San Diego Comic Con.
I have decided that the con is all about self-esteem. This is an opportunity for nerds across the globe to unite and be in the midst of like minds and tastes. The one time when it is completely acceptable and respected to don tights and spandex- where the best bodies of a comic book, video game, anime and soft drink exercise and diet program can display their pale cellulite wares- on this weekend only they reign as gods and goddesses. Perhaps for me this is the weekend that I can assure myself and say “well whatever happens to me I don’t think I’ll ever be as lame as those guys.” They are probably thinking right back “Oh look at that kid without a costume and so few friends—I’m glad I’ll never be as lame as he is.” It is truly a symbiotic relationship.
I got my favorite comic book artist Mike Mignola to sign and draw in my sketchbook. One should never meet their heroes. Mike was a salty pale guy who was obviously very weary of his notebook signing responsibility. Mike wrote and drew Hellboy, who is this really tough badass character that is funnily irreverent—I guess I hoped to see something of the Hellboy character reflected in his creator. Instead I just found a dull ordinary man that was tired and flustered by his situation—it was clear he just wanted a sandwich. When I make it to the big time I will make it a definite point to remain as aloof and distant to my fans as possible—this means all of my public appearances will have pedestals and podiums and lots bright lights and ropes—a hero should never appear human.
6 comments:
psssst...ummm Joe? Devon here. Hey listen friend, far be it from me to disparage your relationship with Hitler, but sometimes in your excitement you forget that your comments are publicly posted. Some people are still a little bothered by that 6 million Jews thing, so...
...(blink, blink)
I deleted two comments of mine, one alluding that Hitler "might" be my hero. The second saying that I was not talking about Hitler at all, but a man named Gustav who was trying to hide his mustache from Stalin.
I lost my backbone and did away with both of my comments, but have found my courage once again. Just to set the record straight, Pol Pot is who I fancy most. And by Pol Pot I mean Mother Teresa.
And by Mother Teresa I mean Murder Teresa, who hangs out with Princes Die, who also rolls with Helen Killer, which reminds me of a joke....Should I cut someone's head off?
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