Fuck. Sorry about that. It’s all the residual bad puns I have after being bitten by a radioactive Stan Lee. That radiation is the only thing keeping that goofy bastard alive. That and Spike Lee-like movie cameos.

Anyway, I’m your fucking neighborhood fucking friendly fucking Spiderman. Cheer for me as I contemplate quitting the supaheera game at the 41st minute of the movie you watch next Friday, only to make a triumphant return at the denouement. I bet I’ll have to face off with the Kingpin in Spiderman 4. He was black in the Daredevil movie for whatever reason.

So, yeah. What I wouldn’t give to spend my weekend vegging out and watching the draft and taking that pert firecrotch of mine up the ass at every commercial break.

I see the Raiders are picking first. Somehow the powerful black suits have endowed them with enhanced abilities to implode. I asked Aunt May who I think they should go with, because I’m a young man with incredible talents and resources in a city with incredible access to poon and I spend all my time tending to my withered aunt. She keeps nattering on about how she’d like to be plowed by that ripe young fox, Al Davis. That’s kind of fucking gross, but it gets her away from jilling herself off to the Vulture.

Being from New York, I’m a huge Jets fan. Why is it that they consulted with Larry David but couldn’t deign to talk to someone who has saved the city untold times? At least stick with a native nebbish Jew like Woody Allen, except he’d want Marshall McLuhan to play left guard. Doesn’t Larry David live in L.A. anyway? I fucking hate L.A. How are you supposed to travel around on web when there are no tall buildings to attach on? No wonder why they don’t have an NFL team.

I like Mangenius but when he straps on that rhino suit, man, we just have to have it out. It’s not too bad, he’s ready to call it off and have a butter sandwich after his fourth charge at me. The Jets pick 25th and the first round already takes all fucking day anyway. It all starts at noon and ends around 7. I’ve already saved the fucking city a good half dozen times and I’m ready for it to go to shit again.

You know what’s good for watching the draft? Webbing. Yeah, that shit is downright delicious. I shoot it everywhere and no one ever thinks to take a taste of the stuff. It’s kind of depressing because I’ve spent years tinkering with the ingredients to make it just right. I have ranch-flavored webbing too. On top of a salad, in an omelette, it really goes with everything. My plan is to whip up some awesome fucking chili, sprinkle some webbing in there and leave some over for some dip.

Fuck it. I’m just going to ignore this city’s problems for a change. They got police, don’t they? Shouldn’t they do something for once? I’d like to see that happen. Don’t think ‘ol Wallcrawler doesn’t have to pay taxes on the piddling photo money he makes from the Bugle and the big fat bupkis he makes from this gig. In fact I’m giving up the Spidey thing, I’m -