Like all superheroes, ex-FBI Director James Comey has an origin story:
[James Comey] came face-to-face with an armed burglar back when he was 16 years old, when the suspect broke into his house in Bergen County, New Jersey, and threatened Comey and his younger brother.
It’s a truly scary story. I’m not making light of it:
Comey told [George] Stephanopoulos that he had been upstairs when the suspect broke in and grabbed [his brother] Peter, eventually bringing him up to their parents’ bedroom, which was near his.
“As I stepped in, I looked to my right, and there was a guy with a gun and wearing a wool ski hat,” he said, adding that he then momentarily lost his vision, regaining it to find his brother being pinned down.
“He jumped on Peter, put his right knee in the middle of his back, and stuck the gun with his left hand into his ear and turned to me and said, ‘You move, kid, and I’ll blow his head off.’ And I didn’t move,” Comey said.
A traumatic event like that would probably scar anyone. Comey admits that it continues to haunt him:
The terrifying episode left Comey so shaken that to this day, he told Stephanopoulos, he always “had some weapon at hand nearby,” and the weapon of choice for many years was a butcher’s knife.
But instead of dressing like a bat and/or wearing a utility belt, Super Comey chose to fight crime a different way. He became the top dog at the FBI, where he was heralded as “the second coming of J. Edgar Hoover,” a great leader, and an American hero.
And there he served… right until President Trump threw Super Comey out on his sanctimonious [cape].
Here’s where the story suddenly changes: Yes, it’s true that superheroes have origin stories. But y’know who else has ‘em?
Supervillains.
Some of the wickedest supervillains have the saddest, most tragic origin stories: The evil, murderous Magneto was once a Holocaust survivor whose parents were killed for their Jewishness. Very often, these villains have legitimate grievances: The world wronged them in horrible ways.
But the difference between superheroes and supervillains is that a superhero is motivated by tragedy to do good, whereas a supervillain draws a much different life-lesson: They are the only ones who can be trusted with power, and they alone should stand in judgment of others.
And this brings us back to James Comey.
There’s no need to recap his odd decision in 2016 to “tsk-tsk” Hillary Clinton after catching her red-handed breaking the law yet opting not to charge her. Or his grandstanding and weaponization of the Russia Hoax against Donald Trump. (Even Democrats have condemned his reliance on obvious Russian misinformation.)
No matter. James Comey clearly sees himself in grandiose terms: He’s the hero, and everyone is his way is the villain. It’s why he thought it was fine to break FBI policy and leak anti-Trump memos to the media: Comey knows best. It explains the unbelievable audacity of naming his autobiography, “A Higher Loyalty: Truth, Lies, and Leadership.” (Gag.) Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could’ve come up with a more pretentious title.
You see it in his description of his enemies: Trump is “like a movie monster.” And whose job is it to slay the movie monster?
“Have no fear! Super Comey is here!”
Of course, what ultimately unmasks supervillains — the telltale sign that they’re on the side of evil, not good — is that their childhood grievances are pretexts for greed. Sometimes they’re after power; other times, they’re after money.
For Comey, it’s money.
Lots of people were wondering what the heck James Comey was thinking when he posted that “86 47” seashell image. Was it a death threat against President Trump? (And which beach is Comey going to, where he keeps finding coded messages in dead mollusks?)
I’ve figured out the real answer, folks. And honestly, it’s not that interesting: James Comey is marketing a book.
It’s called “FDR Drive,” and the plot “focuses on an extreme right-wing podcaster who spreads conspiracy theories and disinformation and incites his listeners to fatally attack people he targets in his shows.”
This “fictional” right-wing podcaster and/or bad guy is named Sam Buchannan, whose name doesn’t sound anything like Steve Bannon. Anyway, you’ll never guess who the hero is.
Right.
And in another one of those strange coincidences that seem to follow Comey wherever he goes, the book just happens to be released one week after Comey “had no idea” his “86 47” post might attract so much gosh-darn attention.
Nice from Publishers Weekly. Out Tuesday May 20. pic.twitter.com/iBniwnlqIR
— James Comey (@Comey) May 15, 2025
To quote our good friend Ilhan Omar, when it comes to Comey, “it’s all about the Benjamins, baby.”
Super Comey is no superhero. He’s just greedy.
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