I had this notion the other day that I missed out on an important part of my adolescence. I spent my time obsessing over rock climbing equipment and taking apart and putting back together my bike. I never owned baseball cards or read comic books. My interest in baseball is purely for the beer drinking, so I decided to let that one slide. But I love to read and I love design, so I thought I'd try out comic books. I did a bit of research online and found a book written partially by Stephen King and illustrated by someone famous in the comic genre. It arrived and took me about 30 minutes to read. Then I tried reading it again, thinking maybe I'd missed something. Perhaps there was some subtle subtext that passed over my head the first time, but, no, it was just really terrible. I'm just glad I closed that door.