About once a month I go to the local comic and gaming shop to pick up the latest installment of the Dark Tower graphic novel series and, recently, the American Vampire books. I usually go at lunch time–the place only opens at noon. The place I used to go when the first of the Marvel DT series launched closed up shop, and I discovered this other place, which is in a strip center, next to a tanning salon and at the opposite end from a gas station. I don’t go often enough to really get to know the two or three guys who run the cash register, but I recognize one fellow as the guy who probably owns the place. I sure hope he owns the place, or else he should be fired.
I went in at noon today. The guy looked like he’d just arrived from an Australian safari. There was really loud Michael Jackson music playing. I couldn’t find #3 of American Vampire, and I couldn’t get him to understand what I was looking for–even when I showed him a back issue of #1. I would have guessed he was stoned, but he later said in a loud voice that he was really drunk. Maybe. He did mishandle his book of checks when he was trying to put it on the counter. He absolutely could not figure out the title of the one book I bought: #1 of The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger. He kept trying to look up Daredevil for some reason. Finally, he gave up and said, “I’ve made you wait a long time, dude. I’m just going to give this to you.” I didn’t argue–indeed it had taken him something like 10 minutes to handle my business, and the Fed-Ex guy was waiting to get a payment or a signature or something from him. He was either totally trashed or stoned. At noon. Is there a law against running a store under the influence?
Burn Notice started up again last night. At the end of last season, Michael was spirited away after being arrested while stopping Simon, the escaped psychopath who tried to kill “management” (aka John Mahoney from Frasier). When his hood was removed, he was in a poshly decorated room, which made me think of The Prisoner for some reason. They wrapped up that situation fairly quickly and Michael is now working for the people who burned him. However, as in the past, he’s always juggling two things–the big picture task and the local clientele. When he got back home after presumably weeks in captivity, he finds out that Fiona and Sam are carrying on in his tradition, helping out people who have nowhere else to turn. Michael’s a little miffed that they don’t stop everything the minute he shows up–instead they hand him a gun and take him out on a mission. The case was a little like an episode of Sons of Anarchy in reverse. It’s a fun, light little show that occasionally makes a stab at being profound (Hey, Michael, you just burned another spy! Isn’t that ironic?).
I’m getting to the end of Drink the Tea. Not a great book, alas. I’m hanging in there, but it feels loose and sloppy. Tries a little too hard to be hip and droll.
