Speaking of mayhem, this coming weekend is the San Diego Comic-Con. I wish I could make a joke relating the battle taking place in the above artwork to the squabbling of fans over line position or prized collectibles, but I have to confess that for the most part all the people I’ve seen at various Cons have been surprisingly well-behaved. I think they vent all their aggression in online flame wars and MMORPG screaming matches. I mean, sure, a lot of them are socially inept and smell bad, especially after the third day, but I am right there with them in both categories so far be it from me to pass any judgements thereof.

Max (the artist) and I will both be attending the Con this year, but only as part of the Great Unwashed.  We wanted to get a booth or a table, even though we do not, as yet, have any books to sell. (Coming soon, though!) We just wanted to have a table so we could set up some banners and hand out some flyers and generally be part of the show instead of part of the audience for once. We were really looking forward to it, and I started submitting the necessary applications the instant the SDCC organizers were willing to accept them.

(Insert long quavering laugh here.)

Well. As it turns out, One Does Not Simply Walk Into Comic-Con. Not even if you are willing to pay the mind-numbingly expensive fees required to get even a small space there. No, table space at the SDCC is so much in demand that the only way to get a table at the Con is to have had a table at the Con before. They are like box seats at prestigious theatres — people cling to them forever.  There is a waiting list for any spaces that might open up, but apparently the only way this ever happens is when people die. In fact, I have been reliably informed that the only way to even hope to get a table next year is to be on the waiting list, and then just waylay a selection of current exhibitors as they leave the Con this year via the south exit, slay them with an axe, and toss their bodies into a dumpster. Repeat as needed until you have moved up far enough on the list to be assigned a table for next year.

So — sigh — Max and I will be there, and I hope many of you reading this will also be attending, but meeting Max himself will require you to look for someone who bears a striking resemblance to the main character of this strip and then check his badge. It won’t be easy, in the crowd, but maybe it will happen. He may or may not have a strikingly beautiful brunette with him. Do not mess with her. She will kick your ass.

As for me, if you are are a reader of this strip and you are an exhibitor with a table at the Con, I’d love to meet up! I’m easy to find.  I’ll be just outside the south exit, by the dumpster.

Just look for the guy with the axe.

— Bob out