No swear to Christ - I'm Batman, bitches.

Simply put, yesterday saw more seismic life-changing events, when I interviewed Adam West during the opening of an exhibit featuring his original artwork, mostly depicting Batman villains, commemorating the TV show's 40th anniversary.

West is pretty much how you'd expect - mellow, quirky, airy ... and just a fun guy to chat with.

And his "Birth of Batman" painting? Seriously one of the most effed-up things I've ever seen: A woman in clear agony with this little guy popping out from between her thighs wearing nothing but a Batman cowl. I think I have permanent retinal damage.

Anyways, I ask West what separates Batman from other superheroes, specifically our culture's need to constantly re-invent and re-interpret the caped-crusader. Sure, we have other heroes like Superman ingrained in our collective psyche ... but they're always portrayed as the same guy. Hell, look at the new Superman movie coming out. Looks cool? Sure, why not - but it doesn't appear they're covering any new ground here, or creating some drastically new re-telling, ala Chris Nolan's Batman Begins movie, the latest Gotham installment ... a movie that really grows on you, by the way.

Really, the question's a softball. The obvious answer's that Batman's just an ordinary guy - no superpowers.

And that's exactly what West starts telling me. But then he pauses and stares at me...

And says the words that will forever change my existence:


"He looks like you, as a matter of fact."


No, wait - I don't think you got that:


"HE LOOKS LIKE YOU, AS A MATTER OF FACT."


That's right, you heard correctly: The original Batman has crowned ME his successor. Needless to say I don't remember the rest of the interview ... I just lobbed him a bunch of questions and apparently he answered them. The important exchange had already occurred, which I have documented on tape. This changes everything.

And like any other mild-mannered person with a secret superhero alter-ego, I walked into a house-party after work and immediately announced to everyone "I'M BATMAN!!" and of course there were the doubters and the haters, but I don't care - I'm already designing my new utility belt and I'm not sure if I go with tights or the new rubber suit from the movies ... probably the latter, for everyone's sake.

Of course, Betty the trusty 4-Runner is from here on out referred to as "The Batmobile." I'm still not sure who's worthy of being my Robin sidekick, plus there aren't many criminally insane masterminds out in the desert ... and there are other challenges. But I'm just glad I've found my true calling - 'makes that year of J-school totally worth it.


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Speaking of the desert, it cooled to a breezy 107 degrees this evening once the sun set. No, I am not fucking kidding. This is getting ridiculous. I feel like I'm stuck in a bad Dune novel, those giant sand worms ready to surface as I drive along the 10 and devour The Batmobile. Tonight we had a softball doubleheader, and the amount of water I gulped in the dugout should have stretched my stomach or cramped me up or had me running to the boys room or all of the above ... but it didn't. ...It just evaporates away. Don't ever come here, seriously.





And speaking of giant sand worms, that reminds me: The insectoids that emerge here in the summer are frickin gi-normous! (Keep in mind this comes from someone whose last postal code was on the equator.) I'm talking those fuckers from Starship Troopers ... if you stare long enough, you can almost see them evolving into a superior master species, their wavy little antennae scoping you out...


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Oh, and my new ultra-secret Batman identity couldn't have come at a better time. Let's put it this way: If a girl you're involved with tells you that you remind her of a cartoon Al Gore, well ... is that a bad sign?