On Saturday, May 20th, 2006, I attended the Motor City Comic Con in Novi, Michigan. It was the first time I'd been to a con since 1999, which made for a very interesting weekend in my life; indeed, in the course of two days I got scolded by Kane Hodder, discussed WrestleMania III with none other than Alice Cooper, got a very strange look from Billy Dee Williams and almost got booted for heckling the guy who played Enos in The Dukes of Hazzard. I also ended up with a rather nasty sunburn, but I have no regrets. Actually, I take that back. I do have ONE regret... I regret that I didn't have a can of Colt 45 for Billy Dee to sign. Ahhh, live and learn.

This time out, I went to my first convention as a "journalist." Sure, I didn't have press passes or anything, but I had 40 bucks and a Dean's Planet hat, so I figured the world was my oyster. So, along with The Rev, I made my way across the concrete floor where all the comic book geeks had convened for their yearly circle jerk. As usual, there were hundreds of vendors to be found, hawking everything from action figures, movies, posters and, well... comic books. I don't know what else they were selling, and I really didn't give a fuck. (If it comes down to buying an original Luke Skywalker action figure or groceries, I'm picking groceries... every single time.) People decked out in full Storm Trooper regalia were all over the place, as well as several Darth Vaders and jedi knights. And not surprisingly, the Trekkies were out in full force, without a girlfriend among them. (Yes, that's an old cliche, but it also happens to be true.) I even saw a chick in Princess Leia's slave girl bikini, but her ass wasn't nearly as tight as Carrie Fisher's was back in her "I'm on coke 24 hours a day" prime. I always wonder about these people; some of them, I know, are hired by the organizers to walk around in character garb. But some of them dress up like that without somebody paying them, and that scares me. If you're one of these people, please do the world a favor and head immediately to the nearest hospital. The sooner we get you sterilized, the better.

As in the past, the convention also had plenty of classic movie and TV vehicles scattered around. I was geeked to see one of the original Bat Mobiles prominently displayed, but was even more stoked about seeing KITT. (Come on, admit it... Knight Rider kicked ass.) They also had a General Lee, but that didn't excite me much. There are approximately 14 trillion General Lees in existence today, and I'll bet that NONE of them were used in the original Dukes of Hazzard show. If anything, it was probably one of the cars from that fucking lame movie that nobody saw.

The celebs were the main draw, though, so that's were The Rev and I headed next; and let me tell you, seated near the back of the hall was one of the most eclectic group of "C" and "D" List celebrities that I've ever seen. David Faustino (aka Bud Bundy) was sitting at a table next to Jerri Manthey, former Survivor contestant and piece of ass. Good ol' Bud was looking pretty much the same these days, and seeing him made me remember how much I used to love Married... With Children  in its first few seasons. (You know, before it started to suck.) Adam West and Burt Ward had a huge line of people waiting to meet them, as did former Cat Woman and gay icon Julie Newmar. That pretty much ruled out the possibility of me going over there for an autograph; I hate long lines and besides, I heard several people bitching about how much they were charging... 

I had neglected to bring a camera along, so The Rev was doing his best to capture some of this shit on film. That proved to be easier said than done, however. The lighting in the building wasn't very good, and you're really not supposed to take pictures of the celebrities without paying. (I guess the 20 bucks you spend to get in isn't enough, never mind the 5 bucks for parking.) He did manage to sneak a few shots here and there, and got pics of Brent Spiner, Lisa Loring (the original Wednesday Addams), and former Playboy Playmate Cathy St. George, whose 1982 centerfold is a cherished childhood memory of mine. (Thanks, Papa!) I'll say this much, that woman still looks great and she has an incredible ass.

But at this point, it was getting close to "go" time. Both The Rev and I had decided that we would each meet ONE celeb (and one celeb only), as we were on extremely tight budgets, and, you know... we wanted to eat that week, too. After a lot of hemming and hawing, I made my final decision and decided to meet Tony Dow, better known as Wally Cleaver. That's right, in a room full of former Playmates and assorted hot women, I chose a cast member from Leave It To Beaver.  Maybe I'm gay or something.

Tony was getting steady business at his table, but there were never more than five or six people in line at any given time, so I waited until the coast was clear and headed over. He had a large assortment of 8x10s spread across the table, all of them taken from when he was still a child star. So, I looked over the selection, opened my mouth to speak... and made a complete asshole of myself.

"Hmmmm," I said, "I think I'll take the Fabio-type picture right here."

Not surprisingly, my remark met with a moment of stunned, puzzled silence. Tony Dow does NOT resemble Fabio, not now and not ever. I had  meant to say "Fabian," as Dow's hair in the pic had a definite "50's teen idol" look to it, but in the heat of the moment I said the wrong thing. Not out of nervousness, because I wasn't feeling that at all. I was, however, feeling the effects of the several stiff drinks I'd had just before we left. Fortunately, Tony's blonde assistant bailed me out;

"You mean 'Fabian,' I think," she says.

"Oh yeah," I said, feeling the top of my head to see if donkey ears had spontaneously sprouted. " Tony, I assure you, you don't look anything like Fabio." This was a true, albeit completely obvious, remark. And while I love to rip on Fabio (as many people do), I have been mentioning him an awful lot lately. Am I secretly fixated on the guy?? I mean, I just compared Donald Trump's hairdo to Fabio's armpit in a recent column of mine... 

Everybody relaxed and laughed at that point, but you could tell that Dow still thought I was a bit of a freak because he mumbled, "That's the first time anyone ever told me I looked like Fabian."

As Tony was signing my picture, I mentioned how he was filling in at the convention for Ken Osmond (Eddie Haskell) and Frank Bank (Lumpy Rutherford), both of whom had been scheduled to appear but had been forced to drop out. So, Dow goes into this whole long speech about how Osmond was having health problems and how Bank's wife was in the hospital. I can't really tell you exactly what he said, though, because I started to zone out almost immediately. I kept thinking, "Heh, I'm having a conversation with Wally Cleaver," which is actually pretty damn funny when you're inebriated. Mercifully, a few moments and one handshake later, the ordeal was over. Make no mistake, Tony Dow thinks I'm a moron. Even The Rev must have been a bit rattled by the whole encounter, because he never even thought to take a picture. Oh well...

Speaking of The Rev, his turn was next. He debated over his choice for a good hour and still couldn't make up his mind. (He was broke too, you see.) I know that Bud Bundy was a finalist, and that was the one I kept pushing for... but ultimately, to his credit (and heterosexuality) he chose to meet a woman. And the woman he decided on was none other than Karen Allen, star of the John Landis classic Animal House and Indiana Jones' love interest in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Like Tony Dow, Karen had been doing brisk business all day long. I mean, who doesn't love Raiders? But she also had a penchant for taking a lot of breaks, so every time we looked in the direction of her table it seemed to be empty. Finally, she came back, so we pushed past one of Jabba the Hutt's pig guards from Return of the Jedi and made our way over there. The Rev wasn't going to make an idiot out of himself like I did--nope, he strode right up to her and confidently asked, "How much does it cost to take a picture with you?" Moments later, Ms. Allen came out from behind her table to pose with him. She was a tiny, petite woman and still quite a looker, considering that Raiders was 25 years ago. As she brushed past me, she flashed me a big smile, obviously thinking that I wanted a picture, too. But I didn't say a word, because at that point I was paranoid and convinced that EVERYBODY knew I was fucked up. I do think Rev's picture with her turned out pretty decent... even though he's in it. Wouldn't you agree?

By now, funds were running low and my buzz was wearing off, so we decided to call it a day. One last interesting thing happened on our way out, however. As we were pushing through the crowd, I happened to walk right past John Saxon, who was not only in the first Nightmare On Elm Street movie, but also Enter The Dragon as well. (Bruce Lee fucking kicked ass.) "Hey, John,"  I said casually as we passed one another. "Hey, what's up there, guy?" he responded, giving me a few playful punches on my shoulder. I must say, that was pretty damn cool. Unfortunately, though, the encounter happened so fast that The Rev didn't have time to capture it on film. Bummer.  

So, as you can probably tell, I had a rather lackluster afternoon at the Comic Con. The next time I go to one of these things, I promise to have better stories and more pics. And maybe next time I'll go sober, too. Or maybe not. I just need to get some press passes, goddammit. I mean, there must be SOME people out there who think I qualify as "press..."

-JTL Special thanks to The Rev for taking the pictures (even though they didn't turn out all that great) and for giving me a ride to the convention. I was certainly in no condition to drive, but he didn't say anything. Like me, he sees no problem with being drunk at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.

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