Comic-Con has descended on San Diego, geeks in a thick blanket over the city like locusts devouring a midwest crop. The geeks, my brethren, they gnaw at the new movie and TV footage unveiled there; they gnash their chompers at the bastardization of precious geek-verse commodities; their antennae wiggle waggle when they detect Olivia Munn from Attack of the Show anywhere nearby. These are my people, as my husband likes to remind me.
When I was a little kid I was positive I was going to grow up to have superpowers or be a vampire. And when I say positive, I mean pillowcase-on-the-shoulders, jumping off the couch, waiting for my mad flying skills to kick in. And why wouldn't it happen? I wanted it badly enough. I was a relatively well-behaved child, which is to say I had ethics even when I was being a brat. I could use my powers for good, not evil, with a couple of brief pit-stops for mischief or good-natured trickery. No super-villainy. As a vampire I would only feed on evil-doers, of course. And then I'd be able to amass a great fortune and travel the world and have long flowy hair and perfect skin. I would scrunch my face up and concentrate on moving that pencil over there with my mind. I would stay perfectly still and close my eyes and will myself to hear people's thoughts. Now I'm a good judge of character, and very occasionally I'm a little bit psychic, but I'm also visible and bound by gravity and of average strength. Not super.
All those people at Comic-Con? They aren't super either. Maybe it's that we're not willing to contain our imaginations. Maybe it's that we needed to fit in somewhere, and the best place we fit
is on alternate planets, in other galaxies, anywhere but here. Maybe we have a predilection for homemade costumes made from shiny synthetic fibers and a vast collection of Pogs we need to get rid of. It makes no difference, because the last thing a Comic-Con attendee is going to do is pass judgment on a person according to socially-mandated standards of "normal." If you get Green Lantern and The Green Hornet mixed up, though, stop drop and roll, dude. Get out of there.
I know Comic-Con is TOO BIG. I've been there. It's lines for years and crowds like you've never seen outside of countries with severe civil unrest; it's embarrassing to see some studios and execs pimp projects like freak show barkers. There are people at Comic-Con who have never even picked up a comic book, much less held one by its spine with gloves on. I don't give a flying fig. The purists are still there. The ones who tied the pillow case around their shoulders and jumped off the couch. I am them. We are a tribe.
Originally written 7.09
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