You know that scene—which used to be a pretty standard one in superhero team comix—where the appropriate signal goes off (I’m thinking of that classic “4” flare the FF used) and all the superheroes have to drop what they’re doing and get to headquarters, or wherever the flare went off, or what have you? Sadly, I think that scene is the closest I will ever get to living a life right out of comic books.

For the first part of the week, I had been pestering Brian: “You don’t think the blackline is going to come in this week, do you?” “The blackline didn’t come in, did it?” “So the blackline never showed, right?” Because the week the blackline of the upcoming Previews comes in is the week Hibbs and I hastily (but lovingly!) assemble this very fine newsletter. The earlier I know the blackline’sin, the easier it is to set aside all the hours it requires for me to think of DC potty jokes (“No! Earth Two, not number two!”) and wry Zen parables (“If a freelancer is dropped from Crossgen and nobody is around to hear about it, does he still get paid?”) (Those two jokes alone took me over sixteen hours of Hunter S. Thompsonesque drug-taking). Because Hibbs’ response to my nagging inquiries ranged the gamut from “No!” to “If you call me one more time at two in the morning to ask me something, I’ll stab you in the neck with my newborn child!” I figured that I would have the week free to watch some movies, play some videogames, and do my taxes. (As Benjamin Franklin himself said: “Nothing in this world is certain except that there’ll be a Goth Chick at San Diego Con dressed up as Death, and taxes.” If only I could a chance to do one, and not the other!)

So then from out of the blue the call came in from Hibbs: “Blackline’s in.” (Cut to the panel of Ben Grimm storming out of the shower with a cap on his head hollering, “Aw, for the love of Mike!”) And yes, I know, lots of people—ordinary, well-adjusted people—get interrupted from their leisure activities for more important chores all the time and don’t think of themselves as members of the Fantastic Four. My only defense is, this column is called Fanboy Rampage, not Ordinary, Well-Adjusted Rampage…which is a shame because if it was, it’d get stolen by bloggers a lot less.

Accordingly, I don’t really have an idea for this FBR, as much of a germ of an idea. It came while watching the two hour finale of The Apprentice where Donald Trump was showing the “exclusive preview footage,” (which in a more naive time would have been called “vamping contentless bullshit.”) As The Donald was nattering on with intentional vagueness about “the even greater challenges faced by next season’s candidates,” I found myself thinking “Boy, wouldn’t it be great if the candidates for next season’s The Apprentice had to work for Lex Luthor?” I mean, It makes sense, if you think about it. When Byrne rebooted Superman back in the late ‘80s, he and Marv Wolfman were clearly thinking of Trump when they made Luthor the most powerful businessman in Metropolis with a weakness for women and an unrelenting ego.

After all, how many more episodes can we watch of Trump, the thick-fingered vulgarian going, “You have twenty-four hours to sell as many bottles of Trump Ice, my own brand of perspira—I mean, uh, bottled water—as you can. The winning team will be flown to Trump Circus and shot out of my own personal cannon. The losing team will see me, in the boardroom.” Wouldn’t the following do a better job of taking the whole concept to the next level?

[EXTERIOR: The ‘L’ shaped roof of Lexcorp, International, in the heart of downtown Metropolis. Two teams of well-dressed telegenic men and women watch reverently as a Lexcorp helicopter, flanked by a squad in Lexcorp battlesuits, lands on a pad. While dramatic Hans Zimmerish music plays, powerful, successful Lex Luthor strides from the copter up to the teams.]

LUTHOR
Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen. I hope you’ve recovered from your last challenge, because today is the roughest mission yet. Behind me are a squad of Lexcorp battlesuits, of Lex Suithors, as we call them. They are the most powerful fighting device known to man, and they retail for tens of billions of dollars. A small Central American country, no bigger than a fishing village, could become a major fighting power feared internationally with just three Lex Suithors. We have fourteen of them here on this roof. Just as there are fourteen of you, also here, on this roof. You see where this is going?

(Nervous laughter from the two teams.)

LUTHOR
That’s right. All of you are going to be putting on these power suits, and receiving a quick lesson in how to use them. Here at Lexcorp, no skills are more important in one of my managers than being able to learn fast, and think on your feet. So, after your quick lesson, you’ll be put into these staggeringly destructive powersuits…and sent out to destroy Superman. Are there any questions? Evan?

EVAN HUNTER
Uh, Mr. Luthor, wasn’t our last mission also to destroy Superman?

LUTHOR (shaking head)
No, Evan. Your last mission was a satellite imaging and research competition where the goal was to discover Superman’s identity. A goal, I should add, that all of you failed at.

EVAN HUNTER
Yes, Mr. Luthor, but wouldn’t that have essentially destroyed him?

LUTHOR
Listen, Evan. If you want to work for Lexcorp, there’s two things you have to understand. The first thing is the difference between essentially destroying somebody, and literally destroying somebody. The second thing is, at Lexcorp you always think about how you’re going to do something, but you’re never supposed to think about what you’re doing. Do you understand me, Mr. Hunter?

EVAN HUNTER
Yes, Mr. Luthor. I understand.

[CUT TO: Evan, standing in a preppy ensemble on the balcony of a Lexcorp company balcony.]

EVAN HUNTER
Growing up, I’ve always been the guy who pushed people’s buttons, and I’ve always been charming enough to pull it off. But I could tell Mr. Luthor is the type of boss who wants people to do what he says unconditionally, and I, I respect that. I mean, I don’t have anything against Superman, but it’s not like he’s done anything for me lately. I mean, a job’s a job, right? But Mr. Luthor doesn’t really want a manager who can pick up the finer points of operating powersuits, he wants a manager who can destroy Superman. And I think Mr. Luthor will respect me for clarifying that.

[BACK TO Lexcorp rooftop:]

LUTHOR
Now, the winning team who comes closest to destroying Superman in 24 hours will get an unbelievable reward. They’ll be flown to my private island, and have all day to bask in the rays of my Zeta Chamber, which will give them powers of super-strength, super-speed, and total invulnerability, while further diminishing their ability to tell right from wrong, or do anything except what I tell them to. [Pause] The losers will meet me, in the Hall of Doom…and one of you will be fired. Okay? So suit up.

***

[INTERIOR, LATER: Hall of Doom boardroom. Luthor sits at a long table, surrounded by the silhouettes of his evil lieutenants.]

LUTHOR
Okay. Evan, Archie, Jimmy, Arthur, Kinjo, Zed, Joe Casey, all of you, out of the boardroom. My managers and I will decide which one of you will be the next to go.

[The losing team shuffles out dejectedly.]

LUTHOR
Well, that’s not a happy group. And they all tried their best. But one of them has to go. Who should it be? Miss Teschmacher?

EVE TESSMACHER
(flouncing in her chair)
Oh, Lex, I don’t know. They’re all very…cute…boys. Why do you have to fire any of them?

LUTHOR
Because that’s the rules, Miss Teschmacher. Somebody wins…and somebody loses! That’s the game of life. Winners…and losers! You get it? Now, you watched the entire battle from our cloaked Lexcorp jet, didn’t you?

EVE TESSMACHER
Yes, Lex.

LUTHOR
And which one do you think did the worst job?

EVE TESSMACHER
Well, I noticed that nice young Archie Andrews boy had a clear shot at Superman with the kryptonite ray, but he hesitated.

LUTHOR
All right, then. That’s what I was asking for. Thank you.

(Turning to his right)

And what do you think, Otis?

OTIS
Uhhh, I think this hamburger needs more ketchup, Mistuh Luthuh!

LUTHOR
I mean, about the squad! The losing squad! Who did the worst job trying to kill Superman?

OTIS
Awww, I dunno, Mistuh Luthuh! I kinda got distracted thinking what Superman would look like wit’ no pants on…

LUTHOR
Incompetents. I am surrounded by utter incompetents.

(Sighs)

And what did you think, Bizarro?

BIZARRO
(Sitting in chair upside down so his legs hang over the top)
Ha, ha! Bizarro am worst manager of all because Bizarro watch every second! Ha, ha! Bizarro think Jimmy Olsen do best job destroying Superman because him closest friend of Superman! On Bizarro World friends show appreciation for each other by trying to kill them! Ha, ha!

LUTHOR
Wait. You’re saying the contestant Jimmy Olsen is Superman’s pal?

BIZARRO
Yes, Bizarro am not surprised Boss Luthor didn’t catch it sooner! Jimmy Olsen has been Superman’s pal for years and years! Hasn’t Boss Luthor been paying attention?

LUTHOR
Well…I’m a very busy man. I mean, who pays attention to the number two people? I’m always fixated on who’s number one!

BIZARRO
Bizarro once went number one on Earth Two, ha, ha! On Bizarro World, Bizarros only make number one in dining rooms and fine restaurants! On Bizarro World, best time to make number one is…

LUTHOR
Listen, you miscreant, nobody here wants to hear how a planet of backwards Superman manqués make lemonade! We…

BIZARRO
No! Earth Two, not Number Two! Because everyone on Earth refer to urinating as number one, on Bizarro World…

LUTHOR
Oh, shut up!

OTIS
Mistuh Luthuh, is there a chance I could get transferred to Bizarro World? Since you’re always describing me as an evolutionary throwback, maybe on Bizarro World I’d be considered “The Man…of the Future!”

EVE TESSMACHER
You know, Otis, that’s a very clever idea!

OTIS
Gee, Miss Tessmachuh, you think so? You really think so?

EVE TESSMACHER
Absolutely. Lex, can’t you transfer Otis to Bizarro World? Maybe he could head up the Lexcorp branch there…

LUTHOR
(Putting hands in head)
I don’t understand it. I’m the smartest man in the multiverse. I speak seventeen languages. I have a triple digit IQ. I can build a weapon of mass destruction using only a soup can, a Chuck Dixon script and a DVD of Ang Lee’s The Hulk! So why can’t I hire good people?

OMAROSA
Well, you did hire me, Lex.
(Luthor looks up at his fourth lieutenant.)

LUTHOR
Yes, I did, didn’t I, Omarosa?

OMAROSA
You certainly did, Mr. Luthor! And I haven’t let you down yet, have I?

LUTHOR
Well, there was that problem that came up when I sent you to negotiate on Apokolips…

OMAROSA
(tearfully)
Lex, how many times do I have to tell you? That wasn’t me, that was Superman in disguise! I would never betray you to Darkseid.
(A beat)
Plus, Kalibak called me “the N-word!”

OTIS
Miss Tessmacher, does this ketchup stain on my tie look like a state to you?

EVE TESSMACHER
I wasn’t very good at geometry, Otis. Maybe Bizarro would know!

BIZARRO
Of course, Bizarro would know! Ha, ha! On reality TV, Bizarro know everything and make perfect sense! Ha, ha!

EVE TESSMACHER
Wait, Bizarro, I’m confused. Does that mean that you don’t know anything and make no sense? Or by qualifying that, did you mean Reality TV is the perfect opposite of reality, which means you really do know everything and make perfect sense…?

BIZARRO
Ha, ha! Bizarro answer either/or question by saying: Yes! Ha, ha! Because Bizarro am asshole and only assholes get air time on Reality TV! Ha, ha! Hello! Ha, ha! Hello!