You know, if television sitcoms are going to be entirely populated by roving gangs of young middle-class white twentysomethings, can they be the JLI?
Like, Scott and Barda could be “THE couple”, the confirmed married badasses who generally are adorkable and distribute advice to their hapless single compatriots. If said sitcom were set in New York (and let’s face it haha WHICH ONE ISN’T), and their awkward alien ways ever compelled a stranger to ask where they’re from, they could just answer “Jersey”. They could pass for that. CUE THE LAUGH TRACK
Guy and Tora and Bea have always been the best love triangle around, and may be utilized by Sitcom Law for both awkward sexual-orientation-humor (ahhhh, sitcoms) and the brief moments of actual drama that usually happen around the end of the season to keep people hooked over the summer.
Booster and Ted are already their own sitcom, pffft. Who WOULDN’T watch a show about them? And around the end of season two, when happily-single party-guy Booster (ah, and what sitcom would be complete without a string of one-night stands, at least one per episode, and no unplanned pregnancies or STD’s whatsoever of course) realizes he’s trulymadlydeeply in love with Ted, the show will get to be known as “one of those GAY shows” and tsk’ed over by tea-partiers everywhere, at which point the ratings will REALLY start to skyrocket.
I’m just sayin’.
Oh and also they beat up supervillains.
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream,
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines.
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel-injected and stepping out over the line,
Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back;
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap,
We gotta get out while we’re young,
`Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Scott’s Cannon, the Reckoning.
Oh, Scott, you little sweetheart of a man. Even to the shmucks who were just giving him and his
bust bestest pal a hard time, he’s all, “Ohhh, don’t feel bad you guys! Hey, cheer up, maybe you can be as strong as her someday if you TRY…maybe…ish…”
I like to think that the last half of this page summarizes female superheroes altogether. “The [men] watch in awestruck silence as Barda casually walks off with an impossible burden…”
I’m very sad we never get to see Scott’s cannon again. You’d think he’d be itching to use it. But I bet it just sits taking up half the garage of the Free residence forever, driving Barda nuts every time a garage sale comes around.
Barda: You never USE that thing—
Scott: I’m going to use it!
Barda: Oh, yeah? When?
Scott: …Sometime! You never know! I’m GOING to use it!
Barda: You haven’t played with it in years. When’s the last time you took the tarp off of it?
Scott: Well I don’t want to get it DIRTY…!
Oh Scott, you and your CANNON. I can just see him washing it in the driveway on Sundays, casually waving to the guy with the Porsche across the street.
And oh, Barda. Just…just…ROLE MODEL. Backhanding two guys at once? Be still my heart! I may have to glue some clips of these panels inside a Bible or something to get it into Basic Training. Everything Paul ever wrote is expendable crap, yeah, I’ll just glue over THAT! C:
There is so much to be said about Scott and his cannon. One could call inadequacy issues about being shorter than his girlfriend. One could say that this is his taste in women summarized. I can’t get past the fact that a giant death machine can reduce him to the giddyness and approximate coherency of a small child.
Everybody’s doing it! A Valentine’s card for the world. Happy Valentine’s Day, all of you people I’ve never seen before in my life! I love you all.
Oh, and I thought I was done with Scott and Barda for a while, but it seems I missed one! :D Oh, NO!
I hear you, mini-Scott. I hear you.