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"Gotham City's Most Ungrateful and Graceless Un-Gentleman, Bruce Wayne, Gives God-Awful Costumed Gala While Waltzing Through The Witching Hour"




(--By Texidora Von Hedrenberg
       High Society and Entertainment Writer
       Gotham City Times-Gazette
       
        Illustration by L. Llewellyn James/
        Alphaholics Non-Anonymous Art Studios

        Originally printed in The Gotham City Times-Gazette
        November 1st, 2013)

As your ever-exhausted, ever-courteous scribe and society columnist of the arts, the ritz, the glamour, the power and the impostors attempting to emulate it all here in Gotham City continues to keep you abreast of the latest sizzling gossip and malignant amoral skulduggery festering within the vaulted upper echelons of the power elite in our bedraggled metropolitan area, I find myself at a loss for words...well, almost...in the face of the latest abominable act of self-aggrandizement-masquerading-as-philanthropic-enterprise committed by none other than Gotham City's most egregious and egalitarian usurper of family trust funds and even more less-well-guarded undercurrents of sleazy women's undergarments...the inimitable (and excruciating) Bruce Wayne.

As the legendary multi-billionaire buffoon, walking misogynistic neanderthal and vile receptacle containing blue blood, bad hygiene and poor grammatical and ideological syntax that I can only laughingly call "Mr. Wayne" created and hosted a large, ornate costumed ball yesterday evening at his newly-remodeled Wayne Manor residence on the outskirts of Gotham for Halloween, 2013, the pomposity of this dithering maniac with a penchant for chasing skirts, wasting his inherited dime and (no doubt) inhaling no small modicum of illicit substances into every conceivable orifice of his suspiciously muscular-for-a-sedentary-rich-boy-sloth carcass was evidenced in a fashion too elaborate and insidious to be believed.

In short, The Gotham City Metropolitan Area's very own vaginal-secretion-mad Marquis De Sade somehow believed it to be a good idea to appear at his own Halloween Costume Ball Extravaganza dressed as none other than "The Batman".  

In attempting to re-imagine himself as the systemically sickening vigilante and self-appointed public brow-beater accused by both local and Federal Law Enforcement Authorities of reckless endangerment of citizens, over 600 billion dollars of damage to public as well as municipal and private property in our city along with the realization of any number of severely extra-martial combat scenarios on rooftops, fire escapes, sewers and relatively venerable facilities dedicated to medical and ameliorative care for the most fragile amongst us (such as Arkham Asylum), Mr. Wayne has once again provided us with new-found validation of the unerring truth of a terrible old adage: youth is truly wasted on the young.

However, one would think that Mr. Wayne would be a great deal old enough to utilize far more in the way of simple media savvy, insofar as how he allows himself to be "marketed" as a public figure (or, barring that, employ media consultants who would be able to figure it all out, for him).

Alas, in the very tawdry world of one of the world's most intellectually vapid and sordid "philanthropic Johnny Feel Goods", perhaps telling The Emperor that he is leaving himself sociologically naked at his own costume party would result in said costumed freak merely insisting that he had nothing to wear, as his filthy and monstrously sullied ego is still in the cleaners...or just out to lunch.

Incidentally, the two women flanking Wayne underneath his well-toned arm-shanks are the lovely Barbara Gordon on the left (daughter of our venerable Gotham City Police Commissioner, James Gordon) as the Queen of Hearts...and on Wayne's left arm, stage right, is one Ms. Selina Kyle--a ruffian woman with a feline quality about her that made this society writer feel very catty toward her, in the most demonstrative fashion imaginable--dressed as an inconsequential sort of 1960s era "flower child"...

Now, if someone could get me some "Poison Ivy", I could heartily dispatch the whole lot of them (except the beautiful Ms. Gordon, of course: just keep Jim Gordon's corrupt police goons away from my beautiful, delicate and winsome journalistic features)...



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