towards2112

I was wondering one day, why pissants would congregate around my Milky Way candy bar, but leave the Baby Ruth alone. There was a chance of rain later in the afternoon, but we had slid the charcoal barbque pit a little closer to the baby's carriage just in case a brief shower came. Never being one to waste the opportunity to annoy the neighbors with loud noises and flashing lights, I began to drink some left over mixed drinks, from the party the night before. Most of the alcohol had evaporated, but I smiled, because I knew that a fresh virgin bottle of Crown Royal would liven up even the most sully mixed drink a little. The children playing in the front yard, and the lawnmower whirring hypnotically in the bathroom, soon enticed me to relax for a bit in my Lazyboy. I reclined back carefully to avoid scratching the interior coating of the swimming pool, as last summer we had pumped several thousands of dollars into the maintenance, and several more thousands of gallons of water out of, and then back into said swimming pool. The satellite dish mounted on the back of the barn had always wobbled a bit in stormy weather, so I paid the mule $5 to tap the thing back in place with a rather large candy cane. Once reception on the new tv had improved, I turned on my laptop to see if there were any new and exciting offers to be had on that spiffy new website eBay. I perused several ads for potted plants, various fenders for various models of cars, found a lovingly used pair of adult waterproof undershorts, at what I thought was a very good bargain, when my wife came in to inform me that the time had come for me to have "that talk" with my teenage son. Always wanting to be the proper husband, and the best father I could be, I tapped lightly on my son's bedroom door, hoping not alarm him. Several minutes later he unlocked the door and bid me to enter. I pushed a pair of jeans to the side of his favorite chair, and had a seat. I was truly amazed by the height of a stack of beer cans on the window sill. In my youth, I could never achieve a stable stack of more than seven empties, no matter how I tried, and here my son was at the glorious height of eleven empty beer cans ! I was amazed, and told him so, with just a slight wavering of my voice. I was indeed proud. As his friend rolled out of his bed and starting to dress herself, she profusely appologized for the lateness of her rising, and I smiled knowing that she was a hard working child, and that she had probably worked late into the wee hours of the morning at whatever job she was performing. I saw a bright future for her. Then I turned myself to the attention of my son and his continuing education in life. He had in the past brought things into the house, that the wife and I had not approved of. Snakes, coins, baseball cards, rifles, handgrenades, and a strange bubbling glass tea pot with surgical tubing all hooked up to it. He had wasted his money on all of these things, not knowing that they were probably not the real McCoy, and indeed, even that glass tea pot had been manufactured in the orient, and was not a genuine American collectable. I began slowly, explaining that in life, there were things that one did, and other things that one did not do. I patiently explained how one would never allow a small child to play with rifles and pistols, as that is why we have toy rifles and pistols. And why grandmothers never approved of adult men's magazines, but would rather have young men stare at scantilly clad young women in the JC Penney catalogs. He smiled as the light of reason slowly dawned upon him. I knew that he had been smuggling certain periodicals into his room when he thought his mother and I had not been paying attention. Rolled up and stuffed down his boot cuff, or in the sleeve of a jacket, things that I didn't like, and things I was absolutely sure his mother would never approve of. Image comics, and things from Devil's Due. Surely the road to hell was paved with these things. Scantily clad bimbettes, with bodies drawn in the archaic style of Liefield, animated poses that would be all but impossible to a real human form. He had been bringing Moderns into our home. And I knew it. I had been touched by the Dark Side in my youth. I had bought the Archie Summer Fun issues, just to get a glimpse of Betty and Veronica in a two piece swimsuit. Oh Lord, how I had prayed that Josie would shake her tamborine in that leopard leotard. And here my son was on the same path. I knew he didn't read Superman, didn't enjoy Gene Autry, had no knowledge Strange Adventures. Sure, he had the Spiderman and X-Men dvd's, but no Amazing, and no Uncanny. I felt as a failure. I looked deep into myself, and realized that the parachuting lessons and all the long hours driving him to the tatoo parlors, and biker rallayes, had been a poor substitute for the father figure that he needed, and I had so poorly provided. I decided at that point to confront him firmly. Surely he would see the error of his ways and turn back to the proper path. I stood and not really knowing how to proceed, simply blurted out the fact that I knew he had been buying Moderns. I went on, explaining that I knew that Moderns were exciting, that the artwork was new, vivascious, exhilerating. I knew the stories could draw you into their dens of inequity. And that sooner or later, he would, through no fault of his own, simply because it was what happened, that someday he would buy an Indie title. A small press comic. One without a major publisher, no Comics Code Authority stamp of approval. And with that step he would forever be lost to us. I thought he was ignoring me, or worse, that I was myself being childish. He turned and sat down at his computer. He tapped a few keys, a few more, jiggled the mouse once, then tapped the keys a few more times. Then my son, my pride and joy turned his head to me smiling, and motioned me near. I looked over his shoulder, afear at what I might see. But there before me was the glorious image of Whiz # 36. And what a copy. Bright clean and a solid Very Good. He then turned in his chair and reached under his bed and pulled out a long white box. Slowly he pulled off the lid and carefully reached inside. And showed me a beautiful copy of Flash # 112, and a Fantastic Four #27, and a JIM # 104, and quite a few other more Gold and Silver Age beauties. He smiled at me again and began to tap on the keyboard again, and then like something out of an episode of The Guiding Light, he introduced me to the world of CGC.

Thank you and Kudos to oldguy. Brian sold me 3 accurately graded books at fair pricing. Packaged VERY securely and mailed promply. All around very nice transaction. Phil

Pat on the back to ED, aka "ft88". Nice deal !!

I'm with ya...and my attitude has changed only with the last purchase experience. I've been a rather negative element with both companies, but I tried them again recently and found it a worthwhile experience. My statement is based on a recent "try" order after 3 years. I was surprised. I placed another order. If lightning strikes twice, I'll be happy. Stay tuned. I can tell you I've been able to take BA horror books from Lonestar and have them grade CGC 9.0 to 9.4...which is nice considering their prices haven't escalated. Milehigh's prices have seem to skyrocketed as compared to purchases I made years ago (and relative to Lonestar's increases). BTW, please elaborate on the Lonestar owner..what's his name? Buddy Sanders [saunders?] used to own it. Has or had about 6/7 brick and mortar stores in and around the Dallas area. 20 or so years ago he was a semi=regular on the show circut here in the south. Never was afraid to spend the money and recoup a return. Bought several of my high dollar show stock books back then, and was a skilled salesman. He could flip a waffle with his eyebrows.

Can I play ?

Picked this one up a little over a week ago. MGA 78 White Mountain

Kudos to Aces, Chris took a hit on the Spideys he sold me and then the guy refunded me the over charge on shipping !! What a dude ! Nice high grade bronze spideys Phil

Who ..?

towards2112 = towards2112

Frantic kudos to BassGman for some awesome books and I mean some awesome books from our recent Ebay deal. Thanks for the great offerings Sid. Best, Phil

Sounding real good to me...

Bug, I just love your schtick.