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*I just thought of something. If you could teach a parrot ballet, it'd have three super powers: being an animal, talking, and dance. That's 33 percent more super than Grodd, and something to think about next time you're putting together a team of terrorists. In all seriousness, talking is a pretty handy ability (unless you're Riddler). If all Grodd hung out with was regular gorillas, he'd be like the Superman of the group. He could order a pizza or explain the lyrics to love songs... he'd be a monkey hero. Around humans, all he can really do is carry the groceries from the car to the kitchen in fewer trips. Gorillas are strong, but not unstoppable rampage strong. What made him sadder was that he couldn't even get talking quite right. His grammar was fine, and he knew all the sinister words you need to use when you're evil, but every three or four syllables he'd have to pause and slurp a chin full of drool back into his mouth. He sounded like a chatty hooker trying to talk through a blowjob. I think the guy doing his voice had been getting too close to the rabid squirrels in the park. Hey, voice actor, when foam starts coming out of your mouth, put down the Super Friends microphone and see a doctor. I don't understand how Grodd ever tried to take us over with his power of talking. You can talk all you want to the army. They still have guns, and they still work on monkeys. If your face isn't bulletproof, that means it's going to explode when the National Guard shoots it no matter what you say to the bullet. And once Grodd's martial law falls apart and we're reclaiming our planet from him, he won't be able to hide from the revolutionaries with that noisy spit slurping problem. Besides being unqualified and having a face the animators could never draw the same twice, Grodd didn't seem to like being a supervillain anyway. Toyman and Scarecrow were both so excited to be bad guys, they'd overact their sentences and hop up and down while they talked about their idiot plans. Grodd could care less. He was the only one on the show who realized everything he was saying was ridiculous. He'd trail off in the middle of sentences, lose interest in his own gadgets, and ignore the Legion of Doom staff meetings to eat bugs out of his fur.  Did you notice that his supervillain name was his first name? That's weak. He could have called himself Admiral Gorilla or Primate Passion, and those are just off the top of my head. For a monkey who once rewired cooking pots to control gorilla minds, you'd think he could come up a villain title better than his first name. How does Luthor keep a straight face when he's introducing him? Everyone else may be pathetic losers, but they all came up with names that describe how they are pathetic losers. Fighting the forces of good under your first name... no one's going to hand over a million dollars to a team of supervillains named Gorilla Grodd, Human Ted, and Roommate Dave.  When a person watches the Super Friends, they have a lot of questions on their mind. Why does that one keep changing colors? If they're going off to rescue that guy, how come he's standing right there? Doesn't your head explode when you're in space? But the question that always comes up, the one that you demand an answer to is... Are the other guys in the Legion of Doom just too too embarrassed to tell the gorilla that he's naked? If you've learned anything from TV and movies, it's that when you're talking to someone naked and you're not about to have sex with them, their body parts start creeping into your sentences. If you offer a glass of chocolate milk to a chick with clothes on, no problem. If she's naked, you start saying things like, "Would you like an ass of chocolate nipple?" or "mmm... this is the breast lemonade I've ever vaginaed!" If the Super Friends wanted to go for realism, the dialogue near Grodd would have been, "With this remote controlled dangling gorilla testicles, I will finally stop the Gorilla Penises one and for balls!"  SUPER RATING: 3 If you saw the movie Congo, you might remember how after they strapped a boombox to that gorilla she could talk. Do you remember being scared for your life? No, it wasn't that big a deal. When they invented the thing, there wasn't a forshadowing wise scientist in the back screaming, "Stop this project! Don't let our achievements overtake our understanding! The world is not ready for talking gorilla technology!" Who cares? A talking gorilla is like one step up from a chimp in a tuxedo. What would you ask a gorilla that can answer you? What it's like having thumbs on their feet? It'd be cool to have one around to pretend to be Charlton Heston in the ape future or to make a band entirely out of talking gorillas, but that's it. There is no other good use for a gorilla. They're too big to test mascara on, and they don't make good coats. The only thing we've ever used them for is to make commercials where we test the durability of luggage or see how much punishment a Timex watch can take. We either put them in zoos or stick them in a cage to see how gorilla-proof our shit is. Talking's not going to help them get more status, either. If those gorilla commercial actors could have talked, all they would have said was "You like that, you fucking bag?! You like it? I'm a gorilla! And I'm smashing the shit out of you, luggage!" We don't need talking gorillas. No one screams out the secret of life while they're smashing a suitcase. And they're not going to take over our damn planet. A talking gorilla should start with smaller goals. Like finishing a crossword puzzle without waiting for the answers in next week's paper, or taking a tour of a graham cracker factory and learning how crackers are packaged and distributed.  |
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