I was going to just write about 300 that I didn’t get it. And I didn’t. I mean, the whole thing just didn’t seem like a fantastic award-winning Big Deal, just like some sort of tedious knock-off of Frank Miller graphic novels. I mean, I do understand that it’s been ten years since it came out, so there’s that. But mostly? I didn’t get it.
But something else happened this week, in addition to YHB finally reading 300. My old high-school buddy Adam Beechen was ripped off. 8,000 comics were stolen. And the thing is—I was never into comics. I read comics, sure, but I was never into comics, if you know the difference. But those were the comics I read in the mid 80s, when I learned to appreciate what was going on with comics at the time. And when I say those were the comics I read, I mean those were the comics I read. Those actual comics. He let me borrow them, and I imagine (and vaguely remember) that he was dealing with the conflicting emotions of not really wanting to lend out his MiracleMan series and really wanting to share this awesome, awesome stuff with me. I loved the Swamp Thing stuff. Watchmen. I never bought a single book from a store; I read what he handed me to read.
I’m still in touch with Adam, vaguely, in that half-a-dozen emails and maybe one phone call a year way. We talked movies a lot, for years, back before there were children providing me an excuse for avoiding going out to movies. I have a habit, now, of googling him every now and then, particularly after major comic-book conventions. It’s fun for me, usually. Not this time.
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.