I went to Borders this weekend and, as usual, headed over to the Graphic Novels section. And, as usual, that section was populated by the dregs of the earth.

Is there some code of comic book fan ethics that I haven't received? The one that says you must smell like you haven't showered in eight days and your clothes should look like you slept in them and you should have the personality of a wet mop that's dripping with both dirty water and sarcasm?

Every time I go to Border's it's the same thing. There's a small crowd of under achievers gathered around the anime books and Marvel collections, practicing their mouth-breathing and crotch-itching while they read. They never buy. They always read.

The last time I was there, I got into it with one of the neanderthals who wouldn't move from his spot even though it was obvious I wanted to get a book from the shelf. I ended up calling him a fanboy, and that was like a stake through his heart. I think he spontaneously combusted.

I'm a comic book geek. I admit it. But I'm not like them. I didn't read the entire Akira series while sitting on a stool at the local bookstore.

In fact, I was trying to buy the first Akira volume yesterday when I was thwarted by a drooling fanboy. I mean that literally. He drooled. The spittle hung from his mouth for a few seconds before it dropped onto the Art of Hellboy. My stomach turned. My appetite for Akira disappeared.

Why don't I just go to a comic book store, you ask?

There's three comic book shops within a mile range from my house.

The first is a single-person run shop that was once a used-book store. The guy follows me around the place, repeating the same lines over and over. You like Frank Miller? You like Frank Miller? Have you read 100 Bullets? You like Frank Miller?. The selection in the store is not worth the aggravation of being shadowed by a 400 lb parrot every time I'm in there.

The second is the one we used to call the Star Wars Store back in the day. It was a small shop on a side street that specialized in Star Wars figures and had boxes upon boxes of indie comic books to browse through. They eventually moved down the block to a huge space. They have a great toy selection, but they insist on grouping things together into sets, so you can't buy individual figures. They pride themselves on their glass-shielded displays of old action figures that sell for the price of a college education, yet they don't carry enough new toys at reasonable prices to let you do anything else but stare wistfully at the displays. The comics section of the store might as well have a huge sign that says Marvel Whores. Enough said.