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October 14, 2009

... and There We Go ...

Well, Comic-Con has come and gone, and Matthew and I are still working on a full recovery. In fact, Matthew is so demoralized he's asked me to write an entry, just to keep those of you who are rabid for news at bay. I know, I know, it's not a fair substitute, but it will just have to do.

So - for those of you who don't know what Comic-Con is all about, I'm afraid I'm not really the right person to ask. Sorry. Though I occasionally read a comic book here and there growing up, I have to say I was mostly interested in the artwork, and it really got on my nerves when artists would switch up and suddenly Wolverine would go from looking like this:

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to this:
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Call me shallow, but I just can't love a guy whose bicep is bigger than my entire gluteus maximus. So anyway, my interest in comic books was spotty at best, and I never really got into following actual storylines. This is not so for 99.99% of Comic-Con attendees. Much like baseball fans, they know the stats on all the players at all stages of their careers, and fiendishly collect associated memorabilia. Needless to say, Idiots'Books has not yet stimulated such an adoring fan base (I blame it in part on my inability to adequately draw these, and instead can only draw these). Though the following photo would suggest that we did a brisk business this past weekend

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please take note of the gentleman on the far left.

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That's what most attendees looked like when they passed by our booth. I think this poor guy got suckered in because his girlfriend was excited about 10,000 Stories, and its alluring flip-bookish ways. Luckily, in a crowd of 12,000, there are a few odd girlfriends and moms and dads who are willing to stop and chat, so it wasn't a complete bust. And, at the very least, we got to watch a passing parade of the disguised and famous:

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though at times it was suggested we were watching at our own risk:

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and sometimes the disguise was almost not there at all:

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The highlight of the whole Con was that I finally found Waldo. He is a tricky little SOB. I've been searching for him ever since Christmas of 1993. My search, amongst the 12,000 Comic-Con attendees, finally reached its extremely gratifying and long overdue conclusion.

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Thank god I can finally put that one to rest.

We divided the happy-go-lucky comic-mania with a very highbrow evening with Ira Glass, host and creator of my very very favorite This American Life, and a bunch of other NPR listeners. I cannot tell you how much I love This American Life, and, by extension, Ira Glass. This, however, did not stop me from calling him a "puppetmaster" to his FACE in the Q&A session. What is my problem? I could blame it on giddy fan nerves, but really. You could see the poor man visibly flinch at the suggestion that all of his carefully crafted work was just manipulation. I immediately ran home and wrote him an apology, which, if it weren't for damned Columbus Day weekend, would already be well on its way into his mailbox. Luckily he can't block my ISP from receiving his podcast, or I would be in dire dire straits.

Or - can he?

The man looks like he could hold a grudge:

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Posted by ribbu at October 14, 2009 12:05 PM