Every father-son relationship in comics is an absurd representation of what it means to parent—Jor-El and Kal-El Clark Kent are no exception to the norm. A leading scientist from the House of El foresees the demise of Krypton, a prototypical, prosperous trade center, foresees fate conceived by the hands of the ignorant. Nature has a way of getting our attention—its signals are loud, strident, hard to miss. Unable to convince his colleagues in time to escape a moral reckoning, Jor-El considers which worthy sacrifice: the phantom zone, birthing matrix, or an altar of devotion. Alternatives you will understand one day. You alone are worthy. This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Things parents say to justify their actions. Who are we to judge? We laugh remembering the times when mum, grandma, auntie, neighbors caught us desecrating the temple with our actions and words. Knowing the goddamned consequence, we did it anyway. The fire and wood are here but where is the burnt offering? Anxiety alters the sense of taste. Incomprehensible words translated through the tears of Sodom, Gomorrah, Ezekiel, Revelation.