Since it's the official start of summer blockbusters (read:SUUUUUUUCKY MOVIES), thoughts began flying through my brain about perenial superhero, the grandaddy of them all:

That's right, Molemen and hot chicks in distress: Super-fucking-man.

Trying to get beyond the name is my first stumbling block. I suppose the word "super" was rarely, if ever, affiliated with hairy-chested men in leather vests grinding against one another on a dance floor back in the 1930's, but these days, when a "man" is called "super", all I can picture is some muscley dude in tights, perhaps adorned with a cape and shiny, knee-high boots.

Hey!

Above is pictured George Reeves, TV's first rendition of the cosmic visitor from Krypton. Let's see: Greasy hair....pot belly...high-waisted pants....wait a sec. That's not Superman. I've just described Morey Amsterdam from the Dick Van Dyke Show!

My other problem with "The Sup" is the fact that he was our first comic book hero, so straight out of the gates, you have the strongest man on the planet who happens to also be invincible. Well, where do we go from here, you ask? They shoulda started a wee bit smaller, so they could build up to him with, I dunno, "So-So Guy" or "Casual Crime Fighting Frank".

Even with these issues (that I apprently have too much time on my hands to ponder), you can bet your fortress of glass near the North Pole that I'll be seated in air-conditioned comfort this summer, ooing and ahhhing at the screen as the man who can save us all does his best to thwart evil.

that, or I'll be on the dance floor at Rage in West Hollywood, dancing the hell out of the joint, wearing my blue tights and cape.