If you're wondering why I use too many adjectives in my prose, well, blame it on Stan Lee. Back in the '60s, I was steeped in the narration and dialog he provided for comic books like Doctor Strange.
And if you're wondering why I'm so weird, well, I'm sure those by-gone years of following the good Sorcerer Supreme into exotic Steve Ditko dimensions has a lot to do with it.
I loves me some Dr. Strange, even now. Especially now. When reality becomes drier and more leaden in its normality. And when the accrual of time becomes something an old guy like me would like to mystically side-step.
I lost track of all my old comic books when girls elbowed their way into my imagination. Over the recent years, I've started re-collecting those colorful, mermerizin' issues. And man! – back then, 15 cents or a whole QUARTER would put a dent in your adolescent allowance. Now through Ebay and whatever, I've had to shell out $10...$25...for Very Fine or Near Mint copies of those old treasures. For #169 – the first issue of Doctor Strange's solo series – I paid $51 to a guy in Hawaii!
Yeah, yeah. I hear you. I'm nuts. But don't judge me too harshly until you've slipped through one of those mind-blowin' portals to accompany the good doctor on a cosmos-savin' adventure. Until you've soaked up his powerful spells or had your eyes bedazzled by light sprayed from his amulet: the Eye of Agamotto!
So...by the Crimson Crystals of CYTTORAK, I stand unashamed! I stand with Dr. Strange. And in spirit-tandem, we shall plunge into other realities! What we do there, you'll never know. But we just might be saving the world from its coiling, crushing, chthonic banality.
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