There’s a lot about me you can take umbrage with. I’m a lawless vigilante with no public accountability who judges guilt without due process. I converse in a gravelly undertone that’s barely comprehendible. I’m a superhero without any discernible superpowers. But I am definitely not the origin of the human spread of COVID-19. I’m not even half-man, half-bat. I only wear bat cosplay to unnerve criminals who, despite their hardened exteriors, are spooked by inoffensive flappy mammals.
It’s all just another conspiracy theory propagated by the kind of people that believe Steve Jobs faked his own death so he could download his consciousness into the internet to have an affair with Siri. So please stop graffitiing the Batmobile with hurtful slogans like “The Caped Contager” and “The Dark Blight.”
Besides, there’s speculation that the disease could have jumped species from pangolins. Yet you don’t see folk dissing Pangolinman.
For my money, it’s more likely the infection is generated by 5G technology. Sure, scientists assert that electromagnetic radiation is incapable of disseminating viruses, but they also claimed it was impossible to concoct a gun that transformed innocent citizens into human popsicles. Well, that’s news to Mr Freeze, Brainiac.*
ZAP!—take that, peer-reviewed science journal.
Or maybe the flat-Earthers that communicate with Elvis are right. Maybe the disease was created by Bill Gates so he could inject data-collecting nanotech into us along with the vaccine (which he has, as yet, neglected to develop, the idiot). It’s true that billionaires are psychologically screwed-up individuals harboring bizarre secrets. For example, I know one who has an enormous cave excavated beneath his mansion, jam-packed with crime detection hardware. I can’t reveal who, but let’s just say his wealth is unlikely to “wane” any day soon.
If Gates is planning to use contaminated injectables, he’s missing a chance. He could don a cape and call himself Poison IV.
I’m spreading some conspiracy theories of my own. I don’t necessarily subscribe to them, but if I put them out there, they might deflect the heat off me by distracting those that consider a tinfoil hat to be a valid fashion statement. My favorite is that the virus was created by Greta Thunberg.
Think about it. Can it really be a coincidence that, barely months after delivering a ground-breaking speech to the United Nations in which she bemoans the environmental plight of the planet and bulldozes the blame squarely onto the shoulders of baby boomers, a disease emerges that threatens the elderly yet has a scant effect on the young? A disease that decimates industry and grounds aviation? The canals of Venice become translucent, oxygen ventures tentatively back into several cities, and a reduction of reflective particles in the upper atmosphere results in less spectacular sunsets. It all adds up. Thunberg may as well adopt a costume and call herself Teen Greenrage, Queen Climate, or some such.
Or maybe it was instigated by fundamentalist hermits eager to impose their beliefs and force us into isolation. These are all credible notions.
Anyway, gotta fly (figuratively speaking; I have no superpowers). Gotham needs me. Have to admit, I feel like a trendsetter when I slip on the mask these days. Seems I was ahead of the pack. Then I realize how ineffectual my mask is, the nose and mouth being the only things that aren’t covered. Deadpool got it right: the full Pussy Riot effect. Marvel reads the room again, making DC look like amateurs.
*This is intended as a generic pejorative and in no way reflects on, or defames, the evil and highly litigious supervillain of the same name.