There is a cure for that tainted feeling...
He was under the influence of a magic spell. He was under the influence of alcohol. Dr. Octopus slipped some LSD in his lunchables. It was a bad trip, man... It was just a nightmare. (Stan Lee thinks so, why not us?) It was another clone. It was a Doombot. It was a descecration.
Whatever it was, it was not Spider-Man.
I have not read BND, so it means nothing to me. Neither have you...neither have you...you have not read BND... yes, keep your eyes on the spinning watch... you are getting sleepy...
(the mysterious commenter, a man with no livejournal account, begins to chant slowly, softly)
By kukedaarwyn, sym'nsonwalt, brubak'red, and timmber'uuse...
(the mysterious stranger's voice rises, and takes on an unearthly resonance)
(Your entranced mind slowly becomes aware of a red cape billowing about him, as the Fanboy Supreme reveals his true form. He is now hovering, his feet an inch above the ground, showing contempt for gravity and for the current editorial direction of Marvel comics. He extends his hands toward you, forming the sign of kohanim with each hand. The air crackles, snaps and pops. He continues, his voice booming...)
Now shall the Crimson Bands of Kirby-rak enfold you, the All-Seeing Eye of Nuffsaid expose the darkness that infects you, and the Oracle of Simone lead you along other paths though hypertime. By the power of the Ever-Changing Ball of Kalvin, open your weary eyes and see that canon is naught but what you imagine it to be. This do I know: Rogers lives, Doom has no master, and Spider-Man loves Mary Jane!
Oh you lies most vile, return to the hell from which you came! All good people laugh you to scorn. To the fetid mind of Quesada do I banish you! Descend, and tell the lies yet to come that the ire of fangirls and fanboys does not sleep. Begone!
(A blinding light, a thunderclap. When your vision returns, you see the Fanboy Supreme is slumped over, leaning against the wall. He seems to have conjured himself a glass of scotch.)