Word is that Batman is going to die.

No joke. Bruce Wayne is getting killed off in the comic books. He’s going to be replaced by Robin, or one of the Robins. See, it seems there are three Robins, past and present, on the scene at the moment. One of them, Jason Todd, used to be dead, but it didn’t work out.

So rest in peace, Bruce. It’s not like anyone cares. That sounds harsh, but death in comic books is about as relevant as Rosie O’Donnell. Comic book history is on a permanent treadmill, full of sound and fury, signifying less than nothing.

People might care if they thought Bruce’s death was for real.

It isn’t.

Comic books are worse than soap operas. Nobody really dies, or if they do die, they don’t stay dead. Nobody ages, either. This causes problems for characters like Superman who’ve been around for six decades or so, because these characters tend to accumulate baggage. That’s why DC Comics, Superman’s publisher, blows up the universe every few years in a mega cosmic spectacular miniseries event. They did it in Crisis on Infinite Earths in 1986, Zero Hour in 1994, Infinite Crisis last year, and the upcoming Final Crisis next year.

It’s easier to wipe out all of creation than it is for Superman to have to face his fortieth birthday.

That’s not to say that he isn’t mortal. Superman died in 1993. His arch-enemy, Lex Luthor, died a couple of years before that. About the same time, Batman had his spine severed and was confined to a wheelchair. Both Fantastic Four leader Reed Richards and his archenemy Dr. Doom were disintegrated by Doom’s really potent hand buzzer. Green Lantern went nuts, killed thousands of other Green Lanterns across the galaxy, and slaughtered the immortal Guardians of the Universe , later destroying the infinity of time and space before sacrificing himself to stop the sun from going out. Green Arrow died a little bit later, I think. I’m pretty sure that Wonder Woman, the immortal Amazon princess, has died a couple of times, too, but I haven’t paid much attention. And just a few months ago, Captain America was gunned down by a sniper. A bad scene. So much death. So much grieving. Weeping. Wailing. Teeth gnashing. The whole nine yards.

So where are they now?

Well, Wonder Woman apparently grew back out of the Amazonian mud, like a weed. The Green Lantern destruction of all space and time turned out to be a misunderstanding, and now all the other thousands of Lanterns are back, along with the universe guardians, space and time, and nacho cheese fries. Both Green Lantern and Green Arrow went to heaven, where they didn’t really fit in, so they both came back. Doom and Richards were not truly killed, just teleported into the distant past to be tortured by a madman from the far-flung future. Batman was healed by some magic brain-damaged chick, whereas Lex Luthor was fortunate that his henchman saved his brain and grew a new body out of it, which he used to pass himself off as his own Australian son. And, of course, Superman was placed in a Kryptonian regeneration matrix by an ancient Kryptonian artificial intelligence, but not before the A.I. deluded itself into thinking it was Superman.

There is, however, one comic book character who has stayed dead for over twenty years: Barry Allen, the Flash. He died in the Crisis on Infinite Earth mega event in ’86, which kept the Anti-Monitor from devouring the multiverse. Allen sacrificed himself to reboot the DC universe so that Superman wouldn’t have to use Grecian Formula. (Supergirl died then, too. She’s back now. And she’s still 16 years old.)

Now, granted, Barry Allen has come back a few times, like his brief appearance in last year’s Infinite Crisis, but there’s some weird metaphysical explanation for that which probably involves some magic Kryptonian Green Lantern nachos. He’s still dead, dammit. And don’t you forget it. And now Bruce Wayne has gone to meet his maker, ar least until the sequel to Batman Begins comes out.

No word on Captain America, though. I’m sure he’s dead for real.

I don’t read comic books anymore.