Spokane needs superheroes to keep city near perfect
It’s comforting to have Superman back, standing tall for Truth, Justice and the American movie sequel.
But wouldn’t it be great if there were a real Man of Steel?
Think of the good Superman could do. Like using his heat vision to boost President Bush’s poll numbers – by incinerating Donald Rumsfeld.
Alas, not even Superman could keep up with the Spokane area’s needs. We require more of an X-Men approach, a specialized gang dedicated to making the Inland Empire a better place.
We need superheroes like:
Trouser Man
Equipped with the power of propriety, Trouser Man is on a quest to pull up the plummeting pants of perverted public officials.
Episode 1: “I don’t care if you do think the barista has a thing for you, detective. Holster your weapon and zip your britches. NOW!”
The DemoNator
Able to liquefy lefties with a single burst of right-wing bombast.
Episode 1: The DemoNator – garbed in a red tie, white shirt and dark blue suit – swears on an open Bible that he will use his powers to keep Democrats from being elected in North Idaho.
“But nobody votes for Democrats in North Idaho, anyway,” a GOP official explains.
“My work here is done,” announces The DemoNator.
The Parking Fairy
Dolled up like a drag queen, the burly pink-gowned Parking Fairy flits about downtown Spokane magically plugging our expired meters.
Episode 1: The Parking Fairy jams a quarter into a meter seconds before one of the City Hall parking Nazis can scribble a citation.
“Nice try,” mutters the smirking parking Nazi. “But this car is illegally parked in a handicapped zone.”
The Phantom of the Rookery
The mysterious Phantom lives in the dusty bowels of Spokane’s abandoned Rookery Building with his army of trained attack pigeons. His mission is to save the historic Rookery and Mohawk buildings from being turned into a parking lot by his archenemy, developer Wendell Reugh.
Episode 1: “Attack! Attack!” yells the Phantom as a blur of pigeons make a beeline for a bulldozer driven by Reugh, where they are immediately crushed into feathered goo under the giant wheels.
“Looks like it’s time to check out a condo,” mutters the Phantom of the Rookery.
Aquifer Dude
Half man. Half carp. This superhero is sworn to keep the Spokane area’s water supply clean.
Episode 1: After patching the latest oil leak at the Hauser railroad refueling depot, Aquifer Dude receives an emergency call on his aqua-phone.
“A report states that the Spokane River is contaminated with more fire retardant than any other Washington waterway,” says a panicked ecology official.
Aquifer Dude looks alarmed. His powers are extensive yet not even he can decontaminate an entire river.
A wave of inspiration washes over Aquifer Dude’s face.
“Fire retardant, huh?”
“Yep. A buttload of it,” answers the official.
“Send out a new report. Tell the public to look at the bright side.”
“The bright side?”
“Yes. The Spokane River may be unfit to drink,” says Aquifer Dude. “But it’s never going to catch on fire.”
Webcam Man
Meet The Spokesman-Review’s very own superhero. Webcam Man is committed to making the newspaper appear 20 percent less malevolent by televising newsroom meetings over the Internet to maybe a dozen or so individuals who have no lives.
Episode 1: First editor: “So what’s Clark writing about for Thursday?”
Second editor: “Uh, I thought you fired him last week.”
First editor: “I tried but he has that videotape.”
Second editor: “You mean the one from the newsroom picnic?”
First editor: “Yep. The one with the goats, party hats and whipped cream.”
Second editor: “That Clark’s the devil.”
First editor: “I know. So what’s he writing about for Thursday?”
The Cursed Crusader
Short. Loud. Obnoxious. This cigar-chomping superhero can blame any civic misfortune, calamity or setback on a Gypsy curse that supposedly hangs over Spokane.
Oh. Wait a minute. The Cursed Crusader isn’t a superhero.
That’s just Jimmy Marks.