Pittsburgh Comic Con 2000

digresssmlOriginally published May 26, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1384

Notes from the Pittsburgh Comic Con:

It has been ages since I’ve been to Pittsburgh. The program book states that it’s the first time I’ve attended a Pittsburgh Con, but that’s not quite true; I was there once before, years ago, attending a Great Eastern Con. It is daunting to think that—if one takes into account the concept that the comic industry has a reader turnover every four years or so—a couple of generations of comics readers have come and gone since I was last down there.

Speaking of new generations, I decide to bring eight year old Ariel along with me. Both of her older sisters, Shana and Gwen, were regular convention goers at an early age, but Shana started her con days back when dad was just a normal fan. Gwen and Ariel’s con experience, on the other hand, is always informed by their dad sitting behind a table signing autographs. They’ve never known a time when they couldn’t cruise a dealer’s room, find neat stuff, and proclaim, “Hi, we’re Peter David’s daughters… can you give us a break on the price?” Which, interestingly, works for them more often than being Peter David works for me.

(Yes, I know that’s an old comment, but there might be new readers. For old readers, here’s a new comment: Isn’t it interesting that on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” the network has no problem with hitting, stabbing, impaling, violence of any kind… but, according to one cast member, absolutely will not let Willow kiss Tara. Gotta draw the line somewhere. Now… in case that comment becomes moot by subsequent events (as did my Elian remark a couple weeks ago, written before his passport to Fantasyland was revoked by INS troopers), here’s a cute thing Ariel said: I was taking her to see the Mets play the Reds, and I said to her, “You know, it’s lucky we’re going to this game instead of yesterday’s game, because yesterday they lost to the Reds twelve-to-one.” And Ariel asked, “If they lost to them yesterday, why do they have to play them again today?” I didn’t have a really good reply. I guess it’s a guy thing. “Twelve runs? That all you got, wussy boys? Let’s try that again when we’re really paying attention! C’mon, bring it!”)

The fine folks at Dark Horse comics are sponsoring my appearance to help promote Spyboy. I’ll tell you, if a book isn’t a bestseller, authors are always quick to blame the promotions department. Can’t do that in this case: Dark Horse has, and continues, to push the hëll outta this book, its faith unyielding. It seems to be having an impact since sales are starting to creep up as people find the book, artist Pop Mhan finds his artistic comfort level, and I find my stride. One of the more intriguing elements is that, from the very first, Pop started sticking these little anime/manga “Superdeformed” versions of the characters into the last page. They started proving so popular with the readers that I’ve begun working them into the body of the story itself, and I think it’s improving the book tenfold… an example of how listening to readers can sometimes help tremendously.

However, Dark Horse is not going to give me spending money for Ariel (obviously) and I’m not looking forward to her going into “Daddy, buy me this?” mode in the dealer’s room. Then I hit upon an idea. Ariel loves to draw. Loves it. So, since I’m going to be doing a lot of table time, I figure this is the ideal place for her to set up the equivalent of a kid’s lemonade stand. I tell her, “You’re going to earn your own money. You can do original sketches for people, and sell them at…” I think about it a moment and then say, “A dollar apiece. Let’s see if people will buy them for that. And that will be your spending money at the convention.”

So Ariel totes along her drawing kit and, once we’re there, sets up shop next to me. At first we write on her board, “Pictures, $1.” But when people take my photograph and then hand me a dollar, I realize clarification is in order. So I write for her on her chalkboard, “Original drawings by Ariel David, $1.” At first there’s a handwritten note added which says she’s saving up for Sailor Moon toys, but when Star Wars action figures catch her attention Ariel then decides to add, “Saving up for Toys.” And when people keep asking her what she likes to draw, she further adds, “Kitties a specialty.” (Except it comes out “Kitteis speacilty,” but hey, it’s cute.)

A number of people are charmed enough by it to come right up to her. Indeed, at several points she actually has her own line of people waiting. Other times, when business is slow, I manage to kick some her way. I don’t have a set signing limit, and some folks take serious advantage of this. In those instances, as I’m sitting there signing my entire run on Incredible Hulk, I’ll say with significance in my voice, “You know, while I’m sitting here cheerfully signing this huge stack of books without making any big deal about it, you might want to check out Ariel’s drawings since, y’know, you’re just standing there while I’m being a nice guy and not setting any signing limits…” They usually get the idea pretty quick and come up with a buck to get an original Ariel kitty cat. Some of the fans really get into it, asking her for kitties in space or kitties on skis (skis?) One guy asks for a drawing of the Hulk’s kitty. Ariel promptly takes her green marker and starts coloring in an oval in the lower left corner of the page. “Honey,” I say kiddingly, “I’d think the Hulk’s kitty might be bigger than that.” She looks at me witheringly and says, “That’s the kitty’s foot.” Sure enough, she then proceeds to draw the mother of all kitties, a gargantuan green one with fearsome face.

She takes in, to my astonishment, fifty bucks. She winds up buying so many Star Wars action figures that, when she’s tired of drawing at some points, she sits in the area behind me and stages the entire Phantom Menace, complete with humming the John Williams score.

* * *

I have to commend the Pittsburgh Convention people for producing a smoothly run, well organized convention that has something for everyone, including kid-oriented activities such as a Kid’s auction and a Las Vegas Night with money generated going to the Make A Wish foundation. They even handle with aplomb our small food crisis on Saturday, when they were supposed to bring around McDonald’s hamburgers for lunch to all the artists and folks signing away at tables. Ariel voices concerns about mustard. For some reason, New York seems to be the only state in the union in which fast food places don’t automatically slather mustard on burgers. If you love mustard, that’s fine. If you hate it, as Ariel and I do, it’s extremely inconvenient.

So the burgers are being distributed, and they miss our table. It takes half an hour to rustle up the guys handing out the burgers, and Ariel is ravenous. And what’s on them? Naturally: Mustard. Ariel bursts into tears, right there at the table. One of the fans asks if there’s anything he can do. I say, “Yeah. Go to the convention people and tell them to rustle up a runner to take this child over to the cafeteria (at the far end of convention center) and get her some lunch.” I’m not concerned about myself. I’m carrying enough excess body material to survive for several weeks, easily.

Within five minutes a con person has been produced and they’ve taken her for a hotdog. With, naturally, no mustard. I try to give them money for the expenditure, but they absolutely refuse to take it.

* * *

There’s a board at the registration area listing last minute cancellations and additions. And under media guests, there’s a new name: Ted Raimi.

I literally couldn’t believe I was seeing it. I read it a second and third time, and was still stunned.

You have to understand the significance of this. Any time I go to a convention, Ariel asks the same thing: “Is Joxur going to be there?” Ariel absolutely adores Joxur the Mighty, the comedy relief bumbler on Xena, Warrior Princess who is the world’s worst warrior, but thinks he’s the world’s greatest. Abbott and Costello? Robin Williams? The Rugrats? As far as Ariel is concerned, their comic antics pale next to Joxur the Mighty.

Played by Ted Raimi. Who usually sticks to the West Coast. Except he’s here.

And Ariel doesn’t know it.

I turn to Ariel and say, “Ariel, there’s someone here you’re going to want to meet.”

Without hesitation, she says, “Joxur?”

Instead of replying, I head her over to the celebrity autographing area and, sure enough, there he is. Always careful to distinguish actor from part, I say, “Ariel, this is Ted Raimi. He plays Joxur. Mr. Raimi… this is Ariel, your biggest fan.”

“Hi, Ariel,” he says.

She’s transfixed. She can’t move. She can’t speak. She’s not playing shy or anything… she literally can’t get a word out. She’s thrilled beyond imagining.

Raimi was apparently a very last minute addition. He doesn’t even have photos with him. Also there is Alexandra Tydings, the lovely actress who plays “Aphrodite” (unrecognizable at first without the copious blond wig she wears in the role.) She’s there as a substitution for another actress who couldn’t make it (hey, give me the goddess of love any day) and I suspect that she asked Raimi to come along to keep her company.

Since he has no pictures, we quickly scour the dealer’s room and come up with a Xena-themed issue of the Hollywood Reporter which has his picture on the cover. He signs it, “To Ariel, the true warrior princess.” She’s walking on air, and promptly starts singing Joxur’s theme song. Considering many Xena fans loathe the character, it must be nice for Raimi to receive such unabashed adoration.

* * *

There’s an African guy at the convention selling sculptures who says that he’s trying to help with AIDS awareness in South Africa (Zimbabwe, specifically.) I’m a little fuzzy on how he’s doing this; perhaps a portion of the statue sales is going for the cause. I’m not sure. In any event, he asks me to sign what appears to be some sort of a petition saying that I think AIDS should be fought in Zimbabwe. Figuring that it’s a good idea to fight AIDS pretty much anywhere, I sign it.

But then a coworker of his comes over to the Dark Horse table and says that they want to do some sort of video tape thing in which I talk about this cause. There’s fans wanting me to sign stuff, but these folks are quietly insistent that I “stand behind my signature.” And I’m starting to feel a little… I dunno… manipulated. So I leave the fans and go over to the sculpture table, and the African guy starts talking to me about AIDS in Zimbabwe, and how America should help. I point out that education can only go so far; that what’s taught has to be practiced. He says, “Well, there are cultural differences that slow things down…”

“Cultural differences!” I say. “African women are expected to mutilate their sexual organs so that they don’t enjoy sex! What kind of ‘cultural difference’ excuses a woman being made to cut off her own clitoris?”

His smile fades slightly. “Oh… you know about that.”

“And what about this whole thing with ‘dry sex’?” I continue. “Women are expected to take drugs and such that dry up vaginal secretions because men don’t like it. Between self-mutilation and ‘dry sex,’ these practices are causing tears in vaginal linings that only makes the spread of AIDS that much easier!”

His smile evaporates. “Oh… you know about that, too.” Rallying, he said, “So what do you think Americans can do to help?”

“What should we do to help? I’ll tell you what we should do. We should line up every African guy who thinks a woman cutting off her clitoris is a good idea, and slap him until he changes his mind. We say, ‘Oh, you’re in favor of women mutilating themselves? WAP!’”

The woman who is videotaping the whole thing is laughing so hard she’s fighting to keep the camera steady. “Thank you, that’s great!” she calls, and I promptly hotfoot it out of there.

Making friends on all continents, that’s me.

* * *

I’ll tell ya, independent creators are always handing me their comics at conventions, but it’s not often I get one like White Pride Comics #1. “Made in the Great State of Tennessee,” the series writer/artist, E.W. Pickett, is black. The reason I mention it is because the book is filled with staggeringly racist depictions of blacks (not to mention gays, Asians, and pretty much any other group you can think of.) The concept of the book is simple: It’s a comic produced by White Supremacists. It’s so in-your-face politically incorrect that it’s almost mind numbing. Sometimes less can be more, but Pickett’s out to be as subtle as a train wreck, and in that respect he succeeds beyond imagining. A lot of it is funny—dámņëd funny, in fact—as soon as you manage to scrape your jaw off the floor, knowing that if the guy producing this comic were a WASP, he’d be a dead man. As it is, Pickett might not want to start reading any continued stories either.

The cover features a group of rednecks who make the Clampetts look like the Windsors, and we are informed thereon that in Tennessee, “Inbreeding t’aint only legal, it’s encouraged!” The featured cast includes Ms. Amerikkka, the White Lion, and Rastus—a thick-lipped black caricature so boneheaded that the only way to get his attention is by pointing and shouting, “Look, Rastus! White women!” There’s even a pull quote from Jim Valentino, stating, “(White Pride Comics) made us all laugh…” According to Pickett, it also made Diamond Comics laugh, as in, “Hey, Diamond, would you handle distribution of this comic?” To which the only response was resounding laughter.

Once upon a time, there were sixteen or so distributors out there. The most depressing aspect of the current system is that one distributor holds yea-or-nay control over what you can see in your local comic store. If Diamond doesn’t like it, you don’t get it. And in my opinion, interested parties should have the opportunity to see White Pride Comics if for no other reason than that occasional horrified laughter is good for the soul. If nothing else, you have to love a comic that features a tough talking set of ambulatory buttocks named “Bad Úš.”

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

 

4 comments on “Pittsburgh Comic Con 2000

  1. As mind-numblingly offensive as White Pride Comics sounds, I have to admit that the “Bad Úš” character sounds like pure genius.

    Wonder what ever became of that title and its creator . . .

  2. It would be almost a year after this was written that they let Willow kiss Tara.

    I have a drawing by Ariel somewhere. IIRC it was “James Marsters’ Cat.”

  3. I’m pretty sure that my twin devastatingly-cute, Cambodian-born nieces must have perfected a “Hi. We’re David Weber’s daughters…” version of that routine.

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