Dear Every Cure Fan,
Back in 1993, I had this girlfriend named Denise who really, really liked the Cure. She wasn't like the rest of you, what with the eyeliner and romantic misery and all, on account of being sunny and bubbly, but she really, really, really liked the Cure, the way a burning man really, really really likes to get doused by a bucket of water. It took a while for me to come around, in part because I spent much of that year surreptiously listening to Master of Puppets (mostly while mowing the lawn), but I did eventually, but not without forming certain, um, opinions about the sort of person who would rigorously defend the dubious merits of Mixed Up.
Anyway, the point is that you guys created a certain stereotype for me, and part of that stereotype includes softly playing Disintegration while leafing through Sandman comics on rainy Sunday afternoons. Well guess what? Judging by this picture, your beloved lipstick-wearing crybaby likes the same comic as all those brainless athletic chumps who drove you in a frantic sprint from the end of sixth period to the synth-pop sanctuary of your bedroom.
Now, I like Fat Bob well enough, but if he really is a Punisher fan, I like him a whole lot more.