Ever since I texted my girlfriend a joke about “Pussyville,” my phone’s been auto-correcting all the “P” words I type to “Pussyville.” So if I text you that I’m taking you to Pussyville, don’t get too excited—we’re probably going to P.F. Chang’s.
Batman probably doesn’t even need auto-correct. I’m sure every wireless communication Batman sends is flawless, concise, and to the point. If he texts you that he’s taking you to Pussyville, you can be damn sure you’re going straight to Pussyville. And then he’s going to take you to P.F. Chang’s.
I used to drop my Batman action figure off the third story balcony when I was a kid. “Aaaaaaaaaah!” he’d scream in an un-Batman-like fashion as he plunged to his death again and again. He’d explode with a loud “BAM!” every time he hit the driveway, sending his arms into the kudzu and his legs under the trampoline. He was never truly broken, though—it was easy to snap his parts back together again. All I had to do was fish his head out of the ivy.
My girlfriend’s phone is like that Batman figure. She’s always dropping it, or knocking it off the bed, or just letting it fall out of her hand. It explodes with a loud “BAM!” every time it hits the ground. In her defense, she’s probably dropping her phone in shock at the amount of Pussyville texts she’s getting. No matter how many times it shatters into pieces, she can always snap it back together and it runs just fine.
If Gotham City was a hot half-Korean girl with an encyclopedic knowledge of hip-hop, Batman would be her Samsung Galaxy S III. Throw him off the roof, he doesn’t give a shit. He’ll still upload your pics to Instagram. Hashtag #pussyville.
That’s probably what makes a good Batman. Not so much your indestructibility, but your ability to pull yourself together after you fall. He’s the hero Pussyville deserves! I mean Gotham. The hero Gotham deserves.
On consoles October 25.