Why I Am Done with Spider-Man

I never used to have a problem with you. Hell, I admired you. Your ability to face danger at any cost was a symbol of nobility that is not seen these days. But, lately I just can’t seem to stomach your presence. Please understand, I’m not saying I think you’re a bad person…

...I just can't stand you Spider-Man.

I can’t take the whining anymore, the constant cry baby whining that comes with knowing you. You’re a super-hero…do you really have that much to bitch about?

Let’s take a quick look at your life…you were the school nerd until a radioactive spider bit you and gave you super human powers. You climb on walls, you have super strength, and you can shoot webs out of your arms. You were a photographer for a major newspaper in the greatest city in the world, and you were married to a freaking super model. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty sweet life.

But, what did you do? You found a way to complain about everything that you had going for you. You know what I do all day? I don’t swing around the city I can tell you that. I don’t even live in a good city, I live near Wheeling...West Virginia’s middle finger to the world.

If we had a super-hero he would be bored out of his mind. Aside from the occasional crack dealer there is nothing to do around this shit hole. He would sit on a bench and drink moonshine until he pissed himself. You on the other hand live in a city where crazy shit happens every day! How many other people can say they fought a man with metal octopus arms, and lived to tell about it? And, you get paid actual cash to take pictures of yourself doing it. If that's not a racket I don't know what is.
But, no you found a way to make all this a bad thing. You would whine about how the Daily Bugle, the paper you WORK FOR, didn't like you. Yeah, well who the hell cares if they like you? You get paid either way.
Seriously I don't know how the people close to you put up with your shit. When you're not saving the world from handicapped patients dressed up like rhino's you're moping around about how bad you think your life is. Get this straight; you're a hero. The world idolizes you...dammit they even made three freaking movies about you...but, I'm sure even you could find something wrong with that...

I rest my case.

I spent some time trying to figure out why you hate your life so much, and the only conclusion I could come to is that you enjoy being miserable.

What? You disagree with me?

Good thing I have proof.

Now I understand you feel responsible for the death of your Uncle Ben. You let the criminal that ended up killing him run right past you. You saw this as a sign. It's the reason you live by the motto, "with great power comes great responsibility." Years after this event, even though you have paid your debt a hundred times over, you still blame yourself for this turn of events...to you it was fates way of punishing you for your selfishness.

You know what I call it? A coincidence.

It's a bummer, but you know what, so was the holocaust. You don't hear the Jews complaining do you? Your uncle just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of story. The fact that you have based your entire life around this one moment should be enough proof that you're a glutton for pain and misery.

What? It isn't?

Then wait, I have more.

Lets take a look at your wife...

He sure did.

Now, lets take a look at the other woman in his life, the one he ultimately chose over that hot piece of tail above..

...way to pick 'em Parker.

Why? Why would you choose a 250 year old woman over your 20-something red-headed trophy wife?

What? You don't remember giving up the SUPER-MODEL you used to sleep with to save your 300 year old aunt?

Well allow me to remind you.

Now I know that for years you were able to juggle the lives of a husband, nephew, free lance photographer and super-hero pretty well. By the time the Marvel Civil War occurred, things were actually going pretty good for you. Hell, you even became an Avenger! That's like Marvels version of the Justice League only not as awesome. You, your wife, and your 300 year old aunt were living in a high rise apartment for free, and you were finally getting the respect you had been dreaming about your entire life.

Then you had to go and screw it all up, didn't you?

Against your better judgement you unmasked in front of millions of people on live television.

Willingly.

I'll repeat...you unmasked yourself on live television...WILLINGLY.
...
ARE YOU RETARDED?

Because of this, you had to leave your awesome home and take your foxy wife and 415 year old aunt on the run. And, of course someone eventually found you and your Aunt May took a bullet that was meant for you.

Now lets keep in mind that Aunt May is 500 years old. She is way past her prime, its time for her to go.

But, you couldn't let her go, could you? You couldn't let her die with dignity. You couldn't save her either shit head, so what did you do?

You whined.

And whined.

And whined, and whined, and whined.

You whined so much that the freaking Devil got tired of it and decided to put a stop to your tantrum.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, the Devil had decided to fore go the usual soul, and in its place take your marriage. I know, it doesn't make sense at all. So now you have an offer on the table...give up your vivacious, supple, curvaceous super-model wife, so that you 2,000 old aunt can survive the gunshot wound and live another couple of hours before she dies of being...well...really really old.

Why would you even consider it?
Oh, I remember why.

Because you hate yourself as much as I hate you.
Now to be fair, it wasn't you who made the deal. Your wife, who I can only assume was sick and tired of your bullshit, cut the deal with the Devil so that you wouldn't have to.

You know why it was expected? Because she could see that she was married to a idiot! She was getting out man! I don't blame her in the least for wanting to leave the guy who chose a woman who by now has to be a zombie over his own wife. True, making a deal with the Devil is a tad extreme, but she is a woman right?
Do you understand now? Do you see why I have a problem with you? I would literally kill a man to have had your life. I would push my sick grandmother down a flight of stairs just to web swing to work. How you have managed to sabotage yourself over and over again is beyond me.
So from this point on, I officially wash my hands of you. I will no longer see your movies, I won't read your comics, and I will not acknowledge your existence.
Seriously man, you have all that power, all that ability, and what do you do?
You whine, and bitch, and whine some more.
You know who's a real hero? Batman that's who. He doesn't even have super powers and he never bitches. NEVER. And do you know why he never bitches?

He sure as shit is. If he heard you complain he'd punch you right in the wiener.