“Do you put your comic books in those little bag things?” I’ve been asked. A million times.
“Uhhh… yeah,” I’ve replied. A million times.
Yes, I am that big a geek. Do you know what the most annoying sound in the world is? Fingers going down the chalkboard? No. A car alarm at 3:27 a.m. when you know you get to sleep in? Nah.
It’s the sound of unsafe comic book covers scraping against one another, crying out for the plastic protection only polypropylene promises to provide. Since I was kid I’ve always spent the extra money to make sure I kept my comic books safe. It’s odd because I like for all of fourteen of my novels to have creases and cracks in their spines. It adds character to them. Like crows feet on a man.
If I’m shopping for a new comic book, I’m the guy that buys the book three issues in because I don’t want to purchase the copy that perusers grubbed up. Top copies are for chumps.
I know that I don’t go entirely nuts with the protection of my comics though. I was at a comic shop once and the owner was showing off this new dealie-bob that entombed comics in their plastic coffins for good. “What if you want to read it again?” I asked, unintentionally killing the mood that was so enthusiastic only 30 seconds prior.
Bagging and boarding (that’s what it’s called) has been a staple of my comic collecting habit since I was ten. I can’t see that I’ll give it up anytime soon. I had a million things to do this past Saturday and I rushed to my comic shop to buy new supplies when I found some bagless issues beginning to fold unnaturally. Not good.
Who knows… with the advent of digital comics, my Howard Hughesian approach to comic safety may finally come to an end. But until then, “bags and boards please.”
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