Because I am intensely bored

and I have no one else to tell this to, I'm going to write about the Flash. No, I'm not obsessed with the Flash—yes, this is that Flash, the DC superhero who runs super-fast—but I picked up a trade paperback called The Trial of the Flash, which covers about two years of the Flash comics from 1983 through 1985. In this "epic," which I'd heard called a classic, Flash goes on trial for killing a supervillain nemesis of his, Professor Zoom, AKA the Reverse-Flash.

This entire series of stories was so full of lunacy that I seriously wondered what the so-called creative process was like for it. I mean, at what point do you say that the best way to give Flash a change of facial features is to invent an intellectually challenged super-punchy guy for a few issues just to bust up Flash's face so that he has to get plastic surgery from super-intelligent gorilla hermits? Because I straight-up want that job, no matter how badly it pays: I want to invent things that make no goddamn sense and run with them, damn the torpedoes. Now, you may think that this could be made to make sense, but maybe this will make you think differently: no one notices the Flash has a new face. Seriously, he's been sitting in court with cameras on him for weeks on end and no one says, "Hey, Flash's face looks different today!" I mean, you can see his nose and the entire lower third of his face in his mask, and not one person says, "Wow, that's weird, let's pull up a file photo." This is writing for prepubescent rhesus monkeys hopped up on Red Bull and Twizzlers, readers with no long-term memory or sense of how normal people of average intelligence behave.

So here, then, is a recounting of The Trial of the Flash. This is one more instance of the completely useless nature of the Internet, as I'm basically writing a book report on the Flash's early-'80s adventures. Why? Because it would be really funny if this were the only document that survived into the deep future, and accordingly this was the only information future intelligent beings had about humans in the early twenty-first century. If somehow this is true, I'm not sorry, future persons, but neither am I especially proud.