The Secret Back Rooms of the Comicshop

It is happening. My shrine to nerdiness and part-time place of employment, (on and off) for roughly twenty years is moving. The Comicshop is a Vancouver institution. We were there first, and according to reader polls in the Georgia Straight, we do it best. My intention here is not to go on and on about the place, nor to tell it's history. Instead I thought I might "pull back the four-colour curtain" for you all. We have been at 4th and Arbutus for over thirty years. Crap accumulates. It is a big, barn-like retail slot with lots of backrooms and hidden nooks. I took these pictures about a month ago, just before all the hubbub began. By now, all this stuff has been "cleaned" out of existence or left behind. Here I will try to share some of the day to day pop-culture oddness and coolness that lurked behind the scenes at the old place. If you click on the pictures you can zoom in pretty close.


The door to the office is framed by an deflated mylar Spider-Man balloon, and two signed t-shirts, one from Todd McFarlane and the other from Sergio Aragones.


There are decades worth of sticky things and hangers affixed to the office door. The motorbike stuff ties in with my boss's last name, which he shares with Norton motorbikes.


Slurpee cups, novelty bubble-bath containers, and miscellaneous brick-a-brack have been sitting on the windowsill for years.


This is part of an old pinball machine that the boss found in an alley at 24th and Main St. back in 1974. He has had it since he opened the first Comicshop that year. It sat on the office windowsill for 31 years. It is now mine. :)


Here is some oddness from the (somewhat home-made) office wall. There is a fantasy pinup by Frank Brunner . I'm not sure who did the Daffy Duck cell, but it has a Tex Avery / Bob Clampett look to it.


Various certificates and a cool plastic Uncle Scrooge, festooned with some god's-eye charm.


I love this patently unsafe-looking Mickey Mouse crib toy. I suspect lead paint, applied in a 1968 Chinese sweat shop. It also has the look of a toy that was designed long before anyone thought of the term "choking hazard".


The coffee counter has a huge poster of Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman. It is a bus shelter transparency from "Batman Returns", which was kinda crappy except for Michelle Pfeiffer. I guess it's been there since 1992.




Over the years; cool old comics have fallen apart and left wonderful, detached covers in their wake. There are several spots behind the scenes where the old things were just tacked up with the staple gun, for colour.


This Holly Hobby wall plaque has been collecting dust on the circuit box for as long and anyone can remember. It reads:
"He doesn't find contentment who seeks the wealth of kings, for the greatest happiness of all is found in little things." Sweet...


Bart has been guarding the receiving door for about twenty years.


The furnace had a dire warning affixed to it. I am proud to say that I never touched.



The other side of the furnace is adorned with groovy 1970's comics industry stickers and an armadillo fridge magnet from San Antonio, Texas.


Old magazines and antique fruit boxes were stuck in a corner.


Old Disney records, a "pose-able" Batman wall hanging, and sexy go-go girl paperbacks clutter up the overstock area.


This isn't in a hidden area, but I include it because it is so cool. I risked my life a decade ago to hang these cut-outs up on the wall. Anyone who can name all the characters gets an authentic Stan Lee no-prize. Note the unique and precious Uncle Scrooge stained glass window. No, it is not for sale. Ever.


This is also not hidden. This hand-made car display, with unlikely characters mix, used to be in the window at the old (long closed) Comicshop branch in Neslon, BC. I first saw it there in 1982, while on a school band trip. It found it's way home and has been on the wall ever since. I will never understand why Batman would let Goofy drive...


Please forgive the quality of this picture. It was a hard one to get. If you stand on the (tippy and spinny) chair and look down from above the fluorescent light fixture above the upstairs till, you will find dusty old airplane models and a Gundam action figure. Perhaps they were left there by ghosts.


A framed Vancouver Province page from 1983, when the boss made the cover.


So long, 2089 W. 4th Ave. The neighbourhood outgrew the Comicshop, so I guess we'll just have to start piling up interesting things at the new location down the street, at 3518 West 4th. Excelsior.

It’s my party and I’ll pontificate if I want to.

Today I turned 44, which makes me wise and venerable. Feel free to reap the benefits of my "100 Points to Ponder"...

1. Toasted sandwiches are always better.

2. Skinny may sell magazines but fleshy’ll bring you home.

3. Forty-three was a good year to finally pay attention to how my back feels.

4. We love, need, and use our cars way more than is healthy for us physically, economically and mentally.

5. My bike is cool.

6. The yummier the food is, the more likely it’ll kill you.

7. Good wine is really much better than just so-so wine.

8. Don’t underestimate the shallow self-esteem that comes with a decent set of pipes. It’s worth the effort.

9. Don’t underestimate the true benefits of decent cardiovascular health. It would be better to avoid the heart attack, methinks.

10. Toddlers are messy, tiresome and annoying. Any parent who tells you that it’s their favourite phase is really just lying and counting the days till they can send ‘em off to preschool or kindergarten.

11. Grandparents love toddlers because they have long forgotten the joys of trying to deal with a screaming 2 ½ -year-old with a messy, leaking, poopoo diaper in a public place.

12. Tattoos are sexy, when done well.

13. There really is very little worth watching on television.

14. Television, radio, and print commercials may drive our consumer society, but they are the enemy and should be avoided and subverted at every opportunity.

15. The alley is almost always more interesting than the front street.

16. The French are pretty fricking cool. Ooh la la...

17. Don’t buy the extra “customer protection package” they try to sell you at the cashier. It’s just a money grab.

18. Urban billboards steal my mindspace to fill the wallets of others.

19. Everyone masturbates. Well… everyone except for people who lack limbs or genitals, (or some combination thereof). Think about how shitty that would be.

20. If you don’t exercise you will generally get fat. If you are one of those people that is an exception to this rule: fuck you.

21. Life is too short for bad beer, cheap chocolate, or crappy coffee. We all deserve better.

22. Men love boobies. Even the gay ones started out that way…

23. Even though some vegetarian meals are delicious and nutritious, vegetarians are just plain wrong.

24. Almost any cut of meat can be rendered delicious with the proper preparation.

25. Most people don’t really know how to cook. In a side note: pizza pockets are not food.

26. Sometimes life gives you magnificent things. Sometimes life takes them away. That's life, I guess.

27. Forty-four is a good age for a guy to grow a retro-70’s porn ‘stache.

28. There is really only one proper way to chop an onion.

29. People in their early twenties would be really sexy if they weren’t so young. Maybe we could convince them not to talk?

30. When I was in my early twenties I really had something to say.

31. Otherwise lovely people can be rapidly reduced to asshole status though the use of a cell phone.

32. Otherwise lovely people can be rapidly reduced to asshole status though the use of a car.

33. If someone achieves asshole status through the combined use of a car and a cell phone, they were never lovely. You were mistaken in the first place.

34. Texting has become the great generational divide. Sure, I can do it, but why would I really want to?

35. One of life's most unpleasant and surreal sensations is the grasping of warm dog-poo through a plastic bag, but as a dog owner it is my obligation to endure it, and pray for no ruptures.

36. If you know how to make an omelet you can always have a decent meal.

37. Kids are great. Even toddlers are great so long as they belong to someone else.

38. Just because someone is a senior citizen, that does not make them nice. It also does not make them right.

39. War veterans are worthy of your respect regardless of pretty much anything they might say or do to rub you the wrong way.

40. Alcohol is great, but alcoholism is sad and destructive. I think it’s that way to keep us on our toes.

41. When drugs become the party, instead of something you enjoy at the party, the party sucks.

42. Some drugs are just plain nasty and poisonous and should never be used. Much misery is caused by them.

43. No one should go hungry in such a wealthy society as ours.

44. No one should work a full-time job and not be paid enough to feed and house themselves.

45. Welfare should include free bus passes.

46. The bus service around here should be so much better. It should also be free. Cutting the cost in half would be a good start.

47. Anyone who does not have a Vancouver address should have to pay a $5.00 toll for the privilege of driving their car into the city-limits. There should be a second $5.00 toll to enter the downtown core.

48. No one should be expected to accept being stolen from merely because someone else is in need.

49. No one really knows what someone else is going through. We all see life through our own windows.

50. If you don’t have a spare tire tube with you when you go on a bike trip sooner or later you’re going to need one.

51. Cars used to be cool. Now they are not. I don’t care how many TV ads I see telling me otherwise.

52. I own two cars. One of them is cool. It’s the same age as me.

53. Cigarettes used to be cool. Now they are not. So why do I see people in their early twenties smoking them?

54. Weed is really no big deal. Why the fuss?

55. Often it’s easier just to walk.

56. The brewing of beer is a noble pastime.

57. Gay people are people, too. Actually, they are some of the best people I know.

58. George Lucas really should just stop it.

59. You grow roots when you’re not looking.

60. Pornography is okay, really, so long as no one gets hurt.

61. Nerd may be the new cool, but the more nerds there are, the less cool we are. As an a cappella-singing comic book guy, I think I’ll be in the safe zone for a long time (likely until nerds are no longer cool).

62. No, really… How could anyone sit through the Phantom Menace and then say it was a good movie? I mean, unless they were either toddlers, or in their early twenties, or on drugs.

63. A few generations ago people used to sing together in their living rooms. The world was a better place back then.

64. Everyone enjoys a good fondle.

65. Never mind Citizen Kane. Faster Pussycat Kill Kill may be the world’s most perfect movie.

66. You might think that having dogs is a lot like having children until you’ve had both and know the difference.

67. One should not dress a dog.

68. Bernaise sauce is wonderful, especially when drizzled over bloody, rare beef. I’d like to kiss whoever invented it.

69. I’d like to kiss a lot of people, actually.

70. Nigella Lawson is “on the list”.

71. Yellow beer isn’t necessarily good beer. As a matter of fact, it often isn’t.

72. Those who ride their bikes without a helmet should be referred to as organ donors.

73. Extreme sports are stupid. Isn’t real life extreme enough without trying to find new, recreational ways to finance the funeral industry prematurely?

74. Three words: Bungie jumping? Why?!

75. Everyone should remember to register as an organ donor.

76. Sure. Clowns are scary. That’s why they are cool.

77. It’s staggering how the love of a good woman can save a guy’s life.

78. It’s a hassle to change your windshield wipers, but totally worth doing. If you pay someone to do it, you have to admit that you totally suck.

79. Very tall women are fascinating. It appears that amazons do walk among us.

80. Women are certainly smarter than men, but relative stupidity is underrated.

81. Only your grandma is allowed to overcook the roast beef and vegetables. Everyone else must be politely taught how to do it properly or encouraged to refrain from cooking for others.

82. You can’t live in Vancouver without coming to terms with the rain.

83. If you are one of those folks who only eats beef well-done, I’m afraid I can’t help you. If you visit my place for dinner I will be seating you at the kid’s table. Even then, the meat you get will be a little bit pink. Sorry.

84. On a bad day Vancouver is a culturally-bereft excuse for over-priced real estate between the mountains and the ocean. Even the bad days here are better than the best days in so many other places.

85. Re. skinny women vs. real women: If there ain’t no heft there’s nothing left.

86. Singing harmonies is a lifelong joy. There is something truly magical about nice, round, tuned-up tones or a nasty crunchy cluster.

87. I wish people still sang doo-wop.

88. It was a better world when men wore hats, but now that guys are wearing hats again I may need to re-think this. A 13-year-old with a Metrotown fedora isn’t cutting it for me, really. Would Bogey have approved?

89. As I get older I find myself slowly becoming more and more conservative. At this rate, I’ll still need to live to be 100 before I could support Stephen Harper.

90. Ouija boards freak me out because they absolutely do something.

91. I don’t believe in the Sasquatch or space aliens, but I used to and I wish that I still did.

92. Being a father is extremely fulfilling.

93. Chocolate is great because, not only is it delicious, most people will like you if you share it with them. Powerful chocolaty mojo, that.

94. When you make the right match it is a pretty good idea not to screw it up.

95. I've heard about "abs" and I’m pretty sure that I have some, but I’m also pretty sure that they are never gonna be seen though the fatty layer.

96. Men have nipples, too, you know.

97. Stage magic and ventriloquism are two extremely cool, dying, performance disciplines.

98. It’s not a good idea to confuse loud assertions with intelligent wisdom. Those who speak forcefully and in large amounts are often wrong.

99. I seem to speak forcefully and in large amounts from time to time. Oh, snap…

100. If a man can turn 44 and have friends and family read this far into a long list of personal yammerings, he is truly blessed. Perhaps entering your mid-forties is not so bad.

Who the hell thought up "yogalates"?

My friend and fitness trainer is a very sweet man with a perfect physique and an evil glint in his eye. He's ten years older than I, and a perfect specimen. If I didn't like him so much I'd hate his guts. About five years ago I made a commitment to reasonable health and fitness. For the most part I've been pretty good, with better diet, cycling and some weight training. My trainer, who owns the gym, has helped me along the way, showing me how to work out safely, and responsibly, with acceptable results. He also has a mean streak. I can only believe he takes deep personal pleasure in my chubby, inept humiliation.

As I relish the sensation of my body aging and decaying, I notice little warning signs. Lately it's been my lower back. It's not really a problem, just an occasional twinge after I've shoveled a bunch of topsoil or something. But... I think back to the massive moose of a man who used to be our neighbour when I was a kid. This guy has such serious back problems that there are times when he is forced to spend days lying on a flat plank in his living room. No lie. All things being equal, this is an eventuality I choose to avoid for myself. So... I admitted to my small twinges with my friend and trainer at the gym.

"Oh, Tim... what you need is to take the Yogalates class. It starts in five minutes. It'll sort you right out." He watched my face fall as I remembered the time he talked me into attending a Boot Camp session, which was a near vomitous experience for me. I considered resisting, but then I saw the look on his face. It was clear that I'd just be a big fat pussy if I copped out.

Now, as you may guess, Yogalates is a sassy mix of yoga and pilates. I know nothing about such stuff, but in retrospect I think the class might be more appropriately named "Humiliation for Sweaty Old Bastards "or "Crow Eating 101".

To begin with, it's very popular among the female demographic aged 20-30. Doing the math, I realize that means I could easily be the father of a lot of the women in the class. These realizations make me feel a bit bad about my lustful thoughts, but only a bit. As the proud owner of a penis, I was half of what made up the 15% male portion of the class, (meaning there were two of us). The other 85% were lovely, fit, young women of varying degrees of curvaceousness. "Hell," I thought, "How hard could it be?"

It seems Yogalates is all the rage these days.The studio was packed by the time I convinced myself to follow the stream of yoga-panted women into the semi-dark chamber. New-age music chimed softly as I stumbled and tripped amongst the roses, looking for somewhere to learn all about it. My damn trainer pointed out that there was a single spot remaining in the front, right-hand corner of the room. I grabbed one of those paper-thin mats and headed off into the darkness, trying not to tread on anyone's little fingers, nor to ogle too obviously the curves and contours of my youthful classmates. I made eye contact with the only other male in the room. He was short and a bit hairy and had a slightly yogi-esque look to his lean and rippled physique. "So, what exactly is Yogalates?" I asked in a brotherly way. He smiled the honest smile of the converted and said, "Torture."

I found my little spot in the corner and grunted around, laying mat, removing shoes and socks, and realizing that even just sitting on my ass, legs forward and spine straight, felt like a pretty good workout to me. To my front I had a lurid view of my lovely self in the mirror, to my right, another view in another mirror, which helped me remember to cut back on the home-brew. To my left there was a tallish, clean-limbed specimen with brunette pigtails and distractingly wide hips. Behind, where I could not really see, was a willowy blond. My first problem (yet, alas, not my last) was clear even before we got started. In the dark, trapped in a corner, with a complete lack of knowledge, I could see sweet-fuck-all except for the writhing fineness of the woman to my left. "Oh well," I thought, "I guess I'll just have to copy the moves from her. Not such a hardship, actually."

And so it began. I broke a sweat just trying to imagine the mythical abdominal muscles I was supposed to visualize and move to the centre of my pelvis. Apparently my navel was supposed to migrate down, through my back and into the floor. I don't think it got there. As things moved along I found it more and more difficult to keep up. There were crab-walky stances and raised legs and bizarre pelvic-tilt roll-ups. I was sweating freely by the time we were 15 minutes in, doggedly trying to keep up while stealing glances at the young dear next to me. Sadly, she didn't seem to be too familiar with the moves, but her expansive pelvic girdle and generous breasts made it difficult to peer past her, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to anyways.

Then there was the move that actually required *magic*. Somehow we were supposed to lie on our backs, flat as a board with our arms limp at our sides. Using non-existent abdominal strength, and *magic* we were supposed to roll up to a sitting position without using our arms, like some crazy marionette being pulled up by a string. Let me tell you here and now that I am nobody's puppet. It didn't happen, but I made quite a spectacle of myself as I flapped my arms trying to get up.

Half way through the session I was toast, but I couldn't countenance the humiliation of thrashing my way out of my little corner. I was bathed in sweat and dripping on the yoga mat. The mat was too thin for my deformed tailbone, which felt like it was drilling a new route to China every time I was forced to lay on my back and put my legs up in the air. When I performed said maneuver my legs (which I think are very buff and sexy, due to cycling) trembled and jiggled like the limbs of a newborn foal. I had removed my glasses because they kept sliding off my rosy, sweat-drenched face. Thus I was also semi-blind in my dark, sequestered corner and could no longer see to my left effectively for instruction. There were moves that I ignored completely and laid on my back, trying to pretend I was invisible, and not the sad, fat, creepy old guy in the corner. I cursed my trainer three times in my mind and resolved to never return to godforsaken Yogalates.

Then I heard a guttural moaning to my left. Not a sexy sound, oh no. It was plaintive. Behind me the mystery blond began keening quietly to herself. It was the unmistakable sound of someone in pain, who is lost. I snatched my glasses and held them in place. Looking unashamedly around me, I saw that the lithe neighbours were flailing, bailing and failing, thank the stars above. I may have been old enough to have fathered them, but they were suffering, too. My self-loathing began to abate.

The rest of the class was a bit of a blur, but the hardest stuff was over. The final stretches and cool-down moves were something I was actually capable of doing. My new girlfriends floundered around, but we soldiered on together to finish the class. We didn't actually speak to one another, but I felt some telepathic commiseration going on. My trainer made sure to offer me a few quips about my lack of flexibility as I sopped my sweat off the yoga mat with handfuls of paper towels. Ha ha. Very funny.

The next day by lower back was perfect, with nary a twinge to be felt. My bastard trainer buddy was correct, as usual. I had been sorted right out. So had my ego. A little core strength never hurt anyone, as long as you don't kill yourself getting it. I have decided to continue going to Yogalates through the summer to see if I can learn the *magic*.