The decision to go to library school was, for me, less about wanting to actually go to library school and more about, oh, I don't know, BEING A STUDENT FOREVER AND EVER.

(At this pace, that task is just about accomplished.)

Luckily for me, the decision panned out, and I entered a program that I thoroughly enjoy, and more importantly, academically kill at.

After plugging away (sleepily, drunkenly, and half-heartedly, until the day before something is due and then full-fucking-speed-ahead) for two years it's almost time to be done and to focus on the Dreaded Graduate Thesis. I'm going to try my damnedest to do it my way and focus on a topic that I actually care about: comic books.

That's right, because just being in library school? Doesn't quite make me enough of a nerd. No, I'd like to really like to ensure first place status in that regard, so yes, comic books it is. Though I had fleeting exposure to comics growing up (didn't all young girls want to kill Cyclops so that Wolverine and Jean Grey could just get it on already?) the past few years I have really delved deeper into the genre, even going so far as having attended Comic Con last year.

(Shut up. I totally got laid on that trip.)

(I think.)

(Sigh.)

During some research into various historical aspects of comics (my thesis will definitely have a historical slant), I stumbled across this site, which details the so-bad-it's-good moments that spring up like oh, every other page, in many older comics.

While subversive text and images are nothing new to comics, some of these entries are so blatant (Butch Dykeman, anyone?) that it's amazing they ever made it to print. I find it wonderfully amusing to think of all the old writers and artists raising pens to corrupt the youth of the 50s with, dear lord!, punny names and PG upskirt.

Totally the makings for serious graduate-level thesis material, no?