Neanderpundit

Nor even a fan, When I was a kid, the idea of spending a buck on comic books when the same dollar would get me one new or several used paperbacks was ludicrous. it isn’t that i didn’t like them, I would read other kids discards- I just couldn’t see spending that kind of scratch on something that was- from a reading standpoint- not a very good bargain. For the buck a couple copies of Batman cost, I could be reading for a whole DAY. A comic book, I was often through in less then two minutes. Maybe three if it had an ad for Johnson Smith.

A book, though. I could read it, and then I had it forever, to read again, if i wanted to. Plus, the art in comics of the day was lame- yes, I know people look back at it as something wonderful, but the movie that plays in my mind when I read something is always better than the movie I see on a screen, and certainly much better than anything I ever saw in a comic book in the 70’s or 80’s.

In retrospect, though, I’m a little bummed that I missed the “X men” stuff. “Hellboy” looks like it was fun, and the artwork better than usual. But, I take consolation in knowing that I come to the movies (Which i enjoy a good deal) without preconceptions, and the visuals are good, and I don’t have a yardstick to measure them against. Now I just wish there were Hellboy books instead of comics.

All this comes to my mind, of course, because I read over in m Alger’s blog that we lost Frank Frazetta last thursday.

Son of a bitch.

did I burn all the hair off the left side of my chest, and how did I sleep through it?

Running errands, running diagnostics, running my ass off all weekend long. Had hoped to get to the range this weekend but by the time I was prepared I was dead to the world.

So I’m gonna grill up some steaks and hit the hay, and hope next week is better.

I had to go get a scrip filled. I was out trying to get stuff for the Cushman, and I had been working in an old Tshirt and a pair of camos, and I was wearing my garage shoes- an old pair of Dr Scholls that have gotten paint splattered and were missing laces, and had floppy soles. I had a streak of grease across my face that ran up my head, and I was wearing a camo NRA hat.

I left the Autozone (Where they are used to seeing me looking like this) realized that the Walmart pharmacy closed in ten minutes, and rolled over there. While standing in line at Walmart, in buttocks-hugging camo with a ripped, stained teeshirt, I realized, I had become… one of them.