Where Fandom is Still a Way of Life! SKYLINER #1 • January, 2018 This is a tongue-in-cheek zine (or any other place you want to put it), for those who routinely dunk one or more appendages into the realm of creative fannishness; or at least appreciate such things. Then they take a gander at that well dunked appendage and say, “Christ, I’m gettin’ old; I’d better do something before I kick the bucket, and leave merely a room of idolatry to the works of other people.” Always looking for excellent examples of fannish creativity but we’re not holding our breath, fanboy!
Contents Fandom by Day .............................. 3 Comic Fest ................................ 4 Twilight Zone Mini-Golf Fandom After Dark ......................... 8 Lubov at the Bash ..................... 12 Millennium Fandom Bar ............. 14 Cooperville Christmas ............... 16 Tim’s Well Shivered Timbers ....... 18 Rick and Kara’s Warm House ...... 19 Great American Comic Con ........ 22
PC doesn’t live here. If you need a warning, this is it. If you can’t take a joke go no further.
What's That Smell? ....................... 24 Pot Cons
Alan White Space Cowboy
Pin Board ..................................... 35 Crankitorial .................................. 36 Daydreams and Dementia
A product from Pixel Motel. All Pics, Words, and Arty Bits by me.
IIIIIII IIIIII
IIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIII
IIIIIII IIIIII
Each year I look forward to a one-day event sponsored by a Clark County Library. Open free to the public, the event features mostly local vendors, publishers, cosplay cuties, and hot patooties. Besides art presentations, there was live music by Kirby Krackle, meet-and-greets with guests such as J.H. Williams III (Promethea, Batwoman), Scott Koblish (Deadpool, X-Men, Mairghread Scott (Marvel’s Guardians of The Galaxy), and Jen Vaughn (Avery Fatbottom: Renaissance Fair Detective). Of particular interest was the ever-animated James Robinson; British writer of comic, and screenplay. Best known for work on DC Comics’ Starman, earning an Eisner for Best Serialized Story, and the 2003 movie version of "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen". Robinson’s work includes The Golden Age, Legends of the Dark Knight, JSA, Hawkman, and his own Leave it to Chance, for which he won a pair of Eisners in 1997, for Best New Series and Best Title for Younger Readers. Other guests included: Spencer Brinkerhoff III, Marisa Louise, Jay Edidin, Ulises Fariñas, Erick Freitas, Ibrahim Moustafa, Scott Koblish, Jean Marie Munson, PJ Perez, Greg Preston, Lauren Sankovitch, Ben Saunders, Mairghread Scott, Dylan Todd, Jen Vaughn, JH Williams. The day ended with a one-man performance by Charles Ross "The One-Man Dark Night" Batman parody who amazed everyone last year with his One Man Star Wars performance. Comic Fest Website / YouTube video
James Robinson
Submited for your approval: Like most people, when I think of that revered, groundbreaking television show of a half century ago, naturally I think of Golf. So what better way to celebrate Rod Serling’s birthday (December 25), than taking in a round of same at the new Twilight Zone Monster Mini-Golf attraction at Ballys. I rounded up the usual suspects; none of the unusual suspects wanted anything to do with us, so screw’em. Brenda, Gene, DeDee, and I hit the highway, traveling through the same old dimension of road rage and strip clubs; next stop: The Twilight Zone! You can’t miss the place. It’s on the ground floor, next door to Bodies: The Exhibition, the most entertaining Chinese group since Shen Yun played the Smith. And YES, the attraction is part of the CBS/SYFY television cabal. Now Harlan knows what those crickets were doing after all (HAH!). So where were we. . .? Oh yeh, BALLS.
Yep, that’s Brenda Dupont, Gene Kelly, me and DeDee
The foyer is appointed with an array of arcade machines, and a three lane bowling alley! Also found in the gift shop were Twilight Zone lunchboxes, “Eye of the Beholder” masks that will allow you to achieve that “normalcy” you’ve always desired; action figures, and other knickknacks relative to the Zone. For those plunging beyond the fifth dimension, there is a wedding chapel where boundaries are “that of imagination”. Walls are graced with murals from the most popular episodes, and unearthly creatures roam the links with whom you may pause for a pic; we certainly did, to the chagrin of those interlopers we allowed to play through. Topping off the sensory overload, monitors are festooned about the place, and playing a variety of TZ episodes.
Not a one of us play golf, mini or otherwise, and we’ve been banned from picking up a nine-iron in 4 states. But we had a grand time knocking the balls about, devising impossible ricochets that for the most part, remained impossible. And it looked like there was an average par of “4” on them holes. Anyone going over, took a “Warp”, and settled for a 5. Disc jockey, Master of Mayhem, and Causality of Chaos spun the platters - and kept those royalty checks coming in for Joey Dee and the Starlighters. All this under a pall of ultraviolet that gave me flashbacks of ‘60s headshops. Took nearly two hours to make the rounds, Gene took top honors, and having done so, we all agreed we had a great time, and will meet you at the 19th hole somewhere in. . . . .
Night falls on the strip, the temperature hovers at 115° F, it’s bright as day, and they take to the streets. The tourists, the free spirits, the hustlers, the crazy people; sometimes its hard to tell them apart. Pesky sorts are handing out cards promising women delivered to your room hot and delicious in record time like pizzas (hold the anchovies). You can watch people all night long, the winners, the losers, a couple from the midwest stumbling blurry eyed from a casino exclaiming: “That was quick, now what do you want to do?” Sixty thousand pounds of shrimp are eaten here daily. There are the cops who have seen it all… believe me, they have, and some guy getting busted who thought they hadn’t. I like it. I like it all. But we’re not tourists. We’re the locals who appreciate tourists who give us a city with no income tax and where anything is available 24/7. DeDee was a hairdresser at the MGM for twenty years, Louis Anderson, Prince, Carrot Top, Pink, the Princess of Brunei, drunks, those who have just won millions, and those stone broke. She’s done them all. Most tourists think we live in the hotels, but there is another world beyond the strip where they never venture and would be surprised it exists. It’s a slice of America, indistinguishable from most of the country. Fans live here too; lots of them. We even have conventions you’ve probably never heard of. But if you think about it, Las Vegas is a convention; a year-round convention at that. A few of our Conventions:
OTAKON VEGAS - Anime: Annual Massive costumery, panels, workshops. GO LEVIOSA - Annual Harry Potter con.
GO
CLEXACON - Largest multi-fandom event for LGBTQ women and allies, bringing together thousands of diverse LGBTQ fans and content creators from around the world. GO STAR TREK LAS VEGAS - Annual big tent Star Trek gut blowout. Bring money. GO AMAZING LAS VEGAS COMIC CON - Getting more impressive every year. GO
Major fan enclaves: VSFA - Vegas Science Fiction Association. Blessed be the indefatigable James Willey, whose efforts have kept Vegas fandom well fed, off the streets, amazed and entertained for more years than I can count without taking off my shoes. LAS VEGRANTS - The Arnie Katz think tank dedicated to fresh trays of coldcuts, chips, beer, and avoiding the mention of science fiction or fanactivity of any kind. NIC’S FIFTH FRIDAY ON THURSDAYS - Ask Nic. SCI-FI CENTER - Nerdy hangout, ripe with gifts, movies, plays, and guest appearances. GO NERD BAR - Nerdtown hangout with free bowling, free billiards and booze. GO MILLENNIUM FANDOM BAR - Neighborhood bar for the boozy 21+ fan in you. Constant cosplay, movies, guests, special stuff. The place to see and be seen in local fandom. GO BOOK CLUBS - Yeh, we got’em. GO SNAUSAGE FEST - Ask Nic.
Mayhem is Afoot! Author Bryan Follins is one of the busiest guys in fandom, no doubt about that. And on this particular Saturday, he was making a book signing appearance at the popular indie bookstore Janco Books on behalf of the continuing tales of his crazed villainess, The Jokeress. Not only was Bryan on the spot, but under his diabolic mind control was Susan and DeDee, both of whom appeared in several performances of the stage production “The Jokeress” at the Sci-Fi Center. Today, DeDee being the ham everyone knows she is, came in costume, cutting up and posing for pictures, while Bryan handed out small comic editions to interested visitors. Janco Books is a hot spot for local authors to meet and greet their fans, and with any luck, make a few more. One of their specialties is having a free cup of coffee on the boil for visitors. When you see him, ask what the hell “Integumentary” means, or just ask Siri, but you’ll have to spell it for her.
s t a r g n o C
m a d A & n i b o R
On the Gothiest Wedding Ever! May your Bats Fly Free!
Adam and Robin
Stacy
One of the genuine jackpots we boast here in Vegas is Lubov Yegudin. Fan, Artist, Creative Genius, Bon Vivant and party animal. If you've frequented convention art shows during the modern era, played card games like Magic: The Gathering, you've seen her work. Spectacular, lavish, and speaks to your fannish spirit. A Chesley Award nominee, Lubov's work has appeared internationally in numerous publications and galleries, on multiple cards for the games Magic: The Gathering, Galactic Empires, Dungeons & Dragons and covers of various books, comics, event programs, and magazines. She is also a regular guest artist and at numerous science-fiction and fantasy conventions, around the world.
Painting photos by Lubov
Lubov trained at the Saint Petersburg Academy of Arts in Russia, where her focus was on the classical application of oils. Seeking political and cultural freedom, she claims to have emigrated from Russia to the United States, where she studied at School of the Art Institute of Chicago on a four-year scholarship.From 1993 to the present, Lubov's focus on the worlds of science fiction and fantasy led her to become a regular seminar speaker and/or guest artist at numerous conventions, including Westercon, Xanadu Las Vegas, Loscon, Demicon, LoneStarCon 2, LepreCon, Balticon, and others. On this particular evening, however, she was showing her work to a broader audience at the Bash Gallery where throngs of visitors came to oooh and ahhhh. She happily greeted everyone entering the gallery, and chatted till the wee hours, while the rest of us helped ourselves to the cheese and booze.
Check out her website HERE.
Millennium Fandom Bar Website
CLICK FOR MY MOVIE AT THE FAN BAR!
Winter is upon us. Well, not so much upon us as peering through the window and licking its lips at the sight of a pair of potential fancicles. I realize, in Montana, this is still Banana Hammock weather, but I am the first to admit, as a desert dweller, I do poorly when the mercury plunges below a shuddering 70°. But here we are, and must make the best of it. Mukluks and all. Years come and go, but having a great time at the sumptuous and very fannish abode of James Willey and Mindy is a given to which everyone looks forward, despite how intently they are glued to the latest binge-worthy TV show with whom the rest of the world wouldn’t be caught dead in the same room. So DeDee and I, dressed as if late for a game of Quintet, arrive as the kitchen is humming, and stomachs are growling. Luscious viands, sweety bits, and a fabulous ham are spread upon the kitchen table in a scene worthy of Norman Rockwell himself. Can’t wait to sink our fangs into all of that! But first comes the general hobnobbery, and howdydoodery as prescribed by civilized society, rather than a grisly scene from a season finale of “The Walking Dead.” I had to check if they had Santa strung-up and disemboweled in the bathroom. If the Halloween party was any indication, it seemed like a good idea. Of course, the same damn bunch of us had all met behind these very walls barely two months prior for Halloween. But carry on as though we haven’t seen each other for years. There is something cozy about dispatching those horrifying costumes, with bloodsoaked accouterment, in favor of the subtle nuance of candlelight. And there’s pine scented everything, cuddly sweater garb begrudgingly wrenched from the bowels of closets, and under beds for its brief appearance in a Vegas winter, seen as seldom as ice-tongs on the Sahara. But you know what they say… if you can’t stand the plaid, get out of the kitchen.
Besides all the treacle and trivials, media entertainment for the evening was the BBC production of Peter Pan Goes Wrong by the hallowed Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society. A production worthy of traditional hilarity to be sure, and being shown on the Mighty Willeytron is a bonus. Keeping the entertainment flowing, there followed one of those White Elephant gift exchanges things of which I absolutely loathe. I guess I only understand the outermost mechanics of such things for no matter what I bring, I always wind up with the most worthless piece of crap imaginable. Last year, when the dust had settled, I had wound up with a singular, and very used gym sock with a large hole in it. This year I began with a really cool electronic gadget I couldn’t wait to get home and try out, but wound up with a coffee mug with a crack in it, and a price tag on the bottom. I ended up giving it to some kid looking for things to throw at police cars come New Years Eve. I overheard some kids chatting, and one asked the other: “What do you want to be when you grow up?â€? To which she replied, “I want to be someone who helps old people put on their makeup.â€? Well, I can’t say there wouldn’t be a market for that, and we will probably never run out of old people, so I say “Go for it.â€? From the great room, and satellite outposts around the premises there began playing the computer game Artemis Spaceship Bridge Simulator. Now I don’t have the patience for games of any stripe, and besides, games like this just remind me how stupid I am, so I avoid them like the plague. But in this case, trying to get the game fired up and bases operational there arose much clatter, hand wringing, and vocal debate on how to make the fucking thing work. Seeing all these PhDs with their legs in the air just stoked my schadenfreude, mainly while a most frustrated, someone yelled: “I don’t know, just push everything!â€? I can see, an amount of “Gangs all here," appeal. But hell, when I watch the game being played on YouTube, despite the set and costumes, the players hardly look as if they're having a rousing time. They wear the same expressions as if feeding their cats, and when slain the villains, they all have that, “Well, what do you want to do nowâ€? look. Unless this game comes with a lot of beer, it should be called “Space Malaise!.â€? As Molly Bloom said, “The Win has to be real.â€? But in the end, everyone had a great time; everyone got their belly stuffed, and went home with somebody’s idea of a white elephant. So to the fans gathered ‘round, I say: “A Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!â€? See you next year. đ&#x;Œ˛
Timothy Gylstorff’s
Pirate Fest!
It’s a moving experience. Rick and Kara Shipley, long time Vegas residents, intense fan-folk, and entrepreneurs in the burgeoning Vegas movie industry don’t mess around; when they throw a party, they mean business. Picking up and hauling your groovy stuff from one location to another is no picnic, even if its just a few miles away. But once you’re done with living out of boxes, you’ve found your toothbrush, set up the Smart TV, your comfy chair and all your cool fanboy stuff it’s time to celebrate!
Hold your HabeĂąeros It’s time to rock the house, and what better way to take the chill off the digs than with an Intergalactic Chili Cook-Off! It was barely dusk when we arrived, Dr. Harpo and the Band was already cranked up, the joint was hoppin’, and booze was flowing. Half a dozen crock-pots with a variety of tastes and temps had already been offered to the crowd, much to everyone’s delight. The house had filled with hungry guests chatting over the latest horror flicks, camera equipment, and Rick gave me a lesson in setting up a smart TV, which was apparently smarter than me. So everyone was shaking their various groove thangs to the band or chatting merrily on the sidelines; all was well. A trophy was handed out for best Chile by public consensus. Some went back for seconds or thirds to find the kitchen had at last been scavenged to the last morsel. Everyone’s looped, stuffed, and nothing says “let’s beat the crap out of somethingâ€? than a piĂąata! So those needing to burn off a few calories took the bat, the blindfold, and a few swings at the damn thing, with a low incursion rate, but time was imperative, as it was filled with dozens of whiskey shooters. Finally, in a fit of rage, Rick went apeshit on the thing, sending its contents flying in all directions like 80 Proof fireworks! Satisfaction was the name of the game, and nothing is groovier than a Vegas evening under a big-ass moon with a live band in the background and the hum of happy chappies. We were satisfied with a great party, and walking back to the car always feels as if you have left a part of yourself behind.đ&#x;?ş
Dr. Harpo and The Band rock the house!
Chili, Hot and Ready
Rick goes all Ahab on the Piñata
DeDee finds Messy Nessie’s mystery brownies!
WHY SKYLINER? No, not named after that cool passenger plane or Ford Fairlane from the 50s, nor that really cool Japanese train, nor British blimp from the right now, but “Skyliner” from the Charlie Barnet Orchestra in 1944. I first heard this back in the 60s, and it’s been banging about my noggin ever since. Maybe it’s just me, but I take it as an adventure theme for the swing era!
So why the zine? I’m ever cleaning out computer files, old art files; some of which was been printed a long time ago, other stuff probably never - can’t remember. I thought I’d grab a pile of stuff from sometime last year till January, this; and whatever else turns up, a last hurrah before it gets dealt with harshly, I assure you. Perhaps there will be something for you to enjoy, and if not, it’s still worth every penny you paid for it.
A thing I enjoy about a lifetime of conventions is running into old friends after many years. I seldom attend cons as they are too expensive, a big-ass hassle, and hotel rooms have gone crazy. But hell, if it’s down the street from the White House, and charges a nominal fee, then why not? There used to be an old saw that “Sci-Fi fans eat they’re dead”. Now they barely notice they’re missing. Except oddly, at Comic Events. Going on the time honored premise a picture is worth a thousand words, here’s a novel’s worth of familiar faces.
John Romita, Jr.
Tim Vigil
Billy Tucci
Brian Pulido
Neal Adams
Punish-Pals
A Real Dynamic Duo
Sean Hoade
Marvel Comics Original: 92 year old Allan Bellman and Roz. First effort: Marvel Comics #1 (1939)
DEATH VALLEY An hour outside Vegas on a hot rock in the middle of nowhere sits the Moapa/Paiute Travel Plaza: a no tax boozery, fireworks emporium, and visitor jumping off place into the Valley of Fire. This is where they hold offbeat concerts, Furthur Future, the giant Indian Pow Wow, the annual RISE Lantern Fest, and now the High Times Cannabis Cup Festival. It’s an outdoor fete for those who enjoy the herb, two days of dealers, tents, music, mayhem, seminars, demonstrations, and esoteric entertainments hosted by High Times magazine. There are plenty of costumes, or lack thereof as well. The event drew quite a crowd. Hundreds of happy-highhopefuls wandering the dealer isles or sleeping in the shade of the few trees scattered about. DeDee won a $200 Magic Butter Machine at the Cannabis Cook-Off, so she was jolly as a clam; a well buttered clam. So we too wandered about, taking it all in. Gift ideas were plentiful, so we bought a few gadgets for appreciative friends. As evening was heading this way, the desert wind was picking up. Picking up to such an extent some of the tents were beginning to topple, hats took to the air, and dust clouds began rolling in. The funny part is, the Steampunks finally had a use for those damn goggles out here. None of that fashion statement on my hat business. We hit the trail, and a good thing we did. We heard tales the wind pretty much devastated the place which remained closed the following day.
Steampunk Cannabis Processor
One of the problems throwing a convention in Las Vegas is a reluctance to tell anyone it’s happening! I’ve found several big-ticket cons over the years that from oversight, or hubris, they neglect to inform the locals, and pay for it in lack of attendance. SCI-FI Day at the MGM is a good example. A convention, free to the public where TV and movie studios could thump the tub for their latest shows. If DeDee hadn’t been dressing hair at the Casino, I’d never have heard about it. I walked among the booths like a ghost; post-apocalypse. The Las Vegas ComicCon at the Sands printed a single flyer found behind the counter of a comic shop, and displayed upon request. The hall was packed with dealers and guests - pissed you could shoot a cannon down the hall without hitting anyone with a buck to spend. Same at the Mandalay Bay. Huge comic convention. Only the dealers, bored to death walked the aisles, steaming. Fangoria magazine hosted the “Trilogy of Terror” convention at the Palms. Perhaps they thought just mentioning it in the magazine would be enough. Not so; and having a FaceBook page doesn’t cut it. I participated in three separate cons whom the con runners believed the public would discover by osmosis. Bad idea. Here we have ChromicCon. Get it? Chronic and Comic? I looked forward to this local event! I found it entirely by accident. Billing itself as the first convention boasting the infusion of Comics and Pot! Of course, that assumption is completely wrong, as pot and conventions have been available before I was ever on the scene. I had my first joint at WorldCon in 1968-Berkley, and lit up with the entire con-committee of the San Diego Comic Con #1 in 1970! Sci-fi is my gateway drug. So I had hopes of ChromicCon at the Alexis Hotel being a flashback to the old days, but it was not to be. I had the feeling if there a con committee, they must have bailed at some point as literally, every planned event was a bust, and attendance had to be in the low double digits. DeDee, Brenda, and I eager, to be sure. Chatted here and there, bought a few goodies. The Pot and Pool Party consisted of the three of us. By then it was dinner. After that, we milled around some more, and come evening there were some luke-warm standup comics, and a band, The Dirty Reggae Punx that was fun to watch, and that was that. Was hoping for a room party but that would have been too much to ask. While spirits were high, there was unrealized potential for some fun here - maybe next time. < Printed some buttons, handed them out liberally, and still have lots.
Felix Silla
DeDee and Brenda Plugging the Pub.
Happy New Year! The Las Vegrants have had a few sad farewells this year, but things are looking up and the future just might be full of potential and excitement. If not, then there you are. In the meantime, letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s greet the New Year with a bottle of Champagne and a funny hat. Hereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s to a great 2018!
Cathy
Ross Chamberlain
Brenda Dupont
& Arni e Katz
Standing: Arnie Katz, Cathy, DeDee, Sammy Getner, Don Miller On the couch: James & Teresa Taylor, Cindy, JoHn Wesley Hardin, Jacq Monahan, Brenda Dupont
Well Nic, at the age of 60, are you happier to share a birthday with W.C. Fields, Tom Selleck, or Oprah Winfrey? Oh, wait, the shirt answers that question. You’re right in between. Far be it for me to suggest you’re getting on in years, but when was the last time you considered using the word “Relax” in the title of your birthday party? But that brings us to 2018, where we gather to watch, if ever so closely, that hint of grey hair creeping into your otherwise robust locks. You get points for assembling a grand gaggle of comrades - some from the other side of the damn planet. Not bad. For my last birthday, the only visitor I had was a mangy cat who climbed over the wall to pee on my honeysuckle. So kudos to you, moderately middle-aged sir. I have to concede, you look great for your age, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t want to trade livers.
So here we are, on a Saturday night, wondering who the hell are all these old people. Yeh, fire up that card game. For those who may have difficulty remembering what occurred, this fateful Saturday night, I will endeavor to tell the tale, but truth be told, I’m not the one to be trusted remembering anything. I think I’m lucky if by the end of day, I still have on my pants. Some things may not be exactly as you recall. DeDee, Brenda, and I arrived at Boulder Station near dusk. Yeh, this was the casino where that guy just hit the $10 mill Megabucks slot. Damn! We stumble into Don Pitchford who directs us to the Guadalajara Restaurant where we perch outside waiting for the birthday boy to arrive. Already we spy several locals blowing their flan money on nearby machines, but we hoped for the best. By dribs and drabs, the fan clan arrived, and we get the high-sign to proceed. Welcoming Committee: Brenda Dupont, Donald Pitchford, DeDee, Nic and Jennifer.
Front: Chris Clay, Lorraine Forbes, Don Miller, Ken Forman, Ben Wilson. Back: Lucy Huntzinger, Ulrika O’Brien, Aileen Forman, The Man, & James Taylor
Kara and Rick Shipley, Dedee, Roy Hessinger, Don Pitchford, Jesse X, & Cathi Wilson
Two dozen for dinner please, and on they came, chewing and chatting for several hours. Food was reasonable and filling. Then onward, and upward, like overstuffed penguins heading for the nest… to rest… digest, and make what they will of a RelaxaCon. The suite, numbering 1607 was roomy enough, that no one actually had to touch one another, and well appointed enough that no matter where you were, you were near the booze. Immediately upon entering the room, social groups were dividing into a) A rousing game of “Cards Against Humanity," b) Finding a comfy chair and hitting it before anyone else did, and c) Longing gazes out the window (i.e.smoking). Those circumspect enough to bring their herb in a vape stick fired up anywhere they wanted without reproach.
JoHn, Aileen, DeDee, Ken & Chris
We brought a case of cheap-ass champagne, a bag of Vodka shooters, chips, a Hershey chocolate cakey thing, and a Bottle of The Beamer, Devil’s Cut for the birthday boy to suckle as the devil demands. All that should be just enough to dictate a fine relaxation, but let me drive home in less than ten hours. Now you may be compelled to ask, did anyone actually relax? Tough call here, while I can't immediately recall if relaxation was actually taking place, I can honestly say, nobody currently residing on the floor had gotten there face first. If anyone had considered relaxing, they would have been sorely disappointed at
DeDee and Brenda chug shooters while Lucy looks on.
Ken Vaden & Don Miller chat it up with Jennifer
DeDee says “The Sky’s the Limit”
Jacq however, corners DUFF & TAFF winners Martin Tudor, Lucy Huntzinger, and Ulrika O’Brien with graphic evidence it’s straight down from here!
Jacq, DeDee, Brenda, Jennifer, Kara, Lucy, and Ulrika.
Ulrika O’Brien
one point when the fire alarms and sirens suddenly went off, and blaring voices spoke to us from inside the very walls. I was reminded of the scene from 1984, “Clasp your hands behind your head, stand back to back, do not touch one another.” This is when you find who your friends are. Who climbs over you to get to the door before they even see flames crawling up the sides of the building or smoke pouring from the elevator shaft? But those who were truly relaxed figured, we’re on the top floor, and since neither of us had ridden in a helicopter before, nor could we be persuaded to walk down sixteen flights of stairs… we’ll stay here and protect the booze. Much to our relief, by and by, the sounds diminished, and the Thought Police failed to appear. We were safe for now, but Blue Thunder would have to wait. Things returned to a state of enforced relaxation. Because fans are slaves to tradition, several years ago we of the Westside Insurgents, began a tradition of Tub Stuffing at events such as this. And thus, those of free spirit, joined in, on and about the hotel tub for a rousing “gang’s all here” moment that shall live in infamy! By and by, the crowd, much like my hair, began to thin. Who would think fifteen minutes of an earsplitting siren would put a damper on things. But soon, if not late, (or is it early?) the number of relaxers were that of one hand, plus two fingers of someone else's, and finally, everyone had a comfy spot to sit. We had finished what remained of the champagne, and assorted bottles of this and that, and all of that cakey thing. I suppose, mentioning the Nic Farey Roast should be a thing; but to be honest, the least said about that the better. It was either really late, or really early, who knew? Brenda, DeDee and I had regained our feet, and decided to head for the car, and a short ride home. Tomorrow the RelaxaCon Dead Dog party would continue with a dozen or so hearty souls, in search of the dog that bit them, dead or otherwise. ♣
Anthony Moore gives Nic a Vulcan Happy Birthday Celebratory Nerve Pinch.
Things we may have done…
So much in Vegas is free. This year we attend the Christmas Cantata, and DeDee gives her report for local news jockeys.
The Christmas Day Hill Climb
Jacq Monahan, Jennifer Farey, DeDee, & Brenda Dupont Fete Mary Higgins Clark Anniversary.
“Books About Vegas” seminar with Brenda
A night in Nerdtown, bowling at the Nerd Bar
That damn Eclipse: Overcast. We saw nothing more remote than palm trees.
DeDee visits the uber groovy new Smith Center.
We visit the Rodeo, pat a Clydesdale, and snag some free beers, yum.
Went to the Belly Dancing Festival.
DeDee Hits Dia De Los Muertos, and lives.
Arty Bits from 2017 â&#x20AC;¦
Booze Magic #1 • DeDee
Crankitorial. . . Damned if I thought I'd be doing another zine! Figured those days had hit the same space-time continuum as last week's tuna sandwich! Not like I don't have things to do, and far as I know, Lloyd Penney (bless your heart) is the only one who ever cracked the pixels on my stuff anyway; if previous Lettercols are any indication. To be honest, you can count the number of my zines on the fingers of, uh, maybe eight hands. So it's not like I'm on a roll or anything. But damn, I do enjoy putting them together; trying new things, and going over the top, like everything else I get my hands on. Did my first ever zine in 1960, age thirteen! It was absolute crap to be sure! I knew it then, and anyone seeing it today wouldn't dare show the common courtesy to convince me otherwise. It was reproduced with negative and positive papers in a vat of chemicals. As much a mystery to me then as now. The remaining copy (of which there were five), has been secreted away with the recipe for Coca-Cola, and direction signs to Bolinas! At the time, my biggest concern was: "I did a zine, now what?" Unfortunately, nothing; but you have to start somewhere, and I'd like to think there've been a few improvements along the way. As fortune favored, I lived down the road from John and Bjo Trimble in Long Beach, CA. but I met her at Forry's digs. It was she who introduced me to fanzines, and somehow persuaded Bruce Pelz to fill my mailbox with stacks of zines from one end of this fruited plain to the other. From Bjottings to Shangri-L'Affaires. Marvelous things they were; full of magic, innuendo, and secret handshakes; plus the peculiarities of nonstopparagraphing and quasiquotes!! After repeated visits to the Ackermansion in 1960, I was hooked on Fandom and properly planted my flag therein with as much fanfare as finding a box of Jujubes in your Christmas stocking! At the time, however, outside of Forry’s digs, I had no concept of what Fandom truly was. Kind’a like thinking AOL was the internet twenty years later. It took three years, and happenstance to buy an AB Dick at a garage sale for ten bucks. Well,… That was a calamity. Though it gave me the opportunity to make something that looked like a genuine fanzine in 1963. Truth be told, it was just another bag of rats that only served to demonstrate my complete lack of writing ability. Besides, I was too fastidious for such things and immediately pawned it off on Len and June Moffat, another couple of local BNFs found in this hotbed of fannish activity known as Long Beach. Whatever they did with it was anybody's guess, but they never talked to me again. I could see I would have to bide my time for the inception of copiers!
Things I still think about every day: Anything from Promethean Enterprises, Tom Reamy's "Trumpet", Fillmore rock posters by Rick Griffin (especially if I can't read a word of it), James Warren's "Help" magazine, vintage Sci-Fi covers, Squa Tront, and vintage Men's Magazine covers; the more salacious the better.
To my barely peeled eyes, these days were rife and ripe for fans of every whim, and realm in which things of fannish desire could be found. If you were in SoCal at the time, you might remember it differently. There was a burgeoning Comics Fandom, Westerns Fandom, Movies, and even Wrestling (God help us!), all with their own zines. These were newer fandoms too, thumbing their noses at Corflu and shading plates, who went straight for offset printing and those less expensive, new-fangled photocopiers! While offset wasn't unheard of in Fandom, once outside SF, it was the norm. Attending the first Comic-Cons in San Diego, I was dumbstruck by how advanced, and explorative printing methods had become. These were zines a nerd could leave on his coffee table and still get laid. All this time, Fandom had been rubbing two sticks together while everyone else was creating fire! In service to nostalgia can be such a drag. Come 1971 while working with Ed "Big Daddy" Roth who had already taken indie publishing to the next level with a slew of magazines between custom cars, and monster cartoons. He not only shelled out to print my next zine but did an art piece for the back cover. Odyssey was the first zine I thought I could get away with calling it a "Fanzine." There were a hundred copies unloaded at Westercon 24. Focus was done for a film club and my first to use photographs: halftoned by placing a beaded plastic sheet over the photo during copying. This distance between fan and pro pubs in comics fandom was narrow indeed and only separated by their ability to distribute the things. But in SF Fandom the chasm between fan and pro has become such, even Evel Knievel couldn’t jump it. As far as gray-haired Fandom goes, I don't see anyone pushing boundaries today. In the olde days it 'tweren't easy making these things, but now, despite the relative ease of creation and distribution, I just don't get the goshwowboyohboy I remember. You just can’t suck the blood out of nostalgia. But then, maybe it's just me. ♠
Next year I'm embarking on an extensive trip down memory lane delving into the depths of boxes of old photos before they, and anyone in them fade away.
I'm looking for photographs taken at the FIRST & SECOND LONG BEACH SCIENCE FANTASY CONVENTION • 1963/4
Spur of the Moment Nut Baggery
(Courtesy of: Insta-Crank®)
Just wondering if we are living in a “post” Fandom era. A FANNISH era to be sure, and we are utility-belt deep in fans of every stripe. At least what I can see from my fan-cave here in Vegas. But donch’a think Fandom (as old pharts know it) worked better for a smaller, SF hungry bunch; when even contacting somebody was an adventure? Books and zines were the mainstays, fans sat salivating at their mailboxes for some smattering “proof of life” from any fan, anywhere, and the occasional genre movie was frosting on the cake (and we all know fans love cake). Now all the assorted genres are every damn where, and it’s tough to escape. I remember watching genre stuff on TV just because it was there, not because I liked it. I don’t know about you, but now, oh the pleasure of blowing off another TV show (A televisionem celare) for the slightest provocation, Hah! Can’t imagine anyone have time to watch every genre show. I remember carrying an orange crate full of comics into the first San Diego Comic-Con back in 1970, smokin’ a doobie with the con-com, and GoH in my hotel room, having a great time passing out by the pool and waking to the first light of day. Now Comic-Con is a horror show and trying to get a ticket for the damn thing takes fortitude that hardly remains a whisper in my shell of a body. LosCon, and even my long-time fave: WesterCon has shown its age, and inspire me to nothing. Everyone I know is either dead, given up on it all or too broke to leave the house. I visited the WesterCon 71 website, and I swear it looks like a weekend for Senior Citizens. So I ask you this: If I find nothing of interest at a convention, is it my fault for living too long, or that of the conference for uninspired programming? Has the goshwowboyohboy been sucked outta me, or the convention? Maybe I’ve just gotten too damn creaky and jaded. Then again, admittedly I’m out of touch with what younger audience might find appealing, which is probably closer to the truth (sigh). But then, what does that say about WesterCon Programming? Wait a minute; it just hit me; it’s the fact that today has caught up with tomorrow. The same reason they removed the ”House of the Future” from Disneyland. Crap, the future is here, and I’ve found it wanting. Now, I have to turn to YouTube to have my mind blown, but at least I don’t have to put on my pants to do it (just like WesterCon 23 Ooooooh the good old days). In my favor, however, in 2016 we went to the Gaslight Gathering in San Diego; great fun on all levels. So there is something out there, at least for us. Fandom is for old folks. On some level, I envy modern Fans, for their youth, enthusiasm, and creativity. I remember my first convention back in 1965. I thought I’d fallen into a den of sloths. Slow moving, bloviating things. But at this early convention, the guests were Ray Bradbury, Frank Herbert, Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison, Fritz Leiber, and maybe a few others with whom I was not yet familiar. They were there to hob nob with those who read their books. I remember asking Bruce Pelz if this is where I buy a membership. His response was “Is True, Is True.” followed by a raft of affected gibberish. It was some kind of stickup-your-ass SMOFFERY that evidently works on the weakwilled in some fashion in a small hotel every July. It left an impression - about fandom. But I also learned the best parts of a convention, don’t necessarily come from the con itself, but the fringe fans. The ‘unaffected” ones who made the best art, costumes, and didn’t refer to you as “That Neo.” All those years of pomposity and bullshit I had to endure just to get to the George Barr, and Alicia Austin art, and maybe listen to Ray Bradbury gab about steam trains and mummies.
As an L.A. expat, I couldn’t help dropping by the LASFS website just to see if they’re still breathing. First thing I checked was the calendar and went several months into the future. I swear you can see the tumbleweeds rolling across the pages. So, I hit the “Board Minutes” link to get the latest bullshit, and found they are still boasting nobody had “anything to report” back in November of 2016, but for the classic line from Elayne Pelz: “Other than plumbing, nothing new.” I remember the plumbing being shot in the 70s. A few fans take a dump, and you’re down for the duration. The last offering under “New Links” was from April of 2012. And there was a banner reading “What are you doing Thursday Nights?” the answer is “obviously nothing." If I weren’t afraid of having another stroke, I’d still be laughing my ass off.
Zines in a Year of Living Fannishly Be honest, do you genuinely appreciate a faned writing an apology in social media for their zine being late (whatever the hell that means)? Do you really think you deserve an apology? Why would a faned believe you need one unless he thinks you’re holding you’re breath? Whatever happened to RSN? Let’s set this in stone: How late does something free have to be before you deserve an apology for not getting it? I’ll be the first to admit I never cared for that “Everything in Fandom should be free” thing, and zines should be traded for “The Usual." Maybe I had the hubris to not consider my zines “The Usual." Particularly since working six months on a hundred fifty page issue of Delineator cost me $6 each to produce, and $2 to mail. And there’s always that one-guy, mystified I wouldn’t trade for their one-sided half-sheet detailing minutes from a “Thunderbolt the Wondercolt” fan club meeting in Podunk. Yeh, give away the first issue, so we all get a taste, just like drugs. But after that, feast or fail. It seemed keeping the cosmic balance should have entailed at the very least reimbursing the faned his production and postage costs. But that was then, this is now, and everyone needs a hobby. Besides, god knows a fan’s time is worth nothing anyway, especially if you let somebody else decide its value. Back when I really thought I was doing something meaningful, at a WesternCon in 1980 I gave away 500 copies of my new 150 page, offset zine at a big ass party to generate interest, and didn’t get a single Letter of Comment. That was an abject lesson in economics. If it’s free, it has no value. God knows comic fans have always been far more productive than SF fans, and they never gave anything away! But now publishing for the web is more or less based on the time you assign to create it. Now I place the value of my life on time spent doing it, and only have to please myself. A visit to eFanzines; is like being trapped in a room filled with Christmas letters from grandma. FANDOM, thy name is Despair. ☂ (There, that ought’a do it. I hear the Underwoods clacking already.)
So Just How Out of Touch with Fandom Am I Anyway? (Delving into Fannish Self-Introspection)
I just don’t get it. OK, I’ve been away. But today Fandom looks like the kids have the keys to the car but the car is owned by the bank. I understand things change over time, I do. I’ve been a fan for fifty-seven years (holy crap). The “world moved on," as Stephen King is so want to say, and on some levels, I have no problem with that, besides, on all levels, there’s nothing I can do about it but hang on, and see where we wind up. I attend several (local) fan events, and when the cotton is high, hit something out of the area. When it comes to the Hugos, I’m totally baffled. There was a time I actually thought I had a shot at winning one. Now I hardly know what it is. So somebody, dumb it down and explain a few things to me. Best Fanzine Award: Every morning I clamor out of bed as if I were hanging onto the outside of a building. I grab a beer and grumble into the Fancave where I crank up IMDB to see who just died, File 770, to see what cat is sitting on what book, and eFanzines to see a row of zines that with little exception appear to be done by the same person. That's as far into fandom as I care to venture before 2 pm. I figure, between the three of them, I'll have my finger on the pulse of fandom as I'd like to know it, and without having to bend over. Hell, the last time there was a finger in that far, turns out I had prostate cancer. After all, File 770 has garnered as many of those illusive Hugos as Snow White has dwarves, and eFanzine has at least been nominated for a Hugo and raked in a half dozen FAAN Awards, so they must be the pulse of something. I’m having difficulties digesting the concept of websites considered fanzines. Five of the six “fanzines” up for Hugos this past year aren't even included on eFanzines, so I can’t be alone here. Here you go, links to the nominees. Late, and you don’t get an apology: Lady Business
|
Journey Planet
|
Nerds of a Feather
Rocket Stack Rank
|
Castalia House Blog
|
SF Bluestocking
To the winner, Lady Business I say “congrats." But I just don’t understand how a “Closed Membership” website is considered a fanzine. Am I just a pissy old guy railing against technology as some did when I used a computer to do a zine? The rules I have snatched from the Hugo website read: Best Fanzine: This Award is for anything that is neither professional nor semi-professional, and that does not qualify as a Fancast. The publication must also satisfy the rule of a minimum of 4 issues, at least one of which must have appeared in the year of eligibility. OK, here’s your chance to tell me I’m way off base here, but as someone who has designed, built, and maintains websites, including my own since 1990, a website doesn’t have “issues." Generally, a website has only one issue that evolves over time; maybe it has “updates." Lady Business has run for six years; I wonder what “update” got the award? Just a thought. If I get this correctly, all I have to do is add a cartoon of a cuddly dragon once a year to my otherwise languishing website, and I can consider it a fanzine? Can I call my fanzine a website?
I Googled “Difference between fanzine and website” and found myself at the Barnard College fanzine collection to read THIS. Kudos to Mike Glyer for having the heart to say “Thanks for all the fish” to the Best Fanzine Award. Best of luck as “Best Fan Writer.” Best Fan Art Award: “Alex Garner and Mansik Yang were disqualified as best fan artist “due to all published 2016 work being professional”. With that ringing in your eyeballs, here are the rules: Best Fan Artist: The final category is also for people. Again note that the work by which artists should be judged is not limited to material published in fanzines. Material for semiprozines or material on public displays (such as in convention art shows) is also eligible. Fan artists can have work published in professional publications as well. You should not consider such professionally published works when judging this award. Here you go, links to the nominees. No apologies for this either: Elizabeth Leggett
|
Vesa Lehtimäki
Spring Schoenhuth
|
Likhain (M. Sereno)
|
Steve Stiles
|
Ninni Aalto
Let’s throw Mr. Garner and Mr. Yang in here just because: Alex Garner
|
Mansik Yang
Observations: Likhain: Another website where you pay to see the good stuff. Elizabeth thanked everyone at the Arisia con for her Best of Show win with a 10% discount. Steve Stiles got his Hugo in 2016, and will probably be the last trufan artist to win one. If I get the rules correctly, the stuff you are more likely to see, you must disregard. The rules say your work can appear on professional platforms, but nothing about being paid for it, but can’t be professional. What? So how does a potential voter establish between fan and pro artists on the fly? I think Fandom is dead as Grunthos, and Hugo hopeful trufans are out of luck, so I suppose I should sit down, and shut the hell up! In 1980 I got nasty letters for using a computer to do my zines. Websites are now considered fanzines, who knew? But once you step away from Fandom into music, lit, and other pursuits, a fanzine is still a fanzine. I did this for Chicon awhile back. Certainly professionally published, and attendees had to pay to get one. I got nothing; would you know if I’m a fan or pro?
♥
Apologies to ZZ Top
Apologies to Bjork
Tiąť Nexų Time. . .