Yeah, I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge.

The kids are coming up from behind.

I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge

To the kids from SVA and from RISD.

But I was there.

I was there in 1968.

I was there for the first Zap issue in San Fran.

I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge

To the kids whose footsteps I hear when they do SPX.

I’m losing my edge

To the Internet seekers

Who can tell me every member of every good webcomics collective from 2002 to 2008.

I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge

To all the kids in Tokyo and L.A.

To the art-school Brooklynites with minicomics and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.

Yeah, I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge

But I was there.

I was there.

But I was there.

I’m losing my edge.

I’m losing my edge.

I can hear the footsteps every Wednesday on sale.

But I was there.

I was there in 1974 at Gary Panter’s studio in a loft in Los Angeles.

I was working on the Jimbo look with much patience.

I was there when Harvey Kurtzman started up his first MAD.

I told him, “Don’t do it that way. You’ll never make a dime.”

I was there.

I was the first guy showing Naruto to the X-kids.

I did it at SDCC.

Everybody thought I was crazy.

We all know.

I was there.

I was there.

I’ve never been wrong.

I used to work in the comic shop.

I had everything before anyone.

I was there on the Fort Thunder drum kit with Brian Chippendale.

I was there with L’Association during the great album clashes.

I woke up naked on the beach in San Diego in 1988.

But I’m losing my edge

To better-looking people

With better ideas and more talent.

And they’re actually really—they’re really nice!

I’m losing my edge.

I heard you have a compilation of every good comic ever done by anybody.

Every great book by Jack Kirby.

All the underground hits.

All of the Boody Rogers strips.

I heard you have a hardcover of every Tintin album on Belgian import.

I heard that you have an ashcan of every seminal Bill Sienkiewicz book – 1985, ’86, ’87.

I heard that you have a TPB compilation of every good ’60s strip and another HC from the ’70s.

I hear you’re buying a P.O. Box and a Kinko’s card and throwing your Diamond deal out the window because you want to make something real.

You want to make a King-Cat comic.

I hear that you and your friends have sold your Peanuts and bought manga.

I hear that you and your friends have sold your manga and bought Peanuts.

I hear everybody that you read is more relevant than everybody that I read.

But have you seen my comics?

Milt Gross, Steve Gerber, Chester Brown, Tsuge, Spain, Hal Foster, Mike Diana, King Terry, Lyn Ward, John Porcellino, Phoebe Gloeckner, Grant Morrison, Hergé, Junji Ito, Aline Kominsky, Jennifer Daydreamer, Rory Hayes, Osamu Tezuka, E.C. Segar, R. Crumb, Jules Feiffer, Herblock, Mark Beyer, George Herriman, Takashi Nemoto, L’Association, Ben Jones, Lynda Barry, Moebius, Justin Green, FC Ware, Charles Burns, Al Columbia, Frank King, Bernie Krigstein, Frank Miller (Goddamn Batman!), Will Elder, Art Spiegelman, Ernie Bushmiller, Julie Doucet, S! Clay! Wilson!, Jack Chick, Blutch, Mattotti, David Mazzuchelli, Los Bros Hernandez, Joost Swarte, Igort, Steve Ditko, Steve Ditko, Steve Ditko, Steve Ditko.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

You don’t know what you really want.

Okay, stop.

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