A KC COLUMN by KC Carlson
Last week, I intended to write a column. Instead, I woke up face down on my keyboard having typed (apparently with my nose) several hundred g’s all in a row. I tried to turn that into a column without my editor noticing, but Roger was hyper-aware last week (for some reason) and said, “No. It needs more verbs.”
Finally realizing that I was, indeed, sick, I agreed with him. Then I annoyingly started saying “verb verb verb verb verb verb verb verb…” until Roger finally hung up. A couple minutes later, I decided that if I was going to sleep, a chair or a bed would be a lot more comfy than a keyboard and went away to nap for most of the rest of the week.
Which brings me to Beau Smith…
Stephen Scott Beau Smith John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt
Beau’s last column (which I didn’t read until I got sick) also talks about sleeping… at least initially, before he wanders off whining about all the free comics he’s been given over the years.
Oh, boo hoo hoo! This is not a problem many people will sympathize with or relate to. But while no one wants to sound ungrateful, even the most desirable freebies stack up and become problems when you’re talking about decades worth of them.
Beau also probably forgets that he’s given me boxes and boxes of his comps. I’d get some whenever I stopped by the Flying Fist Ranch during the years I was trying to set the record for driving back and forth from Janesville, Wisconsin, to Richmond, Virginia. Ceredo, West Virginia (home of the World Famous Flying Fist Ranch) was my favorite place for a lunch and bathroom break — not necessarily in that order.
Everything Beau says in his column is true (although I cannot in good faith vouch for any of his other columns). Back in the 1980s, everything about comics was all about excess, and there were comics everywhere. Publishers had storerooms full of “promo” comics, which eventually trickled down to every retailer having boxes and boxes of stuff they were given for free. Before long, many fans, especially the ones who frequently traveled to conventions (or snuck into industry trade shows — I saw ya!), had at least a dozen (or a hundred) boxes of stuff (i.e. crap) that eventually ended up in the back of closets or garages or storage units. I used to dream about giant bonfires of the stuff until I finally got deprogrammed after working at DC. (I’m not supposed to like fire so much… But it’s SO pretty… )
I have no actual proof of this, but I suspect that many of the homes built in America in the late 1980s have at least 50% comic books as their primary insulation material. My lawyer (Hi, Harry!) has informed me that I have to stop talking about comics being sealed into the foundations of those same homes. (Something about the smell… I don’t know for sure…)
We’d all be happier and healthier if it was easier to let go of the comics we’ve accumulated, but it’s so hard to say goodbye to the free giveaways. At least these days, digital sample issues are easier to avoid tripping over.
KC CARLSON is not sick. He just has a runny nose. And the drooling… that happens all the time. Are you not paying attention? I remember when drooling was a qualification for working in the comics industry! We used to be proud of our drooling — as an industry!!!
Ooo… dizzy… better go lie back down…
WESTFIELD COMICS is not responsible for the stupid things that KC says. Especially that thing that really irritated you. Please don’t sue us.