My name is Greg. I’m 32, and I’m a fan of the comic strip Gasoline Alley.
I suspect that’s not a sentence you hear every day.
But I have genuine affection for the strip. I was introduced to it (and the other comics that I read) by the site Comics Curmudgeon. It was probably a year ago, maybe more, with a plotline that involved some old guy lost in the woods and trying to recover a baby from a bear, or something like that.
(I said I have genuine affection for it, not that it’s believable.)
Anyhow, it dropped off my radar, and I was reintroduced to it with the exploits of one of the characters having a scheme to get kids to stop noisily playing basketball next to his house by, and I kid you not, acquiring a large meteorite and hiring a helicopter pilot to drop the rock on the basketball court, thereby destroying it.
From there I was hooked on this strip that, while not good in the traditional sense, is delightful in the audacity of its badness. It’s sort of like Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” in comic form.
Anyhow, inspired by Comics Curmudgeon and the single-comic strip blogs that have sprung up, I offer Goin’ Antisane with Gasoline Alley, in hopes of offering first-class snark and simultaneous appreciation.
