Saturday

JP: At the moment all I can remember clearly are conversations with Tomm about music. Spurred in part by Indie 103, LA's new alternative radio station that someone saw fit to start just after I moved away last year. Four years, all I had to listen to was Nick Harcourt's morning show on KCRW, and now they finally have a station I'd like. Nice. So most of the time we discuss the Pixies' reunion, whether Elliott Smith killed himself (no) and for some reason today we were dissecting the lyrics to Money(That's What I Want). Pretty appropriate when you sit down and display all your wares to the reading public.

You know you'd do 'em : The WizKids!

Hoo-Hah, lookadat line! The Long Beach convention center looks like a mini version of the San Diego convention center, but it's still pretty big, and a nice fat queue stretched the length of it. Later I would find out that this wasn't for love of the comics medium, but rather due to those irrepressible WizKids giving out HeroClix Galactus (with Silver Surfer in hand!) to fans (re: grown men in short pants) who would line up first. Brent Irwin and Brenda Cook were doing their usual fine job of getting the pros their badges and pointing them to tables. I know they have to put up with a lot of people who swear they registered and bought artist alley space when in fact they only found out about the show days earlier. So they deserve medals for that. Also for using humor when placing people in Artist Alley; in between the two porn stars (now, are they all really stars?) was talented Brad Rader with some of his extremely gay comics, and a guy with a Christian comic book. Randomness does not generate that kind of placement, it's too good.

 

I don't think we've mentioned a salient detail about this show yet.(ADDED LATER: yes, Steve did mention it. I need to start reading his parts.)The convention center served alcohol. Over next to the nut stand by us was a bar stocked to the gills. We were initially very pleased-- the Small Press Expo always has a bar going, and after a few drinks people start to Really Love Original Art and Your Comics. So we're expecting some happy comics readers. Yet, I almost never saw the bartender make anyone a drink, ergo no rummy benefactors. One of the bars somewhere in the room must have been busy though, because Lieber snapped this shot...

By the way, sorry to be misleading with that heavy Lieber opening, because he had to go out of town and that's all the report I got out of him. All the pictures are his though. Wait-- I just remembered some content I've been saving for just such an emergency.

This is from an email I got from Steve when he was out of town this winter. Neither of us had blogs then, so there was nowhere to put this, but it's too good an episode to not share. I call this anecdote "SWEET."

It's about 1 am, I'm sitting in a hotel hallway, around the corner from the front desk. I've pulled a chair up against a wall because this one spot seems to be the only place where the wifi signal is strong enough for me to get online. A door opens up next to me. It's the hotel's night clerk, a young, friendly Asian-Indian man. He has a question.

Do you know the four biggest narzicamp?

I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Could you repeat that last part?

Narzicamp.

I'm not familiar with....

You know, German.

Nazi?

Yes, yes

Concentration Camps.

Yes. Narzicamp.

Um...I think, um, Auschwitz. Bergen Belsen.

Hold on!
(He runs to get paper and pen.)

Auschwitz. Bergen Belsen, Dachau and Treblinka.

What was that first?

Auschwitz.

Can you spell?

A-u-s-c-h-w-i-t-z, I think.

Sweet!

(Closes door. Runs off, Reads list into telephone.
Returns.)
Thank you. You saved my ass.

Um, anytime.

Those lovable mugs Scott and Oliver from Fanboy Radio. Are you listening?

In one of my many table breaks, I find myself walking with Scott Morse and Mage producer Ross Ritchie. I tell Scott that I'm looking forward to picking up his Commissioner Gordon special, and Ross generously gives me his copy- instant gratification. Then Ross fills me in on some details about his latest venture. He and editor David Elliot are relaunching A1 Comics, and I get a little preview of what's to come. The books won't be as overwhelmingly British as they were before, but will still have the high standards the line was known for, pretty exciting.

I'm starting to run into more people with the same name as me, but rarely are they dressed as Sandman. Jeff here also had nice things to say about my book, which I presume he read because he just had to check out what other Jeff Parkers are up to.

Later the rest of his extended Gaimanic family showed up, so we asked them to gather for a picture. And of course, hold my poster.

It is our great pleasure to bring you the next anecdote-- a heartwarming, reaffirming tale of innocence that could have been taped straight off of PAX. A story we like to call...

So things have slowed down after the battles for Heroclix Galactus (Galacti, as you'll come to call them after reading the Sunday section of this report). Everyone in our radius is eating the flavored peanuts that we smell all day. We're suddenly jostled from our reverie by laughter, and see two parents trying to summon back their small child. The tow-headed rascal is in his own world though, wandering down the aisle with a polaroid picture in his hand.

Joining the parents in their amusement is one of the Adult Film Stars. They catch up with the child in front of our table, so we ask what just happened. For a larf (they were British, thus they larf) they got their boy to pose with the porn star, and while in her lap, he was inspired to start pulling his own shirt off. They were generous enough to let Steve take a picture of their instant photo, and here it is. I have to admit, seeing it now makes me start to mist up all over again. Who says comics shows of today don't offer anything for our youth!

As the show lets out, everyone is scurrying about trying to make dinner plans. Spending money sounds awful, and we call to find out Tomm's wife has used her antsy/gestating time to make a delicious dinner at home. Problem solved! Back in the car Tomm curses Incubus, and we resume our eternal discussion about The Zombies and what if they had stayed a band through the 60's.

I need closure! Take me to SUNDAY!