The Joker flew into a rage following failure of his new YouTube video to go viral. Efforts to sedate him similarly failed due to his high tolerance to anti-psychotic drugs.
According to psychiatrists at Arkham,” Hell, his half-assed effort to appear sane was about as successful as current gun-control laws and half as batshit crazy as Duck Dynasty. We figured it might just fly!” Following are excerpts from The Joker’s rambling 3-hour video.
Good evening Arkham! I’m the Joker and all I’ve got to say is I WAS FRAMED!!!! I’m not that vilified fictional character, slandered for decades in film and comics. I’m a real person and much less of a menace than that guy behind you in his Hummer talking on a cell phone.
I’m not homicidal unless you cut me off in traffic. And I may be deliriously misguided but even I know that privacy is an illusion. I’m the embodiment of skewed views, sure, but I’m also the antithesis of unrestrained, uninformed opinion, irrelevant dialog and inaccurate depiction. I’m a false impression designed to be extrapolated to disaster. Or I’m a vehicle for satirical discourse, nothing more. But, I’m probably more like you than you think.
I’m locked away here in Arkham, a victim of selective societal censorship and unpopular conjecture. In other words, they shut down my “pyrotechnic art display”. What’s it take to get some recognition in this town? So after being hidden away here in Arkham for a while, it occurred to me that maybe I need to get a grip on the anger issues. So I’ve done some reading in the library and decided to explore expressing myself in ways other than a homicidal rage. Dr. Crane suggested I start a blog. He also suggested I “fear him”, so the blog seemed like the better alternative.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Why should I take the blame for my own actions? I’m a scapegoat for the failure of others, placed here by the Batman (who is only an idea, nothing more). We all have a Batman in our midst, the same Batman that puts us all in cages, frightening us into silence from the darkness.
Lurking around in ways that would get me arrested. He is Version 6.0 of the Thought Police using the power of alienation to force conformity. And you have admit my purple and green combo isn’t exactly comformed dress. My entire universe is Arkham, but at least in this universe, I am surrounded by friends and other misfits. Here they call me “Jack”.
Dr. Crane also figured it would be good therapy to express myself through music, so I’d like to give a short concert with just me and my guitar. At first, I was going to play some Ray Charles on the banjo, but I just don’t see that happening now. The banjo is such a happy instrument. You just can’t play the blues on a banjo.
Wanna meet my friends? DO IT!!! I think you might know them anyway. First, I wanna give a shout out to The Riddler who couldn’t be here in person this evening because he’s undergoing shock therapy. But, he wanted me to read this little riddle for you. It sucks, but here goes…um….how is Batman like Pamela Anderson’s boobs? All three are fakes!! BUH-DUMP-BUMP. Give it up for Cat Woman on snare drum, folks…those were her boobs bouncing off of it. Yeah, she’s seen better days.
Yo, Penguin, thanks for being here. Glad to see you’re finally taking a balanced diet and dental hygiene seriously. Whassup Bane, how’s the detox going? Ah, right…one day at a time, Brother….one day at a time.
Not all of them showed up for the show. In the cell next mine is an ex-FBI agent. I talked to him briefly while they were hosing out his cell. He says UFOs kidnapped his sister and the government is covering it up. AH, HA, HAA, HAAAA! Yeah, that sucker is crazy!
Over there is a journalist who wrote a Pulitzer Prize winning expose about disinformation and the public being misinformed, deceived and led into a war. That’s not so bad…but when he takes his glasses off he thinks he’s an alien sent to Earth as an infant to rescue the world. Show him anything green and he flips out. And he discovered the hard way that he wasn’t bullet-proof after they found some disinformation he overlooked in his research. So he had no X- ray vision, either. I can’t figure out why there aren’t more politicians in here. But like beauty, insanity is in the eye of the beholder. And in the Land of the Loon, the sane man is screwed.
Then there’s me, singing folk songs, square dancing and looking like Bob Dylan with green hair. This evening, I wanted to sing a song close to my heart. But they took it away when they arrested me so I’m going to use this rubber facsimile to remind me of homicidal days long past. This is a song I wrote several years ago while I was depressed about global warming. But current events prompted me to re-write it with more relevant lyrics, lyrics which express the human condition today. It’s a song of alienation, isolation, degradation, and finally emancipation.
I…HEY! Get off the stage!!
I prefer to call it the “The Joker’s Blues” but in order to give proper credit to Gilbert O’ Sullivan…let’s call it “A Loon Again (Naturally)”.
“In a little while from now
Batman’s gonna learn how
I can gain in wealth and flirt with death
without graphics reading “Bang” and “Pow”.
I’ve selected the meds to stop,
and I’m climbing to the top
of the crime scene,
so you’ll know I mean
what I say now that I’m shattered!
Standing in the rain,
with the pain of a smile frozen
upon my face,
as white as paste.
So now no more restraining,
my dark and moody tone
because I’m on my own.
A loon again, naturally.
To think that only yesterday
people thought I dressed too gay,
and looking forward to what Batman would do
to harass me every night and day.
He’d always knock me down.
But, insanity came around
and without so much,
as a mere touch
I splintered into little pieces.
Leaving me to doubt
talk about God and His mercy
’cause if He really does exist
he still let’s Batman hurt me.
But, I’m not the only one
who’s harassed just for fun.
A loon again, naturally.
It seems to me that there are more hearts
broken in the world
that can’t be mended.
What would you do,
if it were you?
Looking back over the years,
I see shattered hopes and fears.
I remember I cried about wounded pride
heaped on me by my callous peers.
And by thirty-five years old
the darkness overtook my soul.
Now I understand as an older man,
all the bullsh#t I have taken.
So I intend to start
to fix a heart so badly broken
from few supportive words for me,
or kindly deeds unspoken.
That pain is gone away,
and I’m on meds all day,
A loon again, naturally.
A loon again, naturally…”
AH, HA, HAA, HAAA!
Good night, Arkham I’m here all week!!!!