In my article on Wonder Warthog, I mentioned a Gilbert Shelton creation titled Not Quite Dead, about an aging rock band, which, when I wrote the article, was available in parts of Europe but not in America. A few years ago, I not a message from a friend, to the effect that Not Quite Dead had recently made it to these shores. I made a note to myself to check it out at the neighborhood funnybook store, next chance I got.

Used to be, the comics store was one of my regular stops. I'd drop by every week, in fact, to pick up the goodies the owner had set aside for me. Before checking out, I'd chat with him for an hour or so, and the conversation would include whoever happened to drop in while I was there — a not-uncommon pattern, I gather. This was how it went from the time I was about 30 or so. Before that, there wasn't a comics store in every neighborhood — in fact, the idea of a store that existed just to sell comic books was virtually unheard-of.

But by the time I was in my early-to-mid 40s, I was starting to get out of the habit. In fact, by the time a guy is that age, the comics themselves don't seem as attractive as they did when he was younger. It has been truly noted that the Golden Age of Comics is 12. At that age, the whole world seems fresh and new. But by the time a guy gets up past 40, it's hard for yet another superhero comic book to grab his interest; and the guys talking about them tend to be a little too young to make very interesting conversation, too.

By the time I got that message, I was well past 50 — still very interested in comic books in general. and still dropping by a comics store from time to time to see what's new. And of course, unread Gilbert Shelton is good for a few minutes' entertainment at any age. But the comics store was no longer a regular hangout, so I had to make a special trip to check out Not Quite Dead.

But the store (Atomic Comics, several locations in the Phoenix, AZ area), while unually well-stocked for people whose tastes run to less predictable genres than the superheroes-only standard among comic book fans, didn't have it. What's more, the clerk had never heard of it. Or Gilbert Shelton. Or even Rip-Off Press, my guess for its U.S. publisher.

"Is that some new publisher?" the clerk asked.

Not exactly, I replied. It goes back to the '60s.

"Oh," said the clerk. "Sixties. Well, that explains it." His tone indicated no modern person could possibly be expected to know about prehistoric stuff like that.

Somewhat annoyed, I asked if he'd ever heard of the X-Men.

His tone struck me as somewhat smug and condescending as he said "Of course," and proceeded to show me a wall full of X-Men and spin-offs. Apparently, he thought I was inquiring about something an old fart like me couldn't possibly have first-hand knowledge of.

But I didn't want to see any X-Men. I haven't particularly wanted to see any X-Men in quite a few years. I just wanted to say "Sixties," when he acknowledged he'd heard of it. I didn't need to add, "Not so prehistoric after all, is it?"

To his credit, he got the obvious point, But he missed the less obvious stuff, which was that anyone in a position of serving as a guide to the general public, about the comics field, ought to know something, at least, about prominent comic books and creators that were a little before his time.

Before that, as I said, I'd pretty much lost interest in making regular trips to the comics store, and hanging around for an hour or more to chat. But that incident killed any chance I might ever resume the habit, because I'd gone from lack of compelling interest, to active annoyance at being in a comics store.

Because that was when comic book stores started making me feel like a befuddled old man whose interests had surged ahead, leaving him in the dust, an object of mild amusement to the younger people who enjoy the hobby, but who have little in common with this white-bearded hexagenarian who might be hip and cool, but for the fact that the comics he used to read came out before any of them were born.

It's like Rip Van Winkle. Only it's me. Nowadays, I get most of my comics in TPB form, from Amazon.com.

I still haven't seen a copy of Not Quite Dead. But I don't really have to, do I? I'm living it.

— DDM