I'll just mention Fartman, who overpowers miscreants with his accurately projected stench. In his case, Minneapolis underplays his exploits, regarding his crime-stopping prowess as embarrassing although effective in reducing their crime.
But the superhero I would like to acclaim is Atlanta's Adequate Man. Now Adequate Man is just plain average in so many ways. He's the guy who would never be chosen in a police lineup, nor is likely to appear in an awards ceremony. He's married, has two kids, lives in the suburbs in Bucktown, goes to church on Sunday, and writes advertising copy for a living. Nothing inspired, no memorable slogans or jingles. He primarily dresses in a gray suit with red power tie; but eases into a gray jump suit on weekends. When you plop him into colorless Atlanta, filled with transplanted Yankees, Georgia politics, Peachtree Streets wherever you might happen to be, the Gone With the Wind myth, freeways, the MARTA, that hellish airport, and the Southern capital of corn dogs, it's easy to see how being nondescriptly adequate provides camouflage.
His father voted for Jimmy Carter for President. He hangs out at the Waffle House, and votes Democratic. You can always tell him by his cry, "How 'bout them Dawgs?" He catches bank robbers by driving while scraping their fenders when they're on I-285. After they both spin out, he apologizes, then takes them to jail if they're woozy. If not, he will call ahead to the Georgia State Police to do the heavy work.
After a hard day fighting crime in Hotlanta (the city that neither sleeps nor showers), he visits his girlfriend Prudie, a lap dancer at the Pink Pussycat Pub. Crime fighting is a labor of love for the unsung superheroes.
|Adequate Man, looking spiffy.|