Just Call Me Kathy Kane!

JUST CALL ME KATHY KANE!
Riddle me this my gay nocturnal mammals; what is five-eight in heels, has flaming red hair, a penchant for broads, and a kick like a just-propositioned drag queen? Me you say? Ho ho, not quite my sexuality bending friends, the answer, of course, is Kathy Kane. Renowned socialite, heiress and longtime dust-sheeted heroine Batwoman. Do you know, I waited 40-years for DC to admit Batwoman was, in fact, a red-headed lesbian, which is almost as long as I waited to come out! But, holy hips batfolks, the simularities don't stop there.
Although I am not a wealthy socialite with a sugar family and a trust fund, I do live in Gotham City and, have been known on the odd occasion, to fight crime – and, now and again, to dress as a vampy batchick and leap from tall buildings down on King William. Those raunchy rampages were soon dampened however by over-zealous OHS regulations, and thus, my batty, bodiced-battles were sadly curtailed. Life as a girl crime fighter, especially one squeezed into a skin-tight body suit complete with obligatory breast and hip padding, isn't all it's cracked up to be . . .
All of which, goes no way at all to explaining why Kathy Kane a.k.a Batwoman, has been kept shrink-wrapped for three decades or so while that steroid-riddled batboy and his bisexual partner-in-crime-fighting camped it up all over Gotham armwrestling adversaries like Mr. Frosticle and the Piddler. I mean, how long does a girl have to wait to see the steel-cage match-up of Catwoman versus Batwoman? That is every pre-pubescent boys and lesbian's (pre or post-pubescent) fantasy. So okay, I'll admit that during Batwoman's enforced hiatus I went all catty, honestly, how could you not? There is a hell of a lot to be said for a woman poured into a shimmering cat suit, ask Bruce Wayne, and, while the transition from comic caricature to big screen 3D in the hedonistic guise of Mz Michelle was pretty much enough to make me swap sides and take up crime again, I still knew that locked in the vault someplace, our poor Batwoman was hanging around upside down (good for the hair follicles I'm told), awaiting her turn in the big bat spotlight.
Times they have a changed for Kathy K, and, changed for the better I might add. Catwoman, well, she is definitely a brunette, I mean, brunettes are a dime a dozen on Gotham's party strip, ditto blondes, and, no one really associates with a blonde crime fighter, do they? And, considering your femme fatales are almost always raven-haired, there was only one feasible makeover for Batwoman to have. Personally, I think it endorses red-heads everywhere, and, I have no doubt that many of Hollywood's A-list, and, even some of its B-list actor chicks, will be heading down to see Mr. Ronaldo for a red-rinse pretty damned soon. And why not? Who wouldn't want to play a red-headed lesbian always up for a spot of girl-on-girl between crime fighting gigs? I predict that even before the movie comes out, whoever gets named as Kathy Kane, will become an overnight dykon for every queer magazine in the world. Which is all as it should be as personally I've had a gutfull of Jodie Foster and Ellen De Generate . . . and now I have to fly batlings, the Commissioner is on the batphone . . . something about the Lord Mayor having been kidnapped by a bunch of tricycle-riding leathermen, dear god, will it never end?