Cleaning up, I put some comic books up for sale on E-Bay. As I looked these old things over it -- surprise! -- sent me down Memory Lane thinking about how I used to be immersed in comics, and thinking about why I fell out of love with them.

As mentioned in previous posts, I first discovered comic books during trips to my grandmother's house in Chattanooga. The house next door had been razed and a Majik Market convenience store erected there. Sensing that a weekend of watching The 700 Club on TV might not entertain a three- or four-year-old, my dad gave me a dollar to go next door and buy comic books. Back then they were only 35 cents so you could get three for a little over a dollar. As well as trying to draw like the pictures in the comic books, I pored over the letters from readers and was absorbed with the T-shirt and Slim Jim ads. What did Stan Lee mean when he called readers "True Believers?" Could Charles Atlas really make me look like Arnold Schwarzenegger without weights? Will Mom lend me some money to order this Kiss T-shirt?

Later, in elementary school, I began gravitating towards the Charlie Brown school of comics, but I retained a healthy interest in superhero comics, as well. As I entered sixth grade Superman and Spider Man began taking a back seat to Bat Man and Daredevil. I liked these heroes because they didn't have any superhuman powers, they were just regular guys (Daredevil was even blind!) who just lifted a lot of weights and practiced acrobatics and were smart. My peers began raving about Wolverine and the X-Men, and I collected a few of those, too.

I also bought a comic book buyer's guide and became aware of the collectability and investment value of comics. That I was now looking at comics as something other than interesting characters and great artwork was probably the beginning of the problem.

This is around when adults invaded the comic book business. The concept of the comic book store emerged, which on its surface was wonderful. A whole store of nothing but comics! And not just Marvel and D.C., but all sorts of independent publishers, and stuff you would never see stocked at Majik Market. Suddenly shopping on the revolving rack at the convenience store was for the casual fan (i.e. lame-o), but REAL comics fans bought in the shops. However, adults ran the shops!

I well remember being at a shop and perusing an issue that interested me, and the guy behind the counter suddenly exclaiming, "Don't touch if you're not buying!" The guy behind the counter at Majik Market had never given me a hard time like this. It was a fuckin' 60 cent comic book! And by the fact I was 11, I had forty times more right to be handling it than the 40-year-old who was giving me a hard time! And I was hardly the kind of kid to come in with cotton candy all over my hands and manhandle everything in sight. If anything I had probably brought my own tweezers and rubber gloves.

Then I recall browsing a shop for a long time one day and deciding the only thing I wanted was a few bags to store my books in. Rather than being happy to have a customer, the lardass behind the counter sarcastically said, "Oh, five bags?" Uh, well...okay...I'll get another. "Six bags!," he laughs. One more? "Seven bags! HA HA HA HA!" As an adult, I would want to stretch one of those bags over his head and derive my entertainment from watching him suffocate, but as a kid I slinked out of there feeling embarrassed. And I don't think I ever went back!

Not much reason to, because now comics were changing. The 40-year-olds were now the target audience. The 16-page story gave way to the "graphic novel." Plain ol' newsprint wouldn't do anymore, the books were printed on heavy stock paper, and as a result the price went "up, up, up and away," as Superman used to say. The artists and writers weren't mystery men, but became rock stars to little boys like me and the 40-year-olds who went to comic book conventions like the Atlanta Fantasy Fair, which I attended.

Part of it was that I was 14 and more interested in guitars and music by now, but this turn of comics into a hobby for adults interested in pricey productions and collectability didn't help. Comic books disappeared from convenience stores and places like K-Mart so there was no casual exposure to lure me back in, nor to win a new generation of fans. If you even knew comics existed you had to have your mom drive you to a comic book shop, where a 40-year-old stood behind the counter with a bullwhip waiting to crack you if you touched anything. Then one book cost so much it would eat your whole allowance. WHEE!

The Simpsons at least gave us some revenge on the kind of people who wrecked comics for kids when they introduced the Comic Book Guy character (above), who perfectly represents the ponytailed 40-something who seems to get a big stiffy showing off how he can afford the $75 Radioactive Man #1 when Bart and his friends can't.

By the way, I'm looking for first printings of the early Simpsons books, which were printed on card stock, preferably with a storyline created by Ralph D. McGhee. I've heard they're going for $125 now. I'm willing to pay that much, depending on condition. No deal if it's been handled by kids.