Iron Man Fail: Why Tony Stark Is A Fraud (And a Liar)

I’ve decided to come out of hibernation and post a new article (shocking, I know) in light of two recent events:

1. My recent viewing of the abysmal “Iron Man 3”.

2. The subsequent conversation/debate/argument/screaming match that ensued as a result with a co-worker the very next day.

Tony Stark, for his intellect pertaining to all things science, is an absolute idiot when it comes to one of the most fundamental laws of physics: inertia. You’d think someone of his calibre would know what this is, but no. It’s almost like this eccentric, womanising drunk decided to skip out on the one lecture that mattered.

Mr. Stark, I repeat: you are a monumental dumbass. Or at least, your writers (the same lazy hacks who just pretty much torpedoed your franchise after this horrible third movie) are for failing to understand a basic principal of physics.

“What the hell’s Pendrum talking about?” you might be asking. (Honestly, most of the time I’m not even sure myself but this time’s an exception.) I’m talking about how implausibility of the Iron Man suit, even within the realm of comics, due to the concept of Inertia.

What’s inertia? It’s an objects tendency to move if already moving, or remain stationary if already stationary unless subjected to an external force. “WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! ARRGH!!!!!! BIG WORDS! MY HEAD HURTS!” Okay, okay, in layman’s terms:

What'll hurt more: the fall or the guy's ego?

What’ll hurt more: the fall or the guy’s ego?

So basically it’s like this: if you’re moving and some shit pops up and forces you to stop very, very quickly (see above), then you’re gonna keep moving until something really, really hard stops you (a brick wall, the floor, some guy’s fist, a kick to the face).

Stark is a normal guy, right? He’s just a human in an advanced suit, right? Well unless that suit has foam padding that’s about 50 feet thick to minimize the moving object within, if he falls from a height onto concrete or gets hit by a tank shell (like he did in the first movie), he’ll pretty much turn into human paste inside his little piece of armor. Sure, we can assume the Iron Man suit is durable and can absorb damage, but what about the guy inside? I reiterate to Mr. Stark and his writers: what about inertia? Let’s try another picture:

One of those rare instances where a seatbelt won't actually help.

One of those rare instances where a seatbelt won’t actually help.

Memo to Tony (and his incompetent writers): Imagine the bike is the suit which you’re in. Now imagining crashing into something solid at high speed. End result? Tony’s body continues moving ahead and gets crushed into the front of the suit, along with his organs, bones and everything else in between. If Tony in the Iron Man suit slams into a concrete barrier at 200 mph, it’ll be like any normal guy slamming into a concrete barrier at… (wait for it) … 200 MPH! Epic fail, Tony. Epic. Fucking. Fail. And you call yourself a prodigy?

So the next time you’re reading or watching Iron Man, or any other interpretation of him, just remember that if there are any contrived scenarios that leave you thinking “Hey, wait! That doesn’t seem possible!”, it’s because they probably aren’t. If the scientist in you still isn’t convinced and wants to perform a test at your own expense (DISCLAIMER: I absolve myself of any liability by warning you ahead of time this isn’t the best idea), then just put a sturdy pot over your head and run as hard as possible into a brick wall. After waking up from your year long coma, if the ensuing brain damage hasn’t left you mentally challenged and incapable of basic cognitive function, then congratulations, you’ve proved me wrong! Except no, wait, you haven’t because you’ve likely dropped about 50 IQ points. Trust me, you have. You just don’t know it.

In closing, next time you see Tony Stark as Iron Man on the big screen or anywhere else, raise your middle finger and call him out on his bullshit. We all know he’s compensating for something anyways by always wearing that thing.


Why Men in the Middle East Need to Dress Sharper

This post will probably be more random and all over the place than the previous one, so you might find yourself losing brain cells during the process of reading through it. If you value your IQ and don’t want to dip into the low two digit category, then steer clear, otherwise…

I got roped into a heated discussion the other day with someone over how volatile the Middle East still is, even in the wake of a great summer. He said he couldn’t fathom how, to this day, the people there are still so angry and prejudiced against westerners and anyone else who fits the bill of “infidel”. He basically went on a long diatribe about how they’re so predisposed to violence and terrorism due to their radical religious beliefs. I respectfully disagreed, telling him that the nature of their discontent can be simply attributed to the lack of one particular item we have in abundance elsewhere:

We're coming to kill you, but don't worry because we're doing it in style.

Don’t worry, we’re coming to kill you in style

That’s right–flashy, stylish dress suits. Consider this, what type of attire do most men in the Middle East wear? That’s easy:

Be honest. It's the glasses, isn't it? Is that why I'm not hip?

Be honest. It’s the glasses, isn’t it? That’s what’s keeping the ladies away.

Seriously, put yourself in their shoes for a second. How are you not supposed to be angry when you’re wearing the above and you see your western counterparts wearing classy two piece attire? Can you imagine going to a club dressed like that? How many quick rejections would it take to set a club record? A world record? Even Neil Strauss (author of ‘The Game’, the famous book on how to pick up women) would strike out dressed like that. In fact, he’d probably cause people to set their own eyes on fire in order to spare further visual scarring. First of all, there’s no color uniformity, and the whole garish pink head-cloth  complemented by a rather unfashionable black headband just screams “sexually confused” or “my parents beat me as a child”. These men are sexually repressed because they simply can’t get any dressed like that. But now imagine if they ditched the white robes and color challenged head-clothes for some dark two piece Armani or Gucci sets. Now we’d be talking.

In the movie ‘The Family Man’, Nicolas Cage said during one scene while trying on a suit at the store. “Wearing this suit actually makes me feel like a better person.” Truer words have never been spoken, especially coming from such an esteemed individual who’s made hits like ‘Bangkok Dangerous’ and ‘The Wicker Man’. How can you not take him seriously, especially with that hair?

Rogaine gone horribly wrong

Rogaine gone horribly wrong

Take it from Nic–if a suit can make a man better, then surely it can make him less likely to want to commit harm on another soul. After all, it’s obvious the main thing driving these extremists towards committing numerous acts of terrorism is rampant jealousy and envy. So in conclusion, I suggest that instead of retaliatory strikes, covert operations, and trillion dollar wars, we simply parachute down large boxes of the latest fashionable apparel courtesy of Mr. Giorgio Armani or Guccio Gucci and let the aesthetics do the talking. After all, if these extremists end up walking around and looking good while getting compliments along the way, perhaps they’ll feel less inclined to strap on a bomb, especially when you’re talking about wasting a fine $5000 suit in the process. Now that would just be a shame.

End rant.

No Sleep Till Brooklyn

Err… scratch that. Instead of referencing the popular Beastie Boys song, how about ‘No Sleep Till My Next Novel is Done’?

Yep, that’s the title and theme presiding over my life the past month or so. Can I blame that as being the sole reason for my sudden withdrawal from society and the newly invoked “social recluse” status? Probably not, but in the spirit of total randomness and the theme of unpredictability to kick off the new year, I thought I’d write about three totally unrelated (and just as equally random) topics to get this blog rolling again. The cobwebs have been allowed to hang around for too long, so piss off Spider-man, your movie wasn’t all that great. Come back in two years when you’ve stopped being such an emo bitch.

Random topic #1: People Who Ride the Bus

I used to be hot, then I got on this bus.

Ahem. Exhibit A. Take a look at the picture above you. Seems to tell a simple story: old lady on the right is pissed off because her day isn’t going so great. What’s actually happening: old lady on the bus was 20 years old when she got on fifteen minutes ago.

Seriously, every time I get on the bus, everyone looks like they’re coming from a wake–one likely hosted by Ebenezer Scrooge. It’s just a rectangular box on wheels full of the gloomiest looking people on the planet. And this is on a sunny day. When it’s raining or generally more miserable looking? Then it’s like Ebenezer announced that everyone would have to pay for the food and drinks.

I’m not suggesting the first decent looking woman on the bus get up and begin voraciously dancing around one of the poles in order to entertain the crowd (although I wouldn’t really have a problem with that, especially since a good strip routine causes you to lose all your day’s hard earned salary), all I’m saying is that the next time you turn to the person next to you, smile, and offer your hand in greeting, hopefully you get the same in return, and not an unexpected fist to the face, followed by a sexual harassment allegation. If you’re worried that you look like a pedophile and can’t pull this off as easily as some dude who looks like Brad Pitt, then you’re shit outta luck. In your case, just sit in the back and brood all by yourself. No one really wants to see your miserable face anyways, so save us all the trouble.

Random topic #2: People Who Resolve to Work Out After New Years

What do you mean I haven’t gotten any bigger!? But I’ve been going to the gym for nearly ten days now!

Yes, we all know them. You’ve probably come across one or two the past several weeks as they frantically gorge and indulge during the year’s dying weeks, before the all mighty call of the exercise hammer bears down once January 1st hits. Heck, you might even be one of them.

These people are awesome. They flood the gym during the first half of the month, motivated by inspirational–and disturbingly dated–Richard Simmons workout videos and success stories posted on Facebook or Reddit detailing a dramatic change in lifestyle. They may not even necessarily be fat, just simply out of shape (yes, you can be skinny and out of shape, just ask Steve Rogers before he took steroids–come on, we all know that’s what they were–and became Captain America). What’s great about them is that no matter how pathetic you might seem at the gym, you can take solace in the fact that for the next few weeks, you won’t be the dude who gets laughed at by the regulars for not initially understanding what “getting a spot” means. But like all good things, of course–including the first time you discovered masturbation and porn–the nirvana will end after these people realize that getting in shape takes a little longer than just a few weeks of body gyrations and they retreat back to their old indulgences, leaving you, once again, to become the sole laughing stock of the weight room.

Random topic #3: Method Writing

Method writing can work. Just remember never to go full retard.

Method writing can work. Just remember never to go full retard.

Yes, you’re reading that correctly. If actors can do it, then so can writers. J.D. Salinger and Mark Twain both talked about channelling the inner spirit of their characters to really get a feel for whom they were writing. Seemed to work for Salinger, who in his later years, seemed to turn into as much a weirdo as Holden Caulfield, but whatever. The point here is method writing is a technique more aspiring authors should seriously consider.

Writing a novel about a series of bank robberies? Don’t bother doing historical research, just go rob one for the true gist of it. Your book will drip of authenticity when you’re completing it in jail.

Doing a short piece on corruption? Just become a politician.

Considering a book about time travel? Simple, LSD is your friend.

By spending less time scouring boring pieces of questionable fact from Wikipedia, you can live the deeds you’re intending to convey in your novel. Who cares if you’ll end up in a hospital, or even dead? It’ll be so worth it.

Eight Types of Gamers Dissected

Why 8? Because it’s arbitrary enough and in the spirit of being arbitrary and random, the following list will possibly contain no ounce of coherence, consistency or substance. You’ve been warned.


Cheech and Chong’s alternate reality counterparts unwinding after a hard day’s work.

Angry Birds? Sonic Mobile? Generic FPS with wonky touch screen controls? Even more generic 3D racing game with lame stage design? It doesn’t matter. For the casual, content and depth take a backseat to simplicity and convenience.  The goal is to make those agonizingly awkward bus/subway rides from destination A to B pass as quickly as possible. Why interact with other people around you when you can gaze into a tiny 4 inch screen and squeal with joy and delight as you’re showered with virtual affection and simple melodies? Or maybe your thing are games on the Nintendo Wii? Nothing screams hip more than bouncing around like a clown emulating a tennis player or a hula hoop dancer. Look mom, no hands! Too bad you can’t do the same when you’re alone in bed.

Perk: Most games are cheap to buy. Require very little emotional attachment or investment. Considered hip and socially acceptable.

Con: Ironically enough, games can end up becoming even more addicting than their $60, hardcore counterparts.


You’ve got exactly two seconds to tell me why you didn’t rush out with the rest of us.

AKA most PC gamers; although the two don’t always go hand in hand. Picture this: you’re online after a hard day’s work, just looking to unwind and engage in a few frag or raid sessions.  You’re just having fun mucking around with a rifle in Call of Duty or Counterstrike, or dungeon crawling and grinding it out in World of Warcraft, when all of a sudden  you start getting blasted left and right by several raging dudes on mics. So what happened? Did you fail at life again? No. That usually on happens at work. In this case, you just ran into elitists: guys more concerned with the end game than the game itself. It’s like scoring with a chick but only really looking forward to bragging about it to your friends afterward (this aptly describes most frat guys). Elitists are keen followers of the great Herm Edwards and his philosophy of playing to win the game.

Perk: You belong to a very minor group of highly skilled, highly specialized players.

Con: No one outside this group really likes you. Like no one. Including Herm Edwards.


What the heck are you supposed to be? A pink coffee table?

What? You can’t see those million imperfections in the character’s face, that blemish on her cheek, or those nose hairs sticking out of the old man’s nostrils? That’s it then, the game sucks. If the graphics say so, then it must be true. Who cares about gameplay? It’s all about having the prettiest tech demo disguised as a game. If your title uses cartoon style cel-shading, chances are it sucks. If your game uses 2D style hand drawn art, it sucks. If it contains too much gloss and looks all shiny, it sucks. If you can’t see a reflection of your ugly character’s face in the water when peering into a lake, it sucks. It’s either Crysis caliber graphics or bust in this case.

Perk: Hot female characters provide an alternative to watching porn.

Con: You’ll never get a girlfriend. As if you’d ever have one anyways.


You tellin’ me this was released after 1995? Get that garbage out of here before I shoot you noob.

If it didn’t come out before you were born, then it’s not even worthy of recognition. These gamers go on long diatribes about how the games of yesteryear were superior in every facet to the ones currently “poisoning and saturating” the market. Of course, what’s often ignored about those games is their low production values, their often horrible translation from a foreign language to English (“all your base are belong to us” anyone?) and their propensity to have the most simplistic plots in existence—ones so mind-numbingly basic that you’re left to wonder whether it was the work of a retarded infant chimpanzee on a worn out typewriter.

Perk: You get to experience the evolution (or devolution) of gaming throughout the years and be able to bitch and complain about it nonstop… and feel justified.

Con: No one under the age of twenty one (the majority of gamers) really cares about what you have to say.


Oh my god… I just got ported over to the PC. My life’s over.

Still blissfully unaware of the awesome power of high end PC’s, consolites cackle with delight whenever a new game comes out looking like something the PC regurgitated back in 2006. They also boast about how their ultra-smooth gameplay is akin to a really fast slideshow and constantly rave about how characters walk as if they’re experiencing an epileptic seizure. Screen tearing? Check. Pop-ups? Check.  Simplistic to completely non-existent physics models? Check. It’s like getting laid for the first time to an ugly chick and falling in love with her, not knowing any better.

Perk: Don’t have to pay much to game. Simple to set up. Simple to get in to. Convenient. Money used to buy consoles usually comes from parents.

Con: That chick on the screen you’re fantasizing about might not be a chick after all.


A great warm up for the hands prior to exercising various other limbs.

The sworn enemies of casual gamers. Like Avengers vs Dark Knight fanboys. These types vilify anyone who simply games for the sake of having fun and vent their frustrations into altars containing burnt Nintendo Wii’s and numerous broken copies of Guitar Hero. To them, gaming is not about having fun, but rather a way of life. It’s a doctrine. In fact, one must suffer through various complex user interfaces, difficult and cumbersome game mechanics, even more difficult game controls, and be willing to read painfully long blocks of text in order to join this prestigious group.

Perk: You get your purist buddies to back you up during flame wars between purists and casuals.

Con: You get your purist buddies to back you up during flamer wars between purists and casuals.


The culmination of all your hard work. Was it worth it? Hell yes. Just look at that golden chalice.

Every achievement. Every hidden coin. Every key. Every note. Every scroll. Every everything. Every. It’s a never-ending quest to pick the meat clean off the bones of all games offered. These closet OCD junkies are tough to classify and it’s often believed that the reason for their strange behavior can be attributed to two different reasons: 1. They’re unaware that other games exist out there and so they feel the need to absolutely scour every virtual corner of a particular title before even thinking about putting it away. 2. They’re too frugal to invest in numerous game titles and try and maximize their utility by performing repetitive and tedious side quests, all in the name of the hard to acquire 100% completion achievement. But in the end it’s all worth it because you get a Big Rigs style “you’re winner!” congratulatory remark.

Perk: All the achievements. You become so boss in your own little game world. And you’re winner! Who doesn’t want that? Maybe Charlie Sheen.

Con: You could’ve probably beaten several other titles in the span it took you to complete your trivial and completely frivolous feather quest collection. But the chalice! Look at that thing! It’s so pretty.


Nobody flames Final Fantasy and lives to tell about it. Nobody.

Rising from the crevices of the darkest corners of the their parent’s basements, fanboys epitomize doucheness. If different gamers were awarded different grade percentages, fanboys would be at the very bottom of the rung, almost flirting with 0. These gamers (if one can even call them that) are more concerned with spamming message boards, spewing mindless drivel ad nauseum about how Uncharted is better than Halo or why the XBOX simply craps all over the Playstation 3 and the Wii is nothing but a gaming machine for infants. Fanboys spend so much of their time on these message boards that one has to wonder if they’re even gamers in the classical definition.  It wouldn’t be surprising if they curled up in bed at night with their unopened consoles and games, using Youtube as a source of gameplay reference when arguing online.

Perk: When it comes to annoying, you’re at the top of the ladder here. Be proud.

Con: If you find yourself sparking an interest in a rival game company, you’ll have to cheer for them from inside the closet.

The Real Reason the Half-Life Series is Still in Limbo

Gratuitous Indulgences 

Contrary to rumors implying that the reason Half-Life Episode 3 is taking so long is because it’s undergoing a secret and lengthy conversion into what will eventually end up becoming Half-Life 3, I believe there are deeper reasons behind its delay.

The truth is Gordon Freeman these days has become so ensconced in his own hubris, even the mirrors crack out of disgust whenever he tries to look at a reflection of himself. Freeman’s absolutely lost sight of the initial persona that landed him acclaimed success. He’s now nothing more than a complacent gaming icon living off his previous accolades. Before Freeman became this:

Pissed off Freeman

Don’t make fun of my gun otherwise I’ll blow yours off

He was this:

Sorry, can’t talk! Got an important Dungeons and Dragons meeting to get to.

A simple man, not overly concerned with the superficial status symbols that govern today’s Hollywood saturated society. Freeman was a man of principles, originating from the humble grounds of Seattle, a community known for brewing amazing coffee and producing some of the most depressing rock music in existence. Hailing from a conservative family, Freeman grew up with little and turned towards academics very early on in his life, becoming fascinated at a ripe age with childhood idols Hawking, Feynman and Einstein. But despite his scientific dreams, Freeman (like most other males) was vulnerable to the temptations of the opposite sex. Years of feeble attempts at persuading women to check out his bulging brain ultimately proved to be fruitless and, after failing to get a single date for prom, so too ended his crusade of putting his “crowbar” to good use.

Life after high school wasn’t much better. His time in MIT was relatively uneventful. Aside from several failed attempts to bring validity to his theory of selective teleportation (he attempted to transfer the breast implants of several promiscuous women to various parts of the world), there wasn’t much to write home about. By the time Black Mesa came calling, Freeman—pent up with years of sexual frustration—was firmly indoctrinated into the world of the socially challenged men who often dated no one but their hand.

All right! Score! My fist’s agreed to go out with me! And we’re going Dutch!

For a time, the status quo and the simple mundane tasks he was required to do (which clearly justified the exuberant price of his highly specialized degree) were enough. But like Mother Nature’s desire to break through the man-made concrete soil covering nearly every inch of this planet by throwing out an earthquake every now and again to go along with its lava love juice, Freeman’s carnal desires ultimately crept to the surface as well.

Fed up, disillusioned and tired of society’s shit in general, Freeman did the next logical thing at a facility that dealt with the transportation of matter: he brought the shit to us in a misguided attempt to fight fire with fire. Of course, he never could have anticipated this:

A small sample of America’s currently unemployed labor force

And so began Freeman’s gradual descent into madness via his inclination to give in to his dark desires. Kill after kill, the once noble scientist became a callous murdering machine capable of registering no thoughts or emotions (as evidenced by his silent disposition throughout the entirety of the series thus far). Gradually, as his notoriety increased to near Chuck Norris status, Freeman realized that he needed to market his feats and with that came the advent of Steam, a simple service aimed at delivering digital content to the masses while subliminally planting “Gordon Freeman is the OWNZZERZ!” messages into people’s minds.

Now, seemingly fat and living off his once legendary status, Freeman has been relegated to nothing more than a mere pimp, auctioning off partner in crime Alyx for the weekend to the highest bidder in a selfish attempt to increase his net worth. For Freeman, it’s always been a numbers game, first from simple math, to advanced Calculus, to complex relativistic computations, and finally to the trafficking of female video game sidekicks.

No refunds. If you got a problem with my services, you can talk to my two associates here.

Somehow, when Alyx asked Gordon on that fateful night if he ever considered making her his, prostitution wasn’t what she had in mind. It’s a harsh world we live in but in this recession’s dire times, everyone’s gotta make a buck and for Gordon, who’s long forgotten what it means to produce a new quality title, pimping out substitutes has kept bankrolling the empire, allowing it to move along quite nicely.

Hey! What gives woman? I paid full price! You said anything goes remember?

So what does all of this mean? That we shouldn’t expect a new Half-Life title ever? No. It’ll come. We just gotta wait until Alyx can no longer work the corners effectively. Maybe then Gordon will finally get up off his entitled ass, fire up the old machine and start programming a new installment (without any illicit drug/human trafficking side games included).

Whiny Cartoon Kid Commenting on Superheroes Needing Drugs

 The Video Version of Why Superheroes Need Drugs Too: Narrated by SAHM (Seriously Annoying High-Pitched Midget)

Life in monochrome sucks

This is what happens when you’re sad, alone and bitter while having way too much time on your hands… I’m talking about the kid.

Meet SAHM, the most annoying, jaded little brat in comic video existence (or maybe the second most annoying. Does the comic version of Jar-Jar Binks count?). He’s decided to add a little color commentary to my rather uninspiring article of what types of drugs 10 popular superheroes should be taking. Who knew that in today’s ADD riddled society, small blurbs of text complemented by pictures would still generate a “tl:dr” response? 

Hopefully the video version of the article will take far less effort to concentrate on, allowing people (guys mostly) more time and energy  to devote to certain extracurricular activities involving one hand bouncing up and down underneath the desk.

Click on the kid’s annoying face for the video. I know, I know… I wish I could design an app so that you could punch him. Maybe someone else can.

Girls Grabbing Guys Hats At Clubs

If you’re old, wearing this automatically makes you look ten years younger.

Does it piss anyone else off when a girl at a club comes up to you and just grabs your hat without asking?

I’m talking about some random chick just ripping your stylish hat off your head (the one that conceals your receding hairline) and acts as if it’s the funniest and most acceptable thing ever.

Sure it’s cool at first, getting a little bit of attention like that. It means she likes you right? She’s flirting with you and wants your attention. Everything’s good. Right? Wrong. Everything’s not good. What if she’s less than pleasing to look at, not to mention drenched with sweat? The last thing you want is some inconsiderate woman you don’t know to just randomly come up and take your precious hat away. That thing wasn’t free. How would she like it if you just grabbed her purse or ripped off one of her heels?

Listen to these two guys argue about it here.

Or here.

All right, which one of you is stepped on?

Ever wonder what drugs superheroes (or comic book characters if you wanna get semantic) would likely be found taking in order to keep from dying, going off the deep end, or turning into full-fledged villains? No? Well I have. Without further ado:

The Flash – Ibuprofen

Ah the good old days… Back before I lost all feeling in my legs and the wheelchair became a permanent fixture.

Everyone thinks it would be so cool to be like The Flash. I mean it would be so awesome to get anywhere so quickly, right? Wrong. What you don’t see behind closed doors are the numerous hospital visits to the orthopedist and the never ending medical bills to treat his severe arthritis. This guy has a larger tab on ibuprofen going than the entire Irish population combined does with beer.

Mr. Fantastic – Viagra       

Must… Fight… To… Stay… Stiff!

No one needs to perform better in the sack than this dude. When you’ve got a smoking hot girlfriend in Sue Storm waiting underneath the sheets, the last thing you want happening is for your eleventh finger to go softer than a spaghetti noodle. For Richard Reed, he can’t afford to dick around when Sue’s got a rock hard alternative in The Thing.

The Hulk – Xanax (lots of it)

Check it out: The only part of me that doesn’t transform into anything bigger can be found in the only area I’m still wearing clothes.

Trust me, you wanna try and keep this big brute away from crack, cocaine, crystal meth, Ritalin or any other stimulant because what this genetically engineered Mike Tyson clone desperately needs more than anything is to calm the fuck down and take a chill pill. Don’t ever invite this raging asshole to your party without first making him take about two million Xanax pills. If you do, he’ll destroy everything on site worse than those kids in Project X.

Batman – Ambien

Damnit… even this gargoyle won’t talk to me. Hmm, maybe I should just jump already…

Many people call him the Dark Knight, a tie in to his brooding and nocturnal nature. Realists call it a severe case of insomnia. The reason this guy runs out in the night dressed like an oversized bat stems further than just his numerous issues and emotional baggage. A few sleeping pills a night courtesy of Alfred should do the trick. You want a real deterrent to crime in Gotham? There’s your answer. After all, most of the real weirdo’s in the city only started showing up after he did.

Deadpool – Lithium

I stayed sane long enough to get this picture of me taken before I snapped and fed the photographer to the camera.

While we’re on the topic of weirdos… Bipolar doesn’t even begin to describe this certifiable nutjob. He’s got more episodes than the Simpsons. A nice dose of lithium will go a long way towards ensuring that he doesn’t spaz and stab your face right after solemnly declaring you to be his best friend in the world.

Captain America – Weed

Not again… Guys, hey! Wait up! I brought moral fiber!

When you’re as square as Cap, the last thing you want is to act like more of an uptight prick with a giant stick up the ass. This guy is the epitome of choir school boy. Some nice chronic should make for happy times and leave Steve Rogers feeling less like Mother Theresa and more like Bob Marley, making him far less likely to get his face punched in by the likes of Wolverine.

Wolverine – Vicodin, Oxycontin

You got it? Come on already, hurry up and take the damn picture! This shit hurts like hell!

Speak of the devil… Yes he can heal really, really quickly. He can survive explosions, pancake inducing falls, and more bullets than the entire US Military can feed him. He can do all that no question. But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt like fuck. Wolverine needs to be on pain killers constantly. Like always. Call it a necessary part of the job—like a hooker and birth control. He needs to pull a Bane and have straws hooked up to his head feeding him a constant dose of liquid sympathy.

Ghost Rider – Ecstasy

Is there something on my face bro? You’d tell me, right?

If there’s anyone who fits the classic definition of a hot head, it’s this guy. Dude needs to chill. Literally. Peace and love instead of punishment, death and all that other crazy hell spawning shit—Johnny Blaze should seriously consider changing up his game plan. It might even mean fewer menacing and diabolical nemeses wanting to curb stomp him. Just imagine showering Mephisto and Blackheart with flowers of harmony and affection instead of fire and brimstone? Now that’s progressive.

Professor Xavier – Clozaril

The stupid… Arrghh! Stop thinking already! I can’t weed it out fast enough.

Do you hear that, those voices in your head arguing whether you should pull out or not even though it feels so good? No it’s not your conscience. It’s called schizophrenia. For Professor X, he deals with this every second of his waking life. I mean sure it starts off really cool, being able to read minds at a whim but at some point, do you really wanna know in vivid detail about the giant dump the guy sitting next to you on the bus took? Oh, and how he didn’t wash his hands? You touched the same handlebar.

Iron Man – A Dose of Reality

Take one from this angle guys. Okay seriously, how amazing does my hair look right now? I wonder if it’s possible to sleep with myself.

Unfortunately, there’s no truly established medication for narcissism. Yet. Being rich, powerful and intelligent hasn’t stopped people from hating Tony Stark and thinking he’s a giant dick (wait, when has it ever for anybody else?). His best friend kicked his ass and stole his suit, his former business partner tried to have him killed because he was such an asshole and last but not least, one of his Avengers teammates even called him out for being a giant prima donna. Tony Stark’s biggest problem is his inability not to look away every time he steps in front of a mirror. For that reason alone, the only real medication is a severe group beating (think Rodney King style) to set him straight.

The Progressive, Avante Garde Look of the Nu-Age Pimp

No I won’t take it off!

Don’t judge me piggy. Guys if you wanna pick up chicks, this is the guaranteed way to do it. No one will touch you–either out of fear, confusion or disgust–and so you should be immune to possible jumpings/beatings. No verdict on cars just yet.