92615_RAA_LooseCannon_Text_R1_PROOF

none such as we but hardy men we were and earnest and rough-hewn yes but charming in the way a squad of men are when it's cold outside and your car's in a ditch and they have by now a half-empty bottle of Kountry Kwencher. Make friends we did, lifting the car and scooping dirt for trac tion and the rocking, rocking back and forth to free the car and right the good steel on its way, it's precious cargo on its way, smelling as it did of baby powder and New England sleet. But that, the old man said, as he collected his purchases, is a tale best told another day; and so he left as brusquely as he had arrived, the only difference being of course the slight spring in his step that the monthly arrival of Previews provided him, as well as the light blue bag full of comics, lightest sky blue, the color of promises kept within, of publication schedules adhered to and of the lure of comics to come. Yes, the old man thought, as he hung up his coat, the coat his wife had bought him for one of his many birthdays past; the coat that always faintly smelled of garde nias from the vase in the hall, rugged, a coat that had a well-lived life, a coat that he’d spent more time in than in their quaint house by the sea. Yes, he thought again, as he pulled out the copy of Previews from the sack, there are those who hold this catalog, noble catalog with its listings and its essays and, yes, even its garish ads, those who hold this catalog in con tempt, or worse, disdain. For doing its job rather too well, bravely, stoutly arranging the month’s offerings in row upon headstrong row, alphabetical ly by publisher. And this month, this week, this day, the very hour, he held his catalog in his hands as he sat down with his pepperoni and his cheese and his bot tle of Red Stripe, amber Red Stripe to gaze upon the contents of the cat alog within. He shook his head, sadly, not with the contempt or disdain that others have, but rather wearily, ruefully, really, that this sort of thing was necessary; in a perfect world, a world that is so very close to perfect, with his wife and his spacesuits and his house by the sea, the world would shine just ever so much more brightly if he could go into a comic store and just browse the racks and have there be a deep stock of all the books he wanted to buy. But this is not to be and the Previews is necessary and so he faithfully pre orders each month. It’s not so bad he thinks as he turns the pages past the digitally-created cheesecake shots and the statues and the Gene Roddenberry action figures and the lunchboxes and the maquettes and the boobs and the guns and the mutants until he gets to the good stuff. After all, that’s the stuff that will be on the racks, although it is a rare thing for him to want to get that stuff as he is a reader of books, not a collector of And that's how my friend Sully knocked up Joanne.

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