A comic book made me throw up today.
I was going to share with you all the happy happy things in the many comics I bought this week, which bought me hours and hours of joy today.
But it's more important that a comic book made me throw up today.
Not because it was bad. It wasn't. But rather, because it affected me so much emotionally, like watching someone you've known for over 30 years and care about, who is standing on railroad tracks staring at an oncoming train and realizing that you cannot possibly save him. Because that's where he wants to be.
Surprise had no part to play in my reaction. It was no surprise at all. In fact, I'd been waiting for it to happen for two years or so. But that didn't make it any better when it happened. It just made it that much worse.
Comics can be a powerful and passionate medium, and deserve to be. Like any good literature they can be fun and entertaining. But the flip side of the coin is that they can disturb and upset us as well. Someone once said that all people have the capacity to do good or evil; it's in their capacity for greatness of any kind that they differ. The same applies, I think, to literature.
So I'm very happy that most of my comics overjoyed me today. But I'm much happier that one of them made me throw up.