Before that, I remember how Bruce D. Wayne’s origin story was that he was bitten by a radioactive bat and gained actual bat-themed superpowers kinda like Spiderman. He could actually fly, had impeccable reflexes and hearing, and ate a lot of fruit. Seriously, the man loved fruit and ate fruit salad out of a giant bowl with a giant spoon. He looked like an optimistic, cheery, and chubby 10 year old who just up-ended an entire box of Froot Loops in a mixing bowl to prepare for nonstop marathon of Saturday morning cartoons.

But tragedy never struck this Batman. His parents lived, laughed, and loved with the best of them, but he became Batman anyway and moved to Mexico City because, in this universe, his parents and the Wayne Foundation were pretty good about cleaning up Gotham without the need for street-level vigilante crime and throwing haymakers at poor people stealing toasters. He didn’t want all those radioactive bat powers to go to waste, you see.

So Batman went to Mexico City (called “Ciudad de la Muerte” or Muerte in this DC universe) and fought mainly white guys who, for some vague reasons, ran an awful lot of crime and drugs in Mexico. This was hilarious in the early days of internet newsgroups because everyone was critiquing how “political correctness has gone mad” and shitty comic authors had made their sacred idol Batman into a black dude fighting white evil dudes in Mexico, of all places.

Then the next issue dropped and it turned out that the white guys all worked for the CIA, only by another name. Then all the loud and shitty anti-PC fans suddenly shut up because they realized the comic was drawing from the actual history of the CIA being heavily involved in crime and drug operations of several countries south of the border. It was a like a shut-the-fuck-up bombshell exploded and shut up all the dirtbags. That was including me, honestly. I was one of those dirtbags who didn’t know what I was talking about. I still don’t know what I’m talking about, but I didn’t know what I was talking about then either (Thanks, Mitch Hedberg).

There were also several lizard bad guys who followed under the leadership of a guy with the hilariously-mediocre name of Muerte Morty. Muerty Morty distinguished himself from his green underlings by being blue and wearing a stylish hat. I can’t quite remember, but I think he wore a necktie and shirt as well, but no pants (AKA “Donald Ducking it”).

By the way, I should have mentioned that the D in this version of Batman, Bruce D. Wayne, stood for Dwayne. That’s the best part because that means Muerte Batman was named B. Dwayne Wayne, and that’s just poetry. That is absolute perfection in terms of names.

Muerte Batman also had a sidekick that wasn’t Robin. It was, you-guessed-it, a corny guy in a luchador mask who had vague “spirit powers” from his ancestors or something. This was seen by some as kinda racist. Others thought it was also political correctness gone wild. They can’t all be winners, folks. Sometimes, in the effort to be progressive and thought-provoking, comic book authors fly right past the mark, just enthusiastically hurling themselves off a cliff into a pile of thorns. His name was El Pastor, because he was a preacher who, one day, decided to put on a luchador mask and fight people. So he teamed up with Batman, who conveniently lived like right next door in a goddamn cave.

Anyway, some people said this was the inspiration for Jack Black’s film, Nacho Libre, about a priest who becomes a luchador. But both were actually inspired by a real dude.. At the time, however, comic book fans didn’t know this bit of vital information. So, once again, a gesture that seemed absurdly politically-correct ended up being based on a real person, and I felt like a jackass for being critical of it. I mean, it makes perfect sense in the story because Fray Tormenta and El Pastor and Nacho Libre were all motivated to help an orphanage. And Batman is all about helping dem orphans (even though, in this universe, Dwayne Wayne isn’t an orphan. I guess orphan-aid is core to the Batman mythos, no matter the origin story).

What else? Obviously, Alfred moved to Muerte with B. Dwayne Wayne to keep an eye on him. Then, out of the blue, Batman’s younger brother comes to live with him. And all the readers on Usenet were like, “What? He didn’t have a brother? I am once again outraged!” But then, if you looked back at the first issue, plain as day, there’s a picture of Martha Wayne holding a baby while little Batman is like 6 years old and wearing short shorts and poking various bats with sticks in a bit of foreshadowing.

So Batman’s brother is a cool kid with a great sense of humor and ends up living a pretty normal life and marrying a nice girl who is a doctor. They have kids. Batman becomes an uncle, which is just fantastic. The kids keep pestering Batman, asking why he doesn’t visit them that much. So Batman literally invents a sort of Elon Musk-ish hyperloop thing that links Gotham, Muerte, and Seattle in a big triangle. I was just happy that, for once, Seattle got a shout-out in a comic book. So Dwayne Wayne can travel to visit his niece and nephew in like 15 minutes. Plus, it involves a long dark tunnel, and Batman just fucking loves caves. Huge cave fan. So this dude probably spent 50 billion dollars just to be a cool uncle, which is just a level of dedication that I respect.

Okay, now guess what his brother’s name is? It’s Arthur F. Wayne. And his wife, the doctor, is… yeah. So basically, the Joker is his brother and never becomes the Joker, just a dad with an impressive arsenal of dad jokes. God, I loved Muerte Batman. Even the later issues where he moved to Moscow, fought a polar bear, and punched it right in the bear testicles (You’ve probably seen the meme). Sometimes, I would just sit and think about Muerte Batman. There weren’t many good black superheroes.