EXCELSIOR!
Back when I was just a kidling, and that's a long-ass
time ago, I perceived Stan Lee as a giant in the comic
biz. I
understood that the artists and writers did all the
heavy lifting but it was obvious that Stan Lee was
the Hand
of God resting solidly on
their shoulders, guiding their paths to Comic Nirvana.
But,
I have to admit, for
the past 20 years or so I've considered him as
merely the
colorful
figurehead of a vast
trove of marketable, copyrighted material, much of
which he was spinning into gold just as fast as he
could.
Which, actually, is fine.
And then he died.
That's when I started remembering the early days of my Marvel-hood
when I bought/borrowed/stole everything that came out of Marvel
Studios. I
was a card-carrying member of the Merry Marvel Marching Society
and I was a Friend of Old Marvel (FOOM). We were a No-DC family.
Batman and Robin were totally gay and Superman, well, who could
take a strip with Superhorse, Supermonkey or Superdog seriously?
I and my brothers, Mark and Bill, spent untold hours
on the floor of our bedroom creating our own epic versions
of
Marvel
comics
using nothing more sophisticated than Bic pens and lined notebook
paper. A lot of these strips featured superheroes as
rock stars. (Picture the Archies replaced with the Fantastic
Four.)
Unknowingly,
these sessions, which turned into friendly competitions between
us, not only taught us composition but also human anatomy (Marvel-style). Our
friends noticed this ability first, then our art teachers,
then we
began to
be of
known
as an "artistic
family". Then
I began taking it seriously, thinking I could make a career
of art. Which I did. All because I liked comics.
Marvel comics.
Thanks for everything, Stan Lee, you magnificent bastard!
=Lefty=
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