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President's
Mess.
by Karyl Miller,prez, SCCS
Comic-Con Rules

There are only 90 breathing days till Comic-Con, so it’s not too soon to start obsessing about it.  The Con
keeps getting better and better and yet every year I go fewer days than the year before.  I’m now down to
Preview Night plus Day One because after that I can’t face the hassle.  Every day the crowd grows
exponentially till by the forth day the only way to get anywhere near the Convention Center is via helicopter
or Hovercraft.

Case in point: Last year on account of Jack’s very important classified computer work involving the Navy,  
bombs,  F18’s and saving our country, he is once again about to waste a perfectly good four day pass
unless we scramble to use it on the last day.  As always, it’s a beautiful day in San Diego.  We live in PB.  
Our dilemma: To leave the beach or not to leave the beach – That is ALWAYS the question.  And wherever
we go - I’ll be thinking – this better be good.

Jack pulls up PETCO CAM on the web and croaks “Holy Moley.”  From the ballpark the Convention Center
looks exactly like pictures of Mecca encircled by millions of frenzied pilgrims or what I like to call religious
fanatics.  San Diego’s Comic-Con has become so fabulous, people are now worshipping it!  

All I can think is: What if some pilgrim trips on his Batman cape, falls down and causes two hundred comic
fans to die in a mass trampling?  You see it on the news every day.

Other negative factor keeping me home: Call me spoiled but like parking right in front of where I’m going.  I
like parking under where I’m going a little less, but I can live with that if I get a spot near the elevators.  
Parking at some blocks-away motel and then waiting in the sweltering sun for the Con bus is my idea of
Russia.  Am I a snob for thinking my bus mates still live in their mother’s basements and this is their first
glimpse of daylight since the last Con?  And while I admit by now we’re all sweating, these geektrons have
BO.  From yesterday.

Now, I’m not afraid of the 300 lb. Spidey even though I don’t want to sit next to him because he’ll take more
than his share of ass space.  The Goth girls joined at the nose by safety pin don’t phase me in the least – I’
ve seen that on the cover of Vogue.  But my seatmate has psycho-killer written all over him.  He’s quiet.  Too
quiet.  This fruitcake is wearing head to toe leather in mid July with his collar turned up!  What if he forgot his
Thorazine back home in Indiana and he goes Travis Bickle on any woman who reminds him of his 6th grade
English teacher?  I’m a dead duck!

The last time I attended Comic-Con Day Four I stuck it out even after a nine foot tall transsexual woman/man
dressed as Vampira stepped on my foot and then scowled at me for being in his/her way.  But when a nine-
year-old boy goosed me with one of those florescent tube Star Wars-y swords – I called it quits.  The last
day of the Con is exactly like the bittersweet last day of camp: You sadly say goodbye while simultaneously
dying to go home and take a good shower.   

Open letter to Comic-Con powers that be:

We the people of your host city, San Diego have had enough.  The Con’s gotten crowded as hell and we’re
not going to take it anymore!  

COMIC-CON – NEW RULES
Preview Night: Stays the same

Day One: Adults Only: You must be at least age 50, under 300 lbs. and ambulatory.

Day Two: San Diego residents only.  Women 10AM -2PM.  Men 2PM - 6PM.

Day Three: Everyone’s invited.  Attend if you dare!

Day Four: KIDS DAY: Kids 18 and under.  No events of any interest to adults whatsoever.

•        Anyone over the age of 12 who is still collecting autographs must read Day of the Locust or see the
movie and then get some therapy.

•        Attendees picking open sores or foaming at the mouth will NOT be allowed on the Con-buses.

•        All costumed attendees will be captured on Dean LeCrone’s FREAK-CAM so I can ridicule them later
in the safety of my own home.

•        You must leave the building once your Comic-Con goodie-bag weighs half as much as you do.

•        You cannot ride the Con Bus back to your car if you bought a sword,  a suicide bomb bustier or more
than a dozen gory porno magazines (no matter how tasteful).

Karyl Miller, president SCCS
Karyl@MillerReport.com
PS.
After our March meeting I received 14 (!) unsolicited Emails from members who really liked the meeting

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