Blaaargh. How many times has this argument reduced a seemingly normal thread involving grown men talking about toys into an unreadable chum bucket full of entitled myopia? At least, like, a bajillion times, amirite? Can’t you just recite it word for word by now? With plenty of the word “fanboy” tossed around.
Yeah, fanboy — that’s a word that sucks. Stop using it, you ignorant swineheel.
I’ll be honest, it wasn’t until I started posting on one of these toy website whatchamajiggers that I even realized that “classic versus modern” arguments cropped up with such alarming frequency. And I’ve been embroiled in my share of them. I wouldn’t say I argue, though, more like mock with some measure of snooty derision while pretending I’m above it all. And I think my pinky finger is out also. Yes, let’s say it is.
It’s no secret that my initial preference is classic. I’ve been reading comics a long time. Longer than some, not as long as others, but the point is, there’s a lot of memories stored up in my headsticles. And let’s get the N-word out of the way right now before this goes any further. You know the word I’m talking about …
Nostalgia.
Ooh that word, that word! Everyone treats it like it’s the boogieman or something. How many times have you read the words “blinded by nostalgia.” Can nostalgia blind you? You can be blinded by ignorance, you can be blinded by stupidity, but can you really be blinded by nostalgia? Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying “How the typewriterswearing can you like this when I don’t like it and clearly my tastes are ever so much more refined than yours, you dilapidated junk heap of a Tolstoy fondler!”
Oh, yes, that 50 cent comic aimed at the broadest possible market while still more or less targeting the average 10- to 12-year-old doesn’t quite live up to the standards set by such brilliant current comics as “Age of Ultron,” so therefore if one has fond memories of it, they must be blinded by nostalgia.
Give me a typewriterswearing break you pusillanimous pile of Pepsi bottles.
Maybe I do have (whispered voice ) nostalgia, but you know what else I have? Actual curiosity, varied interests, personal preference, and broad tastes. And having broad tastes means that I totally get both sides of this stupid argument.
Let me tell you something I don’t speak of in polite company.
I was once a modern guy.
IT FEELS SO GOOD TO GET THAT OFF MY CHEST!
But no, remember the ’90s? Friends, flannel, grunge music, Frank Sinatra was still alive, that dude shot himself and made a bunch of idiots sad … yeah, those were the days. Marvel was pumping out a vat of X-figures per day, all brand new and current. Comics were … well, comics were. They existed. I was buying those comics, and those toys, and you know what?
I wanted to have figures of the characters I was reading … in the costumes I was reading!!11111
Gasperoonie.
So yeah, modern guys, I’ve been one of you. I’ve experienced that side. I didn’t want that Shatterstar because he was wearing a new costume; I wanted the one with red shoulder pads or whatever. Was it shoulder pads? Typewriterswear, it was always shoulder pads with those guys. So yeah, Bishop had his newly shorn head and big-ass knee pads, Rogue wore this, Cyclops wore that, and I wanted those figures because I was reading those comics. My god, those comics.
And fast-forward to today, and you know what? Some of those characters that are in the comics now. Hey, uppity classic dude who hasn’t read a brand new issue since the black Spidey head was being used in the UPC spot, I’m talkin’ here. Some of those characters are really frickin’ cool. You know what I had to do? I had to read the typewriterswearing comic in order to fully appreciate them. I mean, sure, imagination can make anything cool.
Read that again you knock-kneed satellite-eared bird brain: imagination can make anything cool.
Hell, keep repeating it until it sinks in.
But even with that, it’s nice to read an issue of a comic featuring the figure, if you’re into that sort of thing. And you are, because you’re on a toy website, and not “deflated boobs and the men who sniff them.”
You’re … you’re not on that site, are you? *eyeballs*
Take for instance, the SDCC Thunderbolts. Decent figures, really nice figures actually, but after reading the comic? Bammo — a whole new appreciation, and even genuine interest in getting the new upcoming Boomerang figure. Same for the previously released red She-Hulk. I didn’t care for chromatically challenged Hulks because it all seemed a little too familiar to the Lantern-raping that went on when Geoff Johns suddenly became obsessed with Crayola crayons. But I read the Red She-Hulk issues and it’s a pretty damn nifty comic. So much so I almost wish that the figure was wearing the costume she’s NOW wearing in the book because it’s totally bitchin’.
Cripes, how frickin’ modern do I need to be?
Nut.
So yea, you guys who rant and rave about the neophytes and their constant need for now now now, why don’t you pant and sweat your way to the local comic shop and split the spine on a new book and maybe find out if you actually like the character that little plastic figure is representing before you levitate yourself to the holy mountain and rain down your fiery applause on this napsack world of ours.
And now … you modern guys. Your turn.
“Old comics are old, those characters haven’t been in that costume since my dad still had hair waaah.”
Or my favorite:
“I don’t know who that is! I’m not buying him!!”
If only there was someplace on the internet to learn about characters that you may not have been exposed to, or to find some comics that may feature those characters.
http://www.google.com
Do you never watch old movies? Old television shows? Do you change your phone number every month? Never wear the same shirt? Are your shoes new? No, really, are those new shoes? They’re pretty cool; I’ve never seen any like those before. I need a new pair also.
See, comics don’t really have a rigid linear timeline. You can appreciate stories from all eras, if you’re not completely intellectually deficient. I know, I know, those strange warbly bubbles scare you, and that narrator guy who tells you the things you could probably figure out by staring at the picture is frightening, but those are thought bubbles, and the other things are narration boxes. You can feel free to ignore them if you want to. The writer won’t be offended. Hell, if the comic is old enough, he’s probably dead.
And a story is a story. Stories are universal, timeless, ageless. You know what a stupid complaint is? Saying something is dated. What does that even mean? Who cares?
All I hear are excuses.
I know what’s behind it all, though. It’s fear, isn’t it? Hell, I’ll admit it. it is. If those toy companies make some stupid costume that’s been in the comic for 30 seconds before they make the one I’ve been waiting 20 or 30 years for, I will spit in sand and call it a mud pie is what I’ll do! And if some modern dude doesn’t get that costume that he just read, why, he’ll never ever ever get that chance again because lord knows that comic evaporates right after he read it, and toy companies will never make that character again, not in 10, 20 or 30 years.
How pathetic we all are. You’re all petrified you won’t get your brand new costume, and you’re petrified they won’t make that character in the costume you liked when you were 10. Hey, I’ve been in both of your shoes. I’ve been screwed on one end, and screwed on the other also. And not in the fun way. Not in the fun way at all.
This is a vicious hobby and it takes no prisoners. Attica! Attica! Attica!
If the toy companies cared, they’d produce nothing but box sets of characters with all their costumes. But then you’d have some who didn’t want all the old ones, and others who didn’t want the new stuff, and they’d use words like “tactical,” and the other guys would use words like “silly” or “garish,” and I’d pinch my nose and do my deep-breathing exercises and punch that blow-up doll that looks like James Lipton a few times. And then the toy companies would whine that box sets don’t sell because of a fractured audience. Because toy collectors like their silly little bubbles, all nice and neat on the cardboard backing, and they’re terrified of not being mint-on-card. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we can’t have nice things.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to chug some napalm, fart some victory, and go slamdancing with Genghis Khan and a couple of buxom foreign ladies what don’t speak English too good …
Discuss this wherever the typewriterswearing you want to discuss it.