Dave's Fanboy Sermon

A kind, elderly woman came into the store the other day and asked, innocently enough, "What kind of comics do you sell here?"
Ever the conscientious store owner, I replied with a warm smile: "Oh, we sell all kinds of comics here. Mystery comics, humor comics, science fiction...all kinds of comics!"
She snorted derisively as she scanned the wall. She clasped her hands behind her back like a school marm and walked a casual loop around the store. Finally, she approached the counter once more. She cocked her head suspiciously and asked in a low voice, "You got any of them naughty books?"
Taking no chances, I softly said, "Oh no, ma'am. We only carry wholesome books here. Good old fashioned family reading!"
Her look told me she knew better, but she snorted again and left.

A short time later, another "customer" entered. I could barely see his three day growth of beard from behind the upturned collar of his rain coat. It was far too hot a day for his heavy clothes, but somehow I knew that wasn't the reason he was sweating. He looked around the store, making sure no one else was inside. Then he leaned on the counter and asked in a voice almost too quiet to hear: "You carry 'comics'?"
"What kind of comics do you mean?" I asked.
He looked around the store again, coughed twice and then said, "You know...'adult' comics."
I looked at him carefully. Then, after verifying that he was in no way affiliated with the Smith County police department I motioned for him to follow me. I took him to the back of the store, to our "special" section that was behind a thick, black curtain. His heavy breathing told me this was exactly what he wanted: this was where we kept our Marvel Comics.

He immediately picked up the latest issue of Nova, with Gamora on the cover wearing a body thong that left little to the imagination. I think the rather large sword which she held added just the right touch of suggestiveness, even if the severed head in her hand was a bit distracting. It was close, but not quite what he was looking for. Next, he noticed an issue of Ms. Marvel. Tigra, dressed in the tiniest of swimsuits was on top of Ms. Marvel, her tail poking out of her bikini bottom as the two pulled at each others hair in a vicious cat fight.

Finally, he spied just what he was looking for. The latest issue of Heroes For Hire! On the cover, three women were bound, there arms tied above their heads, ample, sweaty cleavage thrust forward as a look of terror filled their eyes. Several tentacles snaked their way towards them, dripping viscous slime in moist, full color detail. The man's eyes lit up and his breathing became even more frantic. This! This was what he was looking for! He carried the book to the counter, small flecks of spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. His hands shaking with anticipation, he paid me and quickly left the store. I quickly ran to the back, washed my hands three times and then returned to the front, where I looked longingly at the Archie and Disney comics gathering dust on the "family friendly" rack.

I'm not naive, folks. I know that "sex sells". I wouldn't for a moment suggest any sort of censorship. However, a little greater sense of good tastes on the part of the publishers might be welcome. They complain frequently that they simply can't get younger readers interested in comic books, then they publish books with covers that would get them racked with Maxim or FHM in any respectable newsstand. Admittedly, this is not a pervasive problem. Lots of comics are marketed on the strength of their stories. But there are still enough books that feature ridiculously endowed women in suggestive poses on their covers to make me just a little nervous when a mother comes in to shop for their child.

These things seem to go in cycles, with publishers pushing their boundaries as they search for a greater market share, unsure of just exactly who their customers are. The irony is that I know who their customers are. Many of their customers are grown men who now have children of their own. Surprisingly few of the people who come into my store are looking for lascivious material. I've admitted to being somewhat old fashioned. And I've been told on more than one occasion that my view of comics might be a little out dated. Fair enough. But call me hopeless throwback if you must, but I still prefer comics that I don't have to hide from grandma. Perhaps there was a certain illicit thrill in reading books that you knew were socially unacceptable. For me, at least, that thrill passed many years ago. I grew up.

Perhaps it's time for the publishers to do the same.

Illustration by Gerald Kelley