SERIOUSLY THOUGH SHE WAS MY FAVORITE BATMAN VILLAIN
Her physical condition didn’t allow her to age
No one took her seriously as an actress
And even when she was trying to get into a happy romantic relationship (albeit with another villain) he still couldn’t take her seriously as a consenting, sexually active and romantically interested adult
That’s a lot of blows to someone’s psyche
and Babydoll is both a sympathetic villain and a formidable one
I remember this episode fucked me up a a kid.
And man, do I wish we could see this Batman again: the Batman that consoles his villains, because the majority (if not all) of them are mentally ill people. And Batman knows this and wants them healthy again, not punished and GOD definitely not dead.
Baby Doll is so underrated as a Batman villain
but her episode was perfect
Batman: The Animated Series
The story of one fucked up, traumatized little boy, doing his best to help other fucked up traumatized people.
The Batman that cares about the inmates is my favorite. He doesn’t put up with their shit, but he does try to reach out here and there and he’s as human as he can be to them.
When Harley was re-institutionalized, he got her that dress she wanted.
In the comics based on B:tAS, there was a time during Christmas that there was snow and it was Mr. Freeze’s fault, and he was making it snow because Christmas was his anniversary with Nora and she LOVED it when it snowed on Christmas, so Batman let him finish mourning before calmly taking him back to Arkham.
He never, ever gives up on Harvey possibly recovering.
Sure, Batman is going to throw punches and do what it takes to take these guys down when they’re hurting or threatening people. And he’s not going be a complete bleeding heart; he has to protect the innocent. He’s going to take them down and take them back to Arkham, but it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of being a bit human to the ones who deserve it.
Batman needs become human again
Because it needs to be here:
Remember that time a young girl with near god-like psychic powers threatened to destroy reality and the only one that could stop her was Batman because he had a previous encounter with her and was tasked with killing her to restore reality.
But instead, Batman sat with her on a swing and kept her company as the girl’s psychic powers slowly killed her.
No?
Fuck you people making me emotional
The. Batman.
This is MY Batman, not the murderous fascist they’ve made him into.
SERIOUSLY THOUGH SHE WAS MY FAVORITE BATMAN VILLAIN
Her physical condition didn’t allow her to age
No one took her seriously as an actress
And even when she was trying to get into a happy romantic relationship (albeit with another villain) he still couldn’t take her seriously as a consenting, sexually active and romantically interested adult
That’s a lot of blows to someone’s psyche
and Babydoll is both a sympathetic villain and a formidable one
I remember this episode fucked me up a a kid.
And man, do I wish we could see this Batman again: the Batman that consoles his villains, because the majority (if not all) of them are mentally ill people. And Batman knows this and wants them healthy again, not punished and GOD definitely not dead.
Baby Doll is so underrated as a Batman villain
but her episode was perfect
Batman: The Animated Series
The story of one fucked up, traumatized little boy, doing his best to help other fucked up traumatized people.
The Batman that cares about the inmates is my favorite. He doesn’t put up with their shit, but he does try to reach out here and there and he’s as human as he can be to them.
When Harley was re-institutionalized, he got her that dress she wanted.
In the comics based on B:tAS, there was a time during Christmas that there was snow and it was Mr. Freeze’s fault, and he was making it snow because Christmas was his anniversary with Nora and she LOVED it when it snowed on Christmas, so Batman let him finish mourning before calmly taking him back to Arkham.
He never, ever gives up on Harvey possibly recovering.
Sure, Batman is going to throw punches and do what it takes to take these guys down when they’re hurting or threatening people. And he’s not going be a complete bleeding heart; he has to protect the innocent. He’s going to take them down and take them back to Arkham, but it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of being a bit human to the ones who deserve it.
Batman needs become human again
Because it needs to be here:
Remember that time a young girl with near god-like psychic powers threatened to destroy reality and the only one that could stop her was Batman because he had a previous encounter with her and was tasked with killing her to restore reality.
But instead, Batman sat with her on a swing and kept her company as the girl’s psychic powers slowly killed her.
No?
Fuck you people making me emotional
The. Batman.
This is MY Batman, not the murderous fascist they’ve made him into.
I have a Nintendo Entertainment System in my apartment. Two controllers, the orange gun, all that. I found it in a black plastic garbage bag, which was in storage along with most of the rest of my stuff. I don’t know where this NES came from, but that’s how things are. You get stuff and forget about it.
I was kind of excited, you know, for nostalgia reasons, but I was bummed when I saw no cartridges or game cases in the bag. There was nothing in the box, either. An NES and no games. The torture.
But something everyone always did was forget that they left the cartridge in the console, and sure enough, there was a good copy of Batman waiting to be played. I never completed this when I bought it at an Inglewood yard sale years and years ago. I didn’t think I’d finish it that day, but it was a chance to bring back old memories. Old memories are the best.
The lesson I took away from that five minute ordeal was that satisfaction is assured. The universe abides.
I played some Batman (really, just level 1), and it was pretty great. Then I moved on to something else.
I have a Nintendo Entertainment System in my apartment. Two controllers, the orange gun, all that. I found it in a black plastic garbage bag, which was in storage along with most of the rest of my stuff. I don’t know where this NES came from, but that’s how things are. You get stuff and forget about it.
I was kind of excited, you know, for nostalgia reasons, but I was bummed when I saw no cartridges or game cases in the bag. There was nothing in the box, either. An NES and no games. The torture.
But something everyone always did was forget that they left the cartridge in the console, and sure enough, there was a good copy of Batman waiting to be played. I never completed this when I bought it at an Inglewood yard sale years and years ago. I didn’t think I’d finish it that day, but it was a chance to bring back old memories. Old memories are the best.
The lesson I took away from that five minute ordeal was that satisfaction is assured. The universe abides.
I played some Batman (really, just level 1), and it was pretty great. Then I moved on to something else.
We used to have an old hi-fi stereo in the living room. My pop made a big deal about the receiver, which hummed when it was powered up. He also owned an old record player and a box full of old 12-inch LPs. They smelled like dust and mold. I found a strange Iron Butterfly record in the box and listened to the B-side a few times before I cared about any music that wasn’t a theme song for a television show. I might have been lying on that old shag carpet that came with the house before they replaced it with wood flooring. The song was like a long road. I once fell asleep listening to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” and didn’t wake up until the next morning.
My ma used to vacuum and clean the kitchen with the radio tuned to one of the Spanish stations that played los exitos. The announcers had deep, excitable voices. I’ve learned to imitate them for comedic effect.
That receiver and record player sat on top of two tall wood grain speakers, all of which was hidden from view when the living room door was opened so that the breeze could come in past the shiny black grate of the steel security door. We sometimes opened the windows and rolled open the glass window slats to allow the sunlight to flood in past the security bars on the windows.
These details are all incidental. The only real reason to be in the living room was to watch the CRT TV that sat on the shag and rotated slightly on its axis. When my pop found that television is was infested with cockroaches, which he managed to clear out after several hours with it in the garage. It was new enough to be digital and displayed the channels in big green numbers on the front, just above the number pad. There was a remote control with tape around the battery cover but it didn’t work too well. As the oldest, I never had to get up to change the channel.
We used to watch a lot of Ninja Turtles on that television. We collected the cards and watched it like it was the preacher.
If I wanted to chase after Shredder in that house, I ran in a circle. I probably began in the living room and stomped into the central hallway, alongside all the big drawers and closets on the left and my small (tiny) bedroom on the right. I was always Donatello because I was intelligent, even before I was really intelligent. I chased after Shredder wielding a long broom handle and we turned at the bathroom door to enter the kitchen, where I sometimes managed to hit Shredder on the shoulder, lightly enough to be safe but hard enough to get a squeaked child reaction. We continued through the breakfast nook and back into the living room where the chase might end on the old twill couch.
Once, I sat on the couch and wrote “YA NO TE AMO” on the inside of a snapple bottle cap, then sent Abe or Chris to deliver it to my ma, who was sitting on the side stoop with a cigarette and the mangy yard dogs who used to be fancy poodles. She never told me what she thought about it. You must understand that I really wanted to go to the pool with my best friend Ivan and his family. It was cruelty to not allow me to go.
Satisfied with my rejoinder, I sat on the couch and turned on the television to Saturday afternoon shows. The old Adam West Batman show was on, and although I wasn’t really a fan of something as old as Batman, it was enough to pass the time lying on the carpet, listening to commercials and traffic in between the fighting of crime.
We used to have an old hi-fi stereo in the living room. My pop made a big deal about the receiver, which hummed when it was powered up. He also owned an old record player and a box full of old 12-inch LPs. They smelled like dust and mold. I found a strange Iron Butterfly record in the box and listened to the B-side a few times before I cared about any music that wasn’t a theme song for a television show. I might have been lying on that old shag carpet that came with the house before they replaced it with wood flooring. The song was like a long road. I once fell asleep listening to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” and didn’t wake up until the next morning.
My ma used to vacuum and clean the kitchen with the radio tuned to one of the Spanish stations that played los exitos. The announcers had deep, excitable voices. I’ve learned to imitate them for comedic effect.
That receiver and record player sat on top of two tall wood grain speakers, all of which was hidden from view when the living room door was opened so that the breeze could come in past the shiny black grate of the steel security door. We sometimes opened the windows and rolled open the glass window slats to allow the sunlight to flood in past the security bars on the windows.
These details are all incidental. The only real reason to be in the living room was to watch the CRT TV that sat on the shag and rotated slightly on its axis. When my pop found that television is was infested with cockroaches, which he managed to clear out after several hours with it in the garage. It was new enough to be digital and displayed the channels in big green numbers on the front, just above the number pad. There was a remote control with tape around the battery cover but it didn’t work too well. As the oldest, I never had to get up to change the channel.
We used to watch a lot of Ninja Turtles on that television. We collected the cards and watched it like it was the preacher.
If I wanted to chase after Shredder in that house, I ran in a circle. I probably began in the living room and stomped into the central hallway, alongside all the big drawers and closets on the left and my small (tiny) bedroom on the right. I was always Donatello because I was intelligent, even before I was really intelligent. I chased after Shredder wielding a long broom handle and we turned at the bathroom door to enter the kitchen, where I sometimes managed to hit Shredder on the shoulder, lightly enough to be safe but hard enough to get a squeaked child reaction. We continued through the breakfast nook and back into the living room where the chase might end on the old twill couch.
Once, I sat on the couch and wrote “YA NO TE AMO” on the inside of a snapple bottle cap, then sent Abe or Chris to deliver it to my ma, who was sitting on the side stoop with a cigarette and the mangy yard dogs who used to be fancy poodles. She never told me what she thought about it. You must understand that I really wanted to go to the pool with my best friend Ivan and his family. It was cruelty to not allow me to go.
Satisfied with my rejoinder, I sat on the couch and turned on the television to Saturday afternoon shows. The old Adam West Batman show was on, and although I wasn’t really a fan of something as old as Batman, it was enough to pass the time lying on the carpet, listening to commercials and traffic in between the fighting of crime.
