When I was but a young pup, my brother and I were absolutely addicted to comic books. Now this is in the old days, children, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. We didn’t have no “anime” — it was straight DC and Marvel, the classics. And we were lucky enough to have a cousin who worked at a newsstand, who had access to the trashpile where last month’s issues, stripped coverless, were thrown out. She kept us well supplied with our drug of choice, like Anna Nicole Smith’s pusher.
So it is somewhat surprising to know that I don’t particularly like superhero movies. I had to watch Batman in all his incarnations with the DH, and I of course was in love with Chris Reeve back in the day — that boy could fill out a pair of electric blue tights like no one else. But all the others — the Fantastic Four, the Greens (Lantern and Hornet), etc. — yawn. Take it or leave it.
But at a writing session with those wild and wonderful connoissieurs of masculine pulchritude, Jillian Chantal and Micki Gibson, I found something that might just change my mind.
I was just sitting, minding my own business (yes, sometimes I do that) when an iPad was thrust under my nose. “Look at this,” J&M instructed.
And there he was, today’s wet guest, as he appears in this month’s new release of X-Men.
I’m telling you, even with my well-known weakness for buff Aussies, I didn’t go see Hugh Jackman as an X-Man. But a German-Irish actor that looks like this? Well, my resolve is weakening.
Tell me what you think, my dear ones. Is Michael Fassbender enough to make me forget my pledge to avoid superheroes?