There was a time when if you were reading comics as an adult, it was generally assumed you were too stupid to understand real literature. Many of us wouldn’t read comics in public venues for this very reason.

Not me; I couldn’t care less. When it first came out, I even read Hustler Magazine on Chicago’s vaunted “L” trains. But many of my friends felt that way, and that’s why Phil Seuling’s early New York Comicons were so liberating. In the late 1960s there would be less than one thousand of us talking to one another in an elegant Manhattan hotel ballroom, and each and every one of us were awestruck by the fact that there were so many of us.

As we became the first generation since Fredric Wertham torched the medium to get into the business, we used this feeling of isolation from society to promote the level of storytelling. Comics became more character-driven and less Pow! Biff! Bam!. Before long adult fans would be able to point to a more mature level of story and art. We believed our medium was becoming sophisticated.

In retrospect, I take issue with that. We’re telling stories about people with ludicrous abilities who dress up in fantastic, gaudy costumes to either commit or fight crime and/or evil (to borrow from Dick Orkin’s Chickenman). There’s a limit to that “sophisticated” brand that we were too proud to notice.

Popular culture works like a snowball atop a mountain: by the time you hit ground level, that snowball has grown to a boulder the size of Colorado. Grim and gritty – a term I came up with to help sell GrimJack ­­– became dark and disgusting. Heroes became as ugly on the inside as the villains were on the outside. We evolved to excess.

Before long the American comic book medium, still overwhelmed by heroic fantasy, had driven out all the stories that work for the younger audience while limiting the older audience to a steady diet of redundancy. It is possible to create a story that works for 12 year-olds (and their precocious younger siblings) as well as for 24 year-olds, 36 year-olds, and even 61 year-olds. Off the top of bald pate, I can think of a few writers who did just that, and did so brilliantly: Steve Englehart, Marv Wolfman, Len Wein, Steve Gerber, Louise Simonson, Archie Goodwin, and our own Denny O’Neil… to, indeed, name but a very few.

All too-many comic book store owners became the villains of their own childhood: “Hey, kid, this ain’t a library!” Driven by admonitions from certain of the larger comics distributors in the 1980s, kids were perceived as not having enough money to be worthwhile customers. They took too much time making their purchases. They didn’t know what they wanted. They couldn’t engage in a conversation about who stole what from whom when it came to The X-Men and The Doom Patrol.

Kids were shooed out of comic book shops, and publishers – again, at the insistence of certain comics distributors – pulled away from producing comics that were marketed towards the younger audience. Instead we started cranking out a steady diet of R-rated superhero comics, many of which were quite good and worthy of publication. But they became the snowball that ate the comic book shops.

I always thought this was a mistake, and I thought so for one simple reason: if you chase away today’s 12 year-olds, who’s going to be your customer or reader in five or ten years?

Today, we have a small fraction of the number of brick-and-mortar comic book shops we had just one generation ago. Go figure.

But, today, it appears we’re beginning to see some drift towards retro-expansion. More on this next week.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

Tomorrow night (9pm ET) SyFy premieres SCHOOL SPIRITS, a new reality based series from the creators of CELEBRITY GHOST STORIES and Mark Burnett Productions. They go inside high schools and colleges where paranormal activities are noted – and we get to tag along. right here. Plus an apology to President Bush from “The King” and TMNT gets shelved.

Hey everyone! Emily here, and all ready for a great Tuesday column! Today I’m going to be talking about cosplay. I read an article a little while ago, about why women cosplay, and whether they –

Why women cosplay? Well ain’t it obvious? So they can look smokin’ like Lady Deadpool an’ stuff.

Um, Deadpool? What are you doing here?

Dontchya remember? You promised me I c’d take out my backlog’a Twitter questions by answerin’ ‘em on yer column this week!

…I did, didn’t I? Well crap. I had this whole great column about women and cosplay ready to go! Are you sure you don’t want to come back next week??

Em, I love ya, but GTFO.

*siiiiigh* It’s all yours, man.

RIGHT. Well now. Since we ain’t been properly introduced yet, ‘sup, people’a ComicMix. My name’s Deadpool, an’ I come in peace.

[Well we all know that’s a big fat lie.]

[Shaddup.]

Okay, maybe I come in peace an’ a little bit’a mayhem. Guess it kinda depends on my mood what you’ll get, an’ th’ way my brain works, who c’n predict? But right now, I’m feelin’ all mellow an’ $#!% ‘cause I just ate ten chimichangas, five enchiladas, an’ a chalupa. Also a coupla churros. You ever had a churro? Man, I c’d eat those things all d –

[FOCUS, MAN.]

All right, alright. So, yeah. All fulla food an’ mellow an’ happy an’ ready ta clear up some’a those burnin’ questions people are always askin’ me ‘cause they know I’m th’ world-wide expert on everythin’ on Earth, ever. Also a pretty good consultant fer death an’ th’ afterlife an’ life in other galaxies. Also I play a mean game’a shuffleboard. 

[WILL YOU GET ON WITH IT ALREADY??]

So now that ya know why we’re all here, let’s get on with it, eh?

[I get ta say “Eh?” ‘cause I’m Canadian.]

[So you say.]

Ah-hem. On ta all th’ burnin’ questions, is what I say!

…

…But no questions about burnin’ as it relates ta you, yer pants, an’ that donkey ya met last week, ‘kay? Last time I got one’a those kinda questions I couldn’ sleep right fer a week fer all th’ nightmares. They got other people fer those questions, capeesh? I’m a merc, not a doc!

So, yeah, let’s see here…last month’s laundry…IOU from Cable after he borrowed my WD-40; man, that’s old, I bet I c’d collect some killer int’rest on that…souvenir slice of Agent X’s pancreas (he never missed it!)…ah! Twitter questions!

Oh, hey. This one just came in, from @foresthouse.

Emily says: Wade!! Don’t forget to post the comic that @MarcVuletich and I did in your Tuesday @ComicMix column!

Crap! I almost forgot, didn’ I? Stupid shimmyin’ brain cells. Emily said I c’d only answer questions here if I remembered ta post the latest comic she an’ Marc Vuletich did. I let ‘em hang around th’ office sometimes ta chronicle my amazin’ life. Here’s what happened last week…

…Not my proudest moment. And now, on ta th’ rest’a th’ internets:

@Gohanguy22 asks: “Who would win in a fight? Justin Bieber or Aquaman”

Ah, geez, another one’a these “who would win” questions where th’ answer is just so obvious I don’ know why there’s even a question. I mean, here we got Justin Bieber, The Dude Formerly Known As A Hairstyle, who’s basic’lly recycled pop songs, a few dance moves, an’ a big cheesy grin; versus Aquaman, th’ freakin’ king of Atlantis, who c’n like, breathe underwater, make sea creatures dance th’ merengue if he wants ‘em to, an’ punch through submarines. Also th’ dude c’n swim up Niagara Falls.

So, obviously, th’ answer is: Justin Bieber. ‘Cause even though Aquaman c’d snap that little feeb’s neck like a tiny piece’a coral or drown him in three feet’a water or have him eaten by piranhas no problem, ev’rybody knows th’ King of Atlantis’d be too dignified ta bother fightin’ or drownin’ somethin’ that silly an’ inconsequential.

Also, what’s th’ point? Ya get rid’a Bieber, an’ ya just know there’ll be another Bieber along ta replace him soon enough. They got, like, a factory somewhere or somethin’.

@Flobberknocker wants ta know: “you versus 100 chimichangas. Who wins?”

Well obviously th’ first round goes ta me. I’d be eliminatin’ th’ competition left, right, an’ center. Hooverin’ up those chimichangas like it ain’t no thang. Knockin’ ‘em down an’ goin’ in fer th’ kill while they cried fer their wussy mommy chimichangas. Then, sure, I might haveta stop fer a few, ‘cause 100 chimichangas is a lot of chimichangas. So yeah, I’d take a breath, get someone ta mop my brow an’ squirt water in th’ general direction’a my mouth, maybe tell some people passin’ by ‘bout how I was eatin’ 100 chimichangas (okay, I’d tell everybody passin’ by, but just ‘cause “chimichanga” is fun ta say, it’s not like I like ta brag or nothin’).

But hey, then I’d be right back in th’ ring, ‘cause ya know, I’m like th’ Chimichanga Terminator, lookin’ those tasty deep-fried burritos in th’ eye an’ bein’ all: I’ll be back. An’ they’d be quakin’ in their little guacamole-covered boots, cryin’ tiny sour cream tears, ‘cause ya gotta know chimichangas are cowardly little things; ya’d almost feel sorry fer ‘em in this scenario ‘cept they’re just so damn delicious! So yeah, th’ second round would be mine, all mine! An’ before ya know it they’d all be gone an’ I’d be sittin’ all fat an’ happy in my easy chair with a smile on my face an’ th’ Golden Girls marathon on TV. Challenge accepted; mission accomplished.

…But hey. I ain’t gonna lie. This is Mexican food, here. We all know who wins round three.

@Kingvilehelm inquires: “If you had a baby would you train it all Kill Bill style or let it have a normal childhood”

A baby? A cutesy-wootsey itty-bitty widdle baaaaabyyyy?? …Ah, who’re we kiddin’, is there anyone, anywhere in this world or any’a all th’ ridiculously large collections’a alternate Marvel universes out there who would leave me alone with a baby long enough ta raise it?

[Unless it was baby Cable! You looked after him for awhile, don’t forget.]

[Yeah, and then when Cable got to his teen years he took him to Intercourse, PA in hopes it would live up to its name, remember?]

[Fair point.]

Yeah, pretty sure th’ whole’a th’ Marvel multiverse’d frown on me bein’ allowed ta raise a baby, not that I’d know what ta do with it if I did get one – I mean, I know there’s somethin’ involvin’ diaper-changin’ an’ all that, but I ain’t touchin’ that $#!% with a ten-foot pole (all puns intended)! That’s def’nitely someone else’s problem.

But…maybe…someone in another universe’d be interested in improvin’ th’ shallow end’a th’ gene pool with ol’ Wade, eh? Hmm...I wonder what that’d look like… 

@flanaganbennett asks: “Deadpool, what do you think of this bunny?”

OHMIGODSOCUTE!!

…You have found my one weakness, good sir. Yo, verily, I take off my mask ta you.

Well, that’s it fer this week, feebs an’ fans! Come back next week, when Emily tells me she’ll be here with what I’m sure’ll be a super rivetin’ column about costumes an’ stuff. I mean, not nearly as rivetin’ as me answerin’ questions, but hey, we don’ wanna spoil you all, now, do we? Not ta mention Emily just came over ta stand near th’ keyboard an’ she’s kinda tappin’ her foot an’ gesturin’ fer me ta leave an’ I’m not sure if she’s gonna invite me back anytime soon. But…I’m sure she’ll let me near her computer again one’a these days, an’ if she doesn’t, you c’n always come visit me over at Ask Deadpool!

So until next time, chimichanga!

WEDNESDAY MORNING: Mike Gold and those kids…