Mortals of Planet Houston.
It is my fondest hope that you have suffered greatly under my surreptitious rule in the past week. It is clear that many of the things that I have set in motion are bearing fruit, politically and interpersonally, and soon the world will be a charred wasteland answering only to Zod.
Now, on to relationship advice.
First, we hear from a simpering fool calling himself “Kal-Ed,” soon to be Kal-Dead if his question does not amuse Zod:
General! I would like to ask if you would care to step outside and clear an unanswered issue. I, Kal-Ed…from the house of Ed…your neighbour…from the second dome…and Kal-El’s non mentioned 4th degree cousin…would like to ask:
How could you and Ursa talk in space? And I once saw you on this platform named You-tube giving bodily exercise to mortals so they could obtain a body of steel! Would it not be heresy to teach earth bound mortals the Kryptonian way of perfection!!?
There are so many things incorrect here, Zod frets he will not have enough time to correct them before next week rolls around.
Firstly, Zod does not live in a dome. That is for the pathetic scientists with their unwarranted fear of climate change. All day, every day, “Oh no, the world is getting warmer, it’s going to explode soon!” Bah. Zod knows that this is a vast conspiracy on the part of Kryptonian scientists to secure funding.
Krypton goes through natural heating and cooling cycles, it always has, and the sun getting closer is merely a normal part of Kryptonian life. Granted, Zod has not been back to Krypton in several decades, but he is sure it is just as he left it. Zod saw it snow once during a “heat” phase, and the planet is a stark white of eternal winter. Clearly the scientists are fools.
Zod, when Zod was on Krypton, lived in a ten thousand square foot mountain atop the firefalls. If Kal-Ed’s fourth degree cousin had come near Zod’s home, Zod would have had Non toss Kal-Ed’s pathetic family over the edge.
Now that this is out of the way, I can respond to your question about how Ursa and I speak in space.
Zod was curious himself, and so he asked the help of Ne-Il De-Grass Ty-Son, but Ty-Son was too busy promoting his newest book, so Zod simply asked one of those film critics who make excuses for bad films, and they said “Clearly Zod and Ursa are able to talk because, though they appear to be in the blackness of space, they are simply in the atmosphere of the moon or Planet Houston, where the atmosphere is thin, but just thick enough to carry sound.
Alternatively, Zod’s voice is powerful enough to defeat the vaccuum of space. Does Zod care? No, Zod does not.
The imposter you saw on You-Tube is clearly not Zod, and Zod would find and bench-press this fool with only the air from his lungs, if Zod did not have a passing bit of admiration for someone who wants to be like Zod. This amuses Zod. He may live.
It is, indeed, heresy to teach mortals the Kryptonian way of perfection, for such a lie is to be spit upon. We teach Zod’s superior ways of perfection evermore.
If Zod were to be asked what kind of exercise would lead a mortal to have a body of steel, such that Zod has, Zod would recommend regular diet and exercise, three visits to the gym a week, and resting on those days in which you feel you might be hurt.
Zod, however, does not exercise. Your red son gives me sufficient power that my looks to not matter, I can lift anything I please, do anything I please, and go anywhere I please. It is simply good fortune and birthright that I am the sexiest manimal ever to have lived.
I am also certain that a neat and trimmed beard allows you to lift an additional sixty pounds. Try this with no spotter, or face the wrath of Zod.
General Zod, why is it that Non can’t speak? And is Ursa and Faora the same person, or are they different people? And if they are separate people, then which one is your second in command?
Non can speak. Non is simply a deferential, and thus wise, creature. He knows that to speak in front of Zod is to risk saying something that Zod might disapprove of, and so he makes extra effort not to say anything stupid, unlike the mortals of Planet Houston.
There were initially three lieutenants, but Dur-Zod – let’s just say he didn’t work out. Zod still hears the screams sometimes, in his sleep. This is because Dur-Zod is being tortured in another part of where Zod presently is.
It is better to be silent, particularly around Zod. Talk less, eye laser more.
Ursa and Faora are different people. Faora is an actress, a woman named Antje Traue who Zod finds particularly aesthetically pleasing, and would gladly consort with were she not human and thus pathetic. She was a part of the elaborate Sny-Dur conspiracy. We have never met. Do you have her number?
Ursa, on the other hand, is fully Kryptonian, and the only person who may speak in relative defiance to Zod and survive. Many may wonder why. Is this because she, like the fictional Faora, executed men in a concentration camp for the fun of it in the sheer hatred of men, and Zod fears the same fate?
Not at all. Zod has executed men in concentration camps for the fun of it in the sheer hatred of men. Who hasn’t? We are, I would say, colleagues. She does it because she believes men are evil. I do it because I believe men are worthless. Po-Tato, Po-Tahto, as you Houston folks say.
Regardless, Zod also likes to play the field, and Ursa is understanding of Zod’s proclivities. We have an understanding, and so she lives.
Ursa believes herself first-in-command, and much of the world believes her second-in-command, but there is no second-in-command to General Zod. Zod rules all.
Take, for example, last weekend.
Zod had his feet up and his laptop out, typing the FBI report that was due to the insipid administrative humans for their so-called judge, when Ursa returned home from something, I don’t know, slaughtering puppies? It doesn’t matter.
Zod told Ursa to get Zod a beer.
Ursa told Zod to get his own beer, thinking herself somehow in charge.
Zod told Ursa to get him a beer, or he would urinate on her patch collection. It fills an entire room now, and I keep telling her to get rid of it, and she keeps promising to give it to the Good-Will or the Sal-Vation Ar-My, but instead it sits there collecting dust in what was Zod’s Zod-Cave. She hasn’t even touched one of them in twenty years.
In response to this, Ursa asserted that I did not love her any more, that she didn’t know why she was still here, and Zod, ever cool in a clutch, indicated that Zod didn’t love anything.
At this point she attacked me, and we went through the wall, setting things on fire with our eye lasers all the way.
Tumbling through the patches, we made passionate love as the dust flew through the air at super-speed, the sheer power of our frenzied coupling putting out all the fires and sending the patches flying away at mock five. Problem solved.
At any rate, in the question of the patches, they are now gone. What Zod says, goes.
That Zod did not get his beer and his Zod-Cave is gone – that, ah, is as Zod wills it. Yes.
That is all the time I have for this weeke. Zod must now go into the kitchen, where the patches have been returned in neat stacks by Non in boxes, and urinate on all the boxes, for Zod wills it.
These questions posed no challenge to Zod. Zod wishes a challenge. Perhaps one of you mortals of Houston have a question that might give pause?
Likely not. Regardless. Tell three friends about this column, or Zod will come at you, bro.