I'm an Author, Playwright, Creative Consultant, Raconteur, Ne'er-Do-Well, Earth Rooster and a Primate. Probably not in that order.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
A Quick Announcement
I'll keep this short, for now. Starting December 1st, I'll be posting a series of Star Wars memories, starting all the way back to 1977 and moving forward from there. I'll update the blog every day until The Force Awakens premieres. Why? I don't know. I just thought you'd be interested. Maybe you'll want to share some of your own Star Wars memories, too.
Besides, this sure beats a three-peat of my Award-Winning, Internationally Famous Essay, "Keep Your Nuts to Yourself." On that, I think we can all agree. However, you may be looking for my Holiday Survival Guide and it can be found here: The Finn's Wake Holiday Survival Guide. Okay, that's it for now. See you in two days, and May the Force Be With You.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Lovecraft, His Goofy Likeness, and What it all Means
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| The offensive statue in question, designed by Gahan Wilson. |
On one hand, I completely understand the need to change the statue. Lovecraft isn't for everyone, and he sure doesn't represent the entire field of fantasy fiction. I mean, if you wanted an author for an award for fantasy writing, Lovecraft's name doesn't float to the top of the list. It's worth noting that when the World Fantasy Convention first convened in 1975, the theme of the convention was "The Lovecraft Circle." Ah! Now this award makes perfect sense.
But times change and themes change. There are a number of images useful to conveying the scope of fantasy that would be appropriate for an award statue. This shouldn't be an issue. And, I understand if you as an author are uncomfortable with stuff that Lovecraft said in his letters and fiction when he wrote them down, ninety years ago or so. I can see how it's problematic for you. I can also imagine that such an image in your home might conflict with your strongly held beliefs and feelings. Cool beans. By all means, let's change the statue.
On the other hand, Lovecraft's racism never bothered me. I'm a doughy white guy in Texas. It never came up, not until years later, when I got ahold of some of Lovecraft's more racist writings. Mind you, I had to go looking for them. They weren't included in the fiction collections. Okay, yeah, some of the stories...if you're decoding them that way...feed into some of Lovecraft's fears and convictions about New York City. Which was full of immigrants. People of color. Yep, no question about it. "The Horror From Red Hook" is problematic.
What's the solution to that? Take it out of the "Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft?" Yeah, no, that's not going to make the story go away, any more than it's going to magically "fix" racism. I think it's better to include it, and then be prepared to discuss it openly and honestly. That's how you start to get a handle on racism. Not by removing things that are visible to your naked eyes, like a vampire avoiding a mirror.
Obviously, my take-away from Lovecraft, and so many other people I know, is the cosmic horror, the strange architecture, the ghosts, the ghouls and the gothic cosmeticsim. That's our Lovecraft. And you may well say, "It's easy for you to pick and choose. You're white. You're male. You're part of the problem. You represent the hegemony."
Yeah. I guess I do. And yet, I would never want to do anything, display anything, or say anything that would make my friends--any of my friends--uncomfortable. Not in my own house, nor in public, anywhere.
It's like this: supposed I had a framed piece of advertising art from the 1930s, depicting a young black girl, her eyes comically wide open, her mouth forming an "ooo" as she looks at the giant slice of watermelon in her hands. It's an ad for a fruit company, see? It's a piece of advertising Americana. Right? Right?
Now, what happens when a couple of my friends come over and see that hanging on the wall? Friends of color? Let's presume they give me the benefit of the doubt and ask me first, "What the hell, man?" And I explain to them why it's hanging up on my wall. I admire it as art, see? It's been in my family for years.
"Yeah," one of them says, "but it's still a pickaninny with a watermelon. This offends me deeply."
What would you do? Would you take it down and apologize? Or would you double down and explain to them why their feelings are wrong, why they shouldn't get offended about it, and why they are being a little too sensitive because, after all, this artist didn't just paint this image. He painted a lot of other images that weren't like this. So, really, who has the problem, here?
I like my friends. I want to keep them. I want more of them. So does the World Fantasy Award Committee. It's good for the field of fantasy writing, it's good for the award, and it's good for the participants all, who want to see a more austere award that encapsulates what they wrote, and not just what the group was talking about in 1975.
Finally, this: Lovecraft is in the canon of American authors, alongside Raymond Chandler, Phillip K. Dick, Dashiell Hammett and precious few others who have escaped the Pulp and Science Fiction Ghetto. This award has been given out to what, a hundred and fifty people in forty years? Maybe more? Maybe less? Some folks got it more than once. There is no possible cultural backlash that sets Lovecraft Studies back twenty five years that could possibly come from this. It's a non-issue, one that has only gotten larger attention because so many of you keep nattering on about it as if it were you personally who were attacked by all of this.
Meanwhile, all over the planet, more meaningful and interesting and wonderful and terrifying things are happening, just as "unfriend" buttons and "block" buttons are being clicked all over Facebook with the finality of a nuclear Armageddon first strike.
I keep saying it, but no one seems to be listening: if any of you who own WFC statues, and suddenly don't want to be considered a racist, or are getting rid of your statues as a form of protest, please send them to me. I'll purchase them for a modest sum, plus shipping, and then you can sleep easy at night.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Top 5 Science Run Amok Movies
Growing up in the 1970s, I had a
healthy skepticism about the awesome power of science. I lived in a city in
Texas that was, at the time, developing the B-1 stealth bomber at the nearby
air force base. It’s common knowledge now, but obviously, no one knew anything
about it at the time. They just had all of the elementary schools practice
“disaster drills.” Yeah.
So, thanks to The Cold War and my
fear of a Nuclear Holocaust, watching old monster movies from the fifties with
mad scientists made perfect sense. Here’s what happens when you fully fund a
guy for his research without doing your due diligence. Pretty soon, they are
teleporting their own head onto insects and unleashing giant insects on an
unsuspecting public. And for what, I ask you?
Science is still scary to people.
Instead of irradiated mutants, we’re concerned about genetically-modified
organisms. Science keeps trying (at least, in our fevered imaginations) to
improve upon nature, and in doing so, usually bungs it up so badly that
dinosaurs get loose in San Diego, or people come back to life as whackjob
zombies, or any number of Worst Case Scenarios.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
My Top 5 Horror-Comedy Films
Humor and Fear look a lot alike, as
far as the body reactions go. Laughter is an expression of surprise. So, too,
is a scream. The difference? Watching Curly hit Moe with a shovel, and watching
a cat jump out of a darkened recess in the space ship when everyone is looking
for the alien. Those two scenarios are considered miles apart. But something
really interesting happens when you start moving them closer together.
The Horror-Comedy
movie (or, if you prefer, the Comedy-Horror movie) is one of those rare,
fragile and delicate kinds of movies that is very tricky to pull off without
tipping the scales one way or the other. It takes only a nudge to turn a
comedic horror movie into parody, or worse, a self-referential meta-movie that
becomes insider baseball. Likewise, if you’re not funny enough, the laughs will
be more of the nervous variety than the knee-slapping kind. Not that there’s
ever any real belly laughs in a Horror-Comedy movie. It’s more of a
sensibility; not quite a slice-of-life motif, but the best of their kind manage
to use a combination of setting and dialogue to keep you rooted in the story,
rather than overwhelm you with gags.
Monday, October 19, 2015
My Top 5 Creatures on the Loose Movies
It’s a tale as old as the movies
itself. Man does something stupid, or brilliant, or brilliantly stupid, and
finds/discovers/invents/stumbles across a monster, and then spends the rest of
the movie trying not to get eaten.
I’m not talking about Japanese Kaiju
movies, although they are certainly a part of the larger discussion (and, FYI,
will get their own Top 5 List at a later date). I’m referring to the things
that are larger than humans, but smaller than Godzilla. Or, optionally,
man-sized, but far from man-like. The monster in question doesn’t have to be a
giant animal; indeed, the best of this type of movie are monster that never
were, or thought to have been myths, or just plain aliens.
There’s also a hunter versus hunted
component to this kind of movie. Whatever is chasing us for food triggers these
primal fears within us that we typically suppress. As a country that is
mythically saturated by a fear of the unknown, the Other, the Outer Darkness,
these movies are at their biggest and best the every thing our ancestors feared
when they huddled in their cabins for warmth. Our cabins are way better now,
with wi-fi and air conditioning, but the fear never really goes away.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
My Top 5 Favorite When Animals Attack Movies
Sometimes, the
reasons for why movies scare us are not so complicated and tied up with our
unconscious. Sometimes, it’s right out in the open, a “Duh!” moment for
everyone to pick up on. One of our most deeply held convictions is the idea
that we’re at the top of the food chain in every respect. Granted, there’s not
much we can say about shark attacks, and other run-ins with wild animals,
because usually, it’s our fault, right?
What’s worse is when trusted
domesticated animals turn on us. That’s a betrayal that cuts at the heart, as
well as the throat. But let’s face it; when animals attack, it’s always a
reminder that we’re not the kings of the world. We’re not in control of things,
and you know, we never were. In fact, under the right circumstances, we’re
nothing more than food...
This is where you cue the music for
one of the many Bert I. Gordon giant insect films from the 1950s, or worse, one
of the many “they used to be furry and cuddly, but now they are giant and
horrible” movies from the 1970s. To call them formulaic B-movies is overstating
the obvious. And while it’s tempting to load this category up with Giant Mutant
Animals or Giant Mutant Insects, we’re going to shuffle those off to separate
categories and focus on normal-sized animals that lose it for one reason or
another, domestic or otherwise. It’s a much harder category to fill out, but
the movies are better.
Friday, October 9, 2015
My Top 5 Mummy Movies
I’m including this
category only for the sake of completeness; otherwise, it would have looked conspicuous
by its absence. Mummies are my least favorite movie monster. I mean, I still
like them and will watch them, but I’m always disappointed in the execution; I
don’t think we’ve yet seen the Citizen Kane of Mummy
movies.
The problem with mummies is that
we’ve moved past their cultural relevance. During the heyday, when Orientalism
and Egyptology were in vogue, and new grave robbing—excuse me, archeological
expeditions—yielded weekly finds in the newspapers, at a time when Egypt might
as well have been Mars for all the common man knew, and these British
plunderers were all too happy to ignore the warnings about disturbing the dead
and cracking open tombs, well, sure, mummies were the shit.
Think about it: Empirical Britain,
with its indulgent, institutionalized Colonialism, with its foot still on the
neck of the British Raj in India, and now encroaching into Egypt to show the
turban-wearing desert folk a thing or two about their five thousand year old
culture. All too eager to overwrite Egyptian history through a British lens.
What better way to punish these stiff-upper-lip-having, upper crust professors
and their landed gentry friends than by having something from another culture’s
history throttle the life out of them? The thing you pooh-poohed as being a
silly superstition isn’t so silly when it’s crashing through your door, now, is
it?
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
My Top 5 Frankenstein Movies
Mary Shelly got the shaft,
historically speaking. A smart, literate, talented writer and editor, on top of
being the only woman in her peer group, and what is she best remembered for?
Only the first science fiction novel, ever, and when it’s mentioned, trust me,
it’s with much grousing and grumbling and caveats from the science fiction
community.
Of course, I’m talking about Frankenstein:
or, the Modern Prometheus, a decent piece of Victorian melodrama, written
in 1818, that inadvertently grapples with the concept of the soul, what makes
us human, and asks the question of whether or not science should meddle with
the forces of nature. Heavy stuff for back in those days, don’tcha know. But
those hard SF guys, the graybeards, over in the corner, will shake their heads,
and say, “Well, sure, some of the ideas are there, but
really...”
How do you top that kind of
back-handed compliment, I wonder? Oh, I’ve got it! Make a movie out of an
extremely successful stage play and overwrite all of the conceits and concepts
of the novel into its most reductive form, and turn a brilliant allegory into a
grotesque caricature that is parodied and copied ad infinitum, well
into the 21st century. Talk about “No Respect.”
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Re: The Cimmerian Blog Archive and Website
Don't worry if you don't know what I'm talking about. Feel free to skip it. But if you do, and need to know anything, here's my official statement:
I have asked Leo Grin to remove my blog posts from The Cimmerian blog archive and he has complied. While I am grateful for the chance to be a part of the blog when it was an active player in Robert E. Howard fandom, in its dotage (and in the wake of Leo's exit from Howard fandom) I find my beliefs and personal ethics do not align with the owner of the blog and did not wish to give my consent, implicit or otherwise, to the archive's change in direction and the material that has been altered on the site itself.
That's all you need to know, at the moment.
I have asked Leo Grin to remove my blog posts from The Cimmerian blog archive and he has complied. While I am grateful for the chance to be a part of the blog when it was an active player in Robert E. Howard fandom, in its dotage (and in the wake of Leo's exit from Howard fandom) I find my beliefs and personal ethics do not align with the owner of the blog and did not wish to give my consent, implicit or otherwise, to the archive's change in direction and the material that has been altered on the site itself.
That's all you need to know, at the moment.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
PuppyGate Opinions and Armchair Quarterbacking
It seems lately that I only update this blog when I'm kicking a hornet's nest, but that's life online, I guess. I was at Necronomicon in Providence, Rhode Island last weekend when WorldCon was happening. And while we had our own scandal to weather, all eyes were on the Hugos and what, if anything, would happen.
The incidents were minor and quickly addressed. But in the wake of five Hugo Awards being not awarded at all, and George R.R. Martin picking up the slack for that fact, the whole sad business came off as an embarrassing incident at the Family Reunion. Both sides claimed victory, and neither side really won anything.
I've kept out of this imbroglio from the beginning, because I have no horse in the race. And I suspect that most of the people in the SF/F community, like me, have felt the same way for the same reason. We're not involved, and so why stick your head in a noose?
But now that it's over, I want to address something that I don't think has been talked about very much. And I'm addressing the WorldCon attendees when I say this. Not just the regional pile-on attendees, but most emphatically the temporary permanent floating WorldCon SMOFs and the people for whom this annual convention is their chosen lifestyle. The folks who have been attending WorldCon for thirty years or more. You guys.
You want to defeat the puppies? Take back your award.
I don't know what changes the Con Committee will make, or if it'll make any difference, but the sanctity and the authenticity of the Hugo Award rests firmly in the hands of those who choose to nominate and vote every year. That's the point, that the nomination and the votes are made by the fans and peers of the authors, right? And haven't we held the Hugo award up as a mark of quality, the kind of thing we can say is indicative of the best of the field of SF/F? Right?
Okay, so, let's put a pin in that for a second and I'll tell you about when I was on the WorldCon committee for 2013, in San Antonio, Texas. I helped with a few tracks of programming, most notably the Robert E. Howard track (since the con was in Texas and REH looms large as a genre author in Texas). There were at least two panels revolving around the theme of What's New in the World of Robert E. Howard. One of them was pointedly named, "You Don't Know Jack About Howard" or something along those lines.
The panels were very well attended. Large rooms, very full, of almost exclusively older fans--older than me, I mean. Guys in their forties, fifties, and sixties. We (my fellow Howardists) talked to most of them in some capacity over the whole convention, before, during and after the panels. On the exhibition floor. At the Robert E. Howard Foundation Press table. And we found something interesting: over 90% of the people in attendance had absolutely no idea what's been going on in the past fifteen to twenty years.
Overlooking all of the deep fan discoveries and concentrated REH studies going on, there's a few things that should have made it to the knowledgeable fan's radar: Howard's Centennial in 2006 was celebrated by the World Fantasy Convention (also in Texas), and Dell Rey has been steadily publishing a whole trade paperback library of Robert E. Howard books with authoritative texts, illustrations, and scholarly essays and notes. Twelve titles in all, one a year. A format so successful that they did the same thing for Michael Moorcock's Elric books.
They had no clue. When asked if they were aware of the new editions with corrected texts, they said, "Oh, I read all of those books when they first came out." In the late 1960s. Most of them were proud of the fact that they'd read all of the REH published in the 1970s, and haven't cracked the books again since. Suffice to say, they were bowled over at the idea of another set of REH books available with new stuff in them.
I told you that to tell you this: those are the same guys who have no idea who the new artists are doing book covers. They stopped reading to discover new things years ago. Some of them are probably still angry that there's no more Xanth books coming out. I'm not making fun of them, not really. But over the years, it's become harder and harder to keep up with new authors, new trends in publishing, and new developments. I would not be surprised if a few of them said, "Cyberpunk? Whaaat? That's it, I'm done. I'm sticking to Niven and Barnes novels from now on."
Where am I going with this, you may ask. I took a look at the Hugo ballots from 1995 to the present day and I found something interesting: there are certain names that show up every year, for multiple years, without fail. This is not a dig on Robert Sawyer, but every year? Really? Each book better than the last? I've read Sawyer and I like him. He's a good idea man. But do I think every one of this books was Hugo worthy? No, I don't. And he's just one example. But there are other examples in every category, without fail.
I think, before Vox Day politicized the issue, that the Sad Puppies maybe had a point--and this does not excuse anything that went on afterward, but I think that they noticed the same names showing up over and over again, year after year, in every category. Rather than ascribe a vast conspiracy, I think that maybe the people who do the most nominating have gotten complacent, if not outright lazy, and found over the years that it was easier to write in nominations for people they liked, rather than new stuff they had read. I don't think there was a campaign to screw certain authors out of winning awards. I don't think there was any political agenda until Vox Day introduced one. I think it was a case of people simply being people. We never run when we can walk. Over the years, we experiment less with our tastes and preferences and stick to the old reliable, what we know. It's human nature and fans are not exempt from it.
So, back to my point. If you want to take the Hugos back, you have the power to do so. I think anyone planning to nominate Hugos and vote for Hugos has an obligation to read more, and read more widely. That includes things you might not otherwise had tried on your own. Now, I know that a lot of people who vote on the ballot make a point to read everything nominated. Laudable. But what good does it do anyone if the same kinds of things are nominated year after year?
I even think it's okay to be more egalitarian, if not outright stingy, with the awards. If author A wins the Hugo one year, she should be exempt from nomination the next year. Or, maybe that should be an understood thing, so that maybe, if she really cranks up the quality the following year, and the NEXT book blows the first one out of the water, and she ends up on the ballot, people will know the reason why.
So, that's my unsolicited advice for the WorldCon Lifers out there: take back your award. Make a personal commitment to read five new (or new to you) authors next year. Re-subscribe to Analog or F&SF. Put a little effort into it. You have become de facto world traveler's, for Pete's sake! You're the hardcore keepers of the flame. But I think there's more to it than just showing up and dashing off your drinking buddies whenever the ballots roll around every year. Take the award seriously and embrace the idea of what WorldCon is ostensibly supposed to represent.
That's how you fix it. That's how you thwart the puppies. The 75th WorldCon looms ever closer. It should be a celebration. A triumph. An all-inclusive event to exchange ideas and be ambassadors for fantasy and science fiction fandom. This divisiveness, this animosity? It's not even close to what Gene Roddenberry--let alone the original founders--had in mind for this.
"Do or do not. There is no try."
The incidents were minor and quickly addressed. But in the wake of five Hugo Awards being not awarded at all, and George R.R. Martin picking up the slack for that fact, the whole sad business came off as an embarrassing incident at the Family Reunion. Both sides claimed victory, and neither side really won anything.
I've kept out of this imbroglio from the beginning, because I have no horse in the race. And I suspect that most of the people in the SF/F community, like me, have felt the same way for the same reason. We're not involved, and so why stick your head in a noose?
But now that it's over, I want to address something that I don't think has been talked about very much. And I'm addressing the WorldCon attendees when I say this. Not just the regional pile-on attendees, but most emphatically the temporary permanent floating WorldCon SMOFs and the people for whom this annual convention is their chosen lifestyle. The folks who have been attending WorldCon for thirty years or more. You guys.
You want to defeat the puppies? Take back your award.
I don't know what changes the Con Committee will make, or if it'll make any difference, but the sanctity and the authenticity of the Hugo Award rests firmly in the hands of those who choose to nominate and vote every year. That's the point, that the nomination and the votes are made by the fans and peers of the authors, right? And haven't we held the Hugo award up as a mark of quality, the kind of thing we can say is indicative of the best of the field of SF/F? Right?
Okay, so, let's put a pin in that for a second and I'll tell you about when I was on the WorldCon committee for 2013, in San Antonio, Texas. I helped with a few tracks of programming, most notably the Robert E. Howard track (since the con was in Texas and REH looms large as a genre author in Texas). There were at least two panels revolving around the theme of What's New in the World of Robert E. Howard. One of them was pointedly named, "You Don't Know Jack About Howard" or something along those lines.
The panels were very well attended. Large rooms, very full, of almost exclusively older fans--older than me, I mean. Guys in their forties, fifties, and sixties. We (my fellow Howardists) talked to most of them in some capacity over the whole convention, before, during and after the panels. On the exhibition floor. At the Robert E. Howard Foundation Press table. And we found something interesting: over 90% of the people in attendance had absolutely no idea what's been going on in the past fifteen to twenty years.
Overlooking all of the deep fan discoveries and concentrated REH studies going on, there's a few things that should have made it to the knowledgeable fan's radar: Howard's Centennial in 2006 was celebrated by the World Fantasy Convention (also in Texas), and Dell Rey has been steadily publishing a whole trade paperback library of Robert E. Howard books with authoritative texts, illustrations, and scholarly essays and notes. Twelve titles in all, one a year. A format so successful that they did the same thing for Michael Moorcock's Elric books.
They had no clue. When asked if they were aware of the new editions with corrected texts, they said, "Oh, I read all of those books when they first came out." In the late 1960s. Most of them were proud of the fact that they'd read all of the REH published in the 1970s, and haven't cracked the books again since. Suffice to say, they were bowled over at the idea of another set of REH books available with new stuff in them.
I told you that to tell you this: those are the same guys who have no idea who the new artists are doing book covers. They stopped reading to discover new things years ago. Some of them are probably still angry that there's no more Xanth books coming out. I'm not making fun of them, not really. But over the years, it's become harder and harder to keep up with new authors, new trends in publishing, and new developments. I would not be surprised if a few of them said, "Cyberpunk? Whaaat? That's it, I'm done. I'm sticking to Niven and Barnes novels from now on."
Where am I going with this, you may ask. I took a look at the Hugo ballots from 1995 to the present day and I found something interesting: there are certain names that show up every year, for multiple years, without fail. This is not a dig on Robert Sawyer, but every year? Really? Each book better than the last? I've read Sawyer and I like him. He's a good idea man. But do I think every one of this books was Hugo worthy? No, I don't. And he's just one example. But there are other examples in every category, without fail.
I think, before Vox Day politicized the issue, that the Sad Puppies maybe had a point--and this does not excuse anything that went on afterward, but I think that they noticed the same names showing up over and over again, year after year, in every category. Rather than ascribe a vast conspiracy, I think that maybe the people who do the most nominating have gotten complacent, if not outright lazy, and found over the years that it was easier to write in nominations for people they liked, rather than new stuff they had read. I don't think there was a campaign to screw certain authors out of winning awards. I don't think there was any political agenda until Vox Day introduced one. I think it was a case of people simply being people. We never run when we can walk. Over the years, we experiment less with our tastes and preferences and stick to the old reliable, what we know. It's human nature and fans are not exempt from it.
So, back to my point. If you want to take the Hugos back, you have the power to do so. I think anyone planning to nominate Hugos and vote for Hugos has an obligation to read more, and read more widely. That includes things you might not otherwise had tried on your own. Now, I know that a lot of people who vote on the ballot make a point to read everything nominated. Laudable. But what good does it do anyone if the same kinds of things are nominated year after year?
I even think it's okay to be more egalitarian, if not outright stingy, with the awards. If author A wins the Hugo one year, she should be exempt from nomination the next year. Or, maybe that should be an understood thing, so that maybe, if she really cranks up the quality the following year, and the NEXT book blows the first one out of the water, and she ends up on the ballot, people will know the reason why.
So, that's my unsolicited advice for the WorldCon Lifers out there: take back your award. Make a personal commitment to read five new (or new to you) authors next year. Re-subscribe to Analog or F&SF. Put a little effort into it. You have become de facto world traveler's, for Pete's sake! You're the hardcore keepers of the flame. But I think there's more to it than just showing up and dashing off your drinking buddies whenever the ballots roll around every year. Take the award seriously and embrace the idea of what WorldCon is ostensibly supposed to represent.
That's how you fix it. That's how you thwart the puppies. The 75th WorldCon looms ever closer. It should be a celebration. A triumph. An all-inclusive event to exchange ideas and be ambassadors for fantasy and science fiction fandom. This divisiveness, this animosity? It's not even close to what Gene Roddenberry--let alone the original founders--had in mind for this.
"Do or do not. There is no try."
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Joss Whedon, The Black Widow and Why You Shouldn't Care
SPOILERS AHOY! I will ruin the movie for you if you haven't seen it yet. You have been warned.
![]() |
| Sure, it's big and loud and crowded. Did you see the other one? Why even bring something like that up? Just look at the poster. |
I was too busy this weekend hosting the Avengers: Age of Ultron premiere at my movie theater to get online.
It was more fun to hand out Thor’s hammer, Cap’s shield, and my vintage Hulk
hands for people to pose and play with as we snapped pictures in supplicated
offering to the Great God Social Media. Everyone at my theater had a grand old
time, as the pictures attest to, and everyone loved seeing their children and
friends on Facebook.
Now, I’ve got this sour ball of ire in the pit of my
stomach. It started on Monday when I learned that Joss Whedon deactivated his
Twitter account. Then I read the messages he was getting, and I understood why.
If you don’t know what this is about, you’re very lucky, and I’m probably going
to ruin your day. Here’s the list of some of the tweets Whedon got all weekend.
Feel free to scroll quickly lest some of the bile spew onto you.
Whedon has since come back on to say that the rumors he was
forced offline by the barrage of hatred and threats was, and I quote,
“horseshit.” Okay, Joss, whatever you say. But he did get a few licks in on his
detractors before he resumed media silence. You can read those shots here, and
he’s one hundred percent correct: The crack about the snake eating its own tail is very prescient.
With the Interwebs in flames, I had to know myself what was
going on. So I checked it out, and not only ran afoul of this poisonous group
of outraged people, I ran into a second group of poisonous people: the Geek
Critics who are now throwing super hero movies under the bus. The whole thing has turned into “The Black Widow Controversy” and it has mired me in dark thoughts and anti-internet
screeds for two days.
I’m going to try and parse this out as succinctly as I can.
Bear with me. There’s three levels of problems that need to be addressed, here.
There’s the real world level of problems—the world you and me are walking
around in right now. Then there’s the fictional world level of problems. This
is stuff in the movie that may or may not make your collective tumors throb.
Finally, we have the meta-fictional level—the commentary about the thing that
we’re talking about. I’ll start with that level, first, as it’s the easiest one
to understand.
We’re eleven movies into the Marvel Franchise, and fifteen
years down the road from the invention of the modern super hero film. What’s
now a part of the “tentpole” strategy to prop up the summer, these movies cost
ridiculous amounts to make and generate ridiculous amounts of revenue. It’s not
a fad, anymore. It’s a thing. It’s a given. And being that it’s a given, super
heroes (and even comic books) have lost a lot of their outsider status in the
wake of millions of new fans who never had to justify their reading habits from
inside a high school gym locker. For some, that’s unacceptable. For others,
it’s perfect time to employ the Contrarian Flip, the signature finishing move of the
modern Urban Hipster. Now that everyone else likes it, I have to pick it apart
to keep my Indy cred.
This article by Slate Magazine writer Andrew O’Hehir is the
encapsulation of that attitude. And while this piece is steeped in a puddle of self-loathing and smug, squinty
asides designed to show just how Above-It-All he really is, he’s not alone.
Most of the actual film critics are calling the movie problematic but still
entertaining. Meanwhile the rest of the critics who eschew violence in movies,
who don’t like anything with a car chase or an explosion, are dog piling on the
film’s perceived problems.
What else is new? Go pick any big movie from the last ten
years—no, last twenty years. Go look at Titanic,
if you must. Read the reviews. There’s always that guy, writing for the East
Haverbrook Free Weekly, who has to point out historical inaccuracies and claim
that if Cameron can’t bother to do his homework, then the movie deserves to
fail. Nowadays, there’s literally hundreds of the East Haverbrook Free Weekly
Movie Snob. And they all have very specific axes to grind when it comes to
action/adventure movies, horror films, science fiction movies, super hero
films, martial arts movies, or any other sub-genre of the Blockbuster Movie
category.
Who listens to them, anyway? It’s all static. It’s white
noise. It’s Star Trek Enterprise Conduits—GNDN. Goes nowhere, does nothing.
But, you know, by pointing out the absurdities of modern cinema excess, they’ve
done their part, fighting the machine, and blah blah blah blah blah… Yeah, whatever.
So, what’s the fix? If you’re a critic, do us all a favor and just stop reviewing the thing you hate, especially when what you hate is popular and you aren’t part of the crowd.
So, what’s the fix? If you’re a critic, do us all a favor and just stop reviewing the thing you hate, especially when what you hate is popular and you aren’t part of the crowd.
If you’re a consumer, just stop reading and watching reviews
for the big blockbusters. Cut them all out. You know your mind already. You’re
smart. You’ve seen the trailers, maybe read some news online. You already know
if you’re going to see any given blockbuster movie, and whether or not you’ll
be inclined to like it. You probably know within thirty seconds of seeing the
trailer for the first time. Why listen to intentionally negative criticism? The
world moves too fast to collect boat anchors.
Now, about these…well, I’m going to call them feminists, I
suppose, but I’m not entirely convinced they are who they say they are. I think
they THINK they may be feminists, but I’m very leery of hashtag activism
because it’s way too easy to just jump in without thinking and get caught up in
the swirl of the digital mob. It’s the online equivalent of a feeding frenzy,
and I never want to be in the middle of one of those, either. Anyway. Let’s see
if I can correctly summarize their concerns about Age of Ultron and Joss Whedon’s portrayal of Black Widow in the
writing and directing of this movie.
![]() |
| I admit it, I had my doubts about Scarlet Johansson. But she won me over and is now one of my favorite characters in the franchise. |
1. Black Widow should never be kidnapped, because that’s
misogynist, lazy writing.
2. Black Widow referring to herself as a monster and
implying that she can’t have kids undercuts the entire basis of the character.
By implying she’s not human because she can’t reproduce, that’s misogynist,
lazy writing.
3. Black Widow is now the mother of the group, tending to
Hawkeye’s wounds, calming the Hulk down, and picking up Cap’s shield, with a
comment to match. By forcing her into the traditional role of caregiver, that’s
lazy misogynist writing.
4. Black Widow would never be attracted to Bruce. Not with
Hawkeye and Cap around! Come on, that came from left field. It’s not lazy,
misogynist writing, but it’s just dumb because I wanted her to be with (fill in
the blank), not that she needs that to define herself as a woman, or anything.
Um, yeah. So.
5. Tony Stark’s rape joke. Whedon put a rape joke in the
movie. By writing a rape joke into a movie, that’s misogynist, lazy writing.
And you’re an asshole, Joss Whedon.
Okay, that’s about the size of it, I think. There were also a few comments about him being a racist, too, but mostly, it's about Black Widow. Those are the
big complaints. Starting with number five, and working backward, let me confess
something: I’ve seen the movie twice, and I missed the line they are talkingabout completely. It zipped right by me. Then, when I saw the term, I had to go
look it up. I know a lot of weird, useless information, but that archaic term
was new to me. And I’m a smart, well-educated person.
Let me assure you, if I had to go look up the term, then no
one in my audience got the term or even understood its meaning. And so I say it
across this great big stupid country of ours. In the Buzzfeed article above, there’s
a snippet of the scene with a different line, and does it work better? Yeah,
sure, but let me make this clear, here: that’s all in-character banter that is
completely in context with the scene and the characters. No one, not the
imaginary characters, nor the real actors and director, are advocating for the
return of the monarchy. To suggest otherwise is naive at the very least, and
willfully cognitively dissonant at the most.
You didn’t like the way Black Widow and the Hulk nearly got
together? I don’t have an answer to that, except maybe that’s what fanfic is
for these days; redressing those supreme wrongs and claiming some kind of ownership of the characters for yourself. I thought it made good sense,
since she’s obviously the one who did the Manchurian Candidate-style
programming to calm the Hulk down to the point that it triggers the change. Of
COURSE she’d be the one to administer it, just as she’d be the one to program
Banner. That’s what she does as the super spy and master manipulator. Whedon
has her explain her attraction to him and it works just fine—maybe a little bit
rushed, but we are three to six months past the first Avengers movie at the
start of the film. And really—WHO CARES? It doesn’t come to pass, anyway. Talk
about a non-issue.
Black Widow isn’t the mother of the group. I think she’s
decidedly a Jill of all Trades. Performing field triage on her best friend
isn’t mothering. It’s good soldiering. Recovering Cap’s shield to help him
regain the tactical advantage is good teamwork. And let’s be clear, here: she
wasn’t “kidnapped.” She was captured after making the sacrifice play that
allowed the Avengers to pry the Vision away from Ultron. As soon as she got to
where she was going, she sent a message to Hawkeye telling the Avengers where
she was. You know, master spycraft stuff.
That crack about being a monster? Please. Her jacket is red,
she says in the first movie. She was a Russian assassin for years. The fact
that she was sterilized meant she didn’t have any distractions, like kids. If
anything, it was an attempt to rob her of her basic empathy, her humanity.
Killing without any remorse is what makes her a monster.
At least, that’s how I see it. Then again, I have a blog,
where I can type a complete thought using more than 140 characters. One of the
huge problems I have with hashtag activism is that a great many of these
subjects require a more complete thought in order to be discussed in a
meaningful fashion.
But some of these reductive, black and white statements
about the movie ignore the other ten Marvel films that came before this one, and also especially the other
movies in which Black Widow is featured. There’s no audience goodwill, no context
regarding the character’s arc. No mention of the new Avengers at the end of the film, where Cap is
suddenly the minority player on a team that includes two women and two black
men. None of that is even alluded to. There’s only this weird, vicious pile-on
because you didn’t like something—wait, scratch that—because you CHOSE to
interpret something in the most narrowly-defined, reductive, and insulting way
and that offense has spilled out across the Internet in the form of hate-speech
and threats. Talk about seriously undercutting your own intentions.
![]() |
| He's probably thinking about how he can most effectively piss off a huge swath of his own fans in one fell swoop. |
Oh, and I’ve said this before, though I never thought in a
million, billion, trillion years I’d need to say it about the creator of Buffy
the Vampire Slayer: putting a sexist remark in your work does not make you a
sexist. Writing misogynistic dialogue in a scene doesn’t make you a misogynist.
And showing violence done to women onscreen is not an endorsement for rape. In
what high school or university are young people being taught that plot,
characterization and dialogue all speak to authorial intent? It’s so weird how
people miss the subtext inherent to a scene and simply invent their own, based
on a literal reading of the dialogue. Who does that? Please, tell me how that
is now a thing. Regardless, if you go through life expecting only to consume fiction and popular culture in all of its various forms that only conforms to your internal barometer for what you consider to be good and right and fair and just, let me tell you, you're in for decades of rage and disappointment. Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn how to deal with something you don't agree with.
We used to play this game in the 1980s—during the time when
the ultra-right-wing of the church was actively campaigning against heavy metal
music, Dungeons & Dragons, and Warner Brothers Cartoons. There was this
dictum that Pat Robertson used to employ that boiled down to, “if it’s not For
God, then it’s against God.” We got pretty good at taking anything commonplace
and by the transitive or associative properties of language and numbers,
proving that it was, in fact, satanic. Jello? The most popular color is red.
Red is the color of the devil. It jiggles when you shake it. Much like how the
body shakes while committing sin. But the real proof? How many letters are in
Jello? Five. How many letters are in Satan? Five. That can’t possibly be a
coincidence. Thus, if you like Jello, that’s Satanic.
It’s a fun game. You should try it. Maybe some of you
already have. Instead of Satan, look for misogyny. Or racism. Trust me, if you
want to find it, you can.
Avengers: Age of Ultron does have its share of problems. Of
everything on the list above, I think the Stark line of dialogue about being a
firm but fair ruler is better than his line about Prima-Whatever and will
likely be changed for the DVD. It’s problematic. And yeah, I agree, there
should be room for a Black Widow movie of her own. It’s conspicuous by its
absence. The romance certainly felt a little rushed. And yes, Jeremy Renner’s
apology for calling Black Widow a slut was douchey and not at all helpful and it was obvious he wasn't sincere. All
valid points of criticism and certainly worthy of rational discussion.
So what’s the fix? I think it’s imperative to redirect the
conversation onto firmer ground. I also think it’s probably a good idea to
assume people aren’t trying to put you in manacles with their movie project. I
think everyone needs to take a deep breath and a step back. We’ve lost some
things in this politicized, polemic world. We’ve lost context, and weirdly,
also nuance. I don’t know if this comes from living and consuming pop culture
both ironically and also sarcastically, but it’s an epidemic.
Reducing
everything to 140 characters isn’t better speech. It overlooks gobs of
information. This need to slap a label, to pigeonhole, and worse, to damage
with terms like racist and misogynist, is a trend borne from anonymous cowards
and we need to seriously consider why we’re online—to what purpose—and if
Twitter is taking up that much time in your life, I’d look at that as something
to work on.
![]() | |
| Catwoman and the minion approve of Natasha's Heel Toe Technique. |
The stores are full of Avengers toys, again, and some of
them are pretty cool. In addition to the action figures and Legos, there’s the
clutch of “role playing toys.” Cap’s shield, Hulk fists, Iron Man gloves and
helmets, even Hawkeye’s bow and arrows. These kids today are pretty lucky. If
there had been an Iron Man helmet I could wear as a kid, I would never have
taken it off. But you know what they
don’t have on toy store shelves?
You guessed it: No Black Widow wrist rockets, no Black Widow
light-up Electro-Sticks, no Black Widow on motorcycle toys, no Black Widow
anything. It sucks. It’s stupid and short-sighted. And do you know why (oh,
you’re going to love this one). It’s all because of Disney.
Yep. They really don’t think that girls want to play with
boy’s toys. I’ll let that statement sink in so those of you who are angry can
shift focus. Disney did this with Gamora during the Guardians of the Galaxy
merch-blitz last year. Now they are doing it with Age of Ultron. There’s a token figure
of the Scarlet Witch, but of course, all of the collectors are pouncing on them
and so you won’t find them if you have kids who are fans. Not without paying
that collector’s premium.
The reason why is the part that makes me legitimately angry,
and if there was ever a need to rally the troops for a concerted campaign, it’s
this: Disney bought Marvel because they wanted to sell product to boys. They
consider Marvel a “boy’s line” and the “girl’s line” of characters is, of
course, the Disney Princesses. That’s the danger. That’s the great Satan at
work, right there.
This article is a great call to action that succinctly
explains what’s going on in retail right now.
I think it’s incredibly important that these characters, these stories, this
fandom—which is an American art form and should be treated as such—deserve to
be all access. We need to be okay if boys like Wonder Woman. We need to be okay
with girls liking The Hulk. They are characters. Stories. Fantasy. American
Myth. And now those myths, those ‘intellectual properties,’ are in the hands of
lawyers who consider them to be dollar-generating concepts that they control.
Where’s your Internet outrage now, Twitter? There’s the fight. There’s the
opponent. Let’s go get them! Let’s start talking action and activism! Let’s
change the landscape!
Of course, in order to do that, you’d have to stop texting
“Fuck You, Joss Whedon” and complaining about the Hulk/Black Widow relationship.
That may be asking too much of some people. I heard the term Manufactured
Outrage and while I don’t think it’s always the case, BOY do I think that about
this particular instance. Someone put a little blood in the water, and
everyone’s nictitating membranes slid right down over the eyes so that they
could feed without getting blood in their eyes.
Maybe Whedon made some choices you don’t agree with. Okay,
fine. But remember this: that film was made by committee, and you have no idea
what forces were in play during all of it. The fact that Whedon is taking a
break because he’s physically exhausted should say something about the process
of dealing with Disney. Anyone who chooses to take a line of dialogue so
seriously that they flip out like a ninja on social media needs better
priorities in their life.
But the threats? The Name-Calling? That's not acceptable. It wasn't acceptable during GamerGate, and it's sure not acceptable now. You're doing it wrong.
There, now that everything is all sorted, here’s another article on another website about movie criticism. It’s a cogent,
well-articulated call to action.
For those of you wanting things to change on the meta level, this is a very
good place to start.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
The Backlist Project is Nigh Complete
![]() | |
| Possibly the most anticipated book I've put out so far. The other half of the Sam Bowen story. Ta Dah! |
I've needed to rescue and resuscitate my backlist for years now. I was all set to do it a couple of years ago, but I went and wrote a bunch of comics that, as it turns out, will never see the light of day. Ah, well. Sometimes you back the wrong horse, you know?
Once One in a Million drops, next month, that'll be it. I had seven books that needed to be reprinted and updated for ebook consumption. There's eight because Fight Card collection, The Adventures of Sailor Tom Sharkey, slipped in there when no one was looking. Not that I'm complaining. I love the book and I'm happy those stories have found a collected home.
![]() |
| Coming soon: the final chapter in the Con-Dorks Saga and it's a doozy, I tell you what. |
Let's do a contest: I've done some review trawling from you before, but now I'm upping the ante with genuine loot from the past. Collectible, interesting stuff, at that.
I'm a once and forever member of Clockwork Storybook, a writer's collective that was founded by four people: myself, Matt Sturges, Chris Roberson, and Bill Willingham. We started out as a writer's group to work on our prose, and quickly decided we'd get a lot better, a lot quicker, if we learned how to write fiction in front of a live audience. So, we created a fictional city, San Cibola, and made a shared world out of it. The "online magazine" was updated monthly, and sometimes more frequently, as we were prone to pulling a lot of stunts like 30-day Novel challenges and the like. Our goal was to eventually transition into a print medium, and in this regard, we were only about 10 years ahead of the trend.
![]() |
| Yes, that's Bill's art on the cover. He also illustrated his story, too. It's very cool. |
Now they are all but gone. I've got five spare copies of Offline Volume 1: Mythology to give away and I will do just that. All you gotta do is pick one of my books that you have read over this past year and post a review somewhere that you can point me to it. Amazon, Good Reads, wherever there's decent traffic. That's it! I'll pick my five favorites and send you a rare piece of Clockwork Storybook history. I will even sign it, if that's your bag, baby. Once you have the review up, shoot me a Tweet or an IM or however you get ahold of me, and point me to where it is. I will in turn contact you for mailing instructions. How does that sound?
Just to sink the hook a little deeper, here's the Table of Contents:
Mythology by Bill Willingham
illustrated by the author
Persuasion by Matt Sturges
illustrated by Harold Covey
A Port in a Storm by Chris Roberson
illustrated by Doug Potter
An Encounter at Leed's Point
by Mark Finn
illustrated by Mack White
Okay, that's all you need from me! Review! Review for your lives!
Friday, March 27, 2015
Comic Book Misogyny: an Origin Story
I figured out where all of the misogyny and bald hatred in the comic book industry is coming from. I'm ashamed to say, it's coming from my generation, Generation X, the fans in their forties and thirties. Oh, it's possible, just possible, that there are a few twentysomethings piling on--Gen Y entitlement can be palpable and for some doughy white guys in the suburbs who might still be living at home with indulgent parents waiting on them hand and foot, these "attacks on freedom of speech" might actually seem like that and not what they really are: a widening of the communal pool. But I digress.
I figured it out. I figured out where it started. Because it had to start somewhere, right? I mean, there was a time when we were all new to this, and the world was a much larger, more inclusive place. We used to be innocent, if not ignorant, and all of these conventions were full of fellow fans. We could make new friends from other cities and states who liked the same things that we liked. If only there were girls here, too, that would make it all better. That was myth number one, right there.
There I am, on the right. We were so young. So hairy. Reading comics, drawing comics, talking about comics. It was our life.
This is my friend, Melisa. She was one of us. An artist, really talented, and into movies, comics, art, and all of the other things we liked, too. She was one of us in the "Let's Make a Loving Cup!" kind of way. We adopted her and she starting drawing with us on Sundays and hanging out and painting and going to movies and conventions and it was just not a big deal. This is her with Forrest J. Ackerman. Her hair is over one eye because she was too freaked out to say anything to him. She was a huge fan. This was taken in the early 1990s, by the way. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.
I mentions Melisa only to show that there were, even back then, Pre-Internet, women in the hobby, if not the industry. And you could be friends with them and nothing bad would happen to you.
Sometime around 1992 or 1993, the lawyers started patrolling San Diego ComicCon with suitcases full of money. Comics became Big Business. About the same time came the professional convention booth staff. Booth Weasels. Sometimes known as "Booth Babes" or "Booth Bunnies." These are the people who smile, greet you, and then give you the knickknack or the spiel that they were told to hand out to everyone who walked into the booth. It's a professional gig, like waiting tables or hospitality and hosting. They get paid to do it.
There's just one problem. These people--these women--were at a comic book convention. And so, to make sure that these media companies and Dot-Com companies and fly-by-night comic book companies and movie studios had the full attention of the doughy white guys in attendance, they staffed their booths with attractive women and put them in go-go boots and mini-skirts. Skimpy outfits that let the cleavage hang out. Because men are pigs and easily distracted, see.
Now, I'm sure not everyone who noticed this phenomenon thought for one second that these people were anything other than Booth Weasels. Some of us, in point of fact, were a little bit insulted. I mean, how immature do you think we are? Well, they knew something that we didn't, because a lot of man-children still have swag in their collections from companies that never made a single TV show, or comic book, or, hell, anything, before they went under as the Dot-Com bubble burst.
But the Booth Weasels remained. And I'm willing to bet you a million dollars here and now that every single one of these freaked-out, doughy, entitled, white guys who are braying like sea lions about Social Justice Warriors and women in costumes, and political correctness and all of that other meaningless bullshit--every one of them--made a pass at one of these booth weasels and got shot down, told that they weren't into comics, or just simply politely refused in some way. Much like what happens when one goes to, say, a Hooter's and tries to pick up the waitress, and gets told no, as well.
I promise you these whining slugs are still nursing the sting of rejection from some perceived slight that goes back to a convention experience circa 1994-1998. They were so busy being angry that the cheerleaders turned them down that they didn't notice the room filling up with band geeks behind them. Now, whenever they see a costume with cleavage, or see a woman saying they love comics, they react like Frank Burns on M.A.S.H. "Oh, ha ha, very funny!" when in fact, no one made a joke. No one was teasing them. But they don't see anything outside of their personal hurt and shame.
That's what all of this sounds like to me. Nattering nonsense from jilted man-children who tried out their A-list Monty Python impressions on the out-of-work-actress hired to be Catwoman at the San Diego ComicCon DC Comics booth in 1995 and she don't know who Monty Python is, and so now ANYONE dressed like Catwoman must be just like the one woman who said no to them once. They're like Dwayne Wayne from Die Hard. They're like Dickless from Ghostbusters. They can't change their narrative because they can't see the world any other way.
By the way, the electronics conferences are now banning "Booth Babes" and guess who's all up in arms about it? Yep. The same doughy white guys.
I'm ready to begin my campaign of publicly shaming any man who is still stuck in the 90s comics scene. It may not change them, but it'll at least give them something new to hate on, so that maybe we can get back to all moving forward into the 21st century.
I figured it out. I figured out where it started. Because it had to start somewhere, right? I mean, there was a time when we were all new to this, and the world was a much larger, more inclusive place. We used to be innocent, if not ignorant, and all of these conventions were full of fellow fans. We could make new friends from other cities and states who liked the same things that we liked. If only there were girls here, too, that would make it all better. That was myth number one, right there.
There I am, on the right. We were so young. So hairy. Reading comics, drawing comics, talking about comics. It was our life.
This is my friend, Melisa. She was one of us. An artist, really talented, and into movies, comics, art, and all of the other things we liked, too. She was one of us in the "Let's Make a Loving Cup!" kind of way. We adopted her and she starting drawing with us on Sundays and hanging out and painting and going to movies and conventions and it was just not a big deal. This is her with Forrest J. Ackerman. Her hair is over one eye because she was too freaked out to say anything to him. She was a huge fan. This was taken in the early 1990s, by the way. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.
I mentions Melisa only to show that there were, even back then, Pre-Internet, women in the hobby, if not the industry. And you could be friends with them and nothing bad would happen to you.
Sometime around 1992 or 1993, the lawyers started patrolling San Diego ComicCon with suitcases full of money. Comics became Big Business. About the same time came the professional convention booth staff. Booth Weasels. Sometimes known as "Booth Babes" or "Booth Bunnies." These are the people who smile, greet you, and then give you the knickknack or the spiel that they were told to hand out to everyone who walked into the booth. It's a professional gig, like waiting tables or hospitality and hosting. They get paid to do it.
There's just one problem. These people--these women--were at a comic book convention. And so, to make sure that these media companies and Dot-Com companies and fly-by-night comic book companies and movie studios had the full attention of the doughy white guys in attendance, they staffed their booths with attractive women and put them in go-go boots and mini-skirts. Skimpy outfits that let the cleavage hang out. Because men are pigs and easily distracted, see.
Now, I'm sure not everyone who noticed this phenomenon thought for one second that these people were anything other than Booth Weasels. Some of us, in point of fact, were a little bit insulted. I mean, how immature do you think we are? Well, they knew something that we didn't, because a lot of man-children still have swag in their collections from companies that never made a single TV show, or comic book, or, hell, anything, before they went under as the Dot-Com bubble burst.But the Booth Weasels remained. And I'm willing to bet you a million dollars here and now that every single one of these freaked-out, doughy, entitled, white guys who are braying like sea lions about Social Justice Warriors and women in costumes, and political correctness and all of that other meaningless bullshit--every one of them--made a pass at one of these booth weasels and got shot down, told that they weren't into comics, or just simply politely refused in some way. Much like what happens when one goes to, say, a Hooter's and tries to pick up the waitress, and gets told no, as well.
I promise you these whining slugs are still nursing the sting of rejection from some perceived slight that goes back to a convention experience circa 1994-1998. They were so busy being angry that the cheerleaders turned them down that they didn't notice the room filling up with band geeks behind them. Now, whenever they see a costume with cleavage, or see a woman saying they love comics, they react like Frank Burns on M.A.S.H. "Oh, ha ha, very funny!" when in fact, no one made a joke. No one was teasing them. But they don't see anything outside of their personal hurt and shame.
That's what all of this sounds like to me. Nattering nonsense from jilted man-children who tried out their A-list Monty Python impressions on the out-of-work-actress hired to be Catwoman at the San Diego ComicCon DC Comics booth in 1995 and she don't know who Monty Python is, and so now ANYONE dressed like Catwoman must be just like the one woman who said no to them once. They're like Dwayne Wayne from Die Hard. They're like Dickless from Ghostbusters. They can't change their narrative because they can't see the world any other way.
By the way, the electronics conferences are now banning "Booth Babes" and guess who's all up in arms about it? Yep. The same doughy white guys.
I'm ready to begin my campaign of publicly shaming any man who is still stuck in the 90s comics scene. It may not change them, but it'll at least give them something new to hate on, so that maybe we can get back to all moving forward into the 21st century.
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