My eye was drawn to a small, pulpy comic book with a man in a black and white suit and a domino mask, reaching dramatically for his oh-so out of reach 50 caliber revolver on the floor as his limbs were constricted by a monstrous looking, green octopus. Bold, yellow letters blazed: DETECTIVE ANTIPATHY: ISSUE 57 just above his grey fedora hat. Below his gloved hand outstretched for his revolver read: WILL THE DETECTIVE ESCAPE THE CLUTCHES OF THE SQUID MASTER??!!
I had never seen anything so stupid. And I felt even stupider than that at the fact that I was looking at the thing like a 50 dollar bill on the sidewalk. I have no idea why, the stupid name, the obvious ploy to make drooling, slow-witted spoiled brats make their parents buy the issue by placing the main character in ridiculous dramatic peril on the front cover, as if there was no way for a six foot five, 200 pound man armed to the teeth to escape from the clutches of a piece of calamari.
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