I explained this translucently! We form the invincible Megadoper Galaxy Omega! Battling giant hideous embodiments of universal ignorance with the Blazing Sword of Cutting Sarcasm and the indestructible Shield of Unhealthy Psychological Repression (that’s my job!).
The usefulness of the mongoose powers, I trust, is self-explanatory.
The water-glass transformation is reserved for hyperspace travel.
Fine, I guess you could be the left eye. Or a monocle! Have you considered the possibility of being a monocle?
And you call yourself mighty? I don’t flash my boobage for just anyone, sir. I shall now place a hex on you. <hexes Skald using great and terrible magick>
The mother’s wishes/one set of dishes sounds like a song lyric… I prefer to have an image in my head of Skald, a two pronged titan with red, wrinkly skin (everytime I read Skald, I think scald…). Believe me, flashing boobage is the last thing on my mind…
A monocle?!? Damn you Sir, who do you think I am, Mister Peanut?
You can take your Omega-3 Man Galaxy, Voltron-wanna be thing and just go find a neutron star to park it on. The rest of us with real superpowers will be over here sipping on water and playing with the mongoose.
Tripler
A monocle, indeed. Jeeves! Fetch the tram. We’re off to the shoppe!
This is no time for the facts, especially as they do not support my case. As I like you too much to swear vengeance upon you, I’ll have to send the 'Bots after what’s-his-name again.
Hey, ‘monocle’ is a sweet gig. Say what you will about Mister Peanut, but the fact is that he gets respect. People don’t talk smack about him to his face. Hell no! They call him Mister Peanut. Try to cross him, he’ll throw down on you, old-school. You know how people these days just suddenly tend to keel over from ‘peanut allergy?’ That’s all that need be said about that. It’s all about the monocle.
But nooo, you’re too good for monocle duty! Okay, be that way. But I fear you’re in for a rude awakening, my brash young friend. The superhero community already has a representative with the cycloptic eye-power idiom. They don’t take kindly to young Turks who think they can cash in on an established motif: just ask Captain Marvel. You’ll never work in this town again. What with the recent economic downturn, you’ll be lucky to find work as the ‘evil eye’ for an itinerant, incontinent gypsy fortuneteller at a sleazy traveling carnival. There you’ll be, right next to the Two-Headed Mule Embryo display, thinking “Damn if I were only a monocle right now!”
Hijacking the thread without guilt (because, after all, it’s my thread, and ipso facto extremely silly: there’s actually a Marvel Comics supervillain named the Monocle, and the Masked Marauder’s eye-blast gag looks very much like one Scott Summers’s (though the effects are quite different).
[Hoke]You go on 'way from here, Skald the Rhymer…[/Hoke]
Thanks for the compliments, but I’m not the greatest anything to my knowledge, save perhaps for the greatest intellect in my house when I’m alone.
I’d NEVER say who I think the greatest Dopers are because
1- I’d change my mind three times just while writing it
2- I’d invariably say “DOH! I should have said _____” 152 times the following day
3- If I named somebody it means I’d get into a huge argument with them at exactly the moment the edit window closed
So, for space saver— I’ll say Eve, for the same reason Napoleon gave outstanding eulogies but rarely complimented the living. She’s not here anyway, most would put her on their short list, and it should either not slight the “living” Dopers or else slight them all exactly the same.
Silence, worm! The Teeming Millions have spoken, and you have been acclaimed the greatest of our number. Anyone who says otherwise shall be fed alive to to the hordes of Karl Rove clones bred expressly for that purpose.
Third, second, first, whose counting?…lets just call me the SDMB trifecta and be done with it.
Why do I deserve this honor, you ask? Let me count the ways:
I don’t hide behind a fabricated moniker—a family name good enough for a long line of Poopies, extending back to the dark crack of antiquity, is certainly good enough for mere Dopers.
My thoughts are pithy, yet all encompassing; outwardly insightful, with a smidgen of blatantly sincere irony.
My thoughts are, in fact, of too great importance to share with the huddled masses of inferior humanity (i.e. everyone who is not me—e.g. you). Besides, I have neither the time nor inclination to actually type out and post the excretions of my fertile mind, only to have them consumed, digested and regurgitated as original thought by inferior synaptic firings posing as sapience. (I hope that did not come across as in any way condescending as that was certainly not my intention).
I’m perhaps the most beloved member of the SDMB community, which is something that I accept with humility and a dollop of self-deprecation.
…oh, and:
6) My thought processes are concise and non-intermittent.
7) I have not once, since T=0 of the Big Bang of creation been tempted to engage in hyperbole.
Fortunately I am still posting by time-travel relay from January 1889 in Austria-Hungary. I’d be back already, but I still haven’t decided whether to do Klara Pölzl in.
Yeah, but your name is Mr PoopiePants. 'Nough said.
Next! Skald/scald–sure, I’ll go there. You’re a liar. And you’re a deceiving, nasty tempered freak of a titan, mkay? I scoff at your anger (pizzas?! As if.)
If we’re going with monocles, I want a lorgnette.
