People will always try to control you. To this, I say, “Nay. I am beautiful, but unique. Like a tiger with spots or a leopard with stripes. It’s evolution. Love it, okay, compadre?”
Call me a rebel, but I have a cause. It’s called “completing an ensemble”. The greatest slaves to duty are slaves to fashion. They mocked me for wearing a helmet. They said capes were against the rules. They put me on notice for being “unfashionable” or “gauche”. Let me tell you something, gentle readers, “gauche” is French for “left”. It’s a compliment. It means you’ve left boring people who wear tweed indoors and who roll around in wheelchairs behind. I know French because after my time with the Nazis, I wandered Europe for a time sweeping floors and singing songs about castles. Cosette in the musical version of Les Miserables was based on me. That’s why she’s the only one who gets to be happy in the end, because that’s how I demand my life to be led.
But back to that time I fought a dinosaur…
p. 508, Vol. 6, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
I don’t cry tears. I cry power.
If you ever see me crying, you’re about to fall under the spell of my charisma. If you offer me a handkerchief, you are offering me your soul.
— p. 129, Volume 7, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
Charles was very excited to team with the CIA and the CIA was very excited to team with me. I was not excited. American life is quite boring. In order to keep sane in those days, I invented little games for myself. One was ghost hunting. Another was bocce ball. A third was walking better than anyone else had ever walked before. One time, I walked into a public library with such sexual gusto that the entire building erupted into an orgasmic swoon and then fainted. The only thing to be done was to kiss all of the attractive people to bring them back to life and to leave the unattractive people passed out and drooling. One man never woke up, but he did die with a smile upon his lips.
— p. 19, Vol. 3, The Autobiography of Magneto X by Erik Lensherr
Now, I play chess in the park. On Mondays and Thursdays I play with a ex-con man named Leroy Reynolds. He doesn’t know I know he used to be a con man. He thinks he’s still a con man conning me, but he’s not conning me. That’s why he’s an ex-con man and that’s why I always beat him. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays I play with a drag queen named Madame Mad Dumb. She is fiesty. On Fridays I round robin tournament with the lads from Dalton Academy. They tell me about how rich their parents are and I pretend to be impressed. On Saturdays, I play with a bulldog named Pryce. He wears a hat very well. And on Sundays, I play alone. I mentally grasp for the pieces. They seem harder to reach now that I’m older. I keep the other seat open. There really isn’t a single opponent who can match me, so I keep the seat empty to signify that.
Of course, there was someone once who could match me, but he’s a presumed dead smug cripple now.
I’m not sad though. I’m friends with a bulldog who plays chess and wears hats.
--p. 1476, Vol. 8, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
Today, my body is a bastion of steely sinews and muscles shaped by time. Then, I was as limber as an acrobat and as magnificent as a bull. A sculptor once paid me to pose as Adonis. The finished product was the most beautiful sculpture ever made, but I destroyed it because it wasn’t an accurate representation of how good I looked. I kept my body in shape by swimming, drinking mint tea and running half-marathons—but running them only by doing cartwheels. I was usually disqualified, but if I hadn’t been, I would have been an elite half-marathon cartwheeler.
My first costume was entirely wetsuit even though I did most my murdering on land. The one drawback of wearing a wetsuit is that my body distracted both my enemies and my allies. That is why, dear readers, I wear a cape now. Otherwise, my figure would steal the hearts of the world. You can’t fight for mutant rights and fend off the sexual advances of every man, woman and canine at the same time.
—p. 246, Vol. 2, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
I am fond of reading. Through reading, we can visit other worlds and inhabit personas strange and foreign to us. I, for one, find it refreshing how almost every character I read about in a book is weaker than I am.
When I read about King Arthur’s court in The Once and Future King, I can step outside myself and imagine I am ruling Camelot, and that my hubris and stupidity are leading it to ruin. If I was King Arthur, Camelot would still exist. One, Guinevere would never have chosen a pansy like Lancelot over the virile hulk of manhood that is me. I bathe in sandlewood and champagne. Those aromas, combined with my natural tang, make me irresistible to females. Two, I would not have had an evil bastard with my sister, because that’s just poor judgment. Three, I would not have relied upon the Knights of the Round Table because I don’t need Knights. I have done the mathematics and can wield 1,283 swords at once.
The way most people watch an Arthur Miller play is how I read everything: with amused pity. Sometimes, a man must weep in empathy to remember that his tears taste like quicksilver.
Reading is so wonderfully droll.
— p. 544, Volume 7, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
I only brought a few items with me when I moved into Charles Xavier’s mansion: my brown calf-skin bomber jacket, a collection of Italian cashmere polo shirts (in all the shades of the moon), a stuffed parrot named Simon, a coin that I wanted to murder someone with, a boar bristle hair brush for my hair, three cravats, seven ties, 43 scarves and 121 turtlenecks. I also brought a pair of pants, my righteous fury and a large package.
— p. 68, Volume 3, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
In addition to recruiting a team, Charles and I spent much of our time then playing chess, arguing about which Van Gogh painting was the best and solving murder mysteries. We were very good at solving mysteries because we looked good, we were witty, and we knew how to stare provocatively at one another until the case was solved.
There was the Mystery of the Chewed Up Face, in which Florida officials thought a man had fallen in a river and had his face hacked by a motor boat’s motor, but Charles and I believed it was eaten off by a manatee. Then there was the Case of the Pumpernickel Bread, wherein an old man supposedly died of a heart condition, but Charles and I surmised he had been so disgusted by a loaf of pumpernickel bread that he willed his own heart to stop in revolt. Finally, there was JFK’s assassination, which we never solved because we had broken up our alliance by that time. However, if we were still friends, I think we would have found that JFK was assassinated by a gorilla dressed like a child. It all adds up.
— p. 127, Volume 3, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
Gentle readers, here are my thoughts on Emma Frost:
She could walk.
Now back to me.
I once discovered a new breed of butterfly in Peru…
— p. 31, Volume 4, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr
I never understood why, but Spiderman never had any sense of humor about Halloween. It was most distressing. I wanted to go as Gandalf one year, so I sent him a letter requesting that he light himself on fire to dress as the Balrog. He did not do this. My costume was ruined by his churlish vanity. Spiderman is incredibly vain. He is constantly fretting about how he is perceived in the papers and he was responsible for the death of his girlfriend and wants people to pity him for it. It’s like, seriously, Mr. Parker. The world doesn’t revolve around you. There are other people in the world. Just light yourself on fire, fall down a chasm and be the Balrog for me!
-p. 512, Volume 7, The Autobiography of Magneto X, by Erik Lensherr