Once My Looks Go, I've Got Nothing

      I started playing Magic: The Gathering back in the fall of 1994 (which was probably still a little too late, from a value perspective, but bear with me here). Unlike many people who got sucked in during the initial wave of mania surrounding the game, I never sold my collection. This ended up paying off for me, unlike, say, Beanie Babies collectors from the same era, who are still waiting for their time to shine. Actually, I'm sort of one of those too, having pillaged my mom's storage locker after she passed away for collectibles that might help mitigate the funeral costs, but let me tell you, the Princess Diana bear is still not worth anything despite pre-TNA Don West's promises of yore and internet urban legend . But anyway.      Magic cards from back then are increasingly scarce, is my point. And though I don't have anything as brain-meltingly expensive as, say, the fabled Alpha Black Lotus, I just so happen to own something quite a bit more scarce. As in, some

         Recently, I was inspired to write a comedic post about Conjure , a Magic: The Gathering magazine from 1994. Conjure is a charmingly incompetent relic seemingly published by a team of guys killing time before the refill date for their anti-psychotic meds. As I wrote this post, though, I found myself with a problem: in order to write the sort of article I wanted to write, the piece was turning out to be pretty insider-y. That is to say, an audience without some understanding of the game of Magic would probably be fairly lost. As such, it didn't seem to be a great fit with the rest of my site (no mean feat for a blog combining lunchmeat reviews with an exhaustive analysis of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark ). Rather than dilute the article, or scrap it entirely, I decided to see if a site dedicated to Magic content might be interested in it. I contacted noted Magic rabble-rouser Dr. Jeebus, proprietor of just such a site, mtgbrodeals.com , and after a bit of back an