When you don't get their geography, read their map.

Fair or not, things hold connotations. We aren't thinking big here. We are thinking the opposite, which is to say that we're thinking small. Quark sized actually.   

Certain glimmers of detail harbor great truths. The quality of an awning is almost always indicative of how good a florist is. This is easy though, a classy awning proves they care about the garnish (the real bouquet standard bearer). These details go unnoticed at first but after enough experiences you begin to equate them with a certain something, which then becomes a standard. 

In the case of Comic Books, plastic is the great indicator. Strident, sterile organization screams a terrible signal at some, of which I am one. As a child I found my way into a fair amount of hobby shops. I'm not sure I liked them, I am doubtful that I ever appreciated their aesthetics, I only recall my lust for more and more Tony Clark rookie cards. In my brief forays I paid little mind to the section of the store reserved for Comic Books. I had no need for escape when Catholic School and Patrick Ewing posed such an interesting reality. Also, these sections were usually filled with fat guys.

 

As we get older, we usually change. These changes in philosophy and action aren't marked by revelation but interest (in the vast majority of cases). Some kids start to like Korn, later they become idiotic, and puke on top of your mother's garage onto downlookers below while wearing an LSU t-shirt. Some kids get into religion, then get into accounting. In a growing blight, some kids get into Comic Books, I mean REALLY get into Comic Books. This is usually followed by physical atrophy and a lifelong relationship with your first girlfriend. Though Christians argue otherwise, we at Hindenburg call these bad things. 

The connotation of Comic Books scares me. Thank heavens to betsy I find them repulsive. 

SpiderMan, SuperMan, Dr. Potato Boiler, Little Cotton Muncher, and all other super heroes sit in a universe so dynamic and adventurous that I can not relate it to my little world of Macrame. Further more i believe that the Comic book format does little to capture the details that provide both entertainment and resonance. Given the short attention span required to enjoy such a medium I seem a perfect fit. However, with simple statements and bare bones story lines I find the disjointed arrangement of this comic books more of a bastion to think about other things, rather than a separate form of entertainment. 

It isn't just comic books either. Comic strips, words with pictures, and any story driven series of drawings fail to provide any real spark. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem real. it is mortifying to admit that I once owned a book of Foxtrot Comics. Of course given the rules of everything, 10% of these are probably good. However, they don't change the game, they just provide proof that the game isn't pointless. 

Now for the hypocrisy. We're starting a comic. Based on my own adventures, anecdotes, and dreams these will be horribly done, crudely conceived, and a waste of your time. I have no idea why I am  doing this, but you can just assume that it's out of self loathing because you'll probably want to imagine me slitting my wrists after reading them . Fittingly I call them... My Stupid Life.