We really need to talk about Wonder Woman. I bet you're all, "Girl superhero! Awesome! Kick his ass, Sea Bass!" But no.
First, like I said a couple of weeks ago, that origin story of hers is complete bunkum. And what lame superpowers she has:
spinning, lassoing, talking to animals, flying an invisible jet. Super strength is pretty good, I guess, but there's not enough of it.
Secondly, OMFG was the 70s TV show horrible
. I mean -- I watch a lot of bad TV, but this? This is ... outrageously
fucking bad. Stupefyingly craptacular production values, even for 70s TV; tons of unironic blaring from the brass section of the made-for-teevee orchestra; worst theme song ever ("in yer satin tights / fightin for your riiights"); amazing long stretches of not a goddamn thing happening. And Lynda Carter -- oh honey. Lynda, if you've Googled yourself and this post comes up, you should stop reading right now, cause I'm sure you're a real nice lady and I don't want to give you a hard time but this is gonna hurt your feelings: I'm pretty sure Shatner's ballsack could out-act her, all by its grey-curly-furred lonesome. It's like she's not a native speaker of English,* and has learned her lines phonetically, with the em-PHA-sis on the wrong syl-LAH-bles. Dig this
, in which she's getting a new assignment -- putrefaction has set in. And Debra Winger as Wonder Girl
-- the younger sister of Wonder Woman, doncha know -- might be even worse. They've got her made up as some sort of bobby-soxer (the series started out set in the 40s, for completely unknowable reasons), and it's possible she's a prototype of the singing dog/lion animatron thingies at Chuck E. Cheese, because I can't find a spark of genuine humanity in there at all.
Finally, in the kids' picture books they have nowadays, featuring all the superheroes, she looks like a porn star who's trying to go legit
but she doesn't really know how the legit world acts and -- heartbreakingly -- all her office clothes for her respectable office job are from Victoria's Secret. She works out with her friends Batman and Superman -- training and such -- and then has brunch with them. Brunch, yes -- in which B&S look like a couple of really cut young dudebros who are totally into each other in a committed life-partner way (not that there's anything wrong with that -- I'm just not sure it's canon).
Why do I know all this? Oh, you know why. The kid's obsessions (who could have imagined how many thousand clips and mixes of this fucking show would be on YouTube? WHO???) respect no mental boundaries.
*Which, incidentally, is the code by which we used to refer to Hispanic job applicants back when I worked at the high-end nanny agency in San Francisco. That hell-cunt of a boss of mine would be all, "Does she have English as her first language?" And that answer would be how the applicant got placed in the pool, salary-wise and posh-job-wise. That was FUCKED UP.
Labels: cryin' amazacrazy, indefensible positions, PMFSA, tap-dancing on my last fucking nerve, they ain't takin the TEE-vee, things that sound great but really aren’t once you think about them