Okay, listen. Deathstroke. Deathstroke the Terminator. Let’s – let’s n

Okay, listen. Deathstroke. Deathstroke the Terminator. Let’s – let’s not even touch that name and all the things it’s clearly compensating for, because that analysis would be longer than Crime and Punishment. This, this right here, is definitive proof that I am, in fact, not “more like you than I can admit”. You know what I have that you never will? Taste, Wilson. Taste. Let me put it another way: you are definitely too old for this shit. I’m just, oh my God, I’m putting a moratorium on the brightly colored panties until you get your shit together. First Lex, now you. Slade, honey, I don’t think you get it. I just, I can’t be seen fighting someone who dresses like this. Batman’s having faceoffs with Catwoman in Gotham, and I am fighting Captain Halloween up in here with a side order of evil Aquaman. Can we talk about the scales? It looks like you have an unfortunate growth on your lower body. It looks like you crawled inside of a dead mermaid. And it is rotting on your legs. Seriously, you’re not some kind of camp bitch waving his ass for the nightly news. Why must you dress like a fancy bondage hooker? You know what doesn’t blend in in shadows or dark alleyways? Candy corn orange, Slade. God. I feel like my creepy uncle raided my closet and put on my fifth grade Halloween costume. Okay, and the boots? The boots, really? I mean, by themselves, they’re not…awful, I guess. But that color, oh, honey, no. What kills me here is that you can’t have made these, no, you went out and commissioned somebody to make you a pair of boots with these giant pirate cuffs (which, by the way, is how prebusecent girls wear their Ugg boots) and just casually told them “Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, just dye them eye-scorchingly orange while you’re at it.” You put forethought into looking this stupid. I expect this kind of shit from the Joker, but you’re up your own ass about how serious and professional you are. Let me tell you how it feels to see this half-face orange and sparkly blue ensemble coming at me from a dark alleyway. First stage: Oh my God, does he seriously think I can’t see the orange from the shadows? Second stage: repress internal laughter at your orange diaper. Third stage: wonder exactly how unhinged you are that you decided this was appropriate daywear. Come the fuck on, Slade. At least Lex had the excuse of being a crazy person. This is just sad. -- source link

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