Batman To Superman: I Hate That You Never Get Cold

Batman penned this open letter to his pal Superman.   Editors Note:  Batman wrote many more pages on this subject, but we had to edit it for its great voluminous length and explicit nature.

Blueboy, Batboy here.  Pleasantries aside, let’s get right down to it.  I really hate a whole lot of things about you.  Your boy scout goody two shoes personality is way too good to be true.  Yeah, all that rah rah patriotic stuff is just ever so dandy.  Honestly though, I don’t have a problem with loyalty.  Alfred is loyal.  Commissioner Gordon is loyal.  He’s loyal to this city and to me.  Robin is loyal – well, mostly.  Let’s not even get into Nightwing at this point.

I hate your costume and look.  It’s too garish, way too bright and cheerful.  It’s simply depressing.  Anyway, I’m going down a rabbit hole of things I hate, when I simply need to point out the one biggie. I gotta get this off my chest or it’ll burst forth like one of Joker’s acid squirting flower lapels.

Here’s my bottom line:  I really hate that you never ever get cold.

Gotham City isn’t known for its gentle winters.  In fact, it’s been voted worst city to live in a snowstorm 10 years straight running.  Something us Gothamites can be truly proud and crow about.  Even our crime rate has gone down slightly, yet our winters just keep getting colder.  Thanks, climate change.  I have my bat gear; my bat thermal undies, my bat face plate – etc – I do just fine in the winter.  But you… Godlike Superman doesn’t even feel it.  It’s like a spring breeze to the Kryptonian.  It’s not something he needs to even waste a thought on.

It’s not really a big deal I guess – where it counts.  You’re in Metropolis, where the winters are pretty mild, and I’m here in Gotham.  When we get together for a thing, you know, saving the world or busting up an intergalactic crime ring, we get along OK.  I’ll come clean though, whole Justice League thing’s getting a bit stale, but again, I’m loyal.  Yeah, I’m loyal.  You’re invulnerable.

There I said it.  You don’t get cold.  You don’t get hot.  Blueboy doesn’t get anything.  Do you get horny?  No.  Wait.  I just don’t want to know.  You’re far beyond anything most of us mere mortals can scarcely even imagine.  He never ever gets cold.  So, yes, I truly hate you for that extraterrestrial superiority.  You hate me for being far better looking, cooler than you’ll ever hope to be and having billions of dollars – but that’s a tidy diatribe for another time, and you’ll be the one writing it.