How the Grynch Stole Fandom

Originally published January 19, 2001, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1418

How the Grynch Stole Fandom

By Doctor Spoofs

 

All the fans who were fannish liked Fandom a lot,

But the Grynch who lived up in Dotcom

Did not.

From his cyberspace Web, the old Grynch sat and schemed.

“I cannot withstand all these fanboys!” he screamed.

“I tried to ignore them, to just look away

But they kept on coming, and finally one day

No matter which way I looked, there they all were

Like a bunch of cockroaches let out of a jar.”

 

Now, fandom had not been a bother at first.

First Fandom was small and quite far from the worst.

The Grynch watched it grow, disbelief in suspension

When he saw them hold the First Fandom convention.

It wasn’t so bad when it centered on books.

“These fans are all dweebs, nerds, and bumblers, and shnooks.

But they’re harmless enough,” said the growly old Grynch.

“Can I tolerate them? Why, sure. It’s a cinch.”

 

But then fandom grew: more conventions and zines!

Printed on ancient Gestetner machines.

It seemed that, no matter which way the Grynch turned,

The fans multiplied, “Like rabbits, I’ve learned,

They chatter, they argue, they flake and they filk.

How much of my patience will SF fans milk?”

 

And fandom spread more; now just books weren’t enough!

No, no, they were fannish for all kinds of stuff!

And through the next years, he saw fans of all stripe

Displaying fan love for weird shows of all type.

They wrote about Xena, The Prisoner, and Blake

They swooned for Dark Shadows, UFO, for God’s sake!

They raved about Kolchak and followed X-Files,

They all adored Buffy. (They even liked Giles!)

 

When cyberspace opened, that’s where the Grynch hid.

You’d think he’d have known (and he wished that he did)

The cyberspace vacuum was filled in short order

With fannish-run websites from border to border.

No longer were paper or printers required;

The fans could now do what their hearts most desired.

 

They filled up the ’net with more fandomesque tripe.

“I can practically see them all gleefully type!

Oh, joy. There’s another Hulk episode guide!

Where can a Grynch go to? Where can a Grynch hide

To escape all the endless and Byzantine clamor

That’s pounding my head with the force of a hammer?

If I had forseen it, I might have prevented

Al Gore from having the damned thing invented.

It’s something I should have done long before now.

I must stop fandom from spreading…

But how?”

 

The Grynch had once tried it, a while it had been.

He’d contacted Paramount and said, “It’s a sin.

’Cause Star Trek, you know, is owned just by you.

All these Trekzines are out there! I think you should sue!”

And Paramount did so, as quick as a bunny.

They shut down the fanzines, lest they make fans money.

The fans were all flummoxed but could not resist

When they received letters with, “Cease and desist.”

 

But in the end, fanzines, they kept coming out.

This irked the Grynch greatly; it made the Grynch pout.

He had to stop fandom right down at its core.

If he did it right, there’d be fandom no more…

 

And then… he had an idea.

 

The Grynch had a horrible, wondrous idea.

“I’ll beat them by playing their own fannish game

I’ll start up a website… and steal their name!

There won’t be a fandom, if I own it all

Their websites will crumble; momentum will stall;

From this moment on, I will see fandom’s fall!

 

And the Grynch straight away fashioned “Fandom Dot Com.”

“By fans and for fans,” said the Grynch with aplomb.

The fans, they just loved it, they flocked by the ton.

And they told all their friends, and they came on the run.

Created new websites and posted the things,

On Star Wars, Godzilla, and Lord of the Rings.

The theory, you see, was by acting as one

The fans would not ever be put on the run

By studio lawyers with frozen-fish faces,

Subpoenas and letters and leather briefcases.

They’d have fandom fun, Oh, yes, come one and all,

They answered the summons, they heeded the call.

And the Grynch? He just sat there and, when all seemed calm,

Why, that’s when the Grynch dropped his Fandom Dot Bomb.

 

It started when one fan decided that she

Would make a domain she called “Fandom.TV.”

The Grynch called his lawyer, and out went a letter,

And it warned the fangirl that she’d really better

“Surrender and transfer” the name—yes, she oughtta.

If not, she’d be labeled as a cybersquatter,

And hit with huge fines. Sure, it didn’t seem fair.

But the Grynch said, “I own it! And you don’t. So there.”

She begged and she pleaded. She said, “Why so rough?

You cannot own fandom!” But the Grynch, he said, “Tough.

 

“It’s mine now, I own it; yes, Fandom is mine,

And though you may howl and boycott and whine,

I still will control it, and I’ll keep it small,

And, eventually, I’ll get rid of it all.

The Doctor Who fans down in Whoville? They’re gone.

I’ll vacuum out all Space: Above and Beyond.

American Gothic and Hercules too

I’ll even crush kidsites for Winnie-the-Pooh.

Yes, now I own fandom! I’ll trademark it soon!

And I’ll send all fans from the Earth to the Moon!

So c’mon, you fan geeks! Whattayou think of that?”

And he sat there, and he sat and he sat and he sat.

And who should show up…

But the Cad in the Hat?

 

“You silly old Grynch,” said the infamous Cad,

“You may think you got them; you think they’ve been had.

But I have some news here to tell you, dear lad.

Fandom, you see, can’t be trademarked, my son

For fandom, you see, why—it’s for everyone!

Your lawyers are zealous. Why, I’ll give you that

And for that I will give you a tip of my hat.

But this will not stick; no, you simply can’t win.

So knock off that sneer and dispense with that grin.

Fandom, dear Grynch, why—it’s been here for years

And will be when we’ve left this vale of tears.

You think you can stop it; I fear you are wrong,

And so, my dear Grynch: Can’t we all get along?”

 

And it’s said the Grynch heart grew five sizes that day,

But it was said wrong, I am sorry to say.

“No deals!” said the Grynch, with a satisfied cough,

“A shame,” said the Cad. And he sent for the SMOF.

And the SMOF worked him over; oh, they did a job,

There’s nothing like SMOF when you want a good mob.

And when they were done, the Grynch still wouldn’t sway

And that’s when they brought in the old SCA.

And they got medieval as only they can.

And that terminated the Grynch’s swell plan.

 

So fandom was saved and we can go home,

Because, my dear friends, that’s the end of this poem.

 

—Peter David, January 2001