Pop 20: A comic con really is as American as apple pie

by Aaron Sagers

The Morning Call (Allentown, Pa.) (MCT)

29 April 2008

While I don’t normally traffic in hyperbole, I’m just coming down from the weirdest week. Ever. It started out innocently with me hanging out with hush puppies and Food Network star Paula Deen on the set of her show “Paula’s Party.” Midweek was very Wonka-esque and included eating “cheesecake lollipops” off a “lollipop tree.”

But it was at Manhattan’s New York Comic Convention, as the pope popemobiled down Fifth Avenue, that a Saturday afternoon conversation about journalism with Mistress Malice put the final surreal touches on an already-absurd week.

Malice, all of 5’7” before her foot-high mohawk and serious-business platform boots put her in the altitude of Yao Ming, is the reigning Miss Horrorfest for the delightfully disturbing After Dark “8 Films To Die For” film festival. But engaging, intelligent and nice as she was, her shoe-polish black hair and shiny, tight vinyl pants would make her the scariest sex symbol I’d encountered face-to-face (or face-to-bodice, as was the case)—had I not been to a convention before.

Say what you will about comic book conventioneers being Gary Gygax-mourning virgins with 20-sided dice determining their ability to move out of their parents’ basement. Mock, if you must, all the Brodie Bruce’s of the world obsessed with “The Thing’s” sex organs. But dressed in my very own convention costume of mild-mannered columnist Aaron Sagers, I’m here to tell you that those are vicious stereotypes. In fact, if you have a need for a true-blue slice of Americana, and want one of the most unique experiences of your some 80 years on this planet, a comic con is a travel destination must.

There’s just something so American—in a postmodern, meta sort of way—about watching five guys dressed as Indiana Jones comparing whips and fedoras, or a cadre of “Star Wars” Stormtroopers taking themselves too seriously, or even seeing a kid dressed as Peter Parker making a move on a gal by telling her she’s a dead ringer for Gwen Stacy.

While the obese, arrogantly-informed, socially awkward character of Comic Book Guy from “The Simpsons” is based in reality, there are also a lot of fans who are entirely normal and attend to hunt for the missing issue of a collection, or just to geek out for a few days. Plus, to the contrary of the sexless image of comic kids and sci-fi fanatics, the “con” is actually a furry, pheromone-tinged, latex-and-leather-clad sexually charged event where sexy Batgirls, Bond Girls, Suicide Girls and Manga-inspired schoolgirls—sporting plaid skirts, ears, tails and whiskers—can show up to sing “I Know What (Fan)boys Like.”

Like its bigger brother, the San Diego Comic-Con International, NYCC has also become more than just an event for “funny book” enthusiasts. It is a place where Hollywood tries to control the medium by controlling the message. By parading around celebs and showing early footage from upcoming blockbusters, TV shows or video games, the entertainment industry attempts to court favor with fans. And in the spoiler-rich online environment cultivated by the likes of aintitcoolnews.com where early negative reaction can damage ratings or the opening weekend box office—and a supportive fan base can create an organic hype a year in advance for something like “Iron Man”—it’s just plain smart to make friends with the fans before they’re enemies. Especially when they’re enemies likely to flame a hundred-million dollar-plus project on message boards.

Yet even the definition of celebrity is different at a comic convention. Despite being on the cast of the popular network show, Scott Adsit (Pete from “30 Rock") can wander around with the crowd, unnoticed. Meanwhile comic book writer Grant Morrison—who dresses the part of a rock star with sharp three-piece suits and ever-present sunglasses—merits a security escort and entourage. This is a world where Stan Lee is a god among men, and “Robot Chicken” co-creator Seth Green is an A-list star. Even a surrogate for George Lucas, who sports what must be a Lucasfilm-mandated beard, is loved by a theater full of fans.

A comic convention is as much of a cultural event as it is a pop-culture event. Just like Mardi Gras or Guavaween in Ybor City, Fla., or New York’s Mermaid Parade on Coney Island, a con is a place for like-minded folks with a streak of quirk and crazy to gather together to let the freak flag fly.

In the words of John Cougar Mellencamp, ain’t that America?

Spending hours with body paint for the perfect Darth Maul outfit may seem a little ... different, but not any different than using that same paint for team colors so you can sit shirtless during a cold Monday Night Football game. It’s all part of our country’s predilection to make use of our freedom of expression in the most absurd ways possible. As odd as it may be to suggest, apple pie, baseball and wearing red undies outside blue tights just like Superman is all part of the American way.

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Entertainment columnist Aaron Sagers writes weekly about all things pop-culture. He can be reached at sagers.aaron AT gmail.com.