Appealing to my inner child

Someone recently found, IMHO, the single greatest comic book ever.

A near-mint copy of Detective Comics No. 27, a pre-World War II comic featuring Batman's debut, was recently found in an attic and sold to a local collector.

The comic is considered to be the second-most valuable available and can fetch up to $500,000. The only comic considered more valuable is Action Comics No. 1, in which Superman makes his first appearance.

Batman has always been my favorite superhero, primarily because he is a mere mortal with no extraordinary powers. What Batman has working for him is a ton of money and an overdeveloped revenge reflex, by which I mean to say he is out of his mind. Outwardly, Bruce Wayne is a millionaire playboy but on the inside, he is a broken man.

As a child, he witnessed his parents’ murder. The psychological trauma of that event metastasized into a deep seeded psychosis. Wayne’s madness and wealth gave birth to Batman, a costumed vigilante lunatic hell-bent on the Sisyphean task of eradicating evil from Gotham. Batman is the ultimate in chaotic Good, a badass maniac delivering street justice, constantly trying to avenge the injustice that drove him mad. You can have Superman, Wolverine, or Spiderman. Give me the Dark Knight any day.