“Better look around you before you say you don’t care. Shut your fuckin’ mouth about the length of my hair. How would you survive if you were alive, shitty little person?” Frank Zappa, The Mother People (the censored verse)
We think of the U.S. Secret Service as the government agency that protects our federal leaders, “bona fide” presidential candidates, and members of their families. They also keep watch on various aspects of the American financial superstructure, including in cyberspace.
I await their move to shut down a con game so massive it makes the spirit of Charles Ponzi cross his legs in shame; that, of course, being cryptocurrency. Anybody who falls for that one deserves to be ripped off. But I digress.
It comes as a pleasant surprise that the Secret Service’s National Threat Assessment Center (NTAC) has taken on the threat of the incel, proving once again that Ronald Reagan was full of shit when he denounced federal employees. In case you don’t know or aren’t clear, “incel” stands for “involuntary celibate.” That’s a bunch of guys way too self-centered, insecure, and socially inept that they think that women have some sort of obligation to fuck them no matter how self-centered, insecure, socially inept, morally offensive and pathetically obnoxious they are. Incels think there’s some sort of contract that obligate women to put out for them.
This should not come as a surprise to those of us males who have attended even but a few pop culture conventions. This cannot come as a surprise to the vast majority of women.
As the Secret Service has shown us, these troglodytes can be violent and, at times, deadly.
The Guardian details several such incidents quoted in the NTAC report. This excerpt details one that illustrates incels are not simply frustrated middle-aged man-children with perpetual boners. “The report also cites the 2020 murder of the son of a US district court judge, Esther Salas, who was killed by 72-year-old Roy Den Hollander, a self-described ‘anti-feminist lawyer’ who believed ‘manhood is in serious jeopardy in America.’”
Let us not forget that there is a portion of the American right, and yes, I’m talking to you, asshole Republican Senator from Missouri Josh Hawley, you fucking nincompoop, who believe that the great American manhood has been severely weakened by feminists, video games and online pornography. Nope. I hate to tell you, Josh, but that great American manhood has been severely weakened by a bunch of dangerous whiny little bitches just like you.
As Frank Zappa states above, incels are not paying attention. You don’t have to look like Bruce Wayne at the gym in order to get laid by a woman. You have to be a fairly reasonable human. If I can get laid, guys, you can get laid.
If it appears as though I consider these incels to be the most vile and contemptable form of morlocks, well, congratulations. Either your appreciation of the English language is spot on, or your online translator works like a charm.
“Lemme take a minute and tell you my plan, lemme take a minute and tell who I am. If it doesn’t show, think you better know, I’m another person.” Ibid.
The first golden age comic book I ever purchased was Sensation Comics #7, 1942. It cover-featured Wonder Woman — H.G. Peter and William Marston, of course — and it co-starred features of which I had never heard. I thought Irwin Hasen and Bill Finger’s Wildcat was a great character, and I still do. Shelly Moldoff and Gardner Fox’s Black Pirate was adequate but dramatically drawn. A remarkably bad series from Jon L. Blummer and Bill Finger called Little Boy Blue and the Blue Boys lived up to the ambiance of its name, and that is a name you do not want to say too quickly. There was some filler material about stamps and things… and, oh yeah, there was a costumed superhero by Hal Sharp and Charles Reizenstein dubbed Mr. Terrific.
I enjoy going to comic book convention trivia panels when Mark Waid is on the dais. Not just because Mark knows almost everything, no matter how obscure, but because he is actually embarrassed that his knows minutiae as well as he knows trivia.
Follow-up questions: If he signs the new multi-picture deal, should Michael Keaton be counted twice? And will Bruce Wayne meet Adrian Toomes? 
Followers of this column, as well as its predecessor somewhere over there, are well aware of my observation that our friends over at DC have a tendency to hit the reset button as though they were voting against Trump. The latter is admirable. The former is… confusing.