Hi, my name is Peter Parker, and I made a deal with the devil, Mephisto. I did this in order to save my dear, old Aunt May from dying from a sniper bullet intended for me. In exchange for her life, all the cool shit that's happened to me in the last 25 years got erased. I'm not married. My secret identity that I stupidly revealed to the entire world is now secret again. After fighting a dude that wants to kill spider-powered beings (yes...beingS...there's more than one of me out there) and almost getting killed, only to form a spider-cocoon and come out of it healed and with enhanced powers...well..all that cool stuff is gone. No more organic web-shooters, no crazy wolverine spikes that pop out of my arms, no enhanced strength or senses.
I'm back to normal.
All that to save the life of my 150 year-old aunt.
Marvel would call this a retcon. A recton is this: To retroactively change the continuity of a character or title.
Basically it goes like this: Marvel realizes that it entirely fucked up on its history of Spider-Man, and decided to right the wrong, and make things easier for them to create entertaining stories. To me, creating stories with a stronger version of their flagship character would open up things. Bigger, badder enemies? Eh...maybe.
On the other hand, marriage is a bitch...especially if you're a photographer, and you're married to a friggin' supermodel. I wouldn't want to write about that shit. No way.
So...people are crying foul.
"Thanks for erasing 25 years of Spider-Man history and memories from my life."
That's the big one.
But think about it. It's not like the editors just woke up one day and said, "Let's fuck up Spider-Man, and piss off all of our fans." No. They thought about it. They thought about, "What's the best way to tell new and interesting stories while introducing a new fan base to their favorite hero?"
"And...how can we make a little money on it."
I decided to post my last entry. The first week after I broke my elbow, it just flat-out hurt to use. After that first week, it's been usable. I just guess I needed a typing break.
So, I'm back.
I haven't even really looked at my site. For all I know it could have been taken over by renegade bloggers, hell bent on the destruction of bloggerkind as we know it. Imagine a dystopian, Mad Max-type future where blogs are scarce and fueled only by scarce sources of Mountain Dew, Bugles and Easy Cheese. Imagine going to the Bloggerdome: TWO BLOGS ENTER, ONE BLOG LEAVES! Imagine Mel Gobsom (Yes...in the future he is known as Mel Gobsom) typing furiously, avoiding flame-wars, while writing about his kitten.
This is the future, my friends.
Except back then, I think I was funnier. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think that I'm funny, but I could express myself so much easier. I had this wit and wry cynicism that I can't seem to tap into in writing anymore.
Here's an example of my writing, found on archive.org:
December 20. 2000 6:25 AM
It's a sad day.
I have finally achieved geekdom. As of 6:30 PM CST, December 19, 2000, I have become one of the Playstation elite. After dropping the girlfriend off at her house, I decided to go "shopping". First stop; Shinder's to get my big bro a few comic book related Christmas gifts. Then to Barnes and Noble for another gift to me. For kicks, I decide to go to the local mall. After a 20 minute bout with idiot drivers, a mindlessly organized parking lot and inane pedestrians, I finally make my way inside. Extremely crabby, I stomp inside through the HomePlace entrance. Directly past the mall entrance of HomePlace is a little store called Best Buy. I walk inside. Every checkout lane is asshole to asshole. Needless to say, I make my way to the computer stuff, because, well, I'm a geek. As I walk past the Video Game stuff, I notice a line of about 6 people deep. Shorter than any other checkout lane, yet more intriguing. I notice a little blue box being passed from one cashier to another, who puts it in a bag, and gives it to a customer. I don't think anything of it, so I walked past the line and the cashiers and the Playstation 2's. As I reach the aisle of choice, it donned on me. They're selling PS2's! I make my way towards the line and notice that it hasn't gotten any deeper than was it was before. I place myself in the back of the line and wait. Curious, I ask the idiot next to me how many are left. I get a mumbled answer and respond with an equally mumbled grunt noise resembling an "Oh". As the line gets shorter, I come to the realization that the checking account my check card draws from has the low, low amount of roughly 100 bucks. I decide to go ahead with the deal, knowing that I'd quickly forget the possible 27 dollar overdraft fee I would be charged. To make a long story short...
I have a Playstation 2 and you probably don't. So there.