No.5 Classic Crap
(Booyah! Double C. Does that make up for that lazy Q from earlier?)
I don’t mean classic crap in the literal sense of someone selling a piece of Mozart poop, but more along the lines of old toys we all remember fondly, and so desperately wish we could play with again, but would never actually take out of the box if found today. Well, at ComicCons, you can find those old toys ALREADY OUT OF THE BOX!
That’s right folks.
No more getting the jitters staring at your pristine, if a little yellowed, boxed Battle Cat (He-Man’s mighty steed, for all you younglings out there), dying to rip open the package and saddle-up He-Man for one last nostalgic trek into Snake Mountain. You can buy the already opened, and pre-loved (read: used, but nonetheless awesome) Battle Cat, along with hundreds of other de-boxed vintage toys. Fuck. Yes!
Now, you may be asking, “But, Mistress Jaguar, why would you mention both chicks and cleavage in separate entries of your list?” Good question, my young, padawans! Allow me to answer that question with one of my own: Why WOULDN’T you? All beautiful cleavage has a chick behind it, but not all chicks have beautiful cleavage in front of them. You feel me now? If you don’t, frankly, you’ve probably stumbled upon the wrong magazine, “Bangkok Girlie Boys on Unicorns” is two doors down. But, I digress.
The amount of beautiful, bouncing, smooshed-in-corsets-till-they’re-spilling-out boobage you’re going to find yourself face-to-face with at a ComicCon would turn even the most rainbow-y motherfucker straight as a rod (and probably hard as one too…). They’re overflowing, and overwhelming. They’re glorious, and heavenly, and oh-so-right for motorboating-y. I wholeheartedly advise against that though, cause you’ll probably end up with pepper spray in the face and a knee to the cojones. The point is, you’ll find cleavage at a ComicCon easier than Rupees in vases in a Legend of Zelda game.
Obviously, I can’t do a list about the reasons we love ComicCons without mentioning the main reason for the conventions in the first place. Comic booths, artists, vendors, and traders cover nearly 80% of the floor at Comic Conventions. At any one booth you can find copies of Clive Barker‘s first NightBreed comics, as well as his most recent 3-D masterpiece Seduth, the very first Elvira Halloween special Elvira’s House of Mysteries, and the second volume of Garth Ennis’ zombie series Crossed (I know this for a fact, because I bought them).
If you’re looking for some Manga, there’s hundreds, if not thousands of titles. From old, out-of-print comics to brand new graphic novels, there are tons of vendors waiting to fill the gaps in your collections. If you have a favorite comic, you may get lucky and find the artist or writer hanging out somewhere, waiting to sign it for you, or draw you as one of your favorite characters.
I’m sure this is the furthest thing from your mind when thinking of a comic convention, but it’s everywhere. No matter which subculture you belong to, there’s always something to learn about someone else’s subculture, and there are always people willing to teach. The intermingling of different genres is a beautiful thing, and it’s never found so widespread as it is at a convention. And it’s this beautiful, cultural collision that leads me to Number 1 on my list.
I’ve never seen or felt such a sense of community and acceptance than at a comic convention. There are no bullies here. No one’s going to make fun of your Captain America footie jammies or your obsession with the Legend of Zelda. In complete defiance of all we as nerds know about the world around us, everyone at ComicCon welcomes our geeky ways with open arms. We’re loved, accepted and even praised for our extreme nerdiness. It’s the one time of year, that’s not Halloween, where we can dress up and not be accosted by bullies cracking jokes. We can dance together to ridiculous music, though we have no rhythm whatsoever, and not be afraid or embarrassed. We can jump up and down, clap our hands, and squeal like little girls, when we find that one missing comic that will complete our collection, and not worry about the funny looks, or mean remarks of people who might be near us.
To me, what ComicCons represent, above all else, is hope. Hope that, even if it’s for only one weekend a year right now, maybe one day, we can be ourselves without fear, without shame, and without forced pretense every day of the year.
The geek shall inherit the Earth!
Stay Scared, kids
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