Father's Day With the New Gods
This Sunday is Father's Day, the hastily put-together sequel to last month's Mother's Day, when we all take some time off to say thanks to Pop in the form of a new tie, or--if he's exceptionally lucky this year--a nice bowling ball.
This is not how it works in the world of Jack Kirby.
See, on Apokolips, fatherhood involves less child-rearing and tends to be more along the lines of trading your son for another child, who is then dropped off at the local orphanage while you go back to schemes of planetary domination that involve selling fireball rifles to street gangs.
That's why when it comes time to hash things out with your father in the Fourth World, it's a process that generally involves only two steps, neither of which involve fashionable business casual neckwear.
Step One: Get all uglied up.
Should a Motherbox be unavailable, feel free to engage the services of a fine whiskey. Also, try to make sure any planet-destroying laser bombs have been deactivated.
Step Two: FIGHT!
That's how we used to do it at my house, anyway.
Note To Self: Do not lose Dad's hammer. He will most likely decide the guy who took it would make a better son and make us fight in a fiery realm where even a god may die. So not cool, dad.