Shameless Creations

I was a RadCon virgin. I didn’t tell anyone outside my immediate Eraserhead family (a few of us in the group were), because I wasn’t sure if something utterly bizarre would come of letting that slip. In fact, I’m fairly certain something would have come about if I’d been silly enough to say, “Wow, I’ve never been to RadCon before.” I am not silly enough for that.

There are traditions at conventions and I’d rather stay on the quiet, safe side of them.

What a convention. There were panels. Cameron Pierce and I sat on one about taboo. I was able to express my opinions on the taboos left in our society, and writing about them. As well as talk about a documentary I recently viewed involving sex with donkeys. Ms. Ellen Datlow was concerned about bestiality really from the viewpoint of it harming the animal. I had to say that I’d seen the video and that donkeys, at least, don’t seem to mind.

You want to see what I’m talking about? Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. There is donkey-love past this point, and not anything you want to know about. You can’t wash your eyes out to forget it. I’ve tried. Okay. Really. Here it is: Doin’ it Donkey-Style

So that kicked things off for me. That was what I did about an hour after I arrived. Before that, I drove for 4 1/2 hours over two mountain passes and through a fairly large snowstorm.

After that I had no responsibilities but to get into the convention. I checked out the art show, which featured three bizarro artists, Angie Molinar, Chrissy Horchheimer, and Carlton Mellick III. Opening ceremonies was the next organized event on my list. That took a while. The sound system caused belly-dancing delays. Once that was all jerry-rigged-out, things proceeded, and the convention officially began. There was a lovely song, too.

Rose O’Keefe spoke at the opening about Eraserhead Press, Bizarro Hour, and how we were there to tend to everyone’s weird needs. Rose was the Small Press Guest of Honor at the convention.

Friday ended with parties, the rave, a very private anime show, blue ballz, hunting with Jeremy Robert Johnson, the rave, conversation, sandwiches–at least crackers and cheese, and finally from the floor, Jeremy shout-whispering, “Forrest!” and then coming up with something hilarious that hurt our ribs until Carlton finally shut the door on him and we all went to sleep.

Saturday was wild.

I was on a panel with Forrest Armstrong about characters and how we make them rad and readable and carry the story. That was fun. There were a lot of people there for that one, and I heard back from several folks that they really enjoyed it.

Saturday was Forrest’s reading (read that, performance). He ate lunch at a podium in front of the three people waiting for the next reading. We clapped when he was finished. Even the other people.

My performance was that afternoon, too. Chrissy Horchheimer took a zombie cat sock puppet around the convention and people followed her back for my Rotten Little Puppet Show. It was amazing, and I am forever grateful for her mad Pied Piper skillz.

Forrest and I attended the panel about how to develop a cult audience taught by Carlton Mellick III, Jeremy Robert Johnson, and Jeff Burk. It ended up being a close-knit, roundtable discussion. They taught us a lot and it was comfortable and fun.

We ate turkey, bacon, and guacamole sandwiches.

Jeff Burk blew Trekkers away with his ideas about Tribble Borg and how they can happen now that the Star Trek universe has been reset.

And then came Bizarro Hour.

If you’ve never experienced this, I’m not sure I can sum it up in words but I will try. Since words will do no justice, however, I will explain things simply and post photos.

Jeremy Robert Johnson was our MC. He did MAGIC and impersonations and other things that made it impossible to be angry or lackluster. He was hilarious as always. Jeff Burk resurrected Shatnerquake. It was awesome. Carlton Mellick III read his tale of insidious LARPers and their defeat of the great dragon Dargoth. Cameron Pierce as Banana Man stole everyone’s shoes and held an auction for charity. He opposses the genocide of shoes. He also threw a hubcap and made a girl read it. She was both frightened and struck with hilarity. Carlton read his story about WereFonzie. Aaaaaaaaay! I did my new Stupifying Gobsmacked Ventriloquist Show. I’m the best ventriloquist ever on the planet of all time ever ever. (Not really.)

The show went over tremendously, and people seemed to have a blast.

Saturday night was even more partyish than Friday. After Bizarro Hour, we slid into the Small Press Party in our honor and proceeded to tap the keg. I ended up in the wrong chair at one point, and certainly heard about it. We took photos of mohawks, ate crackers, and launched our party evening with style. We hit the rave. We wrestled. We proved that Bizarros are cool in a crunch. We spent the end of the evening in the green room, eating and drinking, and generally feeling great.

The next day we sold lots of books to people who’d seen our show. Rose and I once again proved our mettle and coolness in the face of dire circumstances. I forgot half of my delicious sandwich in the fridge in the hotel room.

RadCon = RadNess.