I got way too much stuff to store, and a few too many shelves and comic boxes.

I also got a little credit card debt I’d like to vanquish, plus some instruments I’d like to buy. Simply put, I’m selling two thirds of everything, and if I get to reading the stuff I have, it may be decimated. Which means 90% will find other homes, for those without that Latin.

What I’m keeping surprises me a little bit. Anything that I feel is overrated but still greatly enjoyable, like Ed Brubaker’s original run on Captain America, is going up for sale. My original issues of New Gods, despite owning them in the beautiful baxter reprints, are still staying in my drawerboxes. The lettercolumns and ads for the other series are just too perfect. The King Is Back, a large pen proclaims, and the next page has the Source announcing the arrival of something new.

What’s leaving, however, are the original Warlock comics I’ve lovingly collected over the past couple years. I have a great six issue mini-series from the 80s that reprints them, and, well, while the letters arrrre lovely, the world deserves these. I may still yet use the Kirby comics for a project. Jim Starlin, however, shall endure another scholar.

I’m also keeping almost all of the Morrison era DC Comics from the mid to late 90s. As well as his incredible initial run that effortlessly condenses history, the random electrification of Superman,

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and Jack Cole’s Plastic Man alongside Big Barda into a beautiful series of crisis comics each more dangerous than the last. And, while he did this, he developed Martian Manhunter’s character to the point where John Ostrander and Tom Mandrake took the book into a thirty eight issue revision of DC history, with J’onn J’onzz developing Clark Kent’s moral character as a migrant black farm worker his pa hired and which the town’s racism deflected yet again. He could’ve killed this inevitably omnipotent alien unaware of his powers as a baby, but, instead, he watched how he worked in the fields. If only every alien invasion was this courteous, you know?

I could write about those Martian Manhunter issues for days, especially his god, H’Ronmeer, the master of fire, artistic inspiration, and death. Or Darkseid’s implied genocide of the Martian peoples. A story that remains unwritten (pleeeeaaase. im seriously keeping a notebook of all these amazing untold stories. Marvel lacks the story of Mephisto’s treaty with Hades that a Roy Thomas refers to from way back in the day. If only I could hire Jae Lee to commission some artwork and a pitch!).

And then there’s the matter of Zauriel, ahhhhh, Zauriel, the poet laureate of Heaven and unwilling warrior with a voice that could shatter Superman’s bones.

He arrives from Heaven to warn Earth’s superheroes of an impending demonic invasion, and ends up fighting alongside them, loving the liberation of mortal air.

Which isn’t to say that Morrison was behind all of what made it special. Yes, I’m still forgetting how awesome DC one Million was, but it would be even more remiss to omit the eager energy applied by the rest of the DC Universe in constructing these epics. Superboy arrived with an OMAC mohawk, for gosh sakes, in a Chuck Dixon comic co-starring a robotic Robin.


Yes, I am also keeping all the OMAC comics. Jack Kirby’s and Keith Giffen’s amazing and shortlived relaunch with Dan Didio rendering the POWS and an incredibly muscular Giffen rendering the crackle. Also keeping the John Byrne mini-series that has nazis aided with future technology, thus giving us the future of O.M.A.C.’s world. More on those later, though.

Yep, pretty everything else is gonna go over the next year or so. I’m starting with a garage sale on June 23-24th in San Antonio near Trinity University. Later, I’ll post specific scans of comics I’m going to sell (ferrr dirt cheap) as well as a boring inventory list for those who want to make larger orders.

I was wanting to turn this into a much larger post about the ethics of possession, but that will have its time later, perhaps. For now, thanks for reading, y’all!

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