Why I Hate Capes

We’ve all seen ‘em.  Those people who walk around every day laboring under the impression that they’re actually superheroes of some sort, driven by some incomprehensible desire to tie what is essentially a small blanket around their neck.  I’m talking about capes, you guys.  I can’t tell you how often I see people wearing capes here.  Forgive me if I’m in the wrong, but I never see people on TV wearing capes and shit doing everyday things.  You don’t see Whitney Cummings walkin’ around the mall in a cape, comparing prices of socks, eating at Panda Express while a black cape flows behind her.  If you’re a superhero, wear a cape.  Skin a goddamn bear and wear it around your neck, I don’t care.  You’ve earned that right, because you actually contribute a shit ton to society.  You save us normals from all sort of evil, and for that, you can wear a cape.  But to the countless people I’ve seen in class or hopping around in these things, you really haven’t done anything for me.

Now I know; people can wear what they want.  I’m all for individuality!  If you want to spice up your jeans by drawing on them, go ahead!  If you want to prove something to the world by coloring your skin with Sharpie, be my guest!  I’ve actually witnessed both of these phenomena by the way.  But what would prompt you to wear a cape?  What are you trying to prove there?  Maybe there’s some “Cape Cavalcade” of which I am woefully ignorant.  They go out every night, wearing capes and doing normal shit that you and I would do all the time, but doing it better because they’re in capes.  If this is the case, not only do I rescind my previous statement that I hate capes, but if someone could send me the contact info of your leader I’d like to get in touch with him.  However, until the existence of the Cape Cavalcade has been confirmed, I’m gonna go ahead and say that there isn’t any such organization.

I’ve tried coming up with good reasons to wear a cape, I really have.  I’ve come up with few to none.

  • Scenario 1: Let’s say I piss off the wrong guy (his name’s “Trent”).  I take a gander at his girlfriend, I insult his favorite MLS team, I take the mickey out of his mother, whatever the case may be.  Trent’s big.  I’m not as big as him, but I’m faster.  I begin to run away.  In the few seconds it takes me to gain any sort of momentum, the dude grabs my cape, which has been flowing behind me, and brings me down by my neck with it.  Now not only am I in a sorry state (because Trent’s about to beat my shit in), but I cannot begin to defend myself, because I can’t draw breath because his pulling of my cape has closed my windpipe.
  • Scenario 2: I’m walking in a bad part of town; a “neglected area,” if you will.  I’m minding my own business, rolling my wheelie backpack and whistling my favorite Chris Daughtry tune, when some hoodlum (let’s call him “Stan”) realizes that I’m wearing a cape in his neighborhood.  Little do I know that when this man was young, his father or uncle or some male figure in his life (let’s call him “Luther”) was shot and killed while masquerading as a superhero.  Now Luther wasn’t a superhero at all, in fact he was quite overweight, but his possession of a cape led him to believe that he was better than everyone.  He tried to bring down a drug deal, and long story short was killed in the process.  For this reason, Stan hates capes.  Stan sees me with my cape, and beats me up because of it.
  • Scenario 3: I meet a pretty lady at a bar, and things are going swell.  I buy her some drinks, we’re hitting it off, I’ve told her my Japanese Doctor joke and she loved it, everything’s great.  We’ve been having such a great time, we don’t realize how late it is.  It’s closing time.  My ride left me a long time ago (because they were jealous of my awesome lady friend), and now I’m “in a pickle” as they say.  I mention something about my lack of transportation to the girl, and she offers me a ride back; I gladly accept.  We get up to leave, and what does she spot for the first time?  My cape.  I can kiss my ride goodbye, because I’M WEARING A FUCKING CAPE IN PUBLIC.  Now I have to walk home in the rain (it’s raining), and I lost my girl.

Alright, I think I’ve made my point, and I’ll let up.  If you like wearing capes, more power to you.  You’ve got balls, bigger ones than me.  But if you’re wearing a cape and you can’t fly or stop bullets or even wield a sword, you’d better be able to deal with the byproducts of wearing one.  Weird looks are the norm, and you might get beat up.


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