Utterly frivolous things you'd do with super-powers, just to be a jerk

Looking over this Pit thread on diamond rings, I found myself utterly in agreement with the OP about the insanity of the diamond industry’s having convinced people that parting with two months’ salary for a diamond ring is reasonable. Then, because I’m a geek, I found myself thinking, that–if I were had Superman’s powers, I would devote one weekend a month to turning lumps of coal into diamond and leaving them in random spots where they’d be easily found, just to screw with the De Beers company.

Which brings us to today’s silly Skald question: what would you do, given Superman’s powers, just to be a jerk?

Except that’s not Superman being a dick, that’s Superman foiling a villanous crime ring known as the DeBeers cartel. That’s Superman’s fucking JOB. So, good play leaving random diamonds around Superman. Clever.

Anyway, perhaps killing your wife, best friend, fellow superheroes, and random passersby, all while grinning like a loon qualifies as being a jerk?

I’d scramble all the cars in the parking lot where I work. Come quitting time, mass confusion. :wink:

I’d go around smashing out the fog lights on cars. But only for people who drive with them on during clear nights. I’d do the same thing to people who drive with high beam lights on while on the freeway. I have a whole slew of car-related pet peeves, so it’s a good thing Superman doesn’t age like regular people.

I guess I’d be more likely to find the top execs at De Beers and convince them that I’d use my heat vision on thier happy parts if they didn’t stop with the blood diamonds and ludicrous prices.

I’m sorry, I keep coming back to the X-ray vision thing. Used sparingly and selectively of course.

Oh, crap, I forgot about cars. You know what I’d do? Every time I hear a car alarm with my superhearing, I’ll fly over there and turn off the car alarm. With one super-punch into the engine compartment.

Also, cars that break down on the 520 floating bridge will be moved out of the way of other motorists by tipping them into Lake Washington. No need to thank me.

I’d get seats to every game the Giants ever play and sit in the stands in disguise. I’d then use my Super-Breath (Yes, you read that right) to make sure every fly ball hit to the Giants outfield misses the fielders glove by that much, and that every potential home run that Bonds ever hits falls just a leeetle bit short of the fence. Then I’d use my heat vision to set fire to Donald Trump’s toupee.

Oh, and the whole x-ray vision thing.

Everytime I heard anyone’s car stereo (especiallywhen I was inside) I would fry it.

I would locate the assholes who are plaguing our city with scratchitti and scratch their fucking tags into their skin!!!

No, wait, that’s probably a good deed.


X-Ray vision?

I’d fly around the Earth fast enough to cause it to spin backwards and go back in time by a few days. I’d turn 5pm Friday into 9am the previous Monday. That’s pretty jerkish.

Or just turn it back in time for a couple of days in a row randomly, so people get to live the same day over and over. Come to think of it, if no one knows, it’s not very jerkish.

Erm–what’s the point? No one would notice but you, Kang, and Kodos.

I’d be Super Grammar Lady, and fly around removing extra apostrophes and quotation marks using my super eraser vision.

I’d just go around messing with people on cell phones.

Heh - that’d be fun.

I have another one!

Replace the TV feed at the 700 Club with incestuous lesbian twin bestiality videos until all their licenses are reversed.

Sorry, dear. That doesn’t qualify as “frivolous,” much less sufficiently jerkish.

With my super powers, I could make people notice.

Ummm…you’ll be sure to let me know when you do that, won’t you? I need to get the Tivo programmed.

Then there’s the old standby of removing everything from random people’s houses and replacing them with exact duplicates.

I’d use my powers to convince the Phelps Klan that I was God and was going to smote them for being mean to the gayfolk. After tormenting them for about a hundred years, I’d kill them all.

How do you torture Fred Phelps for a hundred years? He’s already, what, in his 60s?