FUNNY BOOKS, COMIC BOOKS, GRAPHIC NOVELS? WHOA!

This thought came to me today.  Wait until you hear the synaptic connections that made it happen.
 I was preparing a Power Point presentation for a rather complex presentation that I constructing.  I decided that I would opt for many slides with few words in order to get a rapid visualization of what the complicated texts conveyed, rather than to get too philosophical about abstract concepts.  So, I waded in fearlessly and I was happy with the results I was getting, so I plowed ahead.  After about the 5th or 6th slide I remembered a couple of boyhood events that didn't turn out too well for me and my brother.
For a while we would go to visit our maternal grandmother with Mom and Dad on Sunday noon, or early afternoon.  While there, it became a little ritual that we would both receive ten cents to go buy a comic book.  So we would take our dime and go for it.  We usually were rather sensitive to the fact that we would come out ahead if we each bought a book featuring different characters.  Something like you see at the top of the page.  
Well, wouldn't you know that the Sunday came along when we got to the store and were attracted to the same book.  Not only that, we would not let go of our personal desire to "own" the book to which we were attracted.  No matter how much we discussed, pouted, threatened and stomped our feet, neither one of us would budge.  So we spent both dimes for identical books.  I think we felt it on the way back to the house, but I don't remember our emotional state.  What I do remember was the frustrated disgust hurled at us by EFR Dion.  Oh, yeah!  That, I remember.  That's good, because it never happened again.  Of course it did help that he never gave us two dimes again.  Of course, you could see that coming.  We should have seen it coming too.
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Now, you have to know that EFR Dion was not keen on our reading comic books.  He thought that they were poisoning our outlook on life.  He thought that they were taking us away from well grounded moral reality.  He didn't like the fantasy world that he could see that they were introducing into our lives.  He thought that we were having some trouble distinguishing the possible from the impossible as it related to our own physical, mental and emotional abilities.  Every now and then he would catch us saying or doing things that just a little too "Gene Autry" or "Dick Tracy" and he would yank our leash and accentuate it with a snide, "The Green Hornet doesn't live here."  Sometimes he would get a little more lengthy and give us a two paragraph speech about  how he thought we were ruining our lives with too many "funny books" as he called them.
Needless to say, one day we proved him right.  In fact I was the "brains" of the operation.  My brother told me that it would not work.  I convinced him that it was worth a try.  I'll try to keep this short.
Picture twin beds side by side separated by about 24 inches.  I tell him that if he kneels low to the floor, I can spring from one bed, scoop him up, and fly to the other bed, Superman style.  I convince him that I think I can pull it off.  So he scrunches down between the two beds.  I squat on the edge of one bed, tell him that, "Here I come...Ugh, CRASHHH"  
Do I have to tell you what happened next?  Yeah?  Really?  OK.  But just a little bit.  No, EFR Dion did not RUN upstairs to our room.  It was worse than that.  He slowly, agonizingly, ominously stomped up the stairs and literally hulked into the room.  In a nanosecond he knew what had happened.  Not in detail, but in essence.  He didn't inquire about our health, he knew that stupid kids are like drunks, they're never the ones who get hurt.  So it was the bed that got "hurt."  He sure saw that quickly enough.  
I have to admit at this time that I do not remember the details of what happened.  He did not hit us. Not that time.  I think my brother told him what had happened.  I think that I was so traumatized by the whole thing that I can't remember it very well, except in a humorous way.  I do remember the last thing that he said as he left the room.  "There will never be another "funny book" in this house."  
There wasn't.  For about two years.  But that's another story.
Think "Treasure Chest."

About Treasure  chest comics

Featuring inspirational stories of sports, folk heroes, saints, school kids, history, science; Treasure chest comic book series totals on the fundamentals of Catholic living.

Treasure chest of fun and facts children comics also includes a typical fare of animal humor comic strips. This catholic comic was distributed in parochial schools from 1946 to 1972.
Treasure chest is a classic and now defunct comic book created by Dayton, Ohio publisher George A. Pflaum and other comic creators & artists such as Frank Borth. It was published biweekly throughout the school year until the 1960s.

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