SDCC redux: post-Comic Con reflections

And so San Diego Comic Con has wrapped up for another year. Bummer. I always miss it when it goes. On the other hand, I always seem to go through the same sort of cycle with it. What with all the other stuff that goes on in the year, I tend to forget how much I enjoy it, then July circles back and we're off again and... WHEEEE! COMIC CON!! Awww, it's over. Something like that.

(Fleeting reflection on the above: despite all my inner protracted teenage angst, I suspect I am not really a very complicated person. It's like when feminists get all irked over how women get characterized as simple creatures who only care about shopping for shoes, and you're like, yeah! Boy howdy! How dare the patriarchy-- OOOOH! SHOES!)

Oddly, for someone who enjoys the whole Comic Con shindig so much, I must admit to having a very minimal understanding of comic culture. Take the other day, when I posted that picture of the action figure my dad and I dubbed "Sewing Machine Man" (savin' the world from eviiiil / with his BOBBIN O' JUSTIIIIIICE). There are probably ten thousand megageekazoids* out there who, if they saw that picture, would spit out their Cheez Doodles in indignation, squealing, "THAT'S not Sewing Machine Man! That's ZORTHOR THE DISEMBOWELER," or whatever.

(Special note to all megageekazoids offended by the preceding remark: I don't mean to suggest all of you go around subsisting on Cheez Doodles. I realize some of you prefer pork rinds. Thank you.)

And now, as it's still fresh in my mind, here is a roundup of some of the highlights of Comic Con:

- We actually ditched Comic Con on Friday in favor of spending the day at the San Diego Zoo, where we chilled with a variety of gorillas including one who had a condition that would make him remain forever undersize. I don't recall the name of this condition, but I like to think it is "Weenie Syndrome." Fortunately, those afflicted with WS can still live fulfilling lives, with Regis Philbin being just one example.

- My sister and I met Grant Imahara of "Mythbusters" fame, on which occasion I may or may not have acted like a goofass. But then, that is my thing. Also, how is that dude 40-plus years old? He looks younger than I am.

- We ran across a variety of whackadoodles permanently stationed across from the San Diego Convention Center for to blast Bible passages on megaphones and helpfully notify us that our sorry asses were hellbound. This was all worth it once I saw the lone soul in the Gaslamp District holding a (hand-lettered) sign reading, quote, "Superman died for your sins."

- For the second year in a row, one of my puppets and I got our picture taken by official Comic-Con photographers, and for the second year in a row, I have no idea how to find the picture or where it might end up. The cyberspace equivalent of the crack between the car seats, I guess. That is where I once misplaced a Cocoa Puff at the age of four. Its whereabouts remain unknown.

- And, last but not least, there was this replica of the Incredible Hulk made entirely from Legos. I will forever be grateful to the omnipresent camera of the good folks at GoComics for ensuring I will cherish such memories as this one when I am old and decrepit and too pathetic to do anything else.

But seriously, isn't this like the coolest thing EVARRR?

Till next year, dear Comic-Con. You grow on me every time.




* Excuse me, I meant "informed persons."