This is just all kinds of stupid. This is the gamut of stupid. This is the entire spectrum of stupid, including the parts the human eye cannot detect, but can be seen only by bees. You could start with the art, which gives Bats stumpy legs and a beer-barrel torso; you could move on to his first deadly foe, the Insurance Adjuster with a net fetish. You could wonder why Batman could be immobilized by something as simple as a net with weights. Here’s a hint, Bruce – grasp a few weights, pick them up, and exit the net. You could have endless sport with the idea of Robin learning that B. screwed the pooch in his early outings, but at least got the kinks out before he started his career.

What really seals the deal and adds a big red Stupid Cherry is the book: “Batman’s Diary.” With a logo. And the logo on the spine. You can see him sitting on the floor on his tummy, legs up and crossed at the ankles, chewing on a pencil, listening to some music from those dreamy Beatles, wondering how to start.

“Dear Diary! Today I began to act out my bifurcated nature by channeling my childhood abandonment issues into costume-assisted crime control. Well! You won’t believe what happened.”

Golly, indeed.