How do you fuck Lois Lane? You do it in the missionary position. I know. With the lights out. Never experiment. No joy involved. In out in out. No thought of poor Lois Lane. Your greed in the bedroom knows no bounds. It’s me me me Superman. You manage five seconds. Grabbing. Ramming. No kiss kiss. Pounding. Not even a sweat. And afterwards you weep like a tortured fool missing his fingernails and teeth. Yes, you weep. You plead for God to bless your holy seed. Wasted. I bet when you roll off Lois Lane with you limp dick spent you thank her. You roll onto your side, close his eyes, and pray. I bet Lois Lane rubs one off thinking of Batman. Once a groupie always a groupie! Superman is for the elite. Superman votes Republican. Superman hates rock n roll. Superman hates poetry. Superman is day. Superman is never night. I see Superman in a floral tie and smoking a thick cigar and saying I want more and more I want it all. Superman reeks of whiskey and expensive aftershave. Superman does the double V for victory. Superman is obsessed with money. Superman is a narcissist. Superman is a bore. Superman has more billions than you. Superman has more friends than you. Superman would bore the shit out of you! Superman is verbose! Superman is aknowitall! one clause too many! In HIS chair, next to His fire, and He opines about everything and nothing, rants, shouts all the time. Is always in the Right. Superman is never wrong. Superman hates women. Superman is no feminist. Superman hates mothers. Superman hates little girls. Superman is a front room Victorian father. Superman is a Tyrant in the kitchen. Superman is a Puritan in the bedroom. I picture Superman and Lois Lane having a quiet night at home. He in His comfy chair, puffing on His thick cigar, rolling His eyes, complaining about those that have cancer, those that had any disease, those that need schools, those that need a dentist, those that have more than two children, those that are lazy, those that want to spend time having fun, those that don’t have a bank account, those that dream, those that want a better life, those that are not white! Lois Lane is drunk, knitting, cursing the black man, cursing the brown man, cursing the yellow man just to keep Superman happy. And then they go to bed, pray, turn off the lights and she starts with her hands, fingers roaming heavy breathing and you are thinking I should sock her, I should roundhouse her, I should karate chop her, I should shut her up. Superman never gives a man or a woman a second chance. You mess up and you’re out with Superman. One mess up and that’s it, down you go. There’s no ambivalence with Superman. Superman is always right. Yes, always right. Superman sits in His comfy chair, smoking on His thick cigar, drinking His fine whiskey, and remembers the Good Old’ Days! When men were men and women were women and business was business. Superman remembers crushing those free thinkers: General Zod and Ursa and Non and laughs. General Zod and Ursa and Non were hippies just longhaired hippies. Listened to too much Beatles and that Narc Leary! Lex Luthor bad? Hell. No. Superman puts down Lex Luthor. Why? Lex Luthor was a small-town boy, a self-made man, a huge success, a billionaire! Superman wants to return to the Golden Age, women in high heels and in the kitchen, mixing the drinks. Men ruling the bedroom. Superman always knows he is going to win. Superman made sure Supergirl was a flop. He used all of his powers within the Firm to destroy her. Supergirl didn’t stand a chance.