I almost wish I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time, but I was also disappointed for the second year in a row.
It probably didn’t help that I’d just had my gall bladder removed earlier that week. As a result, I had four healing incisions in my shaved belly, which is not a comfortable experience, especially since I was walking around all day. But thankfully, WWC serves ALCOHOL! Which brought me plenty of aid and succor.
But my main gripe with WWC was how much comic books have been forgotten. This con is much more for the benefit of pop culture. Gone are DC and Marvel, as well as many other prominent publishers. (Avatar is still here, but they have such a small booth that they’re easily overlooked.) Any comic book creators you find here are on their own in Artist's Alley or, like Azzarello and company, were with a charity. However, if you’re looking for celebrities, you can’t take a step without bowling one over. Want to meet Bruce Campbell? Want to get put into a submission move by the Nasty Boys? Want James Marsters to sign your Spike puppet? No problem. Except . . . .
How much are you willing to spent? Campbell costs a hundred dollars. And you can’t get any Buffy actor for less than twenty-five.
Here’s the thing: by ANYONE’S standards, that’s too much. Do these guys deserve to make money? You bet. That’s why they’re here. But don’t you think $100 is over the top? Don’t you think high prices alienate fans?
Case in point: I saw a girl waiting in line for Marsters, eyes full of stars, as if meeting him was the only reason she was here. Then, she got close enough to see money exchanging hands. She asked a volunteer how much it would cost, and when she was told $45, she was absolutely heartbroken. She got this sad look in her eyes, like she was about to cry, and she walked away.
Ten bucks sounds reasonable to me. They could break even in one hour on Saturday, I guarantee it.
But there are suckers who are willing to pay these outrageous fees. Hell, I was one of them. It was my personal mission on Saturday to meet Ash himself (although I admire him far more as BURN NOTICE’s Sam Axe these days). When I heard how steep his fee was, I blanched, but I had my copy of MAKE LOVE THE BRUCE CAMPBELL WAY, and I was intent on him signing it. I then found out that he only did the VIP signing, and it was full up. Foiled.
I did kick in the $45 for Marsters. I mean, come on! He’s fucking Spike! And he was a super-nice guy. He also informed me that the Fox lawyers told him it was illegal to sign over Buffy’s face. He spent a lot of time with each fan, making sure they got their money’s worth. I also met Nicholas Brendon, who was maybe the most affable guy I’ve ever met. He was having the time of his life, and it seemed like nothing made him happier than meeting his fans. I toyed with the idea of meeting Julie Benz, more out of love of DEXTER than Buffy, but I kind of liked the idea of leaving the convention with SOME money.
But I spent a lot of time in line for booze. It’s funny, you will see people lined up elbow-to-asshole for overpriced food (and the pizza this year was awful; the plate tasted better), but alcohol? The line for cocktails was very short at all times. In fact, once I saw the line was a bit longer than usual. That was until someone ahead of me noticed that this was for alcohol, not food. He took his friends with him. Others overheard him and joined him. Soon, it was just me and a guy with his family. He got beer for himself and a bunch of Pepsis for the li’l ‘uns. Unfortunately, while waiting my turn, I leaned on the railing only to have one of his kids come up to me and start licking the back of my hand. The lead-paint-chips-chewer’s dad looked over and didn’t stop him. Fucking parents . . . .
There were quite a few good things about WWC. For example, I came closer to finishing my Mickey Spillane collection by purchasing a couple of cheap paperbacks. While I was there, I noticed this little gem:
TORMENTED WOMEN is apparently a book, written by a doctor and former alcoholic, about the dangers of booze to women. It looks utterly trashy, so I had to have it. And where else but at a con can you find books like these?
I even found a few back issues of MAD which were absolutely delicious. The one parodying A CLOCKWORK ORANGE actually made me laugh out loud. They made fun of the symbolism of the movie, and at the same time used the word “faggot.” Even though it was permissible back when the magazine was published, it’s still kind of weird to see MAD use such language.
One of the things I miss about WWC these days is the lack of porn stars. There used to be plenty of them until WWC ruled that they couldn’t hang around anymore. ‘Tis a pity, as I enjoyed their presence greatly. I actually got to meet my favorite soft core porn star, Jasmine Gray, two years in a row. Shortly after the second time I met her, she died in a horrible car crash. It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, but every once in a while, I like to take down her old CANDY GIRLS DVD. It’s too familiar to “get the job done,” so to speak, but it stands the test of time.
I should also mention that I got a handjob from one of the porn stars who used to frequent WWC in the old days. I won’t mention her name (for reasons I’m about to bring up), but those of you with good memories will probably recall her. One year, I spent so much at her booth that I apparently qualified for the “special package.” I bragged about that for a year. Who wouldn’t? But when I saw her the next year, she was an absolute mess. She rummaged around in her purse for a marker with which to sign her new DVD when her purse fell over and spilled. I helped her pick everything up, and part of the mess was a collection of prescription pill bottles. It was stuff for serious mental problems. Talk about awkward. I never bragged about that handjob ever again after that.
Don’t bring up the Suicide Girls, who were indeed present this year. They don’t count. Sure, they like to show off their naked bodies, but not in a pornographic way. It’s about art for them.
I did manage to find a pretty cool booth where they were selling prints of scantily clad women murdering people. One of them really stuck out for me, the picture below. Fishnets drive me crazy. It doesn’t matter who wears them (female wise, of course). I once made out with an extraordinarily fat chick only because she was wearing fishnets. They look good on everyone, they really do. (Even Tim Curry.)
Here’s another cool thing: I got every comic book I brought with me signed. That almost never happens. Someone always calls off, or can’t make it for one reason or another. Not only did I get Azzarello, Risso, and Johnson, I got Matt Wagner, Pia Guerra, Bill Sienkiewicz, Rodney Ramos, and Ben Templesmith. Good fuckin’ times.
But the best part about WWC was, of course, Artist's Alley. This year, probably because so many major publishers were gone, they supersized AA. It was bigger than I’ve ever seen it, and there was a lot of good stuff to be found this year. (As you can probably tell from the reviews I’ve posted.) Sure, there was a lot of crap (as you can also tell from said reviews), and almost every single indie book had a hard time with spelling, but there was a lot to offer.
All right, I lied. I said I spent most of my time in line for liquor. Actually, I spent most of my time sitting at the Product of Society table with Leo Perez, Jon Lennon and a variety of other folks who stopped by. I had the most fun just sitting around, bullshitting with these guys, and meeting a lot of the fans who came by. You may have noticed that I didn’t review the new issue of PRODUCT OF SOCIETY, which I ordinarily would do. This time, I actually have a piece in it (adapted by Leo), so I can’t really say much about it (except, you know, buy it). It was fun watching people react to the fact that my story actually happened to me.
By the way, Leo also drew up a lot of very offensive sketches. He was giving them away to anyone who bought something at Jon’s table. If you were lucky enough to be there, you have one. If not, I think the offer is still good. Hit him up. You won’t be disappointed.
For those who don’t know, Leo’s adaptation is the “return” of TABARD INN (since the story is called TABARD INN TALES), so I figured I’d bring in a bunch of issues of my magazine (as well as bumper stickers) to give away for free. That’s right, for free. Jon was horrified by my decision (because he wanted to make sure that I got money for something I put so much of my heart into), but I insisted that we give them away. Remember a while ago how I posted that I was willing to give all three issues away for free, provided people sent money for shipping? NOBODY TOOK ME UP ON THE DEAL. That’s right, I can’t even give these fucking things away, and I have to get rid of them somehow. They’re cluttering up my house.
The offer still stands, by the way. If you want FREE issues of TABARD INN, let me know. Leave a comment below, or get me on Twitter or Facebook or even my actual website, http://www.talesofquestionabletaste.com/.
Anyway, I couldn’t help but laugh whenever someone would come by to take a look at the free magazine only to find each issue full of words instead of pictures. Many people chose not to pick up a FREE book because there were too many words. Jesus Christ.
The bumper stickers were the main attraction, though. People really loved CHOOSE DEATH, which surprised me. I thought the real winner was PUSSY SATISFIES. The one that horrified most into putting it back and fleeing was IT’S A PARASITE NOT A CHOICE, which made me smile.
But really, as I sat at Jon’s table on Sunday, shooting the shit with him and any fan who stopped by, I realized how much fun I was really having. That’s what a con is supposed to be about: like-minded individuals enjoying each others company, talking about art that turns them on.
And THAT is why I don’t regret showing up.
So, what do you think? Is WWC still worth attending? Or is it all about C2E2? Let me know in the comments below.
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