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Had the feet been swift and the mind less-jaded either Doctor Dolittle 2 or Shrek might of had me as an audience member. Ten minutes past the start of the audibly jarring localised promotions and adverstisements, as well as seeing many patrons exit nixed a visit to the Doc. Shrek was playing in a small theatre and automatically ruled that out. So instead, an hour was eaten away at the local comic shop - aptly named, theComicShop*.
Between and around the usual banter/arguments that is the essence of the pseudo-retailer/customer relationship that seemingly exists in acid form, the upcoming convention was mentioned. The main pot belly behind the whole shebang is a backissue mail-order man who, despite not actually having anything to do, is signalling the possible Comicfest as stillborn. Surely this can only come as a distant fart on the horizon as one fellow zombie has woken up while another remains half as zoned. John Romita, Jr was supposed to have been hounded for some autographs. Even though I don't particularly like his style.
Thursday, 12 July 2001 - 07:31
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