Batman Comics Quotes

The world doesn't make sense until you force it to.

Adults...struggle desperately with fiction, demanding constantly that it conform to the rules of everyday life. Adults foolishly demand to know how Superman can possibly fly, or how Batman can possibly run a multibillion-dollar business empire during the day and fight crime at night, when the answer is obvious even to the smallest child: because it's not real.

If you need to stop an asteroid, you call Superman. If you need to solve a mystery, you call Batman. But if you need to end a war, you call Wonder Woman.

It's salt. Why don't you sprinkle some on me, honey? Aren't I just good enough to eat?

Sunday school stories are just another type of superhero comic. Counting on Jesus to save the day is no more real than sending up the Batman signal.

Does Batman ever NOT have a plan...?

Gotham City. Clean shafts of concrete and snowy rooftops. The work of men who died generations ago. From here, it looks like an achievement. From here, you can't see the enemy.

If Clark wanted to, he could use his superspeed and squish me into the cement. But I know how he thinks. Even more than the Kryptonite, he's got one big weakness. Deep down, Clark's essentially a good person... and deep down, I'm not.

I suspect that beneath your offensively and vulgarly effeminate façade there may be a soul of sorts. Have you read widely in Boethius?" "Who? Oh, heavens no. I never even read newspapers." "Then you must begin a reading program immediately so that you may understand the crises of our age," Ignatius said solemnly. "Begin with the late Romans, including Boethius, of course. Then you should dip rather extensively into early Medieval. You may skip the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. That is mostly dangerous propaganda. Now that I think of it, you had better skip the Romantics and the Victorians, too. For the contemporary period, you should study some selected comic books." "You're fantastic." "I recommend Batman especially, for he tends to transcend the abysmal society in which he's found himself. His morality is rather rigid, also. I rather respect Batman.

Batman is easily my most favorite character beside Spawn.

Show some respect. They were your grandparents. -Batman Just names and dusty frames on the wall to me. -Damien I take exception to that. There is not a speck of dust collecting on those portraits. -Alfred

These characters were like twelve-bar blues or other chord progressions. Given the basic parameters of Batman, different creators could play very different music.

A gun is a coward's weapon. A liar's weapon.We kill.. too often.. because we've made it easy.. too easy.. sparing ourselves the mess.. and the work..

Too bad I can't afford to patent it. I can make a fortune. But again,I have a fortune. -Batman, Year One comic.

A father's love can be a terrible thing

Tomorrow is a dream away.

Sympathy once more reveals its limits when faced with madness.

I wanted to kind of make this like, 'Yeah, this is what Batman would be in the real world'. But I had forgotten that actually to a lot of comic fans, that smelling, not having a girlfriend—these are actually kind of heroic! So actually, sort of, Rorschach became the most popular character in Watchmen. I meant him to be a bad example. But I have people come up to me in the street saying, "I am Rorschach! That is my story!' And I'll be thinking: 'Yeah, great, can you just keep away from me, never come anywhere near me again as long as I live'?

[At his parents' graves] I've brought a young man -- a boy, actually -- to stay at the house. He's … lost his parents at roughly the same age that I … That I lost you. I don't know what will happen. I don't see myself as any sort of father figure. But … I think I can make a difference in his life.

There were no more heroes. Kennedy was dead, shot by an assassin in Dallas. Batman and Robin were dead... Superman was missing...

Detective Comic #27: The very first glimpse we get of the guy and already he looks pissed.

The time has come. You know it in your soul. For I am your soul... You cannot escape me... You are puny, you are small – you are nothing – a hollow shell, a rusty trap that cannot hold me – Smoldering, I burn you – burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful – You cannot stop me – not with wine or vows or the weight of age – You cannot stop me, but still you try – still you run – You try to drown me out... but your voice is weak...

The Joker as sadistic chaos, the Batman as merciless order. This mirror-image theme would come to define the two characters' relationship in the comics and across all media for the next forty years.

My internal temper tantrum tirade continued: But attracting and holding the interest of someone like Quinn Sullivan will have to go into my box of make believe with the eventual remake of Final Fantasy 7 with Playstation 3 graphics or finding an original, pristine version of Detective Comics No. 27- Batman's debut.

You’re not doing a good job of selling me this dumb fantasy. I’m not climbing into the back of your van if I have to be Robin. I’m Batman. That’s how these things work.

I ain’t nobody’s sidekick. I AM Batman And Robin, minus the mask, plus the vagina.

Gotham may have lost its king and queen, Bruce, but it could still have its prince

A superhero is just an ordinary person who has found a better way to mask their human frailties.

We mourn lives lost. Including our own.

Here is my room, in the yellow lamplight and the space heater rumbling: Indian rug red as Cochise's blood, a desk with seven mystic drawers, a chair covered in material as velvety blue-black as Batman's cape, an aquarium holding tiny fish so pale you could see their hearts beat, the aforementioned dresser covered with decals from Revell model airplane kits, a bed with a quilt sewn by a relative of Jefferson Davis's, a closet, and the shelves, oh, yes, the shelves. The troves of treasure. On those shelves are stacks of me: hundreds of comic books- Justice League, Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, the Spirit, Blackhawk, Sgt. Rock and Easy Company, Aquaman, and the Fantastic Four... The shelves go on for miles and miles. My collection of marbles gleams in a mason jar. My dried cicada waits to sing again in the summer. My Duncan yo-yo that whistles except the string is broken and Dad's got to fix it.

There are no heroes and there are no villains. There are just opposing points of view. That's all history is... the viscously long battle between world views. And eventually -Finally- no matter how much it may hurt, Truth wins out. Every. Damn. Time.

Batman: One more thing. When you find something out, you can call me on this. Commissioner Gordan: A cell phone with one button? Batman: A bat signal. Commissioner Gordan: Christ. He actually put a bat on it.

Bruce decides to spend the family fortune on capes and crime labs and to fritter away his free time fighting crazy criminals. Now that's an out-of-the-box calling. What sort of person makes a life change like that without radical submission? Without that submission, without an understanding that there is something greater out there, the principles of the comic villain look far more reasonable.

He's a frustrating guy. Trust me, I know. He thinks he knows exactly what he wants and what he doesn't, and he thinks he's right all of the time. But at the end of the day, he's always right about people. When he lets someone in, that means something. When he put you in charge, it was so in this exact situation you would be calling the shots. And I trust that. Because I trust him. Even if I want to strangle him sometimes.

You weren't the perfect father but that's okay because -- probably nobody's a perfect father. No family's perfect, either. I was lucky. I was privileged. Not because of the big house and the money, but because you gave me a lot of yourself. You taught me, you showed me, you encouraged me -- you never lied to me and you never demanded that I be anything I’m not. I didn’t imitate you because you insisted that I do so, but because I wanted to. Of all the men I knew, you were most worthy of imitation. Then I blamed you for letting me be who I was. Pretty dumb. You and Alfred gave me a home and you gave me what we don't mention. The L word. You were the best family I could have had. Thanks.

All you need remember is one simple rule. Never mix business...with pleasure.

I Wear A Mask. And That Mask, It’s Not To Hide Who I Am, But To Create What I Am.

They Can Bury Us Deep, But We Always Grow Back." — Poison Ivy

I couldn’t handle the sudden rush of emotions. You couldn’t handle any emotions. We made quite the pair.

People looked at him as an orange-faced evil clown with silly hair. Like the Joker in Batman comics. Make Gotham great again!

We were the first generation without a draft,” he says matter-of-factly. “We didn’t need to worry about life and death, so we channeled all that time and energy into obsessing over this TV show or that comic book.” This

The final two issues of the Englehart/Rogers/Austin collaboration, Detective Comics #475 and #476, are now esteemed alongside the greatest Batman stories ever created and would provide the seed for Tim Burton’s 1989 feature film. In

On those shelves are stacks of me: hundreds of comic books — Justice League, Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, the Spirit, Blackhawk, Sgt. Rock and Easy Company, Aquaman, and the Fantastic Four. There are Boy’s Life magazines, dozens of issues of Famous Monsters of Filmland, Screen Thrills, and Popular Mechanics. There is a yellow wall of National Geographics, and I have to blush and say I know where all the African pictures are.

Inexplicably, I felt drops of icy sweat dripping up my back. I am aware that icy and sweat are contradictory by their very nature and should not be able to coexist in the same freakish bead of ICK WHAT IS THAT falling up my back. I am also aware things are not supposed to fall up. For that matter, criminals aren’t supposed to get it on with crimefighters. Yet here we were: Catwoman, Batman, icy, sweat, dripping, up. Sometimes life is like that.

I always had trouble with the Bruce Wayne in the comic book," Burton said. "I mean, if this guy is so handsome, so rich, and so strong, why the fuck is he putting on a Batsuit?

You listen to me. You try to tell her that she failed that man... And you're not welcome here anymore.

Luckily, literature—and by “literature” I mean comic books—provides us a way to discuss issues like these without having to experience them. We don’t have to trick people into standing in front of a runaway trolley, and we don’t have to have a real-life Batman and Joker. That’s what thought experiments are for—they let us play through an imaginary scenario and imagine what we should or shouldn’t do.

Sometimes people identified too strongly with the famous—it was one of the prices of notoriety, especially when so many considered you to be a hero. Batman sometimes filled much too large a hole in people’s lives.

We were the first generation without a draft,” he says matter-of-factly. “We didn’t need to worry about life and death, so we channeled all that time and energy into obsessing over this TV show or that comic book.

Batman: What do you think Alfred? Alfred: I think you're a bad driver. Batman: I've got Lucius looking into another car- Alfred: Well you're going to need one if you actually want to catch these blokes. Tea's on the table behind you.

We divided the bar of chocolate and tried to console ourselves with Batman, but he was really a bad man. Not only, as the cover had promised, did he climb up the outsides of houses; one of his chief pleasures was evidently to frighten women in their sleep; he could also fly off through the air by spreading out his cloak, taking millions of dollars with him, and his deeds were described in an English such as is taught neither in Continental schools nor in the schools of England and Ireland; Batman was strong and terribly just, but hard, and toward the wicked he could even be cruel, for now and again he would bash in someone’s teeth, a procedure fittingly rendered with the word “Screech.” There was no comfort in Batman.

She had to do something. Anything. She had to focus, think, fight. She wasn’t anybody’s point to prove. She was fucking Batgirl. Her body was broken and her mind jagged and fractured by trauma, but she was still alive, and she wasn’t going down without a fight.

If you were casting the part of the evil scientist who would prove the Caped Crusader's deadliest nemesis, you'd likely glance at the headshot of German-born psychiatrist Dr. Fredric Wertham, with his owl-like glasses and severe Prussian features, and think, "Nah, too on-the-nose.

it’s the way those types of books should be done – to acknowledge that participation and to acknowledge the fact that the comic is an artifact in your hands that is brought to life by being in someone else’s hands who then applies their consciousness to it and extracts emotions and meanings, or not, depending on who they are.

Jack Byrne’s Fiction House became known for its powerful, invincible female heroes. At a time when many publishers had none, Fiction House employed more than twenty women artists.46 The popularity of comics soared. Gaines, who did not tend to hire women to do anything except secretarial work, began publishing All-American Comics in 1939. That same year, Superman became the first comic-book character to have an entire comic book all to himself; he could also be heard on the radio.47 The first episode of Batman appeared in Detective Comics #27, in May 1939. Three months later, Byrne Holloway Marston, staff artist for the Marston Chronicle, drew the first installment of “The Adventures of Bobby Doone.

herself changes too. In current DC Comics continuity, Catwoman is a wealthy socialite named Selina Kyle, rather ambiguous in her aims. Sometimes she works with criminals and breaks the law and other times she allies with Batman or the Justice League and enforces it. Her domain is Gotham City’s East End, and she protects its residents through whatever means she sees fit.

You know why I did it? Sometimes you need to shout until they cry... because when their lives and the lives of everyone around them depend on it, and they just want to break they'll know they can take control. They'll know they can lead. Some folks think it's about whittling you down to follow orders, but to me it's about knowing you can give orders to yourself and others through the worst of it. Through the real hurt.

IT BEGAN WITH A GUN. On September 1, 1939, the German army invaded Poland. Two days later, Britain and France declared war on Germany. In the October 1939 issue of Detective Comics, Batman killed a vampire by shooting silver bullets into his heart. In the next issue, Batman fired a gun at two evil henchmen. When Whitney Ellsworth, DC’s editorial director, got a first look at a draft of the next installment, Batman was shooting again. Ellsworth shook his head and said, Take the gun out.1 Batman had debuted in Detective Com-ics in May 1939, the same month that the U.S. Supreme Court issued a ruling in United States v. Miller, a landmark gun-control case. It concerned the constitutionality of the 1934 National Firearms Act and the 1938 Federal Firearms Act, which effectively banned machine guns through prohibitive taxation, and regulated handgun ownership by introducing licensing, waiting period, and permit requirements. The National Rifle Association supported the legislation (at the time, the NRA was a sportsman’s organization). But gun manufacturers challenged it on the grounds that federal control of gun ownership violated the Second Amendment. FDR’s solicitor general said the Second Amendment had nothing to do with an individual right to own a gun; it had to do with the common defense. The court agreed, unanimously.2

Alfred: Are you alright? Batman: I'm going to need a better car. Police are here. They'll pick up the others. Alfred: And they'll probably be back on the streets by sunrise thanks to Harvey Dent. I know you don't want to hear it, but if you want to make Gotham a safer place we need to rethink how we're going to do that. You should come home now. Dinner's gonna get cold. Batman: Don't tell me it's cottage pie again. Alfred:...I'll order a pizza.

I couldn't stand boy companions," he [Jules Feiffer] wrote in his 1965 essay " The Great Comic Book Heroes. "Robin was my own age. One need only look at him to see he could fight better, swing from a rope better, play ball better, eat better and live better...He was obviously an A student, the center of every circle, the one picked for greatness in the crowd—God, how I hate him. You can imagine how please I was when, years later, I heard he was a fag.

Green Arrow is the embodiment of what one person can do. It’s a theme that comes up repeatedly in this book, one that explains why this powerless archer with a chip on his shoulder appeals to so many people. He wasn’t born of the heartbreaking tragedy of a Batman, he didn’t fall from the stars to deliver humanity from evil, nor is his origin wrapped in the fabric of Greek myths and legends. He is a human character that struggles with work, love, loss, darkness, death, and the weight of his own sins. Like the rest of us humans, Green Arrow is flawed, and a perpetually moving target.

Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I’ve always been interested in heroes, starting with my dad, Phil Robertson, and my mom, Miss Kay. My other heroes are my pa and my granny, who taught me how to play cards and dominoes and everything about fishing (which was a lot), and my three older brothers, who teased me, beat me up, and sometimes let me follow them around. Not much has changed in that department. I’ve always loved movies, and when I was about seven or eight years old, I watched Rocky, Sylvester Stallone’s movie about an underdog boxer who used his fists, along with sheer will, determination, and the ability to endure pain, to make a way for himself. He fought hard but played fair and had a soft spot for his friends. I fell in love with Rocky. He was my hero, and I became obsessed. When I decide to do something, I’m all in; so I found a pair of red shorts that looked like Rocky’s boxing trunks and a navy blue bathrobe with two white stripes on the sleeve and no belt. I took off my shirt and ran around bare-chested in my robe and shorts. Most kids I knew went through a superhero phase, but they picked DC Comics guys, like Batman or Superman. Not me. I was Rocky Balboa, the Italian Stallion, and proud of it. Mom let me run around like that for a couple of years, even when we went in to town. Rocky had a girlfriend, Adrian, who was always there, always by his side. When he was beaten and blinded in a bad fight, he called out for her before anybody else. “Yo, Adrian!” he shouted in his Philly-Italian accent. He needed her. Eventually, I grew up, and the red shorts and blue bathrobe didn’t fit anymore, but I always remembered Rocky’s kindness and his courage. And that every Rocky needs an Adrian.

I took a step toward him, planning to knock him out of his chair, then pour milk on him for good measure. Selene put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t bother.” She was right, and I knew it. The Will wouldn’t let me hit him. I contemplated using Mr. Ankil’s snatch-and-smack trick, but I hadn’t practiced it yet, and Lance wasn’t carrying his wand, just the stupid joker playing card he liked to fiddle with whenever he was bored, weaving it in between his fingers like he was some kind of card shark. I’d once asked Selene what the deal was with the card, and she explained that Lance was obsessed with the Joker from Batman. In an ordinary high school, he would’ve been ridiculed for this behavior, but not at Arkwell. Most magickind teenagers were fanatics about ordinary pop culture. Almost everybody was a Comic-Con–attending, play-dress-up fan boy. And he had the nerve to make fun of me. Go figure.

Soon, droves of children start to show up, keeping us rather busy. We start tallying up the number of Trolls, Batmans, Lego men, and princesses we see. The most popular costume? Batman and Superwoman with the fabrics and accessories varying from child to child. But my favorite so far is the girl who dressed as Little Debbie, but then again, I may be biased. “I think she might be my new favorite,” Emma says as a little girl dressed as a nurse walks away. “That’s because you’re a nurse, but you can’t play favorites,” I say, reminding Emma of the rules. She levels with me. “This coming from the guy whose favorite child was dressed as Little Debbie.” “Come on.” I lean back in my chair and motion to my head. “She had the rim of blue on her hat. That’s attention to detail.” “And good fucking parenting,” Tucker chimes in, and we clink our beer bottles together. Amelia chuckles next to me as Emma shakes her head. “Ridiculous. What about you, Amelia? What costume has been your favorite so far?” “Hmm, it’s been a tough competition. There has been some real winning costumes and some absolute piss-poor ones.” She shakes her head. “Just because you put a scarf around your neck and call yourself Jack Frost doesn’t mean you dressed up.” “Ugh, that costume was dumb.” “It shouldn’t be referred to as a costume, but that’s beside the point.” I like how much Amelia is getting into this little pretend competition. She’s a far cry from the girl who first came home earlier. I love that having Tucker and Emma over has given me more time with Amelia, getting to know the woman she is today, but also managed to put that beautiful smile back on her face. “So who takes the cake for you?” I ask, nudging her leg with mine. Smiling up at me, she says, “Hands down it’s the little boy who dressed as Dwight Schrute from The Office. I think I giggled for five minutes straight after he left. That costume was spot on.” “Oh shit, you’re right,” I reply as Emma and Tucker agree with me. “He even had the watch calculator.” “And the small nose Dwight always complains about.” Emma chuckles. “Yeah, he has to be the winner.” “Now, now, now, let’s not get too hasty. Little Debbie is still in the running,” Tucker points out. Amelia leans forward, seeming incredibly comfortable, and says, “There is no way Little Debbie beats Dwight. Sorry, dude.” The shocked look on Tucker’s face is comical. He’s just been put in his place and the old Amelia has returned. I fucking love it.

Suicide Squad – İntihar Timi izle HD 2016 Dc firmasının en iyi komedi filmi İntihar Timi izle geliyor. Dc comics bildiğiniz gibi çizgi romanlarıyla ünlü. Şimdide sinema sektöründe ki zenginliği fark etmiş olacak ki tüm çizgi romanlarını yavaş yavaş sinemaya aktarıyor. İlk olarak superman ile başladı batman ile devam etti.Şimdi sıra 2016 filmleri kategorisinde olan yeni film Suicide Squad yani İntihar Timi filminde. Yapımın çizgi romanı bilmeyenler için belirtiyim en çok kötü karakter bulunan hikayesi. Tanıdık kötü filmde çok. Bazıları; Joker, Harley Quinn, Deadshot. Sizce bu kadar ünlü kötü karakterin çok olduğu bir yapım kötü olabilir mi ? Elbette hayır. Batman olarak filmde Ben Affleck, ezeli düşmanı Joker olarak ise Jared Leto var. Will Smith de Deadshot karakterine hayat vermiş. Vizyon tarihi 12 Ağustos 2016 olan İntihar Timi filmi tam bir yıldızlar kadrosu. Aksiyon filmleri arasında fragmanından gördüğümüz kadarıyla muhteşem bir yapım olacak. Bu muhteşem filmin yönetmenliğini David Ayer üstelenmiş. Yönetmen gerçekten işini harika yapan biri ve bu filmde yer alması gayet yerinde bir tercih. Çalışıcağı oyuncuları ekibi kendisi seçer. Yine seçtiği kadro yeteneğini gösteriyor. Suicide Squad izle yenler den yapımcıyı merak eden olduysa Dan Lin üstlenmiş. Oyuncuları ise Will Smith, Ben Affleck, Jared Leto, Jesse Eisenberg ve Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. İntihar Timi izle isteyenler için sitemizde full ve 1080p olacak. İntihar Timi türkçe dublaj izle arayanlar ise biraz bekledikten sonra sitemizde bulabilecekler. İntihar Timi izle dikten sonra yorumlarınızı filmgo olarak bekliyoruz. İntihar Timi full izle için hazır bekliyoruz.

How did you get the badges?” Parker asked. “You didn’t steal a badge from a pro, did you?” “Of course not,” Hardison said. “Geek solidarity to the end.” “Then whose name is this on my badge? Who’s Diana Prince?” Hardison laughed. “That’s Wonder Woman’s secret identity.” Parker giggled at that. “And who are you? Carl Lucas?” “That’s Luke Cage’s original name.” “Who?” Eliot didn’t bother to conceal his irritation. “Luke Cage? You know, Power Man? Of Power Man and Iron Fist?” Hardison waited for a response that never came. “Sweet Christmas, what’s wrong with you people?” “We have lives. And just who am I supposed to be, huh? Batman’s secret sidekick?” “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sophie said. Nate gave her a nudge with his elbow, and she fixed him with a mischievous smile. “Naw, man,” said Hardison. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how you feel about ‘fictional’ people.” “So who the hell is Warren Ellis?” “He’s a comic-book writer. Good one.” Eliot groaned. “For God’s sake, do I look like a comic-book writer?” “Hey, don’t knock Warren Ellis. He wrote all sorts of great stuff. Global Frequency, The Authority, Transmetropolitan. Good stuff.

Yeah, that was how they rolled in Gotham City, the world’s biggest cult, where everyone was brainwashed to worship Batman and hate anybody he hated. Anyone who didn’t was declared criminal or crazy and ended up in Iron Heights or Arkham Asylum while Batman flitted around town, cosplaying and ego-tripping.

I think of Dick, Tim… Jason… Damian. Legacy. My sons. Can’t move, body’s giving out. This is a good death, isn’t it? In this place. With all these memories.

The old moves come back. Dick always went off-book. Jason hated practicing them. But Tim… he loved it. The teamwork. We had each other’s backs.

Tim is the best Robin, but Damian is probably more fun to write. I’d say that Tim’s role is partner to Batman while Damian’s role is that of a son who needs guidance, and the role of Robin is a way of doing that. Tim no longer needs Batman’s guidance, he’s just a damned good partner.

In the night, he listens. "Two million cases. Two thousand deaths. Too many cries. Someone else has to hear them." In the night, he listens. And only the sound of his own voice comes to him, screaming in frustration. The cry of a lone bat. Unable to find its way.

Full Disclosure: when Dan DiDio approached me about doing one, I was wary to say the least. Nowadays events often mean character deaths or reboots or company-wide publishing initiatives and so on. But the run Greg Capullo and I had on BATMAN was, for better or for worse, idiosyncratic - about our own hopes, our fears, our interests. It was just... very much ours. Even so, I told Dan that I *did* have a story, one I'd been working on for a few years, a big one, in the back of my brain. It was about a detective case that stretched back to the beginnings of humanity, a mystery about the nature of the DC Universe that Batman would try to uncover, and which would lead him and the Justice League to discover that their own cosmology was much larger, scarier and more wondrous than they'd known. But I wasn't sure it would make a good "event". Dan, to his credit, said, "Work it up and let's see." So I did. But in the course of working it up, I reread all the events I could think of. Just for reference. Not only recent ones, but events from years ago, from when I was a kid. And what I discovered, or rediscovered, was that at their core, events are joyous things. They're these great big stories, ridiculous tales about alien invasions or cosmic gems or zombie-space-cop attacks that have the highest stakes possible - stories where the whole universe hangs in the balance and nothing will ever be the same again! They were *about* things, and - what I also realized while doing my homework - when I was a kid, they were THE stories that brought me and my friends together. We'd split our money and buy different parts of an event, just to be able to argue about it. We'd meet after school and go on for hours about who should win, who should lose... Because even the grimmest events are celebratory. They're about pushing the limits of an already ludicrous form to a breaking point. So that's what I came back with. I remember standing in my kitchen and getting ready to pitch DARK NIGHTS: METAL to Greg, having prepared a whole presentation, a whole argument as to why, crazy as it was, it was us, it was *our* event. I said "It's called METAL," and Greg said, "I'm in," before I could even tell him the story. And even though Dan thought it was crazy, he went with it, and for that I'm very grateful. In the end, METAL is a lot of things - it's about those moments when you find yourself face to face with the worst versions of yourself, moments when all looks like doom - but at it's heart it's a love letter to comic storytelling at its most lunatic, and a tribute to the kinds of stories, events that got me thought hard times as a kid and as an adult. It's about using friendship as a foundation to go further than you thought you could go, and that means it's about me and Greg, and you as well. Because we tried something different with it, something ours, hoping you'd show up, and you did. So thank you, sincerely, from all of us on the team. Because when they work, events are about coming together and rocking out over our love of this crazy art form. And you're all in the band, now and always.

Broken wings mend in time. One day Robin will fly again. I promise

DC Comics is the present day publisher of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and other well-known superheroes. DC is the amalgamation of two different publishing concerns: National Comics, which produced Superman and Batman, and sister company All-American Comics, which produced Wonder Woman, Flash, and Green Lantern. The two companies merged in 1944 to form National Periodical Publications, whose comic books bore the “Superman-DC” logo. The publisher was known colloquially as “DC,” which it later adopted as its official name.

For the contemporary period, you should study some selected comic books.” “You’re fantastic.” “I recommend Batman especially, for he tends to transcend the abysmal society in which he’s found himself. His morality is rather rigid, also. I rather respect Batman.

Perhaps the suspicions stemmed from the distinct lack of women in Batman’s world. True, he crafted his Bruce Wayne alter ego to be an idle playboy, which meant there were a lot of beautiful women in his life. But, the most important female figure in his world seemed only to be his sainted, slain mother, to whose memory, along with that of his late father, Bruce swore to uphold justice and thwart evil. Bruce and Batman might have had romances with girls like debutante Julie Madison or reporter Vicki Vale, but showed neither any true affection. The one female who generated the most heat with Batman was the seductive, whip-wielding jewel thief Catwoman. Of course, since she was on the wrong side of the law, any chance of a romance with Batman was immediately crushed. (...) Batman’s sexy foe Catwoman was deemed too racy for the new world of the Comics Code. She was gone by 1954.

Without Sally the Sleuth, there would be no Superman. In fact, without the pulp heroine with a penchant for solving crimes in a state of undress, there would be no Batman either. Or Wonder Woman. Or even the Avengers. This statement reeks of hyperbole, clearly. From her black and white pulp origins in 1934 to her full colour comic books outings in the 1950s, Sally spent the bulk of her time fighting off goons and cracking cases in a series of adventures that were an odd mix of heroism and hedonism. She’s a fascinating figure in the history of comic books in her own right, but an unusual and little known one, especially in comparison to globally beloved superhero icons. Nonetheless, not only does the superhero industry owe its existence to Sally the Sleuth, it owes it twice over.

Stories were my passion, whether they were from books, comics or cartoons. I learned them all by heart and was as familiar with the characters as if they were members of my own family.

There are a variety of reasons I identify with Batman. Not because he is dreamy or rich or anything like that. But because he’s awesome, and he just... feels right. If I had to choose between all fictional characters in

You decide who you are. You can have something horrible happen to you and become Batman, or you can become the Joker. You can get swept up in horrible circumstances and bad choices, but you don’t need to. You can exert force on your own life. You can steer your own path. I did try to follow that, even in those special difficult times known as primary and secondary school. No matter what peers or adults were putting me through, I didn’t need to let it make me a certain way. I didn’t have to become mean, or bitter or angry. I employed

It’s perfectly legitimate to ask What Would Batman Do?

I'm Batman