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All America knows the tragic, inspiring story of SuperDude's horrific death-defying leap, in a single bound, that resulted in a single snap: his neck. No longer running faster than a speeding bullet, SuperDude now rolls slower than a square marble, in part due to his belief that his amazing willpower can overcome his inability to walk. SuperDude refuses to use even an old E and J chair with quad knobs. He lounges in a plush Lazy Boy on casters as his five registered nurses push him around the world-renowned SuperDude Mansion. We caught up with SuperDude (no hard feat these days) and posed a few questions:
Lois asks, "You're a quadruple billionaire. Why don't you buy a good motorized wheelchair?" SuperDude says, "Well, Lois, it has to do with my superduper SuperDude super willpower -- which I expect will kick in any day now. If I allow myself to weaken, and succumb to a wheelchair, then I truly will never walk again, let alone fly. It has to be mind over matter. If my mind doesn't mind that I use a wheelchair, then I will never matter again. Lois asks, "So you really believe you'll be cured soon?" SuperDude says, "I stay in constant contact with the Cashpig Rehab Center of Florida, to which, as you know, I have already donated over half my fortune. They assure me at least three times daily that they are ever and ever closer to a cure. Not just for me, of course, but for all ex-superheroes who have massive fortunes and who have snapped their necks in exactly the same way mine was snapped. In addition, we are hopeful that Congress will pass the SuperDude Bill which, in addition to the billions I have generated for Cashpig's rehab team, will allocate even more billions in the search for a cure. Think of the money we'll all save if we just pay billions and billions right now. " Lois asks, "But it's been five years! Has there been no progress at all?"
SuperDude says, "Just last week, I took my first steps! As a matter of fact, Lois, there has been very exciting progress made. Just last week in therapy, they strapped me into a body cast which was jointed at the hips. Then they jolted me with a very high-voltage cattle prod that they are also researching for use on sad little retarded kids who can't learn their manners. I actually walked two steps, all by myself, held up only by three of my nurses. Unfortunately, when the voltage died, the nurses were able to let go and I fell. Strange, because you'd think that these nurses, since they have worked so closely with me, they would have absorbed some of my superduper SuperDude will power. Apparently not, because they have decided to go ahead and use wheelchairs. I'm sure the effects of the electricity can be overcome some day. I told them that if I have any money left over after my spinal cord injury is cured, I will donate some to Cashpig's new Electric Shock Victims wing."
Lois asks, "What happens if your money runs out before they find a cure?" SuperDude says, "I don't want any negativity around me, Lois. If you continue to say things like that, I will have to ask you to leave." Lois asks, "With your being such an inspiration, why do some disabled Americans seem to resent your message? " SuperDude says, "Weakness. Lois. They're weak-willed little cripples who just aren't willing to take the extraordinary measures, or the time and money necessary, to chase the dream I like to call 'hope.' They're so busy in pursuit of forcing society to lower itself to the selfish level of people who can't even walk that they don't even see how pathetic they are. They need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, or bedpan as it may be, buck up, and try harder." Lois asks, "But SuperDude, aren't you disabled too? Don't you feel some kinship?" SuperDude says, "Is that another negative question? I don't answer negative questions. Of course I'm not disabled. I had a little fall, I'm still a bit shaken up by it, but I am healing, and the doctors will cure me. Don't put me on the same level as some sniveling little man in a wheelchair doing something pathetic like blocking a bus just because he can't get on. I'm Superdude, not super-handicapped." Lois asks, "What would you do if you were just an average Joe on the street who broke his neck?" SuperDude says, "Well, Lois, if I were a weak-willed, sniveling little Joe on the street, I would do myself, my family and my country a favor, and take myself out of the game. In fact, out of pure compassion for completely unworthy people who really are disabled, not just hurt like myself, I have donated ten million dollars to Princely University to bring in Dr. Crocodile Singer from the Land Down Under. My generous grant will allow him to develop guidelines on who should die, and how they should be killed." Lois asks, "Killed? You mean they would be murdered?" SuperDude says, "Of course not. This would only be for people who are dying or better off dead. That's why they call it euthanasia. Murder is when you kill someone who has value in society." Lois asks, "But wouldn't your public image suffer?" SuperDude says, "The only people who would complain would be either Jesus freaks or circus freaks. Everyone else would know a grand idea when they heard it. By the way, that's a nasty limp you have there. Do you want me to call one of my doctor friends to have a look at it?" Lois asks, "Oh, no! I mean no thanks, SuperDude. I was born this way. It's part of who I am." SuperDude says, "Lois! I've warned you twice already! That's the third negative thing you have said to me during this interview. I must ask you to leave." Lois asks, "What negative thing do you mean?" SuperDude says, "The caring professionals at Cashpig Rehab are very clear about this. If I begin to accept things like limps, then there will be no hope for me. I will never be cured because I won't want it badly enough. Guards! Guards! Please escort Ms. Lame to the front door. And confiscate that camera! I wouldn't want my adoring fans to see me in a diaper... I mean a Supersoakpad.
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