the geekocracy

What Comics Mean to Me by MASON

There’s no better way to thrust through a blog’s virginity with your metaphorical phalus than to make a post about someone’s childhood that is sweet and heartfelt.

This is not that post.

This post does, however, start at my childhood. It was the 90’s and this little tyke, right here addressing you from his keyboard, found himself reading the likes of WildC.A.T.s (one word, big, “C,” “A,” “T,” and a little, itty, bitty, “s”) and X-Men. Thankfully, I was five. Had I been older I probably would have written comics off as horse shite there and then. I was also a stupid, little ‘tard. Had I been smart, or as smart as your average five year old, the kind with the sponge-like brain that soaks up everything, then I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I would have soaked up all those trashy stories and I’d be living in my parent’s basement, wearing the same Metallica shirt and shorts every day (even in the winter) as I worked my way up Wal-Marts low level echelon. Needless to say, though my five year old mind loved Batman and Wolverine he gave up comics in order to watch cartoons, which allowed him to grow up a normal human being.

Then I came back to comics. It was my early teens and, well, I was lonely. I couldn’t help myself from praising the likes of Bone, Jeph Loeb and Jim Lee’s Batman, Adrian Tomine (some of his comics have boobies and that makes him a pan handler of smut) and the return of Green Arrow (thanks Kevin.) Oh yeah, I masturbated to a lot (I mean A LOT) of Manga too (thanks Ken Akamatsu.) Needless to say, I was enamored with comic books once again. I love them and no matter how many times I leave the bitch, I’ll always come a crawlin’ back.

So where are we (you and I) today? What do comics mean to us? Well apparently comics don’t mean a whole lot. We still praise those heroes we read as kids, who were originally intended for kids. That doesn’t sound very healthy? I mean, we try to put these guys and gals that wear tights into more mature stories and settings and there’s no doubt that some of these stories show a level of grown-upism that is commendable, but come one? Shouldn’t we attempt to break through that barrier which we ourselves have built? Shouldn’t we drop the heroes and opt to tell adult stories with someone other than Superman and Cyclops? Shouldn’t we act like the artists, writers and, dare I say, grownups that you and I both know we are?

In answer to that rhetorical question: maybe? I mean, I still buy Batman and will continue to buy Batman (thank you Paul Dini and Grant Morrison.) So if I were to say we should, in fact, grow up then I would be a HUGE hypocrite. And we do NOT want that.

Welcome to geekocracy, friend. Sit down and stay awhile… Just not too long.

Love,

Mason “Grammar Rapist” Johnson