Though I’ve been a lifelong comic book reader with a reverence for the creators behind the content, and an enthusiast of the geekier aspects of pop culture, I didn’t experience my first comic book convention until my late 30s. By the time I learned of such things, the fina

Someone once told me that freshly baked bread begins the process of going stale the moment it leaves the oven. I don’t remember who said it, but have to wonder what kind of person would share such a bleak notion with a child. A nihilist baker perhaps. I suppose there is truth in the c

Anyone  familiar with Bobcat Goldthwait might consider him an odd role model for a thirteen year old, but in 1987 his tremulous blend of humor and frustration was just the sort of influence that helped me harness my angst and find some self-esteem. By the time I was thirteen, I had bo

American media is riddled with sales pitches that promise immediately gratifying health, happiness, and satisfaction. As intended, this kind of manipulation certainly worked on my malleable child brain. I actually believed the commercial that suggested I’d be able to tear my Manglor t

Before becoming a household name, Mr. T grew up in the Chicago projects, served in the US Army Military Police Corps, worked as a bouncer, a bodyguard, and boxer. He emerged in the neon age of colorful personalities and self-stylized eccentrics who defined the trends and fads of the e

Sometimes, as I fade off to sleep, I revisit settings from my childhood. I’m able to conjure up places where I’ve lived with such clarity that it almost feels like I’ve traveled back in time. I walk from room to room with meticulous recall: the wood paneling in the k

My household was late to the cable television game, so in the late 1970s and early 80s I took what I could get cartoon-wise. While waiting for some of my favorites, like Looney Toons, Scooby-Doo or the Flintstones to flicker across my screen, I’d make do with the sociopathic antics of

Stave One When I was about five or six, I found myself in handcuffs on the day after Christmas. I blame the ghost of Jacob Marley. After big holiday gatherings with my mom’s side of the family at my grandmother’s house, some of us usually stayed the night. It was at her house that I a

By no means am I anti-Christmas. The twinkle and warmth of Christmas is the perfect way to ease into cold and muted New England winter. I particularly enjoy the brief pause in routine that the holiday offers and the flood of nostalgia that it brings. Every year my wife and I head out