Harlan Was Right

The first convention that I ever went to was DragonCon. It's theme was ostentatiously dragons and fantasy and such, but as it turned out that was all window dressing for its real job of showcasing kickass music. In between sets, I attended a number of question and answer sessions that featured Harlan Ellison. (For those not in the know, Harlan Ellison is America's preeminent teller of Harlan Ellison stories. He also writes Harlan Ellison nonfiction, and the occasional short story.) Along with discussing with discussing his war against the internet, and his desire to see a good majority of the room die in agony, he asked a very good question. Why the hell were the people running the convention fine with allowing bootleggers to run wild through their vendor rooms?

I went to a Horror convention a few weeks ago, primarily because I wanted to see Voltaire again. During this time, I was disturbed to realize how very much the sight of badly photocopied DVD covers is beginning to annoy me. I know the arguments in favor of bootleggers. They are still the only places you can get the first episode of Twin Peaks, or Torchwood, or that cartoon where the entire cast of Looney Tunes dressed up in blackface and made fun of the Japanese. But the list of what only bootleggers can provide shrinks yearly. Not that this stops them. That semi-obscure Korean movie they offer for twenty dollars is freely available in America for... twenty dollars. The European release of Terror Death Lake with new footage? That new footage is also included in the deluxe release. That set of obscure British comedies you want? Oh, they don't have that shit. Would you like a fuzzier copy of Transformers The Movie than what you could find at Target?

I can understand wanting things you can't get. I can understand wanting not to pay for things, or to pay eighty bucks less than retail. Paying about the same price for an item of equal or lesser value... well, it makes me want to shake people, and tell them to support their own damn genre.

Admittedly this time there were only two bootleggers in the building. However, this was a smallish convention, and they had the very best spots to hawk their wares, just outside of the main convention hall. Meanwhile, some of the producers of original content were in the alternate vendor room. That would be the one that could only be found after walking down two separate hallways, down a flight of stairs, and into a room that was amazingly free of foot traffic. I might not ever watch a Troma film again, but I can still feel sorry for the bastards.

I planned this to naturally segue into how I met Voltaire again, and almost learned how to please a woman. Unfortunately, I am running late for a gothic ice cream social, so I'll have to leave you with vague promises to discuss the lighter side of horror conventions at a later date.

Holding Pattern

Writing about things I found boring turned out to be boring. Who knew? Interesting things will be discussed later in the evening.

In the meatime, I've just discovered the fun to be had in Guitar Hero 2's cooperative mode. That is, the fun after someone studiously unlocks all the songs in single player mode, because everyone knows a multiplayer game works so well with 4 songs to choose from.

There is a training mode to the game. It ignores obvious questions you might have, like, "How can you play a five button fake guitar with only four fingers?"

Also, there are some questionable choices in the song mix. Guitar solos that consit of random notes played to no melody whatsoever. Also, I may have just rocked out to Christian Metal. This disturbs me.

It Was All A Blog

Wow, what an ending. One might argue that the "It was all a dream!" ending is cliche, but upon analysis the narrative follows a certain dream logic. Contributing to the theme of dreams and their meaning as prophecy is the scene in which...

Hey, it was third grade. My teacher liked it enough to give it an A and a "Scary!" comment. Years later, The Christmas Tree From Hell garnered an "Interesting!", which was my writing teacher's way of saying, "I need to go home and cleanse my soul with Wild Turkey and a wholesome Richard Laymon novel. An evil voodoo rain that turns people black and makes them go crazy and kill people? No way that could be construed as offensive. And I'm sure his depictions of survivors of sexual abuse will be as insightful as always."

Googling The Christmas Tree From Hell, it appears I'm not the only person who thought ripping off Army of Darkness, The Children's Pit, and mixing them with adolescent sexual frustrations was a good idea. So rather than bore anyone with that cliche as well, I'll do something else to make up for your disappointment with the resolution to an otherwise brilliant climax that featured everything but Godzilla, the blob, the Creature From the Black Lagoon, and Megatron.

Be sure to complete the assigned reading. There will be in-jokes only smart people will get.

(Edit: One day I will make good on this vague promise.)