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As a twelve-year-old in 1978, I saw Superman and immediately went home to work out with my long unused barbell set. I wanted big muscles, a pretty girl, and the admiration of the world, just like that guy with the big "S" on his chest.
I've had to settle for being more like the mild-mannered writer, Clark Kent, though I did manage to nab a pretty girl for a wife. More importantly, unlike the fine actor who made Superman so real, I've been fortunate to walk and breathe without assistance.