Post-Nerd Prom portrait of your pitiful narrator, afflicted with the dreaded Con Plague, or perhaps some form of eyeball-displacing orbital tumor.
Apologies for not updating in “real time” on Sunday, but I’ve been slimed. That is to say, I have succumbed to the dreaded Con Crud, and could not muster the strength to lift my fingers (blackened, trembling, tumescent with pus) to type this missive until now. Tonight (scabby, delirious, drowning in my own phlegm) I’d like to share a consolidation of ComicKAAAAAHHHHN postcards, and quite possibly my death rattle, with you.
To start things off, here’s a chick straddling a seahorse monster:
This cover image of The Fabulous Women of Boris Vellejo & Julie Bell is fabulous indeed. It would be even more fabulous with the addition of some strategically placed tiny bubbles, don’t you agree?
Illustrator/sculptor/designer Paul Komoda‘s sketchbook is better than yours. Seriously, you have no idea. Any time Paul took it out of his bag at Con, small crowds gathered ’round just to catch a glimpse. In fact, there’s been a lot of talk about getting the entire thing published, page for page. If and when this happens, I’m buying a copy for everyone I know. Meanwhile, you’ll be able to get a unique taste of Paul’s brilliance in the upcoming maiden issue of Coilhouse Magazine. Squee!
One of many clever forms of viral marketing for D-9 at the Con. “Protests” and “rallies” for the mysterious project were staged throughout the weekend. Check out the D-9 website; it’s quite thorough, and mildly disturbing in an Alien Nation meets Battlestar Galactica meets the Dharma Initiative sort of way.
Pictured below are my two all-time favorite people to visit over at the Slave Labor Graphics booth:
On the left, genius artist/animator/mustachioed madman Andy Ristaino, hawking his long-anticipated collection of The Babysitter. Have you SEEN this stuff? Well, HAVE YOU?!! Holy shitballs. Ristaino and I first met at the 1998 SDCC when I talked to his hand. No, I really did strike up a lively conversation with Andy’s hand before I ever spoke to him! (His hand was wearing a very charming sock puppet at the time.) On the right, SLG Editor-In-Chief Jennifer DeGuzman. A powerhouse writer/blogger/columnist, Jennifer co-hosted one of the most important indie panels at Con this year: “How Not To Break Into Comics,” which apparently had a line going out the door. Hopefully someone will post a transcript. You could all learn a lot from DeGoosey. She knows things.
Psst. Hey, you, with the wings. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Child of Faerie. I just want you to know… I am fuckin’ ONTO you, man.* You, with your calculated games of mutilation and torture. Sure, you look sweet and innocent: that fluffy tutu, those flowing tresses, your collected works of Brian Froud and Tori Amos, your careworn Vertigo Tarot Deck, that apricot-flavored Bonne Belle necklace, your uncanny ability to quote full verses of “The Lady of Shalott” from memory, your crushed velvet drawstring pouch filled with a glittering rainbow array of multi-sided dice… Most folks think you piss lemon drops and shit smurfs, but I know better. It’s a FACADE. Those wings aren’t twee at all. They’re goddamn deadly weapons protruding from your pale, shimmering back and you know it. Don’t try to tell me you’re oblivious to the anguished shrieks of your victims. Blind and mewling and clutching their faces, supplicants kneel in your wake on the floor of the crowded convention hall with their eyeballs dangling on their cheeks. You know what you are, Tinkerbell? You’re a fucking sadist. A cold-blooded, face-poking, eye-gouging SADIST. Hardcore. Don’t ever change.
With kind permission from the models to post them, here are a few photos taken at the only SDCC after-party I had any real desire to attend: the Dr Sketchy’s Anti-Art School soiree. Trust me, I paid my dues at several schmoozefests this year. Blorgh. Nothing quite like hanging out next to an Attack of the Clones ice sculpture, listening to drunk celebrities and their peons trade industry gossip, to make me appreciate the Dr. Sketchy’s concept more than ever.
Our very own Comrade Zo was the model for the SDCC Sketchy’s party last year, with predictably delicious results. This year, a bevy of gorgeous and emotive LA art models who call themselves the Gallery Girls posed at the jam-packed event, dressed (and undressed) to the nines as various Heroines of History.
It’s no secret that many of us have perpetual hard-ons for young Molly Crabapple, the brains and beauty behind Doctor Sketchy’s. Luckily, we can hide them under our moleskines. Here’s dear Molly, peeping out at us from behind an inspired series of sketches by one of the attendees.
(I’m just posting an image of the Mattel booth’s giant Castle Grayskull gate for excuse to make you click THIS. Mooohoohahaahaaaa.)
And finally, a picture of the Elvis Trooper. I did not take this. My own photographic evidence of him this year is sadly blurred owing to his incessant gyrating and my inability to stop laughing. But really, no Con coverage would be complete without a picture of him.* Photo by Merhawk:
Aaaaand with that, I’m off to bathe in a hot vat of soothing pediculicide, then sleep for a thousand years. Nerd up, y’all.
* Hell, fifteen years ago, I WAS you.
**Apparently, I also missed my chance to photograph a group of Klingons wreaking havoc at the Horton Plaza Food Court, as well as Jonathan Frakes singing show tunes at the Hyatt piano bar. Next year, damn it. Next year.