Kind of like stumbling across Bigfoot out in the wild, here’s a photo of an actual comics rack — with new comics in it! — in situ at Nau’s Pharmacy in Austin, Texas. A big thanks to Doug Hackney for sending this along and helping us to keep the dream alive.
Note: Those top three comics are the new FF series. Highly recommended! Doug added that he was having a vanilla malt; my recommendation was that he try those comics.
Here are the 10 best-selling single issue comics of the past 10 years. I doubt that #1 would have anywhere near that sales level now.
San Diego is the home of the famed Comic-Con International. That comics and cartoons influence is evidently far-reaching, because last night someone dressed up as Gumby attempted to rob a 7-Eleven (as this video shows). No, he doesn’t appear to have had a gun (but I couldn’t resist the pun), but the costume wasn’t the only thing comic about it: Reports are that he made off with only 27¢, which he dropped. I guess in the attempted getaway, he was afraid of being too pokey. San Diego Crime Stoppers is offering a $1000 award for any information, and I am now formulating in my head what the APB sounded like: “Suspect is a green halfwit, wide-eyed with a vacant smile. Do not approach with caution — caution is unnecessary.”
Happy birthday to one of my favorite comics artists, Robert Crumb, who is 68 today. The New York Times has a great feature that will essentially build you an online newspaper devoted to a particular topic, so if you’d like to learn a whole lot more about R. Crumb all at once, click here. The latest news about Crumb is his recent withdrawal from an art festival in Australia, for fear that he was going to be attacked by crazed feminists.
Re the birthday boy, and specifically a topic addressed in the biography “Crumb,” my good friend Joe Stafford sent this note:
The thing I always think about are those hilarious entry blanks Crumb (or was it his brother?) used to send to Art Instruction Schools. [Note from Lee: It was both Robert and brother Charles who did this.] Mind you, I’m not making fun of the School, but the entry blanks they sent were dirty, funny; filled in exactly the way anyone with a sense of humor and real artistic talent would [do].
Joe adds, in a PS:
They used to have you draw Tippy….
[And here’s Tippy:]
…but now all you have to draw is this guy:
Well, as they say, everyone has a doppelganger. I think we’ve found Tippy’s. It’s Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell.
An inspired idea: Peter Dinklage as Modok.
There are two phrases that mean nothing to almost anyone else, but which have stuck with me most of my life: “Glx sptzl glaah!” and “Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.”
The former is the baby-speak cry of Sugar and Spike in the comics of the same name by Sheldon Mayer. When the babies talk, all the parents hear is gibberish. But we lucky readers are privy to the rather sophisticated notions and outlandish schemes of these toddlers. If you’re wondering if this was unacknowledged source material for “Rugrats,” I suspect so. The first season of “Rugrats,” before rampant commercial needs overwhelmed creative impulses, was often wonderful. “Sugar and Spike” was consistently wonderful; even as an adolescent reader of mainstream superhero comics who groaned when some relative would mistakenly give him a “Richie Rich” or, God forbid, “Archie” comic, I was devoted to “Sugar and Spike.” And soon, very soon, you too will be able to share the joy: an archive edition will finally be released by DC Comics next month.
(By the way, I bought the issue above right off the stands in 1970. I was 8.)
“Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” is a short story by Jorge Luis Borges that I first read almost 30 years ago. It concerns a massive conspiracy by intellectuals to plant the false idea that there is a secret world called Tlon, with a nation called Uqbar. Inserting this false information into encyclopedias and referencing it elsewhere helps to, in essence, create the actuality — just as the creation of fiction implants ideas in readers that sometimes become reality. (Who invented the satellite? Well, the notion came from Arthur C. Clarke.) The fact that this phrase has stuck with me for 30 years proves the point.
In other words, both phrases are about imaginary languages and secret meanings.
Which takes me to today’s Google Logo (shown above). I was thrilled beyond measure to see that it was an homage to Borges, born 112 years ago today. More about that Google doodle, and how Borges’ thinking led to the creation of hypertext links, can be found via this hypertext link.
To some degree, we are all of us privy to secret languages all around us every day, even when spoken in languages we purport to speak: the thrum of jargon and subtext and obscure reference. It’s amazing we can understand anything. To some degree, this is what all of Harold Pinter’s plays are about: that we understand nothing, while understanding everything all too well.
We all know there’s an “Avengers” movie coming out next summer.
But… what if that movie had come out in the 1950’s (before the comic even began, in 1963). Maybe it would look like this.
How much does Comic-Con matter to San Diego and its businesses? Here are two signs found near the restaurant in our hotel.
No, I haven’t tried the Captain America shot. (Yet?)
Here’s a fellow we saw standing in front of the convention center. I have no idea what his costume is supposed to be. I just liked the idea of an angry cigarette-smoking flower reading a book in front of the Con; that this guy is an exhibitor just sweetens the deal.
But then, you run into all types at the Con. Here’s someone you rarely see in daylight.
And here’s the same guy with my friend Roscoe Smith.
When I saw a panel entitled “State of the Industry” listed, I decided to go. Comic-books are an important part of my life, and for 40 years I’ve been hearing that they’re going to die any minute. (And, when you see the sales figures showing that major Marvel titles are lucky to sell 40,000 copies a month, you finally believe it’s true.) The graphic novel has led to a revival of the form, and certainly there’s money to be made in all those movie and TV properties, but I hope to keep getting those periodicals, too. So I went to the panel, and here’s what I discovered: It was intended as a discourse between publishers’ reps sitting on the dais, and comic-shop owners, who made up the audience. It was a small room, overstuffed with perhaps 50 comics shop owners — and me, sitting quietly like a spy, the only reader in the house with no financial stake in this. Here’s what I got from it: the publishers are going digital as quickly as they can, and the comics shop owners are very worried about this. One publisher (I forget which, but I don’t think it was DC or Marvel) couldn’t figure out why a coupon they had made for comics shops to share with people to get them to try digital comics for free had failed; the retailers quickly let them know: “Why would I want to get my customers to buy digital comics? What’s in it for me?” At times, the conversation was so heated I was waiting for angry villagers to arrive. The publishers were saying that readers of digital comics were a different audience, and therefore no threat, but if that’s so, someone wanted to know, why were they trying to get the shop owners to get their buyers to switch? And if they’re separate audiences, why does the last page of every Marvel digital comic have a plug for the Comic Shop Locator where you can find your local shop? Someone else complained that digital comics are 99 cents each, while the same comic is $2.99 (or more) in a shop. One of the publishers said that digital is “a very small part” of their business — and then the crowd wanted to know just how “small” a part; when the guy said 1-2%, then the retailer wanted to know if it was this insignificant, why were they devoting so much time to it? So my takeaway was this: The publishers are heading into digital as quickly as they can, and the comics-shop owners, acutely aware of the recent demise of Borders and other bookstores, are feeling very threatened. And oh, by the way, two weeks ago I subscribed to Marvel’s digital comics; I spend about $40 a month on comics — the digital service cost me $40 for the year.
The next thing I went to was a tribute to artist Gene Colan, who died recently. I thought Mark Evanier’s opening remarks were apt: that Gene Colan was lucky, because he lived long enough to be celebrated. Thousands of fans (including me) got the chance to tell him how much his work meant to them; he received a museum show devoted to his work while he was alive; and the next generation of editors who were devoted to his work kept him busy and respected. Marv Wolfman was also kind enough to say that he felt that it was from working with Gene Colan that he learned how to write comics. Marv was the fourth writer assigned to “Tomb of Dracula” (after Gerry Conway, Gardner Fox, and Archie Goodwin had each done two issues). There wasn’t much action in the book, which largely revolved around what would seem to be the supporting cast, making plans and deciding what to do. And while Colan could draw action (brilliantly), he also excelled at penciling highly expressive faces. This meant that Marv had to learn to write character-driven stories — and that’s what has driven his career ever since, as anyone who’s read his comics knows.
The next panel concerned the birth of comics fanzines, and included Paul Levitz (former president and publisher of DC Comics, and onetime fan editor of The Comic Reader), Roy Thomas (Alter Ego), Maggie Thompson (several fanzines, and then the Comics Buyers Guide) and others. I asked a question about RBCC, the zine that introduced me to comics fandom because the editor/publisher actually advertised it in comic-books, which was where I found out about it, and fandom. I can’t overstate the importance of this publication to me in my adolescence. Here’s what I learned about it: The editor, G.B. Love, had cerebral palsy, and typed each issue one key at a time, and was only able to strike that key by hitting it with the eraser end of a pencil clutched in one hand. That he was able to publish that thing despite this challenge is a testament to his dedication.
Other highlights:
Terence and I went to AMC’s “Walking Dead” booth, where we found ourselves trying to get off the rooftop before the zombies broke in. As someone noted on my Facebook page, he seems awfully gleeful to be sawing my arm off. (Note Roscoe watching in the background with great alarm.)
My friend Paul and I dropped in on the “Dark Shadows” panel. Like many other kids in the late 60’s, I rushed home from school so I could watch it, and was daily annoyed by the debate with my grandmother because she also had to watch another boy, a boy whose name I still remember was Glenn Jupin, and Glenn Jupin was too afraid to watch it, and I wanted to know why he couldn’t just go play in another room. (This is what life was like before DVR, DVD, and multiple TV sets.) I did watch it, and just about every day. Tim Burton is making a new version with Johnny Depp, and the crowd and I had our trepidation. (I still haven’t forgotten his take on “Planet of the Apes.”) Someone said, “I don’t want Barnabas to be Jack Sparrow with fangs.” Kathryn Leigh Scott is now 68 years old and is stunning. Maybe she really did get bitten and is immortal.
Our crowd, minus friend Larry, went out to dinner at Buster’s Beach House, where this photo revealed my son Lex’s friend Brendan to be possessed by a demon of a high order. (Sad, and a little terrifying.) Left to right: Trey, Lex, Brendan Beelzebub, Roscoe, myself, Paul, and Terence. (Larry has been beamed off somewhere by “Star Trek” people.)
After this, we went to see “The Worst Cartoons Ever” — and believe me, they qualified, hilariously so — and then the animated version of “Batman: Year One.” These two showings were on opposite ends of the convention center. Midway between them, we took this shot:
You will never again see the Sails Pavilion deserted in this way during the Con (picture 50,000 jammed just into this photo, and you, ahem, get the picture). It was a phenomenon, and I’m glad we captured it in a photo.
After “Batman: Year One,” which I thought was pretty good (especially enjoyed Bryan Cranston as Lieutenant Gordon), we walked past what I’m calling “South Park Village,” closed for the evening and every bit as spookily bereft as Storybookland.
Finally, what is this a photo of? People camped out after midnight so that they can get their Con badge first thing in the morning.
More soon.
I’m waiting for my turn in the bathroom here in our suite at the Embassy Suites in San Diego, so I figured I’d take a few minutes to document some of yesterday’s convention experiences.
First, a note about this hotel and how it’s changed. Here’s how it’s changed: Some pencil-pusher has taken a serious look at how to gouge every guest in ever-more-clever ways.
This year, for reasons I’ve pledged not to divulge, I have a Professional pass to the Con. This means that I was able to circumvent both the two-and-a-half-hour wait at Hotel Circle for badge pickup, plus the endless line getting into the Con itself. Once inside, because I knew I’d be waiting in lines elsewise during the Con, I went and stocked up on trade paperbacks at half-price. I also made a stop at the booth of the much-loathed Fantagraphics guys because they had a 50% off sale and they had some comics I wanted. Here was the single most entertaining check-out experience of my 23 years of attending the San Diego Comic-Con International:
Me, to checkout guy, a grizzled washed-out, strung-out mid-40’s guy sitting at a card table with a giveaway pocket calculator next to an equally clueless young woman with a scratchpad and a pen: “I’d like these comics.”
I hand him six comic books, each equally priced at $4.95 cover. He pulls over that pocket calculator and here’s what he punches in with his thick clubby fingers: 4.95 plus 4.95 plus 4.95 plus 4.95 plus 4.95 plus 4.95 (surely, most of us would have entered 6 times 4.95) and now he’s hesitating; he’s unsure what button to push. I decide to just watch this. He turns to the girl and says:
“Oh, shit. They’re half off.” I can see him mentally calculating how to ring up $2.475 each, if he can even do the math on what that half would be.
She tries to instruct him in how to take half off, but it doesn’t work — because he never hit the equal sign, which means that now it’s just a stuck number that even he can see is wrong.
So I say helpfully: “It’s 6 times 4.95 times .5 times 1.sales tax.”
They both look up.
I say again: “It’s 6 times 4.95 times .5 times 1.sales tax.”
They’re still not following me. So I say, “What’s the sales tax?” And the girl says — honest — “The sales tax is the money we have to collect for the state.”
Me: “Yes. HOW MUCH IS THAT?”
Him: “We don’t know. We’re trying to figure that out.”
I don’t know the sales tax rate because a) it just dropped in California, and b) it’s different by county. Finally they produce a sheet of instructions they’ve been given by someone who actually believed they would be able to ring up sales, and on the top it says that the tax rate is .775%. So now I tell them “It’s 6 times 4.95 times .5 times 1.0775.” And the guy punches that in and looks up and says with awe, “That’s 16 bucks.” Which sounds right to him. I pay it and judging from their behavior, it’s like they’ve been visited by someone with otherworldly powers.
I’ve got to get into that shower now so that Terence and I can go pose with “Walking Dead” zombies like we’re chained to a rooftop (you Season One viewers will understand that). Here’s quick rundown of the rest of the first day’s activities:
More soon.
Tomorrow night I’m heading down to Comic-Con International — still lovingly referred to as “San Diego Comic-Con” by some of us — where I’m sure I’ll have many strange late-night encounters either in the halls, outside, or even in the suite I’m sharing with our usual merry band (those strange encounters involving sleep walking, arguments about poker and spilled drinks, and mysterious sleep apparatuses that leave the rest of us listening ominously to “Darth Vader” all night long). Here’s Grant Morrison’s tale of an encounter he had some years ago with “Superman.” (As you can see here, I once had my own encounter of an otherworldly sort at the Con. I have to say, he was more well-fed than I’d been led to expect.)
Before heading down for a full four days of comics, I’ll be seeing a comic of the stand-up sort at the Hollywood Bowl. That would be Eddie Izzard, who apparently is the first stand-up comic to headline the Bowl. This feature in tomorrow’s LA Times — which I’m now magically reading and linking to before it’s even tomorrow — touches on his influences, and on his own impact, and yet somehow leaves out the fact that in our 28 years together, Mr. Izzard is only the second act my wife has insisted that we go see (Prince, on the “Purple Rain” tour, being the first), and that we see him every time he comes to town, in venues of all sizes (including the somewhat-secret 300-seat “tryout” venue on the west side, thank you), much to our mutual delight. So why, for the first time in years, am I leaving so so late on a Wednesday to head down to Comic-Con? Now you know.