It always seemed to me that the most powerful fictional characters would not be determined by their strength, wealth, or intelligence—but rather, by their ability to realize they were fictional. For what good is everything else if you are not aware of your own fictionality, of the true nature of your very existence?
In this sense, a character like Deadpool’s exemplary physical durability is really just a metaphor for his enlightenment as to the fact that he is a fictional character. Fictional characters can be chopped up, burnt, exploded, decapitated, what have you—but they cannot truly die, as long as there is at least one person existing who can keep creating stories (official or otherwise) about them.
Continue reading “Deadfool And The Cabinet Of Infinite Memory”