Slaying superheroes

A million things to do, and I decide to write yet another post. Seems I’ve been bitten by the writing bug again… must remember to fumigate the house.

For those curious enough, I am not at the gas station. I am at home, seated on the sofa and sipping coffee. I’ve yet to visit the gas station this year, though I’m pleasantly surprised that I can write from other locations as well.

*****

Over the holiday break, my sister and I took a drive to visit our folks, to the very same house where we grew up.

Hmm, reading back on that last sentence, I would understand how someone might conjure images of siblings traveling back to far flung provinces to visit their ma and pa who might be caring to chickens and pigs, milking cows and tending to a vegetable patch. Well, as a disclaimer, our folks live in the same city where we do. When they’re not “milking” the refrigerator or “tending” to the television, we would usually find them hard at work at the mall’s Bingo Bazaar or wading through the bargain shelves at the flea market. The “old” house is about two blocks away from our apartment, to be exact. It’s a 5-minute walk, but we drove there because, well, we’re that lazy. We “drive” there every month to get the mail, pay off some bills and steal whatever we could (ref magnets, can openers, Spam, my dad’s porn collection, batteries for the remote control, etc). Guess that clears up any mistaken imagery you readers might assume. So anyway…

While my sister and I were scrounging around, looking for a fly-swatter and a cheese-grater, I chanced upon my old comic book collection gathering dust at the bottom of my old cabinet. Still in their acid-treated plastic sleeves complete with their individual protective “backing-boards”, I sifted through the stack (incorrectly piled horizontally on top of one another, I must add) and computed about three thousand Pesos worth of early-nineties allowances. Marvel Comics titles such as both (there were only 2 then) X-men series and X-factor, Image Comics collectibles, and even my two copies of “The Death of Superman” (opened and sealed) DC Comics special. I carefully recovered each and every one of them and brought them home with me to the apartment.

Being short of money these days, I’ve thought of going online and selling them on Ebay, but that just didn’t feel right. Framing and displaying my X-men #1 fold-out cover also crossed my mind, but I couldn’t bear even unstapling the cover off what is in my opinion one of the best #1’s in comic book history (Second to Spawn #1, which I also have, by the way). I couldn’t even display them on my book shelf, fearing the curiosity and unsterilized hands of guests and visitors. So what do I do? I store them in a humidity-free and protective environment, away from sunlight and oxidizing elements. I’m not even telling you where that is!

*****

I thought back to the times when I collected these comic books and tried to recall why I stopped. Was it a different set of priorities (porn-over-comics), intellectual maturity (air-brushed porn-over-comics), a technological revolution (porn vcds-over-comics) or the realization that fantasy dies in the face of a harsh reality (Psylocke and Rogue might be strong, but they'd certainly squeal and come-a-begging with Peter North around)?

As I dust off and re-read my precious collection, I can’t help but ask the question… What killed off the comic books? A real mystery.