LCS Profiteering S.O.B.s

[dzminn]

I was ten years old in 1966. After school I rode my bike to the drugstore where I happily bought the newest arrivals from the comic spinner rack. I was looking forward to the latest Fantastic Four as the previous month introduced this cool guy called the Silver Surfer and some big mean guy called Galactus. I had waited all month to see what was going to happen in the next issue.

I went with four comics that I had picked out and laid two quarters on the counter, excited once again to sit on the curb outside the store and enter the marvelous world of Spidey, the FF, the X-Men and Thor. The druggist who always cheerfully sold me my precious comics started ringing up my order on the cash register. When he reached the FF #49, a slight frown came to his face and he set it aside from the other three books. He finished ringing up the order, then walked from around the counter and bent down so he could talk to me eye-to-eye.

“Son, I can’t sell you the Fantastic Four book, because last month I sold out all of that title within a few days. People kept coming in and asking me if I had any more copies left, and I didn’t. It’s so popular that this month I’m charging $2.50 a copy and people are buying it anyway. You don’t have enough money to purchase this book.”

I couldn’t believe it. No way I could come up with that kind of money; why $2.00 bought me every Marvel title each month. “But Mr. Haskens, I got all the issues from #41 on up, and I have to find out what happens to the Thing and the Torch this month!!”

Mr. Haskens went on to explain about supply and demand, fair market value, personal choice, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t understand. He seemed a little sad. But he wouldn’t sell me the book for 12 cents like always. I went outside and read my Spider-Man and the other two books.

I didn’t have a pull-list to reserve books each month, just walked in and bought them. Didn’t take them home and store them in mylars, just stacked them in my bottom dresser drawer. They weren’t investments, they were entertainment.

And of course this never really happened. I did buy my comics from the local drugstore spinner rack. I was 10 in 1966. And I’m glad I ‘m not a 10 year old boy now.

 

While I certainly understand the point made by the delightful narrative above, I wonder how many 10 year old children were reading the Captain America storyline for the last 8 months to even care about what happened in issue #25.

 

So very much has changed since 1966, when I was also 10.

[alwaysbronze]

I was ten years old in 1966. After school I rode my bike to the drugstore where I happily bought the newest arrivals from the comic spinner rack. I was looking forward to the latest Fantastic Four as the previous month introduced this cool guy called the Silver Surfer and some big mean guy called Galactus. I had waited all month to see what was going to happen in the next issue.

I went with four comics that I had picked out and laid two quarters on the counter, excited once again to sit on the curb outside the store and enter the marvelous world of Spidey, the FF, the X-Men and Thor. The druggist who always cheerfully sold me my precious comics started ringing up my order on the cash register. When he reached the FF #49, a slight frown came to his face and he set it aside from the other three books. He finished ringing up the order, then walked from around the counter and bent down so he could talk to me eye-to-eye.

“Son, I can’t sell you the Fantastic Four book, because last month I sold out all of that title within a few days. People kept coming in and asking me if I had any more copies left, and I didn’t. It’s so popular that this month I’m charging $2.50 a copy and people are buying it anyway. You don’t have enough money to purchase this book.”

I couldn’t believe it. No way I could come up with that kind of money; why $2.00 bought me every Marvel title each month. “But Mr. Haskens, I got all the issues from #41 on up, and I have to find out what happens to the Thing and the Torch this month!!”

Mr. Haskens went on to explain about supply and demand, fair market value, personal choice, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t understand. He seemed a little sad. But he wouldn’t sell me the book for 12 cents like always. I went outside and read my Spider-Man and the other two books.

I didn’t have a pull-list to reserve books each month, just walked in and bought them. Didn’t take them home and store them in mylars, just stacked them in my bottom dresser drawer. They weren’t investments, they were entertainment.

And of course this never really happened. I did buy my comics from the local drugstore spinner rack. I was 10 in 1966. And I’m glad I ‘m not a 10 year old boy now.

 

what a dirtbag. won't sell a comic to a 10 yr old to make a few bucks.

[Dad&Son-migration]

I was ten years old in 1966. After school I rode my bike to the drugstore where I happily bought the newest arrivals from the comic spinner rack. I was looking forward to the latest Fantastic Four as the previous month introduced this cool guy called the Silver Surfer and some big mean guy called Galactus. I had waited all month to see what was going to happen in the next issue.

I went with four comics that I had picked out and laid two quarters on the counter, excited once again to sit on the curb outside the store and enter the marvelous world of Spidey, the FF, the X-Men and Thor. The druggist who always cheerfully sold me my precious comics started ringing up my order on the cash register. When he reached the FF #49, a slight frown came to his face and he set it aside from the other three books. He finished ringing up the order, then walked from around the counter and bent down so he could talk to me eye-to-eye.

“Son, I can’t sell you the Fantastic Four book, because last month I sold out all of that title within a few days. People kept coming in and asking me if I had any more copies left, and I didn’t. It’s so popular that this month I’m charging $2.50 a copy and people are buying it anyway. You don’t have enough money to purchase this book.”

I couldn’t believe it. No way I could come up with that kind of money; why $2.00 bought me every Marvel title each month. “But Mr. Haskens, I got all the issues from #41 on up, and I have to find out what happens to the Thing and the Torch this month!!”

Mr. Haskens went on to explain about supply and demand, fair market value, personal choice, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t understand. He seemed a little sad. But he wouldn’t sell me the book for 12 cents like always. I went outside and read my Spider-Man and the other two books.

I didn’t have a pull-list to reserve books each month, just walked in and bought them. Didn’t take them home and store them in mylars, just stacked them in my bottom dresser drawer. They weren’t investments, they were entertainment.

And of course this never really happened. I did buy my comics from the local drugstore spinner rack. I was 10 in 1966. And I’m glad I ‘m not a 10 year old boy now.

 

what a dirtbag. won't sell a comic to a 10 yr old to make a few bucks.

 

I don't think you finished reading the whole story