And yet, exist they did. Even if I had known they were out there, I'm not entirely sure I ever would have tracked them down, or picked them up if I happened to stumble across them. I guess it's a mood thing: I can pretty much always chuckle at the moronic humor of a good gross-out pun, or appreciate the whiz-bang escapism of comics, no matter what else is going on, but I take horror a lot more seriously. Or at the very least, I don't engage with horror casually. To separate the boogeyman from their surrounding narrative context, and freeze-frame them in glossy prints on cardboard, transforms them in a fundamental way which no longer interests me. As usual, I may be overthinking it a bit.