Empire City Notes Dr. Phantom has been successfully renamed Dr. Infernal. My inspiration was the "Infernal Devices" storyline from Starman. Now the stage is clear for the birth of The Phantom, though I'm currently bereft of ideas. In Astropolis, Leo Rex has been given a new nom de guerre, The Leopard. Meanwhile, the original Leopard has been renamed The Puma; The Nightwatchman has been renamed The Nighthawk (a highly overused name, I agree, but it appeals to the character's penchant for melodrama); Achilles, last survivor of the teenaged trio the Comets, has been renamed The Meteor; and I may rename The Futurist's superteam the Pantheon, rather than the current name, the Hyperion Guard. (One has a good deal of time to oneself during a four hour Sunday afternoon lifeguarding shift.)

On War Wow, sarin gas. That's nasty. If the initial reports are confirmed, President Chirac, Chancellor Schroeder, and Dr. Blix may wish to reconsider their faith in the righteousnes of America's and Britain's convictions. (That's the nice version.) Honestly, to this point I've been very impressed with Secretary-General Annan; I would have thought he'd protest more vigorously. I guess it's true, though, you don't tug on Superman's cape.

Young Heroes in Love This weekend, I reread the few issues I own of The Star-Spangled Kid's short-lived series, Stars and S.T.R.I.P.E. Plus, I (again) flipped through Virtue and Vice. More than ever, I want Courtney Whitmore (The Star-Spangled Kid) and Billy Batson (Captain Marvel) to not just end up together, but to get together soon. Sure, Marvel may look like an adult, but inside he's still 16 year-old Billy "goody-two-shoes orphan/boy reporter from Fawcett City" Batson. And Courtney? Well, I'll quote Jack Knight (Starman), "You... you're 24 karats, baby. As bright as the sun." To JSA writers David Goyer and Geoff Johns, come on, guys, let true love win out just this once.

The Weekenders I did nothing this weekend and it was everything I knew it could be. The Mountain and I went to see Phone Booth, and afterward we dined at Big Boy. Our waitress teased me about my tattoo. "What are you going to tell your grandkids?" Honestly, I don't understand this question. The underlying assumption seems to be that I will be just like the questioner's grandparents. But, I won't. It would be one thing if a skull-and-crossbones tattoo were to suddenly appear on one of my grandmothers, or, while they were alive, on one of my grandfathers, but that won't be the case here. My grandkids will never have known me when I didn't have a skull-and-crossbones on my left forearm; so, why should it seem out of place to them? It will be as natural a part of me to them as Grandpa Little's, may he rest in peace, baldness was to me.