OverMaster
Well worn.
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- Jun 1, 2018
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We Laugh at Killer Moth.
We laugh at Killer Moth, of course we do. After all, the man's always wearing a ridiculous costume... just like the man who still wears a monocle and top hat well into the 21th century, or the guy who puts zebra stripes on a half of his suits. He never learns from experience, never knows when to give up, and has been beaten by every do gooder in Gotham. He copied all of his ideas and then just dressed them up with butterfly motifs, much like Green Arrow copied everything from Bats and the applied a coat of Robin Hood on it. He's pathetic. A natural born loser. He was made for us to laugh at him.
And yet.
I don't respect anyone in Arkham. Heck, I don't respect anyone period, out of the IRS and my lawyer. But if I had to come somewhere abysmally close to a vague shadow of a faint semblance of respect for anyone in Arkham, that'd be Killer Moth.
Because Killer Moth knows he's pathetic and yet he keeps trying. Real idiots like Condiment King, or Kite-Man, or Crazy Quilt, they are under the delusions they're hot crap. They don't get their own joke. Moth gets it. He doesn't laugh at it, he just gets angry over it, and that's what makes him laughable, but he gets it. He doesn't drop the lame shtick, he could easily give himself another less lame name and costume and try and fail again, but he sticks to his moth guns, he is true to himself. He tries his best, like Sissyphus, to do the impossible and get respect for what he IS, instead of pleasing the stupid masses and changing for the sake of their plebeian tastes. I guess I can kind of admire that, even.
That's what I like about Killer Moth. He doesn't have any brains, but he has real balls. Except when it comes to his daughter, but I've met that kid, and I've gotta admit, she's scary. I don't say this about many people. I don't say this about Darkseid. But that kid, she's just... like that... and yet Moth actually tries his best to be a father to that thing instead of suffocating her in her sleep. I hate brats and would drown mine if I had any, but I can kinda sorta something distantly resembling to respect that, too. I've never known anyone who sticks better to lost causes.
That time we all thought Batman was dead, and we gathered to learn and deduce who had done it, Killer Moth wanted to take a photo with me and Lex. Lex didn't want to, of course, not only because of his public image, but because... well, because of his underworld image. But I convinced him, don't ask how. We took the damned photo with Killer Moth, and I'm sure that was the happiest day of his life. I could literally hear him quietly weeping in joy under the mask. He was in the same shot with the Joker and Lex Luthor. He had done it, brief and pointless as it had been.
I wouldn't let anyone take a picture of me with the Riddler or Deathstroke unless they were dead and under my heel, but I did that for him. Because he makes me laugh.
You have to laugh at Killer Moth, after all.
We laugh at Killer Moth, of course we do. After all, the man's always wearing a ridiculous costume... just like the man who still wears a monocle and top hat well into the 21th century, or the guy who puts zebra stripes on a half of his suits. He never learns from experience, never knows when to give up, and has been beaten by every do gooder in Gotham. He copied all of his ideas and then just dressed them up with butterfly motifs, much like Green Arrow copied everything from Bats and the applied a coat of Robin Hood on it. He's pathetic. A natural born loser. He was made for us to laugh at him.
And yet.
I don't respect anyone in Arkham. Heck, I don't respect anyone period, out of the IRS and my lawyer. But if I had to come somewhere abysmally close to a vague shadow of a faint semblance of respect for anyone in Arkham, that'd be Killer Moth.
Because Killer Moth knows he's pathetic and yet he keeps trying. Real idiots like Condiment King, or Kite-Man, or Crazy Quilt, they are under the delusions they're hot crap. They don't get their own joke. Moth gets it. He doesn't laugh at it, he just gets angry over it, and that's what makes him laughable, but he gets it. He doesn't drop the lame shtick, he could easily give himself another less lame name and costume and try and fail again, but he sticks to his moth guns, he is true to himself. He tries his best, like Sissyphus, to do the impossible and get respect for what he IS, instead of pleasing the stupid masses and changing for the sake of their plebeian tastes. I guess I can kind of admire that, even.
That's what I like about Killer Moth. He doesn't have any brains, but he has real balls. Except when it comes to his daughter, but I've met that kid, and I've gotta admit, she's scary. I don't say this about many people. I don't say this about Darkseid. But that kid, she's just... like that... and yet Moth actually tries his best to be a father to that thing instead of suffocating her in her sleep. I hate brats and would drown mine if I had any, but I can kinda sorta something distantly resembling to respect that, too. I've never known anyone who sticks better to lost causes.
That time we all thought Batman was dead, and we gathered to learn and deduce who had done it, Killer Moth wanted to take a photo with me and Lex. Lex didn't want to, of course, not only because of his public image, but because... well, because of his underworld image. But I convinced him, don't ask how. We took the damned photo with Killer Moth, and I'm sure that was the happiest day of his life. I could literally hear him quietly weeping in joy under the mask. He was in the same shot with the Joker and Lex Luthor. He had done it, brief and pointless as it had been.
I wouldn't let anyone take a picture of me with the Riddler or Deathstroke unless they were dead and under my heel, but I did that for him. Because he makes me laugh.
You have to laugh at Killer Moth, after all.