SUNDAY
Bad enough I made us turn off too early and end up in the Port of Los Angeles, the place you take dead bodies to be dumped, but then for some reason the correct exit into Long Beach was barricaded. Everyone was late this morning trying to figure that detour.Well, well, well, look who's back in comics after a good ten years in theme parks: Hank Kanalz. Hank comes by the table, now a VP at DC/Wildstorm. Hank was instrumental in setting up Image at Malibu when they formed, and I like to think his return to the field will bring back some of the mojo that was floating around him all the time. When I moved to LA in 99, Hank took me to lunch at Sushi Nozowa, the best food I had the whole time I was there. Which of course, means that my dining experiences were all mostly downhill after that first week. Thanks, Hank.

Stand and Deliver

But it's hard to think about happy lunches when a gentleman Lieber refers to as The Presenter comes by. From time to time at shows, you've no doubt felt awkward talking to someone at a table, standing over them so they have to crane their neck up to talk. This health-conscious fan has an interesting solution to that: he uses his limberness to stretch his legs apart and come down to your level!

Those first two shots are of him talking to Lou Ferrigno, the third is while conversing with one of the ladies of porn. His technique works with any guest!

Projects

Of course, show attendees like to find out early info such as what projects are coming out later this year, so we doled out plenty of that. Steve proudly kept informing people that he's inking the consummate draftsman Jose Luis Garcia Lopez on the next installment of Road to Perdition for DC. In fact, Mr. Disappearing Act has finally sent me an email with a bit of reportage talking about what he's got coming up.

SL: It's finally happening. I'm going to be doing something with one of my favorite writers: Sean Stewart

Sean is a big deal - one of the best writers of literary fantasy working today. His last novel, Galveston, won the World Fantasy Award, and The Beast, the multimedia narrative webgame he wrote, is fucking legendary.

Sean had an idea for a comics short story that ties in with his latest novel, Perfect Circle. He sent me an e-text of the novel, which I devoured, reading it right off my laptop screen in a single night. Sara did the same. It's funny and suspenseful and you just can't put the damn thing down. God can he tell a story.

The next day we talked about the story. His publisher (another great novelist- Kelly Link,) was into it. And now it's going to happen. The publisher will print it as a chapbook (like Me & Edith Head) and give away copies at Book Expo in Chicago. There's more about Perfect Circle here . Read the blurbs. Our comic is called "Family Reunion." It's a potent little story about family and memory and what we can do for the dead.

JP: Lieber has another assignment from that scrappy little company Octopus: since graphic novels take so long to make, before Interman 2 comes out, I'm publishing a 32-pager later this year with three stories. Steve will be drawing the origin of the hitman Outcault, Tomm will be drawing a story featuring the character May, and I'm doing one with Van Meach. In fact, at this show I switched the assignments; Tomm was supposed to be on the Outcault story and Lieber on May. But since Tomm so often draws things set in dark cityscapes, we thought a desert story set in Afghanistan with Mujahideen on horseback might show a side that readers don't get to see. Now Steve has to figure out how to depict Belgium in 1960, and more importantly, what espionage's elder statesman was like in his twenties. Me, I'm just geeked to see what they do with my scripts.

Nearly Embarassing Moment: I heard that Patricia Arquette was making the rounds of the show, apparently she and The Punisher are an item (no not Thomas Jane, I mean The Punisher!). As a fan I wanted to see her, and later I'm standing next to Ford and say exactly that. In what sounds like a typical joke response, Ford says "well, she's right behind you." Except that she was, but luckily in a deep enough conversation that my fannish comment probably wasn't heard. She's really short.

Speaking of the Punisher, they had the GTO that he drives there, and it's no batmobile. I mean, that's one of the cooler musclecars ever made, but it's covered in primer and the seats are taken out, I assume to allow room for weaponry. Maybe it works in context. You expect to see it out full of teenagers doing the drag from the Carwash to McDonald's.

I don't know what I was amused about, or why J.J. Kirby was so freakin' happy (or why he seemed to expect rain indoors for that matter) , but at least now we have proof that the impish Chuck Wojtkiewicz actually controls Noto.

And now, the show-stopper. Charles Brownstein from the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund walked over to the table with a wide smile, which he doesn't often do. Earlier, he had a magical encounter with a very special comics fan, and he summoned all his brainpower to commit what he was hearing to memory. Caution: This anecdote has strong (and repetitive) language, adult situations.

Now please enjoy what can only be called...

 

THE LAST GALACTUS STORY

As recounted by little Charlie Brownstein

It was Rachel's first comics convention and she chose to spend it working for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Her friend Rowan dragged her into it; in exchange for the road trip to California she‚d help us out at the booth and get to see first hand the spectacle of thecon world. We warned her in advance that there would be strange sights. There are, as the seasoned road warrior can attest, as many variations of convention freak as there are Legionnaires. Because the reference would be lost on her, we simply said that most of the people she‚d meet would be harmless, quite a few would be nice, but don't be surprised if there's a couple of freaks; especially because as a strikingly pretty 25-year-old brunette she'd be the chromium on many a fanboy's cover.

She showed remarkable prowess behind the booth, rapidly learning the ins and outs of greeting passers-by, chatting up the wares, and explaining the casework. Late one afternoon she even sold a XXL Hellboy t-shirt to a tiny Asian girl. "You can use it as a nightshirt, or swim in it," was her pitch, "Yeah," said the Hellboy girl,"I guess I can get a belt and wear it as a dress. "Sure!" Rachel agreed. It was a sale only a woman could make, and best of all it was for free speech. In between talking to supporters and the freebie clutching masses she'd snap pics of the costumes, feeling herself to be a hunter on safari. She wasn't aware that the biggest game would visit early on Sunday.

He was a big guy, tall and bulky, dressed in a black hoodie with the Decepticons logo emblazoned in purple across his chest, and dragging a black travel bag behind him. He stood in front of the booth like a refugee at the end of World War II looking confused, defeated, and angry. He stood silently while Rachel rose to greet him. "How your show going?" she chirped.

He looked up and shook his head. "Fuck," he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a hyperactive metronome. "I'm through. I'm fucking through, man. I came out here all the way from fucking Texas just to fucking get a fucking Galactus. All I wanted was a Galactus, and now I've spent nine-hundred fucking dollars on three Galactuses, sorry, Galacti, and I've only got one Galactus to fucking show for it."

"First on Friday, I get here and I wait in line for fucking hours and when I finally get to the front of the fucking line they stop selling Galacti, like, two guys ahead of me! And I'm like 'fuck!' SoI walk around the floor and there's a dealer selling a Galactus for two-hundred bucks and I figured 'fuck it, I came out here for a Galactus so I'm gonna buy a Galactus' so I gave the guy the two hundred bucks. But then this kid, he sees me buying it and he's almost crying, so I felt bad for the guy so I sold it to him for $240. I mean, I wasn‚t going to give it to him for what I paid, it's not like I'm stupid or something. So then like the next day, I'm like- okay. Today's the day. I'm getting one of those Galacti. So I get here at 5:30 in the morning and just wait in line. Finally, like six fucking hours later, I get to the front of the line, give the guy his money, and Galactus is mine."

Trying to hide her horror beneath a sympathetic mask, Rachel said,"Well, that's good," with an upbeat lilt. "Oh, that's not all," he said. "That‚s not all by a fucking long shot. It gets worse. It gets way fucking worse. So I've gotten my Galactus and I got it signed by the designer, and as I'm walking away from the booth, these three 40-year-old guys surround me and they're like 'What the fuck, man!' And I go, What do you mean what the fuck? Let me fucking through. But they wouldn't let me through. They go' Fuck you' man, you already got your Galactus. We saw you with one yesterday man, you already got your Galactus. You're fucking it up for everyone else motherfucker.' So, I'm like, you better let me through. You lay one hand on me and I'm fucking calling security. But then these guys, they start, like, shoving me. And there's no security anywhere. Nowhere. So I'm like' fuck this' and I run away with my Galactus, and I just fucking leave the show and go back to my hotel so I can put my Galactus where it'll be safe. Yeah. Right. So I'm staying out in LA, like, next to the convention center. Like, not around here, but all the way in LA. If I was here I could understand it, right? So, I get to my hotel and put Galactus away, and then I go out for dinner. When I come back, my room's been broken into and my Galactus is gone! And I'm like FUCK! What the fuck! I thought L.A. would be more secure, but there‚s no security when those guys are fighting me and then my room gets broken into, and I was just I was just--- like I was just-- like-fuck! I'm fucking through. I'm done with comics, I'm done with Hero Clix, I'm just fucking done."

But then I got up this morning and I'm like fuckit. I came here to get a Galactus, I'm gonna go back and get a Galactus. So I came out here, like, still pissed, and am looking for dealers selling Galacti and I finally find a guy selling one for three-hundred dollars, so I'm like, fuck it, I gave the guy my three-hundred dollars, put it in my bag and now and now, I don't know man, I just don't fucking know what I'm gonna do"

"Well," Rachel said cautiously,"I hope things get better" "Yeah, whatever,man. What the fuck ever," he said, walking disgustedly away from the booth and out the show doors. Rachel looked shell-shocked as he left, but I burst into elation. It was the best life-story I'd ever heard at a con.

Now please, for a story like that, I think it's incumbent upon you to donate to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. This is what they are exposed to at show after show while protecting our right to free speech.

Wow. After rereading that, I can't remember what happened the rest of the show. A lot of us went to P.F.Chang's. I know C.P.Smith and I talked about alternative fuels and how lame Lost in Translation is. And as usual, the bill was split evenly amongst the group, so those of us who didn't get drinks ended up paying for those who did. Tomm is still steaming over that one-- aha! That's what I was trying to remember. Let me end this a week after the show with an appearance.

All truly good comics shows end in childbirth-- welcome Olivia Coker!

Congratulations, Tomm and Suzy.