I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I have to warn you. With bed-head aloft, I dug through my pile of clean, unfolded laundry to find a pair of pants. Now I know I don't love pants but I also know that, due to some cockamamie societal rule, I can't get away without pants, either. I wrote a song about it:
Say “pants” fifteen times fast. Now say “jerk” because that's what you are for listening to me. Without a doubt though, right now, the number one jerk on my jerk list is Stan Lee, the short-sighted creator of the Hulk.
I'm a long-time reader of Stan, first-time complainer. A little background for non-Hulk enthusiasts: So the Hulk is an ordinary nuclear physicist that gets exposed to obscene amounts of gamma rays one day. His genes (but not his jeans) were in turn mutated so that whenever he gets angry, he morphs into this 8-foot tall, 800-pound green monster with a bowl haircut. He speaks in choppy sentences like, “Hulk smash,” “Hulk likey,” and “Bread make Hulk poop.”
This weekend, I was watching previews of this new Hulk film about to be released and the thing that really struck me was the pants. It got me thinking. Now, I have five pairs of functional pants, one for each day of the workweek, which gets me to the weekend when I wear nothing but thongs and luau skirts. If something were to happen to one of my five pairs of pants, I'd be furious.
So what happens to Bruce Banner's pants when he turns into the Hulk? What happens every time his local Deli guy forgets to go light on the mayo on his bologna sandwich and Banner loses his shit? From 6-foot, 185 pounds, and a 32-inch waist to 8-foot, 800 pounds, 128-inch waist? There's got to be some raping and pillaging of the neighborhood known as Banner's pants there. I'm talking pure hell for those pants, one would think.
Now I appreciate Stan Lee's imaginary worlds as much as the next nerd but I think he fell a little short on the pants thing. Instead of tackling a sticky situation, Stan just assumes his readers will be fine with Hulk assuming purple Capri pants every time Banner goes postal. But where do the Capris come from, Stan? Purple pants? Purple fucking pants? Bruce Banner is a khakis guy. I don't see khakis changing into purple pants, size XXXXXXL. The idea that an eight-foot mutant that throws tanks around like it’s his manifest destiny is bound by the same societal rules that I am: to wear pants is absurd.
On the contrary, I figure he should be prancing around with his Hulkhood dangling to and fro. His testicles the size of bowling balls that would have the name “Dozer” engraved on it. No wonder the Hulk is angry; he's got his boys wrapped up in underwear 32 sizes too small.
There are too many questions surrounding the pants that are just left unanswered. I made an attempt to summarize my key pants concerns in the hopes that Stan Lee might come crawling to face facts. The Hulk should not wear pants. Nor Capris. Nor should they be purple. I came up with five pressing questions, one for each letter in Pants.
P - Are the Hulk's pants stain guarded? How do they never get dirty despite his propensity to crash through walls and fight machines?
A - How much money does poor Bruce Banner have to spend on new pants a year? Wouldn't that money be better spent in anger management?
N - Does Banner opt for elastic waists?
T - Are the pants mood pants or Freaky Freezy pants that change color depending on the condition?
S - Has the Hulk ever stubbed a toe? This isn't pants-related but I'm impressed he never hurts his toes walking around barefoot like that.
Come on, Stan, let's see if you're man enough to own up to your mistakes.
© MMIII, Yankee Pot Roast Light & Magic