Here Comes the Kónguló

Is he strong? Listen, bud: He's got radioactive blood.

When I was in first grade, we took a class trip to a nature preserve. The next day, our class wrote up a booklet about the trip and our teacher mimeographed it and we all took it home. (Although, in retrospect, it's more likely that we all talked about the trip and our teacher wrote up the booklet.)

I don't remember much about the trip (or first grade in general), but I do remember a long discussion in the booklet about how some people could see thin threads from the spiders in the trees. I was one of the ones who saw nothing. But I knew the theme to Spiderman by heart.

In my mind, the people who could see the spiderwebs somehow had a window into another world -- and perhaps that other world was magical and amazing in ways I could only imagine. When I finally could see the spiderwebs, I was disappointed that they brought me to no new worlds and offered little that was magical or amazing. For that, I'd have to turn to music.

Because in rock 'n' roll, any freak can be a superhero.


Things are a little different in Iceland, where the Icelandic Spiderman seems a wee bit incompetent (hat tip to the I Heart Icelandic Music blog):



Bonus 1: Three Danish teens scat Spiderman:


Bonus 2: the original cartoon theme: