Suicides do encourage some other people to commit suicides. This effect is the most potent in the people already contemplating on ending their lives, an example just helps them over their own limit. So I do agree with Neemo that a lot of that is a foundation that builds up over time - the foundation alone doesn't mean a person will eventually commit suicide, just raises their personal margin.

Suicide is a taboo nowadays, but in Ancient Rome and Japan, for instance, it was a widely accepted way of atonement. A lot of the demonizing comes off the religious/cultural background we have, which in the Western world is mostly Abrahamic religions.

This is so, because death takes you to a sphere beyond our current comprehension and people are prone seek a higher authority on that. It's understandable and very human, but also, just goes on to show how the common Westener has swept away the elderly, the ill and the suiciders from his daily grind.

A lot of people have a hard time grasping Death, even if they have a lifetime to come to terms with it.

1994, to be exact.

He also went to the 1996 sessions, which were the last ones with Slash in the band. I understand he remained in the band from 1996 to 2002. He has more than one writing credit on CD.

At least, give the man credit where it's due.

They are, most likely, those same tapes.

"The coolest omen," says Slash, "was the night I recorded three songs and mixed them that night, which I normally wouldn't do. I went to bed with the DAT in my hand, all 14 songs. [...] And it was like Godzilla came to town. [...] The time was 4:31 a.m., Jan. 17, 1994. The Godzilla in question was L.A.'s 6.7 earthquake." (Slash, Rolling Stone, 04/95)

On January 17th, some two weeks after the Rockline interview, Slash finished up the Snakepit demos. He never set out to do a solo album, he wrote for Guns. That's when Slash and Axl would've started to have issues, which were said to have dragged for months.

The whole Snakepit conundrum happened in early '94. Gilby was still in the band when they were rejected.

They tried a lot. There was the Snakepit material (by Slash, Gilby, Matt & co), there were the last Gilby sessions after that in around April '94, and the Sympathy sessions in October '94, by which time the atmosphere had gotten poisonous, the Zakk sessions in January '95, post-Zakk sessions before Slash left to promote Snakepit...

The option is there, always. Just that when you're wrapped up at the short end of your own existence, you don't see yourself worthy of help, you don't see the help as anything useful, and you probably think the world is a better place without you anyway. The long distance in suicides is gradually accepting the world has nothing to offer.

My familiar, who's visited my house and with whom I shared friends, ended her life this spring. We met just a day or so before. In retrospect, she appeared a bit more elusive than usual, but overall, very serene. The letters she left behind went on to suggest she'd finally made peace with things and was basically wrapping her life up.

Help just wasn't an option, because help was for her continued presence in this life.

The 'ghost town' aspect is not to foil the Nolan brothers, as I remember they had a really good run in Chicago. The first film in particular used the Thomas Wayne monorail (or whatever it was called) as what I saw as a beautiful symbol of the man's views - Hell, Batman's Dad was essentially the Harvey Dent of his era.

All is still good on that department on The Dark Knight, I give them that, since Dent is there to bring in the human element, which Wayne, Jr. would've had by legacy, if only doing the Bat requires him to pose as an eccentric billionaire playboy.*

In DKR, the Dent Act (this one) made people with verdicts on organized crime due more time, without the possibility for parole. The yo-yo effect on detained mobsters is lessened.

People should feel safe to get outside the house. The real Gotham got past 9/11 quite well in eight years, so I won't buy their cinematic counterparts mopping on the Joker era as much as Bruce Wayne does on the late Rachel.

Pre-Bane Gotham should, according to the backstory, be a quite lively place.

Batman should reappear in horrible traffic jam, and highway patrols would get their asses handed to them if they'd go in thinking it's just a another night with reckless kids, fawlty seniors and the few DUI's.

Most importantly, the Bat would be seen again. People should be there digging, readying smartphones. It should be a big night after eight years, the original boogeyman coming home - Gotham's Halloween, if you may.

After Bane, I would've killed to see Gothamites organize to help each other out. "Guys, we're all under dictatorship, if we stick together, we'll all be better off." The City in which most the characters say they believe in would do just that. Unify.

I'd settle for just a few minutes of screentime on that, just to show that the city is rebuilding itself in the background, while The Bat and his cohorts get rid of Bane. At the end, everyone was talking about the City; I didn't really see one.

* I find the Thomas Wayne legacy just another nice twist to the Wayne/Bat persona, as in, deep down, Wayne knows being Batman does justice to his father, but the rest of Gotham thinks he's betraying his father's legacy. The Bat has a mixed relationship with Gotham, but a major taxpayer is also regarded a bit uneven.

Alfred does scold him in the film for NOT taking over from Dent. Why Bruce didn't do it; because he was grieving. In other words, he didn't believe in Gotham enough to work for it in any public fashion, be it office by day - or night.

When you think about it, this does sound like a crux in the Wayne story arc; give up on Gotham as anything but the shadowy developer of a ground-breaking energy resource. He'd live up to Dad with it, lighting up every home in Gotham for centuries.

If the city could stand on its own enough time, without Wayne or the Bat, WayneTech would ensure a jump start for a New Golden Age. But then Wayne lost faith in that dream, too, as he realized it also works as a nuke.

Whatever happened to Wayne Enterprises providing with sustainable development? Right. Them funds were bled out to Wayne's hush-hush vanity project. No-one in the board figured they should get his project on fixed monthly budget, not to mention keep the other departments going? CD didn't wipe out the label, just costed more than they'd liked.

So, it seems to me Wayne Enterprises has been grossly mismanaged during the preceding eight years, with the big dog locked up in the basement and loan sharks working overtime in the top floor. All Wayne can do is the martyr bit. No wonder Al's pissed.

(It's curious to note that Memento and Inception, earlier Nolan films, use the memory of a late loved one the exact opposite way; to keep the lead character going, even if in a sort of foul state, with Guy Pearce going round murdering bad guys and Leonardo DiCaprio coming off from work in dreamland to a Twin Peaks/Black Lodge version of his wife.)

It does look like Bruce Wayne has given up on Gotham, because he fears the ghost of Harvey Dent. Getting your hands dirty in public office turns all crosshairs on you and the people next to you. Wayne is not having it, stressing the need of masks to Joseph.

The Bat is something he brings out of stasis and seems to do go quite well with that bum leg until Bane shows him off. Again, the injury on the leg is something I would've cared to see more of, put the Bat more to a Dark Knight Returns territory - he's been out of the game for so long, he'd be undertrained, a bit wobbly, and thus, fighting off the fear that he can't pull it off anymore.

In the end, I don't question Wayne's decision to leave Gotham in more engaged hands and tailing off to Florence with a new flame. The most he's had to offer to Gotham throughout the film had been the legacy of the Bat.