Superheros

Our culture, one of mesmerizing electronic communication, decreasing recognition of reality, and a change in our reading habits and our heros, has been taking place. The understanding of our world, long a subject that used to require both effort and education, has been replaced by Wikipedia and Google, and classics of the past have been replaced by today's graphic novels.

But the heros whose feats we celebrate are aging, and it is becoming harder and harder to relate to them. They do not reflect us – our lives and hopes as Superman (1933), Batman (1939), and Wonder Woman (1942) did in the past. And the ones who have been appearing to assist and replace them are false syntheses based on Harry Potter, and by other such dissimulations as have captured the modern imagination – books, movies, and toys.

If they are to be replaced and accepted, it should be by real people – genuine characters who reflect us. They shouldn't be mythical or mystical constructs, but heros who mean something to us – who would be loved, and who would be representative of the kind of people we are. They would exemplify the diversity of society. In search of such real people I consulted my copy of Encyclopedia Remarkabilia (Extraorinaire Publishing Company) to locate typical members of our society on whom we could and should call to save our society. I offer two of them for your consideration. There are, of course, many others who are equally deserving of our honor.

Smyrna and Magnesia Miller were identical male twins born in a small town just outside of Keokuk, Iowa (between Keokuk and Alexandria) where they grew up unhappily. Both had gender dysphoria and both considered themselves female, but because of outdated scientific beliefs, they were not permitted to transfer from the male wrestling team at their high school to the female team. At the age of fourteen they were both bitten by the love bug (a tick) whose body fluid had three different kinds of effects on them: superimposed on their male DNA and their muscles, they had the power and wiliness of Amazons, and, secondly, the bug also had implanted in them, a love for each other. (It wasn't clear whether the two of them were translesbians or transgays, but it was certain that their passion for each other constituted incest.)

It is the third effect (not to mention their costumes), however, that makes them well-suited for the role we call upon them to play. They're able to divine whether others are telling the truth. This relates to both what they believe to be true and what they know to be factual. They can alert other superheros – at least bona fide ones – as towhether someone is disclosing his true identity (especially gender) and making valid statements or claims on which the others must rely. It is the ability to sense when all is not as it appears.

Their strength and cunning are also of help when it comes to helping the others out when there is a desperate situation. But though they sometimes work alone – a nod both to females and members of the LGBTQ community – they would more frequently assist their superhero colleagues.

Wouldn't it be exciting – wouldn't it be refreshing – if twenty-first superheros looked like twenty-first century people; if they looked like you and me?

Oh.

They don't look like you?

Your fault. Learn the drill. It starts with sensitivity. And truth.