When I discovered comics as a kid, I never strayed too far from what I was certain I’d like. Eastman, Laird, Sakai, Edlund, Miller, Moore, and a splash of Shirow. End of list. Them shits were too expensive for 12 year old me to take chances on the unknown, so I ended up missing 95% of what was being published at the time. As an adult, I never stray too far from what I am certain I’ll like. Same reason. A narrow path across a vast landscape. Fast forward to 2019 when the YouTube algorithm fed me Cartoonist Kayfabe for the first time. I came for the familiar, and hundreds of viewing hours later through Ed and Jimmy’s channel I’ve rediscovered so many books that I’d only seen in passing, creators I’d never heard of, and developed a deeper and broader appreciation of work that I’d previously dismissed or would have otherwise never encountered. I’ve come to treasure Cartoonist Kayfabe. Weekend binges as I’m drawing at my desk, occasional scrolls into the archives to scratch certain itches, on and on.
The thing that hurts the most right now, is thinking about Ed’s frequent recollections of "little Eddie P." Recounting his experiences as a child first discovering comics. The mystery of how they were made, who was making them. Full of curiosity and wonder. That kid is familiar to me, and I feel like Ed still had so much of little Eddie P. in him. Perhaps too much, to deal with these circumstances.
I had the chance to meet and chat with Jimmy and Ed regularly at conventions over the last 2 or 3 years. I was able to thank Ed for the gift of the show. I’m thankful for that. Also for the signed copy of the Run DMC issue of Hip-Hop Family Tree on the wall behind me.
Rest in peace, Eddie P.