Superheroes Every City Needs

Image via Complex Original

Powers: Forces people to talk about something other than politics, stops sycophantic networking in its tracks, and is impervious to partisan rhetoric.

Gear: Two iPhones (one for pleasure and another, also for pleasure), cone of rhetorical silence, cloak of invisibility that works against lobbyists.

Residents of our nation's capital eat, sleep, and breathe politics. That's all well and good until you go out for drinks with friends and spend the evening stuck in an in-depth discussion on tort reform. If only there was a way to limit the political discourse. Now, thanks to Captain Apolitical, there is.

Powers: Intuits if someone's connections are legitimate just by looking at them with her decked-out proverbial Rolodex. A walking legitimate industry connection. 

Gear: Lie-detecting handshake, magical business card that changes for each person who reads it, Black Amex, and a watch calibrated to make her fashionably late for every meeting.

Innumerable promises are made every day in Los Angeles. And then they are abruptly broken. You can never be sure who's for real, what connections are legitimate, what is true and what isn't. Before you arrive at that Starbucks meeting, before you order the kale salad, before you even send over your resumé, consult the Industry Insider.

Powers: Creates a tourist-proof personal bubble for deserving citizens, arranges apartments and workspace for optimal Feng Shui, and can telepathically locate empty tables and vacant areas around the city.

Gear: Tractor beam gun and arcade style claw for removing slow walkers, street performers, and other obstacles from your path.

There isn't much elbow room in America's melting pot. In New York, you move from your tiny apartment to a crowded subway to a cramped cubicle to a crowded bar. Even the places you go to have some alone time, like parks and museums, are jam-packed. Every New Yorker could use the help of The Space Maker.

Powers: Locating the last affordable housing in San Francisco, repels tech bros using outdated technology and by refusing to indulge their egos. Also, he's a late adopter and a Luddite.

Gear: Lasso of Civic Accountability, and a collection of Allen Ginsburg poetry.

What's worse than a bro? A tech bro. Tech bros have all the overwrought masculinity of run-of-the-mill bros with no social skills, a chip on their shoulder left over from their time as high school nerds, and a shitload of money. Who will save San Francisco from becoming a neo-Gatsby rich boy party city? No one. But, Tech-No is going to give it a shot.

Powers: Generates powerful gusts of wind to blow away petitions, a completely apathetic tone, and the ability to teleport through protests and demonstrations.

Gear: Grappling (with complex issues) hook, and craft brews to distract thirsty activists.

When Portlanders aren't focused on being weird and quirky for the sake of being weird and quirky, they are trying to save things. As the blog Things About Portland That Suck put it, "Everyone in Portland is trying to save something about our world. Although you can't see it at first glance, each person has an agenda. To discover a hidden personal agenda simply ask them, 'What are you passionate about?'" Who will save us from the savers? The Dispassionate Defender, that's who!

Powers: Like the Human Torch, but makes you feel cozy instead of burning you. Has hibernation serum to put citizens to sleep from mid-October through April. 

Gear: Big-ass heater on his head, hibernation serum, rock salt, and a "Watch for Falling Ice" sign. 

Corrupt cops and crime rate be damned. Everyone who visits Chicago in the summertime instantly falls in love with the Windy City. Most New Yorkers, when drunk enough, readily admit they would love to live in Chicago if it "wasn't so fucking cold" and if their pizza wasn't "bullshit." Chicago can fund as many transit improvements and cultural initiatives it wants, but nothing would grow the city as effectively as ensuring the warmth of the citizens.

Powers: Heightened olfactory sensitivity to sniff out emerging artists dabbling in electro-raggaetone-pop, and the ability to resist "the beat".  

Gear: Pitbull net, industrial-strength earplugs, and music-industry connections. 

Ubiquitous recording artist Pitbull is Miami's most destructive export since the Scarface era. We need a guardian to prevent the rise of any more pop reggatone moguls. This will be difficult, as a combination of materialism, machismo, and shitty music have created a perfect breeding ground for douche bag musicians in Miami. It is time to unleash the Miami Pitbull Catcher.

Powers: Slim figure and innate ability to perceive measurements. 

Gear: Huge shrink ray, tasteful, understated cowboy boots, and a reasonably sized cowboy hat.

Everything is bigger in Texas, and that is not necessarily a good thing. There are gun ranges the size of strip malls, box stores the size of military compounds, and highways that feel as wide as they are long. Does it come as a surprise that breast implants were invented in Houston? The Incredible Shrink is here to show Texans that everything doesn't always have to be bigger in Texas.

Powers: Showers opposing team's fans with kindness (not urine or vomit). Persuades unruly fans to behave with human decency, and actually lives in Philly, rather than living in some lame Main Line suburb. 

Gear: Batteries (for electronics, not for throwing), Donovan McNabb Jersey, and keys to the jail in Veteran's Stadium.

Philadelphia has its share of troubles. When a city is seeking out accolades, they aren't usually looking for "poorest Big City in America," "most dangerous," "worst schools," or "most segregated." It's going to take more than a superhero to fix these problems, but a superhero could help improve the image of the city's notorious sports fans.

Powers: Locates good bars where it seems none exist, and can make any drink alcoholic by looking at it.

Gear: Flasks all over his body that police can't detect, Irish Coffee (in a Dunkin' Donuts cup), Patriots Hat (all those big game loses would lead anyone to drink), and liquid long johns.

Though Bostonians are legendary for their love of drinking, their ridiculously strict blue laws make things very difficult for those trying to get sauced. A limit on liquor licenses, restrictions on happy hours and open bars, and early closing times make Boston one of the most difficult cities for drinking. Beantown needs a champion of drunkenness. Maybe then, they'll stop being so pissed about their New York inferiority complex. That champion is The Boston Boozehunter.