Share in my childhood trauma!

I wanted to do this whole summer blog thing. You know, kind of like Tork and his whole video thing (Lita, I appreciate what you're doing, but if I were you, I'd stop using good videos and MAKE IT HURT!!!!!). I was gonna call it Summerfestering! and you'd all laugh at the MST3K reference and I'd post at least once a day and it would rock.

Unfortunatly, I already missed a few days, and I'd just be posting the same lameass stuff I post anyway. It would be nothing new, except it would come under the banner of a cute title. Plus, I honestly don't think I can post that much. But you can't fault me for trying.

Anyway, as I look back at my childhood traumas, there's one that sticks out like a sore thumb and proves that age old adage, kids, never let your parents pick out anything for you, ever. It's something I'm still learning even at this stage of my life. F'r instance, during my recent well-documented struggle of dealing with no headphones, my mother decided that she'd buy my headphones. A noble gesture, but one that also comes with a built in sense of fear. It's a simple equation really: parents+electronics=Duuuuuuuuuuuuuh? Well anyhoo, she gets the headphones, and thankfully they're real headphones, not shitty walkman headphones. They were perfect.....except for the amazingly short cord because they were computer headphones. Well, it's fine, I deal, but it illustrates the poin. Kids, don't let your parents pick things out for you.


This brings me to my tale of woe. I believe it was back when I was eight. I had just had my tonsils removed. Besides enjoying some free ice cream, I also had people getting me lots of stuff. I like stuff. I got some killer GI Joe and M.A.S.K. toys all in the name of "getting better". But that wasn't enough for a greedy sumbitch like me: No. I wanted COMICS! I loved me some M.A.S.K. and all, but comics was where it was, in a manner of speaking, at. So the time came when my mother brought in some comics, and.....well....


Here was my booty: An issue of Alpha Flight, a book about Canadian superheroes and Canadian midgets, and an issue of Marvel Age. Yes, Marvel Age.

Sounds exciting doesn't it? Like it's some cutting edge group of superheroes in some cutting edge post apocalyptic future with cutting edge weapons having cutting edge adventures......it's a fucking sales catalog. Yep. Back in the 80s and early 90s, Marvel used to pimp there wares for the next few months by duping unsuspecting comic book fans with the Sears catalog wrapped in an attractive comic book package. And this thing lasted for over 100 issues! I suspect it was because no one was reading it so they had no idea what it was, so Marvel just kept on producing it until they were found out. Imagine my disappoinment when I turned the page looking for some Wolvie snikt action, only to find information about baby Kermit's imagination getting the best of him in the next issue of Muppet Babies! It was the greatest deception of my life and it led me to the conclusion that as good intentioned as they may be, parents are ultimatly evil. Oh sure, Marvel Age had more content to make it look like more than just an effort to part you from your cash like interviews and comic strips and what not. But let's not beat around the bush.This is a comic as much as the Victoria Secret catalog isn't for scoping out hot chicks.

I submit for your perusal Marvel Age #49. Now besides it's actual content, things are already messed up to begin with. We have an issue with an April cover date, that has a Christmas themed cover, and a January calendar on the back. This was already doomed to begin with but you had to go and make it a paradox too? I'm so confused!! It goes even further with the Christmas salutations from the bullpen and the copyright 1986 and the list of January birthdays and the....well it goes on like that. You almost get the feeling Marvel gave up on even trying.

The big draw this issue was a feature on everyone's favorite moustachioed Latin illustrator heartthrob, Sergio Aragones. Actually, I don't know if he's everyone's favorite and he's definitly not a heartthrob, but that's just such a cool description for someone's introduction, I couldn't resist. Serg is pimpin' his wacky Barbarian, Groo, and he contributes a cover which features Groo waiting by the chimney to hack Santa to death with his sword. Merry Christmas kids!

Comics (Or in this case "The official Marvel News Magazine!" Whatever that means....) are always a good time capsule and always good for a laugh. The proof positive in this issue? Large bolded subsections in the "Coming attractions" listings detailing books in the NEW UNIVERSE line. New Universe (Comic book speak for New Coke) was Marvel's attempt at celebrating their 25th anniversary with a new line of comics. They would be stripped down, no confusing plotlines or crossovers. Instead, the New Universe gave us a destroyed Pittsburgh and a title about a field goal kicker (Hey, it beat NFL Superpro to the racks by 5 years). Stan Lee, clearly well off his rocker by this poin, even presents us with a lovely poem in which Santa Claus threatens to destroy Christmas if it gets in the way Again, merry Christmas kids! (Especially to you in Pittsburgh!)

Bringing up the rear is a letters page. Why there's a letters page in a comic that clearly shouldn't have a letters page and probably shouldn't have even been made is beyond me, but ok, I'll go along with it. Just like signing an email with "With crap" or starting a letter with "I never thought this would happen to me, but", another classic way to get your letter used is the cheesy "Make Mine Marvel!" signoff. A ready example from Marvel Age #49 is "Until Wolverine gets declawed, make mine Marvel!". I wonder if anyone's used "Until Emma Frost gets checked for every possible form of VD, make mine Marvel!" yet