Jennifer Susannah Devore's Blog, page 10

Steampunk Daphne

When Tom Cruise Stops Singing: Comics Quietly Continue to Float SDCC 2013

If San Diego Comic-Con was a geologic feature, it would be the Grand Canyon: strata upon strata of distinct, well-defined, colourful variants comprising an arresting, alluring travel poster for destinations Geekward. Every summer, America’s Finest City hosts Hallowe’en in July wherein layers of sci-fi, fantasy, history, science, IT, comics, gaming, cosplay and countless other substrata converge on the San Diego Convention Center to make each year’s Con more popular, more profitable and more prohibitive to entry than the last.[image error]

It’s arguable which strata top the bunch, but it’s clear the lone comic dork is at the bottom of the pile, at least where acquiring a badge or an independent press pass is concerned. Press passes, unless associated with a major outfit, are becoming more difficult to garner; online badge purchasing for the individual comes earlier and earlier each year and your clicking finger better be younger and faster than your competition’s. Badges sell out in mere minutes and second chance lotteries just play with a dork’s heart like a cat with a wounded bird. Still, if you can get in the air-conditioned doors, press or otherwise, the event will present you with an experience fantastic and powerful enough to drain you of all common sense, vacuum up all your hard-earned dough, morph your feet into Chinese feet-binding and deliver claustrophobic flashbacks for years to come … and leave you salivating and shaking to do it all again next year.

San Diego Comic-Con, the grandfather of all DorkCons and once a purist, geek Mecca, is now a Gigantor, world-class, Cannes-scale, multimillion-dollar, media bash of Big Bang proportions. Always something of a boon to the local economy, SDCC has become a veritable pot o’ gold over the past decade, the rainbow streaming in from Hollywood-way and infusing  hundreds of millions of dollars into San Diego coffers and wallets, not to mention luring paparazzi, as well as legitimate photojournalists, to San Diego’s sunny harbor for five, titillating days. The byproduct of the manic, short-lived press coverage? Unquantifiable results in healthy tourism the rest of the year.

Although no exact figures have been released yet, attendance for 2013 threatens to easily top 130K. As far as local pockets? Last year’s Con delivered the area a vintage, Adam West-era Batman KAPOW! of 180 million clams. Add approximately three million more clams in local tax revenue and no wonder San Diego and The Simpsons‘ Comic Book Guy have been scratching, clawing and letter-writing to keep The Con in town and out of Anaheim.

Why would anyone want to move The Con, other than the obviously jealous Anaheim? (Anaheim, you have WonderCon for a bit; be happy with that.) The Hakken-Kraks, Buzz Killington and young and old biddies alike will complain about the crowds, the late-night boozing in the Gaslamp Quarter and the annual, predictable proliferation of Leeloos, Slave Leias and Sailor Moons. No worries though, Comic Book Guy. Leeloo’s ass, Slave Leia’s gold bra and Sailor Moon’s navel will remain in place, relatively firmly, in San Diego at least through 2016.

Conventioneers and the correspondents covering them bound in from around the globe to gather and gawk at all Comic-Con has to offer: the costuming being the loudest Call of the Wild. Cosplay becomes more and more the focus each year. When Charlie Rose reads “The Babes of Comic-Con” on his Teleprompter with a stilted discomfort in his voice, the Con is reaching its alternative threshold. What used to be counter-culture and Mom’s Basement-nerdy, is now the pinnacle of geek chic. Comic-Con is, for now, the Hurley of Geekdom. Even though H-town seems to have taken over, the core elements are still there, like Spanx: tightly bound and working feverishly to hold the whole thing in place. Akin to the Colorado River, subtly trickling through the Canyon it created it in the first place, the Old School comic strip and graphic novel can still be found at Comic-Con. You have to walk your Duff Man off to find them, but they’re in there.

Clearly, Comic-Con’s focus is still based in comic-as-art-form; just look at some of this year’s themes. Superman, Sandman, Bongo and Aspen Comics are all celebrating milestones of great note. Still, H-town’s involvement, Hulk heavy-handed since the mid-2000s, turns the global focus over to the folks at Entertainment Tonight, Huffington Post and the heaving, final gasps of air coming out of the crew at Variety. Every one of their correspondents tripping over their own phone chargers to cover Halle Berry’s baby-bump, Hugh Jackman’s stubble and Tom Cruise’s impromptu, Rock of Ages serenade. Meanwhile, the Clark Kents of Comic-Con quietly and sagely keep the homefires burning in small, cheerful booths, oft near the lavvies, along the side doors or buttressing Café Express, the indoor, overpriced hot dogs-and-shady-nachos stand. The booths are manned by company execs themselves whom happily snap and post Instagram pics of their fans and heartily shake each and every hand that wends through the maze of aisles to seek their comic wares.

Whilst the Craigslist-hire, brand-ambassador models and bouncers working the behemoth, Hollywood studio booths poorly hide their sneers and eye-rolls at overzealous fans and, with tight-lipped smiles, begrudgingly hand out buttons and bandanas for shows they will likely never watch, the head honchos, chiefs and veeps at smaller media companies like IDW, Diamond Comics and GoComics are happy to stand with a fan for a picture (Plus, help her[image error] find the last X-Files: Season 10 comic book in the booth … sadly sold out, though.) or enthusiastically proffer pro subscriptions “for special folks” and other goodies produced from behind the curtains and posterboard.

Whether they be creators and publishers like IDW Publishing (X-Files, Star Trek, 30 Days of Night, Doctor Who) and SLG Publishing (Haunted Mansion, Tron, Gargoyles), distributors like Diamond Comics Distributors (Dark Horse Comics, DC Comics, Marvel Comics) or syndicators like GoComics (Calvin and Hobbes, Peanuts, Get Fuzzy, Foxtrot) and its parent company Universal Uclick, these folks are the lifeblood of any comic book convention, the River to the showy Canyon walls. Without their conveyance, nobody gets Wolverine costume claws, The Big Bang Theory t-shirts or Sandman annotations. Even within the river, notable and gifted creators like SofaWolf Press fight the current of mass media, straining and mushing like sled dogs just to get the Kudos they so deserve. Read Caterwall or Nordguard? If not, acquaint yourself with the Disney-level artwork and storytelling of Jack London proportions.

True, the course of the river has shifted dramatically; it’s more of a culture-con now, and that’s fine. Most folks love some glam, some flash and even boobies, naturally. To boot, when more eyeballs seek a curiosity such as Comic-Con, it can mean a lucrative, pleasurable outcome for all. Art and the creatives will always progress, should progress; it’s the nature of the beast. Still, amidst the après-hours, high-end hotel-bar, cocktail parties, the Gaslamp pub networking circuit and even the intrageek debates about cosplay inaccuracies, it’s nice to recall the original trickle from whence such a gathering came.

Comic-Con International has a mission statement. Brief and to the point, it reads:

Comic-Con International: San Diego is a nonprofit educational corporation dedicated to creating awareness of, and appreciation for, comics and related popular artforms, primarily through the presentation of conventions and events that celebrate the historic and ongoing contribution of comics to art and culture.

Clearly, the hot Poison Ivys, the intricately detailed Walking Dead, the frenzied sightings of Halle Berry and Neil Patrick Harris and the rumours of surprise appearances by Tim Burton or Guillermo del Toro will always win the gaze of amateur phonecams and AP entertainment reporters alike. Yet, even when the Con is gone, if years down the road the flash and dash dim, all our fave comic characters will remain: Betty & Veronica, Citizen Dog, Sherman’s Lagoon, Calvin and Hobbes, Vampirella, The X-Files, Peanuts, Haunted Mansion, My Little Pony, Wonderland, Gargoyles, Foxtrot, Get Fuzzy, The Simpsons, Sandman, Superman, Spongebob Squarepants, Dick Tracy, Savage Chickens, The Avengers, The X-Men, Pearls Before Swine and so many other familiar, longtime and new-found friends. Tiny, tireless warriors one and all, they will surge ahead quietly, like the greenish-grey Colorado River forever playing second fiddle to the colour-saturated travel posters of breathtaking, Canyon sunsets. Diligently they will trudge so we might enjoy their quirky company all year long … until the Con, the crowds, the chicks and the claustrophobia return to San Diego next year, at least through 2016. Better start getting your clicking finger in shape now.

Authoress Jennifer Susannah Devore contributes regularly to the official San Diego Comic-Con Souvenir Guide. Read her articles here: BongoComics/The Simpsons, Peanuts & Tarzan! She also loves a Pikachu!

All photos by Twisted Pair Photography

@JennyPopNet

The Circus Pulls Up Stakes: Dr. Lucy's SDCC 2013 Slideshow

 

Well, cats, as Porky Pig struggles to declare, "Th-th-th-that's all, folks!". San Diego Comic-Con 2013 is a wrap. The big burg with the filthy mayor and the small beachtown chill is back to it's groovy, mellow, peaceful ways. (Save for trying to oust said-filthy mayor. What a loony, dangerous maroon!) The air around the Convention Center smells like salt air once again; the trademark smell of The Con hovering somewhere over Santa Fe by now. What is that smell, New Mexicans might wonder? It's a simultaneously exhilarating, exciting and pathetic amalgam of anxiety, camping, body odour, latex, cheap polyester, sycophancy, Japanese perfume, cheap leather, desperation, domestic "beer" and nacho "cheese" sauce.

Seaport Village is back to hosting apple-shaped families from Minnesota and the humourless, tanned beach cops are re-focused on sunburned tourists frantically enjoying their last hurrahs of summer holiday. The "normal" clientele has returned to local strip clubs, replacing zombies, Zorg and Sheldon Cooper in the Champagne Room; alternately, barmaids about town have, thankfully, removed their faux nerd glasses and Hello Kitty "I Love Nerds" t-shirts. (Please, ladies. Leave hot nerding to the real hot nerds.)

The Gaslamp Quarter is still predictably lively with Happy Hours and summertime, bistro seating; but the dark-suited business folk of the downtown area are no longer treated to the  lunchtime spectacle and wonder, not to mention parking and traffic jumbles, of Comic-Con. No more Leeloos leaning over the bar at Lou & Mickey's, no more Han Solos in line at Starbucks, no more Walking Dead at McCormick & Schmick's and no more Transformers trying to work the fountain dispensers at 7-11. Like a birthday night in Vegas, we are left with sore feet, curious bruising, singed tendrils, oddly placed piles of sunflower seed shells, mysteriously depleted bank accounts, and a faint, pleasurable memory that it might be fun and/or nuts to do it all over again next year ... but next time with an even better costume! (They're called boobs, Ed!)

The Con will return, kids, no worries there. It has been speculated for years that it could move to Anaheim. Well, at least through 2016, Comic-Con shall remain in America's Finest City; Hallowe'en in July is all San Diego's. Until next year, enjoy the slideshow of this year's scene, courtesy of our own Dr. Lucy and her EOS Canon Digital Rebel XT.

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BTW, because I know you care, each con, I treat myself to a wee something: a Chewbacca tank by WeLoveFine, a Bettie Page parasol by Retro a-go-go, a Jetsons tee, etc. This year, it's my Evil Coffee Hour messenger bag by BeKyoot.com. Get one! "Cause Evil Coffee Hour is a brilliant idea and Christy Sanderson is a total doll who designs all the gear herself! It's what Japanese girls and I call supa kawaii! Cheers, Miss Christy, Tuxie Cat and Momocheet!

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Authoress Jennifer Susannah Devore contributes regularly to the official San Diego Comic-Con Souvenir Guide. Read her articles here: The Simpsons, Peanuts & Tarzan!

All slideshow photos by Twisted Pair Photography with the exception of the following:

Rotten Tomato by Rebecca Lane; The Two Daphnes: Classic and Post-apocalyptic, all Conv. Ctr. exteriors and Once Upon a Time murals by J.S. Devore

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Bartbarians at the Gate: 20 Years of Bongo on the Digital Frontier

So, for those whom did not make it to San Diego Comic-Con this year, or did and unwisely tossed your official Souvenir Guide, my odd wordsmithing made it into the book once again! This year's is a favourite thus far: article and Souvenir Guide in toto.

Sandman, the cover art commemorating twenty-five years of Neil Gaiman's Gothic oeuvre, has hit my radar anew, having not read it since the glorious, gloomy, gringy Nineties. After reading the Sandman articles and delighting in the accompanying gorgeous and ghoulish artwork, The Annotated Sandman has made my very particular birthday and Christmas lists: as there are multiple volumes, it is worthy of both.

For now, enjoy a posting here of Bartbarians at the Gate: 20 Years of Bongo on the Digital Frontier.

 

Bartbarians at the Gate: 20 Years of Bongo on the Digital Frontier

By Jennifer Susannah Devore

 

‘Cause he’s an old [comic junkie] and he don’t know what to do.

Should he hang on to the old, should he grab on to the new?

He’s an old [comic junkie], this new life is just a bust.

He ain't trying to change nobody, he's just trying real hard to adjust.

-David Bellamy

November spawned an empire. Like an impatient, petulant newborn, Bongo Entertainment spewed forth, squealing and sliding into our arms like a greased up Spiderpig. Present in the room for the birth were Radioactive Man, Bart Simpson, Itchy & Scratchy and, naturally, The Simpsons. Waiting in the hallway, anxious friends and family would queue up for years to administer the requisite welcome-slap on the bum: Bender, Comic Book Guy, Leela, Professor Frink, Ralph Wiggum, Fry, Li’l Homer, Zoidberg, Maggie, Poochie, Mr. Burns, Akbar & Jeff, all the denizens of Treehouse of Horror and dozens more.

“Welcome to the world of print comics, you magnificent bastard!” the masses cried outside the gates. “It’s about time!”

No matter how you manage the journey, it’s a long and sketchy trip from the overcast, damp alleys of Portland to the sunny, ocean-misted offices of Santa Monica. Matt Groening and Bongo the Überhip Rabbit are no longer hawking Macintosh computers for laser printers. With a Lewis & Clark deftness, Bongo Entertainment has successfully navigated the choppy, brackish waters where analog and digital converge.

The 1990s came flying at us like those imminent asteroids Dr. Michio Kaku warns will eventually slam into Brooklyn. Many smart folks, especially those in print journalism and book publishing, are getting nailed regularly by turn-of-the-century fallout, like digital mosquitoes carrying a cheeky, cutting-edge virus which grows more and more immune to the amusingly ineffective slaps of indignity and Old Guard pride. The likes of newspapers, authors and artists who remain certain newfangled progress is for guys with neck tattoos and film school girls sporting Boy Scouts shirts, are likely to go the way of the original dinosaurs, especially those living in Brooklyn. Happily, Bongo knows better, even if Comic Book Guy is still lamenting years-old chatter about San Diego Comic-Con possibly moving to Anaheim.

The precise number of ventures poorly judging a turn-of-the-century is up for debate. Victorian gas proprietors loathed Thomas Edison as much as the fading Vaudevillians did. John Henry fought tooth and railroad nail against the steam engine, whilst across the Atlantic, Luddites vilified machines taking labor from textile artisans. The 21stC. Technological Revolution is no different, in theory, than the 20thC. Industrial Revolution. In both wakes lie more dead ideas and failed executives than Jack the Ripper had bad dates. (R.I.P. Kodak Film and Thomas Bros. Guides)

What is certain is that each era is replete with dogmatic examples subscribing to the maxim: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Surely, some monk complained about the lack of work for illuminated-manuscript artists when that hipster doofus Gutenberg and his skinny jeans set about developing the printing press; and if there wasn’t a Neanderthal grumbling about Cro-Magnons and their fancy, sloping foreheads, I’ll eat my Bluetooth.

Like responsibly farmed, Whole Foods mussels, Bongo’s road to sustainability began with integrity, tenacity and probably a lot of ice. Briefly, Groening created "Forbidden Soaps" in 1978, a lengthy, Life in Hell soap review for Wet magazine and founder Leonard Koren. His soapy stories seduced Tracey Ullman Show producer James L. Brooks and by 1989 The Simpsons were standard TV fare.

Like Toulouse Lautrec’s 1880s cabaret art, Matt Groening’s 1980s Apple art is collector-worthy. Early advertising material for Apple featured Life in Hell residents. If Lautrec’s 1889 La Danse is worth a pretty centime, 1989’s Dream Dorm is sure to be worth half that. Bongo’s Dream Dorm: Macintosh. Part of Every Student’s Wildest Dreams (full title) features the original Bongo, “jungle passion” offspring of Binky, living large in a four-story dorm, complete with helipad, moat, robot chef, pet octopus and a Mac, naturally.

In 1991, fueled by rabid Simpsons fans, Groening with Steve Vance (DC Comics), Cindy Vance (Disney Adventures Digest) and Bill Morrison (Futurama) co-published the fan mag, Simpsons Illustrated. Naturally, this led to more frothing Bartbarians at the gate and in 1993 they published a one-off: Simpsons Comics & Stories. Finally crying Uncle! in November 1993, Bongo Comics Group was birthed: slippery Spiderpig and all.

Today, twenty years later, on the hip side of Santa Monica where crunchy, lunchtime surf sessions beckon, and after infinite Pantone #116C, Bongo Entertainment thrives, more Monty Burns than Comic Book Guy these heady days. Their catalog encompasses an impressive compilation of calendars, trade books and comics: Futurama, Simpsons Classics, Summer Shindig, Lisa, Milhouse, Krusty, Futurama/Simpsons Crossover, Treehouse of Horror and Professor Frink to list a few.

Adding Futurama in 2000 and with reprints of Simpsons in Mexico, the U.K. and Australia, the amount of print around the globe is growing at a fungal rate. Bongo has produced and distributed at least twenty different series for Simpsons comics alone. Currently, at least ten of those original titles are ongoing. Add trade books, calendars and the occasional beast, like the 1,200-page omnibus Simpsons World: The Ultimate Episode Guide Seasons 1-20, and it’s a wonder the streets aren’t as coated with Bongo mags as Charles de Gaulle’s runways are with Gauloises cigarettes and absinthe bottles.

Like any sage impresario, Bongo Entertainment has brought fellow artists to its stage, recently adding Spongebob Comics and Mylo Xyloto to their catalog. Moreover, to please burgeoning generations of readers allergic to paper, Bongo Digital offers select issues alongside traditional, print format: at least two per week, they pledge.

Although you must wait one month after newsstand-release, download versions are available via comiXology for iOS, Android, Kindle, Windows 8 and Windows RT. Bongo Entertainment partnered originally with comiXology to develop the Simpsons Comics app for iTunes. Along with the freshest issues, Bongo pledges to reach way back into the dairy case of archived content to bring readers tasty treats from the past.

How does an enterprise prosper throughout a lifespan of Apple IIe to iPad5? Quality, intelligence and old-fashioned zeitgeist. Plus, though Bongo Digital makes instant gratification easy, Bongo understands there remains a tactile courtship with comics that is unlikely to fade in the wash.

If you’re Old School, subscribing to your comics via Snail Mail, you’re one of the few delighting in a fed outside your door. Whether you haunt your local comic store or scour eBay, there is visceral happiness in holding that paper. Carrying it in your purse, backpack or briefcase, it’s your secret to be enjoyed throughout the day. Everyone has a ritual with a new issue. Maybe it’s de rigueur for business flights; maybe it’s summer beach reading. If you’re proud and loud, it’s at Starbucks with an espresso. If you’re the rare, outdoorsy geek, Treehouse of Horror is great, camp reading. Whatever your liturgy, it helps breathe life into the likes of Bongo. There’s a reason we attend Comic-Con; in the end, it’s Comic-Con, not Culture-Con.

In the new age of distribution, be it anti-copyright love-ins, or "everybody-is-an-artist" curses, the ancient, runic tablets of publishing are crumbling. This means your shelves and devices are bursting at the seams, like Slave Leia’s bikini, with more content and ways to blow your day than imaginable. Solution? Choose wisely. Anyone can sketch a doodle, add some Japanese space boobs, slap on a knock-knock joke and call it a comic. The point is, even if it’s free –and so many are- is it worth your time?

Bongo is the New Yorker of comic books. Thus far, only Bongo has proffered a truly funny iteration of Jack the Ripper (finally) in From Hell and Back, Or: The Truer Story of Jack the Ripper (Treehouse of Horror #9). Bongo also stepped up with a “Yo Mama So Ugly”-style poetry slam in Rhymes and Misdemeanors (Simpsons Comics a Go-Go). I additionally wager they solely have recognized the obvious humor in Olmec vs. Aztec traits in The Return of Xt’tapalatakettle (Simpsons Comics #98).

Thirty-four years after "Forbidden Soaps" and 1,669 strips later, Groening ended Life in Hell syndication on June 15, 2012. The groovy rabbit who started it all and the rest of the wonky and fez-capped crew are on extended leave. As if to assuage the masses, February 2012 saw the resurrection of long-dead (1991-1993) Simpsons Illustrated: now a quarterly with catalog reprints.

Choose intelligently, folks; there's a lot of shlock out there. Anyone can pick a comic book worthy of T&A; pick one worthy of an M.F.A.

 

Reprinted from the official SDCC 2013 Souvenir Guide

 

Please, feel free to read my previous SDCC articles on Peanuts and Tarzan!

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When The Anime Girls Start Looking Old: Sobering Up, SDCC Day 4

The Borg Queen's makeup is starting to wear, Arthur the Moth's white bodysuit has nacho cheese stains and Slave Leia's posterior-veil is flaking away from the glue that has, thus far, kept it titillatingly adhered to said-posterior. It must be the last day of Comic-Con.

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Cheers, kittens! What a weekend! DorkCon has been an absolute blast! Day three, Saturday, was sheer bonkers and, despite my attempts to Tweet and report to you directly from the Con floor, the villains at Sprint communications did their best vanquish my valiant efforts and blocked all ghostly transmission to the non-Con masses. What you missed will come to you soon, via my annual SDCC wrap-up post, complete with a fantastic (in the truest sense of the word) slideshow, thanks to our own Dr. Lucy and her EOS Canon Rebel! For now though, it's Sunday; and, like Vegas in the early morning hours, things are starting to look pretty sketchy and the broad you thought was your dream gift from Fortuna looks like an old drag queen impersonating Sailor Moon.

Cases of unused, 2013 Souvenir Books, Event Guides and Con bags sit bored and stacked up in blue-curtained, administrative corners of the Convention Center lobby and the degree, and quality, of costuming has dwindled significantly. Of the four days (Thurs.-Sun.), Friday and Saturday were the days for cosplay. It's like showing up for a party, a little uneasy and nervous for the first hour or so; then, you have a drink, loosen up, lose some inhibition, gain some confidence and next thing you know you're leading the conga line with a G-string on your head that you found in the hamper of the upstairs lavvy. Of course, after the Sambvca is all gone and the host is passed out on the lanai, you realize it's time to go home.

San Diego loved hosting you, folks; but America's Finest City cannot remain that way if the streets are clogged, the Gaslamp District is unapproachable to the more timid locals and there are 12-stone cosplay chicks on street corners with dimpled ass-cheeks hanging out of their very poorly chosen Poison Ivy costumes. Folks, it's Sunday and the host is unresponsive on the lanai ... time to go home.

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Hell Yeah, It's Friday at San Diego Comic-Con! Thanks, H-town!

"Samuel", we'll call him, an affable, casually t-shirted executive at a prominent, East Coast-based comic book distributor, sat next to us last night at Jolt 'N Joe's in San Diego's Gaslamp Quarter, after the Con closed its doors.

San Diego Comic-Con, Convention Center 2013 Photo: JSDevore

"Let's see," he started, looking up and to the right as he counted silently in his head, "I guess I've been coming to Comic-Con since 1994. It's nuts. Each year when you think it can't get any crazier, the next year is worse. Each day gets worse. Friday will be crazier than today, Saturday crazier than that."

"When did you notice it start to grow so wild?" I asked over my Dirty Shirley, a Shirley Temple with Vodka.

Again, he looked up and t the right, his lips counting the years. He swirled his Budweiser bottle and, upon settling on an answer, set it down with a clink.

"2004, I'd say. When Hollywood started paying attention. That's when it really changed. Hollywood realized, 'Hey. There's a key demo here and they're trapped."

My Viking took a sip of his G$T and said, "Totally trapped. Nowhere to go but Mexico."

 

Follow for SDCC updates @JennyPopNet!

San Diego Comic-Con 2013: Under A Simpsons-Blue Sky!

Not much time to post today, kittens... it's Day 1 of San Diego Comic-Con! The weathers is bonkers-gorgeous and I am chock full of comic book glee! Third year now (Peanuts & Tarzan marking previous articles) I am published in the Official Souvenir Guide! This year's theme? The 20th anniversary of  Bongo Entertainment: the fine minds behind The Simpsons, Futurama, Bartman, et al.

So, off to the Con! Will certainly post more later. In the meanwhile, follow @JennyPopNet, @Eslilay and @GoodToBeAGeek for up-to-the-minute Tweets and snaps! Now, so much to do today, like buying one Rebecca Lane of Rotten Tomatoes a G$T for snapping this shot of my article for me and Tweeting the following:

"Some pre #SDCC reading; penned by my talented friend @JennyPopNet Souvenir Guide pg 164...check it out!"

Cheers, Beki!(Look for her at SDCC; she'll be the one in giant tomato suit!)

Veronica and the Darlings Go To Del Mar Opening Day 2013

The Darlings of Orange County author Jennifer S. Devore has her well-polished finger on the pulse of Southern California: O.C. beaches, Newport shopping sprees, Laguna Beach dining, San Diego Comic-Con and the Del Mar Racetrack, just to name a few locales. As this year's Del Mar Opening Day (July 17, 2013) coincides beautifully with Comic-Con Weekend (July 18-21, 2013), it seems only appropriate that excerpts from Devore's bikini-and-martini, beach-read novel, The Darlings of Orange County make the rounds this summer. With chapters based on Comic-Con as well as Del Mar's Opening Day, she proffers you wee peeks into the scandalous, saucy, salacious world of her Darlings!

Excerpt from The Darlings of Orange County by Jennifer S. Devore

The weather couldn't have been more perfect if it had been written into a novel: 84 degrees, sunny, clear blue skies, Simpsons-clouds, a light breeze and zero smog. The ocean was sparkling and depending where you were that day, one could see not only Catalina, but also San Clemente Island. The day presented every feature possible for conditions air traffic controllers and pilots called clear and a million. Of course, this was Del Mar and on a summer's day, not to mention Opening Day, nothing less could be allowed. It was probably mandated by the San Diego City Council.

 

Along with Tuesdays at the Ritz and shared birthdays at Disneyland, Opening Day at Del Mar was an annual tradition for Kieran and Veronica. Big hats, expensive dresses, painfully strappy sandals and Del Martinis were the kick off to their birthday month: both August Leos. As if they didn't have too much fun most days anyway, thirty more days of birthday festivity would follow today: Disneyland, an Angels game (Always the Anaheim Angels to this crowd, never, ever, ever the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim! Would the Red Sox like to be called the New York Red Sox of Boston?), champagne lunches at the Ritz, shopping at South Coast Plaza, antiquing at The Barn in San Juan Capistrano, a huge dinner party at Cannon’s in Dana Point and various other outings, coffees and soirees across Orange County.

This year's Opening Day, however, was a truly special event. Only yesterday Ryan was taunting death and saved by the grace of the U.S. Coast Guard, or a shark that had already eaten. Looking out at San Clemente Island, the point of no return, or very iffy return, for once you got past that isle open water was all you had, it was very clear that everyone was very lucky indeed to have their Ryan with them today. Veronica watched him stuff a crab cake in his mouth and smiled, then gave him a big bear hug just because. Today was also the unofficial recap show of Shark Guy. All morning he'd been reenacting the events of the day. He and Pardo played off each other, finished each other's sentences. Ryan reeled in an imaginary shark all morning as he showed everyone exactly how he'd worked the rod and line. He also did a perfect impression of Lt. Colbert: a little Colin Powell, a little Fire Marshall Bill.

"Now, kids, I want everybody to know that a shark is not a toy and that the stick in my ass was implanted initially by my father, who disapproved of me at every turn as a child. Said stick was later tightened and secured in place by the United States Coast Guard, which I later learned would validate and confirm me if I just followed their lead and worked daily to impress. Remember, boys and girls, a shark is not a toy and Jesus hates fun."

Since nine o'clock that morning, when everybody met at the Starbucks just down the street from the track, across from Flower Hill Mall, the impressions, recaps, reenactments and Monday morning quarterbacking had been almost non-stop. A few people had even recognized Ryan: a couple of gromits, little toe-headed surfers, at Starbucks, and a few folks at the track, including the parking valet and their private waiter. Toby, the waiter, couldn't get enough of the stories and Ryan and Pardo couldn't help but oblige. Someone in the parking lot had even asked for his autograph. Veronica had laughed and insisted Ryan use her fancy pen, a Waterman she carried in her purse, a gift from Pat for Veronica's very first book signing three years ago. It was a rare show of confidence by Pat in Veronica's quest for literary importance. Today was about Ryan, his circle of friends and even his family.

"Where's Tucker?" it suddenly occurred to Veronica as she fed Ryan another crab cake and hugged him playfully, but saw Chet over his shoulder and noticed he was eating a hot dog. There were no hot dogs on the spread in this room. "Is he selling? Is he outside selling? I thought he just went out for a little walk," she scanned the room quickly. "Damn it, I told him no cart today!"

She let go of Ryan and walked to the door of their suite and looked down the hallway, both ends.

"Yep, he's gone," she raised her palms to Ryan, then to Chet and waited for an answer, who just shrugged and shoved the rest of the contraband hot dog into his red-bearded face. "Jesus, this is so hacky of him. I swear, if he gets caught and tries to use Kieran to get out of it I'm going to steam cook his own wiener."

[image error]"That's a weird thing to say," Chet mumbled with a mouthful of food. "But he does do a good wiener. You shouldn't have invited him. He's doesn’t know how to act in a setting such as this," he shook his head in disgust of his youngest brother, agreeing fully with Veronica as flecks of Wonder bun, Hebrew National pork, Gulden's mustard and sweet onions sprayed from his mouth.

Veronica's face screwed up as she watched the vileness fly in her general direction. Chet was right, though; she shouldn't have invited him, either of them. Kieran had insisted, though. It was a special occasion and after what everybody had been through yesterday, she arranged, through her storied and many connections at the track, for the entire Seabiscuit Terrace: anybody and everybody was invited for a day of sun, cocktails, wine, beer and all the gourmet grub they could swallow, all gratis. Of course, Chet and Tucker accepted. Veronica's only stipulation was that Chet wear a shirt, ditto for Pardo, and that Tucker not set up shop. Now, he had done just that and Veronica was going to have to go deal with it.

 

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Veronica Darling Goes To San Diego Comic-Con ... Maybe

As San Diego Comic-Con 2K13 fast approaches, enjoy a very apropos excerpt from Jennifer Susannah Devore's The Darlings of Orange County. The setting: The Banshee Pub in Uptown Manhattan. The action: a meeting between our heroine Veronica Darling and her prospective, new agent, Darby Elliot Stone, Esq.

"I'm not a big believer in[image error] people,” she leaned forward again and continued, “people are wankers. But, you got it all, Snowy: looks, savvy, attitude and, God forbid in this industry, talent to top it all off. Fucking classic children's lit you got. I'm not kidding. You got weird sci-fi appeal, anime-slash-manga appeal, cartoon appeal, ‘istory appeal, drama geek appeal, and overachieving li’l ‘omeschool wankers probably love this shit. I send you to Comic Con after we get Savannah of Williamsburg graphic novels out there," Veronica grinned ear-to-ear when she heard this, as this was something she'd wanted to do forever, "yeah," Darby acknowledged the grin, "I knew you'd like that idea. Anyway, I send you to Dork Con and you're going to need to lace your perfume with spermicide, so many geeks are going to involuntarily spooge all over you and that innocent Bettie Page thing you do. Then, they're going to actually read your work, 'cause geeks are one of the only groups left out there that know 'ow to read and you're going to need a fucking bodyguard to keep the Freaks and Geeks off of you. Trust me. I know people. They suck."

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"Ch. 60. ROFL!" "Done. Omg! L.o.v.e.! So, so funny!"

-Angelea Bruce, RB Vino & Libri Chicks

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Bongo and Jeepers, Kids! Danger-prone Daphne Heads to SDCC 2K13

Cheers, kittens! If you'll kindly check your calendars, you'll see it's summertime and if you regularly follow the scribblings and adventures of Dr. Lucy Devereaux and Moi, you'll know summer here in sunny San Diego means just one thing: San Diego Comic-Con!

Summertime lists of entertainment alternatives for the geeky and the pale put SDCC firmly on top of the pile. It's air-conditioned fun where we ghosties and our fellow friends of pasty pallor can hide from the vile sun and retain our dewy freshness. It's a venue where geeks, dorks and nerds of every shade of pale can gather in costume, greedily clutching their comic books and collectible figures whilst dork-walking at revved speeds to snag front-row seats to panels such as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Action Figure Showcase and I Can't Write, I Can't Draw, But I Love Comics!, all without fear of a wedgie anytime during the day ... as long as conventioneers don't wander too far into the neighboring Gaslamp District. The Gaslamp is no place for a lone nerd in costume, especially at night when the surfy sportos, apathetic hipsters and sloshed beach thugs roam, and own, the darkness. Travel in nerd packs if you must; but be assured, like any Star Trek exploratory mission, the one in the red shirt will be sacrificed. Don't be the red shirt.

Dr. Lucy, her EOS Canon Digital Rebel XT in-hand, and I will be covering all the geeky goodness of SDCC 2K13 for you and Tweeting snaps, sightings, booths of note and nerdy news all weekend long from the floor and beyond the ether! Panels will be plentiful and will run the gamut of information and instruction from Inside The Big Bang Theory's Writers' Room to Steampunk 101, and Showcasing the Best in Korean Comics to Snoopy: A Retrospective. As always, SDCC is also a bit of a celeb trek and this year, expect to see the likes of James Spader (Lincoln, The Blacklist), Neil Gaiman (Sandman, Coraline) and  J. Michael Straczynski (Superman: Earth One, Before Watchmen). Of course, Dr. Lucy is always on the hunt for Seth Green and one can hope one bumps into Johnny Depp, Tim Burton, George Lucas or Adrianne Curry in one of the aisles. (Bring the smelling salts, Dr. Lucy!)

Of course, it wouldn't be a comic book convention if I wasn't interviewing somebody fabulous for your reading pleasure! (WonderCon offered Leah Cevoli (Deadwood, Robot Chicken) and Katrina Hill (Action Movie Freak). Dr. Lucy and I will be squeezing our fine, cosplayed cabooses into the SyFy Press Room once again: this time, a table chat with the cast of SyFy's Warehouse 13. Interview and candid pics, à la last year's Being Human interview, will post after the Con concludes.

In past years, I've been ... I mean, my pally Jennifer Susannah Devore  has been fortunate enough have her articles selected for the official Souvenir Book: 60th anniversary of Peanuts (which earned her a citation in TIME magazine) and the 100th anniversary of Tarzan (which garnered her an invitation to meet Dr. Jane Goodall). One never knows what good fortune and opportunity this year's submission, if accepted, will bring her. Cross your fingers, kids!

The themes for this year's Souvenir Book are many and varied: amongst others, the 75th anniversary of Superman, 50th anniversaries of Marvel Superheroes and Doctor Who and 25th anniversaries of The Tick and The Sandman. Miss Jenny's selection? The 20th anniversary of Bongo Comics. Known as Bongo Entertainment since 2012, it is the comics publishing empire founded by The Simpsons-creator Matt Groening with three BFFs in 1993: Steve Vance (DC Comics, Disney Adventures Comics), Cindy Vance (Disney Adventures Comics) and Bill Morrison (Roswell: Little Green Man). Navigating twenty years of analog-to-digital waters is no easy task; yet, Bongo has flourished, combining classic comic core and the moving target that is modern zeitgeist.

The frosting on the Comic-Con cupcake? Getting to dress up months before Hallowe'en! Last year's costume was Steampunk, WonderCon was Abby Sciuto and this year's con will be Scooby-Doo's Daphne Blake. I thought about Velma. Surely, the scholarly, brunette geek girl does seem to suit me better. Still, Velma's sweater is ugly and unflattering and, quite frankly, she's too good of a ghost hunter. I can't abide that, really. Danger-prone Daphne, though?!  She's hot, she's nice, she's wealthy, what's not to like? Plus, I've always wanted orange hair for a day and what girl doesn't love hot pink tights, lime-green accessories and a purple micromini? Jeepers!

Abyssinia at the Con, kids!

 

Hannah’s fave places to haunt online? JennyPop.net and amazon.com/author/jenniferdevore

Follow @JennyPopNet @Eslilay and @GoodToBeAGeek for SDCC floor updates!