raul grau
Aug 19, 2005, 11:00 am
<img src="http://www.comixfan.com/xfan/images/columns/fliacbs.jpg" hspace=10 align=left border=0 alt="Fear and Loathing in a Comic Book Store logo">By A.W. Pemberton
Confessions of a Comic Book Junkie
"Junk is the ideal product.... the ultimate merchandise. No sales talk necessary. The client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy.... The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to his product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise. He degrades and simplifies the client. He pays his staff in junk."
- William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch
I used come into contact with this type of individual on a regular basis. Contrary to ignorant popular opinion, this type is not usually the foolish, young and willful type, but the sad and bored loner. The type of person who is just trying to get some satisfaction out of life, and experience something out of the ordinary, something they could never get out of everyday reality. I know this, because I am their dealer. Yes, I freely admit to proliferating Junk to the masses, and to exploiting helpless scum by cruelly feeding their sickness at inflated prices.
Don’t look at me like that! I’m just a good, freedom-loving capitalist like yourself. Your world leaders do the same thing all the time. Remember Iran-Contra? Hell, you’re lucky that my product was comics and not the highly addictive opiates Bush Sr. was pedaling. Doesn’t matter now, anyway. The comic store I worked at closed down forever. Unprofitable, say some; a pigsty covered in torn up Magic cards and used up porno, say others. The truth is always somewhere in between. It's kind of a contradiction, really, that a business traditionally supported by addicts somehow loses business to the point of collapse. We were the only goddamn place in town, its not like there was anywhere else to go.
Working in a comic store gave me a special insight into the minds and habits of your average comic reader, and the internal mechanics of the store itself. In my time observing the slimy underbelly of the comics market, I saw some extremely heavy things, stuff so disturbing that I try not to remember them. Other than that, the experience was quite good. I was in the job for the chance to read a lot of comics, stuff I wasn’t really interested in paying for. This is the part I miss the most (well, that, and getting paid), and I consider myself very privileged to have had the opportunity.
Every time new stuff was due, we’d get the inevitable plethora of phone calls. The following is a typical example.
A sick, rasping, maniacally agitated voice comes down the line, breathing heavily.
Junkie: "Has the shipment come in yet?"
AWP: "No, not yet, man."
Usually some anguished cries of pain or deranged shrieking occurs here. It takes a moment or two for them to regain their composure.
Junkie: "W-well, uh, do you know what time it will be getting in?"
AWP: "Nah, its impossible to tell. The courier moves in mysterious ways. Completely random and shiftless, those bastards are."
The junkie becomes desperately upset at this point.
Junkie: "Oh man. Can you, uh, call me when it comes in, because -"
AWP: "No, of course I can’t call you. What kind of operation do you think I'm running here, you swine!"
Junkie: "Oh, man.... I really need it."
Violent coughing and sounds of other withdrawal symptoms.
Junkie: "Uh, I’ll call back in an hour."
AWP: "Rightio, man. Rightio."
If you’re reading this article, then it’s highly likely that you follow this pattern of behaviour to some degree or another (even if you don’t realise it). You may be a hardcore, lifelong junkie, or perhaps just a regular peruser of the finer stuff available. (I mean, really, why would you be browsing this website if you weren’t an addict?) For most of us, they are a habit that’s hard to break free of. I’ve quit this game three times now, and each time it’s sucked me back in. Like any addiction, comic fandom is a disease. It is not good for you. There is nothing more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of a comic binge. Once you get locked into serious comic collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
It's like that, isn't it? We comic readers are nothing but desperate swine, always on the periphery of society, marginalised and misunderstood in a world of marginalised and misunderstood people. Just another drop in the bucket, make no mistake. Some try to deny it, those who are desperate to believe that they are in someway special, but who cares about those swine, they are natural fools. Things do look gloomy. We’re wired into a real bad trip, these days. Pure Fear and Loathing for everyone, worse than ever. Comics are a savage business to get into, and a true reflection of the cutthroat, atavistic society we live in. The old mystic expression "As above, so below" applies perfectly here.
When you take all this into account, its no surprise that comics are in trouble as a medium. If this type of person is the backbone (and most of the rest of the body) of the industry, then the industry is one ugly looking bastard, some truly twisted and demented mongoloid that even a Chernobyl mother wouldn’t touch. No wonder comics are so unfashionable. No wonder the goddamned store closed down. It’s a shame, but whenever one door closes, another opens, as they say. And you’re in luck gentle reader, as now you can join me each month on a magical journey into the savage and hideous depths of a Comic Book Store, with all the Fear and Loathing you can eat. Yes sir, you’ll love it. Ho ho.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
A.W. Pemberton is a mean and brutal bigot, who currently works for the Bush
Administration.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
Dedicated to Raoul Duke and Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of Comixfan or its other staff in general.
Confessions of a Comic Book Junkie
"Junk is the ideal product.... the ultimate merchandise. No sales talk necessary. The client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy.... The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to his product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise. He degrades and simplifies the client. He pays his staff in junk."
- William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch
I used come into contact with this type of individual on a regular basis. Contrary to ignorant popular opinion, this type is not usually the foolish, young and willful type, but the sad and bored loner. The type of person who is just trying to get some satisfaction out of life, and experience something out of the ordinary, something they could never get out of everyday reality. I know this, because I am their dealer. Yes, I freely admit to proliferating Junk to the masses, and to exploiting helpless scum by cruelly feeding their sickness at inflated prices.
Don’t look at me like that! I’m just a good, freedom-loving capitalist like yourself. Your world leaders do the same thing all the time. Remember Iran-Contra? Hell, you’re lucky that my product was comics and not the highly addictive opiates Bush Sr. was pedaling. Doesn’t matter now, anyway. The comic store I worked at closed down forever. Unprofitable, say some; a pigsty covered in torn up Magic cards and used up porno, say others. The truth is always somewhere in between. It's kind of a contradiction, really, that a business traditionally supported by addicts somehow loses business to the point of collapse. We were the only goddamn place in town, its not like there was anywhere else to go.
Working in a comic store gave me a special insight into the minds and habits of your average comic reader, and the internal mechanics of the store itself. In my time observing the slimy underbelly of the comics market, I saw some extremely heavy things, stuff so disturbing that I try not to remember them. Other than that, the experience was quite good. I was in the job for the chance to read a lot of comics, stuff I wasn’t really interested in paying for. This is the part I miss the most (well, that, and getting paid), and I consider myself very privileged to have had the opportunity.
Every time new stuff was due, we’d get the inevitable plethora of phone calls. The following is a typical example.
A sick, rasping, maniacally agitated voice comes down the line, breathing heavily.
Junkie: "Has the shipment come in yet?"
AWP: "No, not yet, man."
Usually some anguished cries of pain or deranged shrieking occurs here. It takes a moment or two for them to regain their composure.
Junkie: "W-well, uh, do you know what time it will be getting in?"
AWP: "Nah, its impossible to tell. The courier moves in mysterious ways. Completely random and shiftless, those bastards are."
The junkie becomes desperately upset at this point.
Junkie: "Oh man. Can you, uh, call me when it comes in, because -"
AWP: "No, of course I can’t call you. What kind of operation do you think I'm running here, you swine!"
Junkie: "Oh, man.... I really need it."
Violent coughing and sounds of other withdrawal symptoms.
Junkie: "Uh, I’ll call back in an hour."
AWP: "Rightio, man. Rightio."
If you’re reading this article, then it’s highly likely that you follow this pattern of behaviour to some degree or another (even if you don’t realise it). You may be a hardcore, lifelong junkie, or perhaps just a regular peruser of the finer stuff available. (I mean, really, why would you be browsing this website if you weren’t an addict?) For most of us, they are a habit that’s hard to break free of. I’ve quit this game three times now, and each time it’s sucked me back in. Like any addiction, comic fandom is a disease. It is not good for you. There is nothing more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of a comic binge. Once you get locked into serious comic collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
It's like that, isn't it? We comic readers are nothing but desperate swine, always on the periphery of society, marginalised and misunderstood in a world of marginalised and misunderstood people. Just another drop in the bucket, make no mistake. Some try to deny it, those who are desperate to believe that they are in someway special, but who cares about those swine, they are natural fools. Things do look gloomy. We’re wired into a real bad trip, these days. Pure Fear and Loathing for everyone, worse than ever. Comics are a savage business to get into, and a true reflection of the cutthroat, atavistic society we live in. The old mystic expression "As above, so below" applies perfectly here.
When you take all this into account, its no surprise that comics are in trouble as a medium. If this type of person is the backbone (and most of the rest of the body) of the industry, then the industry is one ugly looking bastard, some truly twisted and demented mongoloid that even a Chernobyl mother wouldn’t touch. No wonder comics are so unfashionable. No wonder the goddamned store closed down. It’s a shame, but whenever one door closes, another opens, as they say. And you’re in luck gentle reader, as now you can join me each month on a magical journey into the savage and hideous depths of a Comic Book Store, with all the Fear and Loathing you can eat. Yes sir, you’ll love it. Ho ho.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
A.W. Pemberton is a mean and brutal bigot, who currently works for the Bush
Administration.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
Dedicated to Raoul Duke and Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of Comixfan or its other staff in general.