About this book:

In the summer of 1992, Artie spent his entire life savings—fifteen hundred dishwashing dollars—on five hundred copies of *Youngblood* #1, convinced Rob Liefeld’s pouches-and-grit revolution would fund his mother’s Florida retirement. Thirty years later, he’s kneeling in her damp New Jersey basement, cracking open polybagged tombs that have curdled into vinegar-scented time capsules, while an estate sale agent tapes blue "dumpster" tags on his childhood empire. What follows is a hilarious, heartbreaking autopsy of the 1990s speculator boom: the chromium mirages, the foil-stamped lies, the *Wizard* magazine hype, and the brutal math of a market that bottomed out at forty-nine cents a copy.

Chapter by chapter, *Five Hundred Youngbloods* dissects the anatomy of a bubble—from the "Polypropylene Promises" that rotted the very books they swore to protect, to the convention fire sales, the variant cover traps, and the day the Overstreet Price Guide became a work of fiction. It’s a story for anyone who ever bagged and boarded a dream, checked eBay comps at 2 a.m., or realized too late that the real key issue was the time you wasted chasing it.

Equal parts *Pawn Stars* confessional and *The Big Short* for longboxes, this is the definitive memoir of the speculator’s crash—funny, unsparing, and weirdly tender. You’ll wince at the mold, cheer the liquidator’s gambit, and recognize your own foolish optimism in every yellowed backing board. By the time Artie hauls the last box to the curb, you’ll know exactly what your collection is worth: whatever memory you’re willing to let go of.