Neil Gaiman

Dear Sir,

Listen, I know you won’t speak to me but just come over here and let me bend your waxy ear for just a second. Don’t wait for my colleague to come back from lunch so you can ask him about that Green Lantern comic. I work here too. I know I’ve got two tits and Lord knows what else but I understand comics too. I can name the capabilities of each differently hued power ring. I’ve got my indigo ring on, I know compassion. Let me help you.

Ask me. I’m just sitting here saying these words to you in my head, gazing at your dandruff over the backissue bins. You know, comic book guy in the corner, it’s sexist to think I won’t know the answer to your questions about the motivation of relatively minor characters in Transformers, but hey: I am being totally judgmental about you here too, so that is fine.

Don’t be proud of the fact that I remember your name. I know everybody’s name, dude. I have to type it into our computer system, which you may have noticed works on DOS. I have to type your name in, plug in your terrible order, and when I’m done I have to type E-X-I-T. Time moves slow here in the past. I’ve got lots of time to think about things, which is why I want to help you. Yes, you in The Walking Dead T-shirt. Shamble over here a minute, would you?

READ THE REST AT http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/an-open-letter-to-the-guy-waiting-in-the-corner-of-this-comic-book-shop