It's not an over fetch to say comics ain't what they used to be. Any foray into the vast caverns of super heroes and detective pulp won't be surprised by the occasional shiny thing on the ground. But, as a manga dork, I was always aware of my shiny things because of all the shit on the ground. Past the Full Metals and Bebops is a whole world rife with that prepubescent stain, the kind the pages of your Playboys sticky.

Just saying, having powered through the good, I am just too aware of the bad. I am sad to say it, but I've practically given up. Where does one interest go then? Comic books should be the natural wellspring for the jaded otaku. Sadly, my rummaging has left me as dry as a baby with pampers: as in, not at all. I just wish I didn't stop to take a whiff.