JoBildo:
I’m here in Millennium City, amid the many thousands of citizens,
to witness what apparently is an influx of new caped crusaders… It’s
cod-pieces and wonder-bras galore out here in the shining metropolis,
home to the fabled Champions. But how do the everyday people of
Millennium City feel about all these new super-powered folk flying,
floating, speeding, and tunneling about their streets? I’m taking
to the hangouts and hotspots of the normal men and women of the city,
to gauge just how they’re reacting to all this new energy in their
hometown.

Miles Monroe:
I’m not liking it at all, JB.

JoBildo: Can you explain why you
feel that way, sir?

Miles Monroe:
This one guy, calls himself The Sexinator, just flew off with
my wife. You tell me… do I need to explain myself anymore?
I don’t even want to know what that guy’s “power” is.
He’s probably got some secret weapon under that tiny Speedo, the smug
prick.

JoBildo:
That’s what she said.

Miles Monroe:
That’s what who said? Have you talked to my wife? Is she okay?

JoBildo:
I’m sure she’s fine in the tender and delicate embrace of The
Sexinator. Moving on… ah, here we are! A frail old
lady, ripe for being taken advantage of by Millennium City’s many
vagrants and vagabonds. Surely, she must feel more excited about
all the new do-gooders in town. Ma’am? How do you feel
about all the new heroes zooming about these days?

This old lady smelled rather terrible...

Agnes Fielder:
Oh my! Lordy, yes… it’s been a blessing. Just earlier today
a nice young man with a cape and a cleft chin helped me cross the street.
Of course, he didn’t have to fly me with his rocket boots across the
busy traffic, but I’ll take a ruined pair of Depends over waiting
for the light to change any day.

JoBildo:
That is disgusting. But I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying Millennium
City’s new helpers more than our last interviewee.

Agnes Fielder:
Oh yes, they’re certainly welcomed by me. Except all those harlots
sauntering around with their fun-bags hanging out like it was Mardi
Gras. I haven’t seen this much cleavage since I was a cellular
biologist. And if I see one more camel-toe…

JoBildo: And… thank you
very much, Ma’am! Let’s keep going, shall we? Get the
perspective of the younger crowd. There’s a nice-looking chap
with an iPod. I assume by his Chuck Taylors, Maynard G. Krebs
goatee, and Jansport backpack he’s either a teenager or a liberal
arts grad student. Either way, I’m sure he’ll be more than
eager to present his diluted and ill-informed opinion. Son?
How are you adjusting to all the super-powered newbies we’ve got roaming
around now?

Tyler Peterson: Yeah, buddy.
I mean, who wouldn’t like having all these capes around? They
fight for truth, justice, and the American way… consumerism.
Down with the DOW! All hail Nader!

An artist's approximation of what Tyler looked like.

JoBildo:
You’re majoring in Political Science, aren’t you?

Tyler Peterson:
Yeah, how’d you know?

JoBildo:
Aside from the badge on your backpack proclaiming legal marijuana the
next constitutional amendment… call it a lucky guess. Do you
feel safer now with all the extra super-help around the city?

Tyler Peterson:
Actually, I do. Instead of all these dirty blue pigs with guns
and a racial agenda, we have some real citizens protecting us for a
change.

JoBildo:
You are aware that some of these heroes are not from this country,
and in fact some of them are aliens from outer space.

Tyler Peterson: Well,
hey… it’s a free world man. We’re all one people, you know.

JoBildo:
And it seems you’re higher than an aging hipster at a Radiohead concert.
I think I’ll walk away now… please take your hemp necklace and go
find a smoothie stand to hang out at and pretend you know how to play
guitar to attract gullible coeds. And that will do it for me,
folks. It seems we have a wide-range of opinions here in Millennium
City. Everyone has something to say about all these new tight-wearing
saviors. But one thing is for certain… I’m surrounded by idiots
and weirdoes, and I’m not sure I’d waste my superpowers saving these
people. But to each their own, I guess.