

Cut to 

Manhattan, 

1996. 

A bum steps up to a trashcan and begins to go through it. 

A man walks past him and on down the street. 

Having found nothing, the bum makes his way into an alley with slow, labored steps. 

A boy runs past him with a package and disappears further down the alley. 

The bum, tired and weak, staggers into a concrete post at the side of the alley and stops. 

He coughs and rolls around to lean with his back against the post, and it's Angel, tired, filthy and unkempt. 

He just breathes for a moment, and then smells something. 

He searches the alley with his eyes and spots a rat scampering across to the other side. 

He takes a couple of unsteady steps, brushes the hair from his face and begins to stalk the rat. 

It reaches the other side and disappears into a pile of trashcans and bags. 

Angel dives after it, scattering the cans and bags noisily, but loses the rat. 

A man comes into the alley behind him. 

Angel rolls over to sit and flails his arms at the trashcans in anger over missing the rat. 

The man comes up to him. 

Whistler: 

God, are you disgusting. 

Angel calms down a bit and looks around himself. 

Whistler: 

This is really an unforgettable smell. 

This is the Stench of Death you're giving off here!

And the look says, uh... 

Crazy Homeless Guy. 

It's Not Good. 

Angel: (angrily) 

Get away from me. 

Whistler: 

What are you gonna do, bite me? 

(gasps and jumps back) 

Horrors! A vampire! 

Angel looks at him in surprise. 

Whistler: 

Ah, but you wouldn't bite me on account of your poor, tortured soul. 

It's so sad, a vampire with a soul. 

It's so poignant. 

Angel: (confused) 

Who are you? 

Whistler: 

Let's take a walk. 

Cut to a ways down the street. 

The two of them walk along the sidewalk for a few paces and then turn into the street to cross to the hotdog stand on the other side. 

Angel isn't paying any attention to the traffic, so Whistler grabs his arm to stop him. 

Whistler: 

What are you eating? 

(they continue across) 

Like, a rat once a month? 

Angel strays and almost walks into another car. 

Whistler grabs him again and pulls him back in time. 

Whistler: 

Hey! 

(car honks, they continue) 

Look, you're skin and bones here! 

Butcher shops are throwing away more blood in a day than you could stand. 

Good blood. 

(they reach the far side) 

You lived in The World a little bit, you'd know that. 

Angel: 

I wanna know who you are. 

(stops) 

Whistler: 

(stops and faces him) 

And I wanna know Who *You* Are. 

Angel: 

You already do. 

Whistler: 

Not yet. 

But I'm looking to find out. 

'Cause you could go either way here. 

Angel: 

I don't understand you. 

Whistler: 

Nobody understands me. 

That's my curse. 

(chuckles) 

He steps over to the street vendor and pulls out some cash. 

Whistler: 

Dog me. Mustard. 

He watches the vendor get out the hotdog and squirt on some mustard. 

Whistler: (to Angel) 

My name's Whistler. 

Vendor: 

Here you go. 

Whistler: 

(takes the dog) 

Thanks. 

(hands over a bill, turns to Angel) 

Anyway, lately it is. 

(takes a bite) Mm. 

Angel: (looks down) 

You're not a vampire. 

Whistler: 

A demon... technically. 

I mean, I'm not a bad guy. 

Not all demons are dedicated to the destruction of all life. 

Angel: (looks at him) 

Whadaya mean, I can go either way? 

Whistler: 

I mean, that you can become an even more useless rodent than you already are, 

or you can become someone. 

A person. 

Someone to be counted. 

Angel: 

I just wanna be left alone. 

(starts away) 

Whistler: 

Well, yeah, you've been left alone for, what, ninety years already. 

(Angel turns back) 

And what a package you are. 

The Stink Guy! 

Angel: 

What do you want from me? 

Whistler: 

I want you to see something. 

He gives Angel an intense look. 

Angel just looks at him. 

Whistler: 

We'd have to leave now. 

You see, and then you tell me what you wanna do. 

Freeman

Rosa :

Freddy. This is Billy Batson. 

Make sure you make him feel at home, okay? 

Maybe don't say anything too weird…? 

Freeman :

Oh, one weird thing is you know the Romans used to brush their teeth with their urine? 

Apparently, it-it works. 

Yup, um... 

Oh, it's, uh... it's a long way down. 

Trust me, I speak from experience. 

Victor pushed me. 

They seem nice, but don't buy it. 

It gets real Game of Thrones around here. 

What? 

Dude, I'm... just messin' around. 

It's um, it's terminal cancer, I... I have three months. 

Kidding, again! 

You look at me and you're, like, "Why so dark?" 

"You're a disabled foster kid, you've got it all, right?”

Oh, yeah, that's the, uh, the old batarang. 

I mean, it's a replica, but... 

Feel how sharp. Could kill you in your sleep with that thing. 

You ever a Supes guy?

Yeah, me too. 

Behold, the holy grail. 

One nine millimeter round shot at Superman himself. It's legit. 

Probably worth, I dunno, 

$5-600, maybe more. 

What's in the bag? 

Hey. Hey, it's all good. 

It's good to maintain boundaries. 

You don't gotta talk so much, you know. 

I mean, this place is great. 

You're gonna love it. 

Dinner!

Shazam: 

Dude! Dude! 

Dude! Dude, did you see that?

Freeman: 

Yeah — You electrocuted a bus 

and almost killed these people.

Shazam: 

And then I caught it! 

Freddy, I caught a bus 

with my bare hands, man! 

I caught a bus like people catch fly balls. 

Like, who does that? 

I do that!

Freeman: 

Billy, you do nothing. 

You, you take selfies 

and make people pay you. 

You know, forget it. 

I can't really talk to you 

when you look like this.

Shazam: 

You just wish it was you!

Freeman: 

(waving his crutches at him)

No shit! 

You think I wouldn't 

kill to have what you have? 

Because everything I do is, like, 

some desperate attempt 

to get people to notice me, 

to not feel sorry for me. 

I mean, look at me! 

Look at me! 

Do you even see me? 

Cause most people don't! 

Cause they don't want to. 

And now you don't, either. 

I mean, you think this is who you are? 

I mean, Billy, you're 14. 

And now you're no better 

than the Breyers. 

All this power, 

and all you did was turn into 

a show-off and a bully.

[Freddy walks away] 

Shazam: 

Whatever, kid! I do what I want! 

And I'm like, mid-20s probably! 

Maybe even, like, 30.