The Good Part of being a parent and the bad part of living in London

After reading about the fire that followed the Three Stooges-style attempted demolition (sorry, I refuse to defame cowboys by referring to attacking a building with a bulldozer as 'cowboy style',) of the Brunswick Hotel, I went down for a dog-walk the next morning and saw all the fourth-degree burns in the flesh.

Being London, and being autumn, it was raining, so when the sun finally began to make brief appearances later that afternoon, I sent the boy down to take some snap-shots for posterity - and offered him five bucks for his trouble.

Now, here's the only bright spot in this montage of why this town (and more importantly - the buffoons we keep re-electing on city council,) continues to SUCK on a regular basis - it's the joy that one can derive as a parent of a teenager.

You know, it's one thing to send him down to the 'Wick' to take some photos - and then start ranting when he gets back - "PARKER! I SENT YOU DOWN THERE TO GET SOME SHOTS OF SPIDERMAN STARTING THE WICK ON FIRE! AND THIS IS THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH?!?"

So of course we had a chuckle over that. I hate to brag but I do a pretty good 'J. Jonah Jameson' imitation.

But this is where the good part of being the father of a teenager comes in. To see if you can mess with his mind. To see if he actually did read all those DC comics you gave him as reading-material over the summer. Because even though he's more of a 'Marvel' kind of kid, as a parent, you want him to appreciate who *invented* the whole spandexed superhero genre in the first place. And no, it wasn't Robin Hood. Or Hercules for that matter.

So you continue to bark out in J.J. fashion - "Parker - I sent you to get proof of Spiderman torching the Brunswick and all you come back with is snap-shots of Clark Kent half-naked in his underwear in the broom-closet next to the newsroom!

"Tell me Parker, did you even leave the building?!? Great Caesar's Ghost!"