Tag Archives: atlanta

A Burning Shrek Of Fire

A Burning Shrek Of Fire

BOBBIN

Jason, I would love to start this essay, but I cannot concentrate per the bagpipes blaring outside my home office. The second Wednesday of every month, a coterie of elderly men convenes across the street at the Atlanta Burns Cottage, a historic clubhouse replicating Robert Burns’ Scottish childhood abode. Built in 1911, the cottage houses monthly Burns Club meetings, where members celebrate the life and work of this 18th century poet. Chauvinistically per tradition, though, the club only accepts male Burns enthusiasts.

The Second Annual Vouched Birthday: Like Losing Your Hand To Your Father On Cloud City, But With Cake

The Second Annual Vouched Birthday: Like Losing Your Hand To Your Father On Cloud City, But With Cake

In which Scene Missing Contributor Johnny Carroll interviews Laura Relyea of Vouched Books about The Second Annual Vouched Birthday.

It’s pretty well known that sequels are usually worse than their original film, but there are a few exceptions to the rule. The Empire Strikes Back, Aliens and Terminator 2 top my list of films that Hollywood felt like needed a franchise, but like Johnny Depp in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies we too like beating a dead horse with new renditions of the same idea.

inFAMOUS – Second Son: Usually I Wish For Naked Women, Not On Them

inFAMOUS – Second Son: Usually I Wish For Naked Women, Not On Them

Looks like the hero in inFAMOUS: Second Son is a graffiti artist in addition to having superpowers. I never got into graffiti, but one of my friends used to tag “JungleKid” all over Atlanta back in 2000.

This Is The End: Meanwhile, The George R. R. Martin Of Strippers Is Completely Unprepared For Armageddon

This Is The End: Meanwhile, The George R. R. Martin Of Strippers Is Completely Unprepared For Armageddon

Last weekend, my friend from New York came down to visit Atlanta, and she was all about shooting guns. “I don’t care what else we do, but we have to shoot guns. In a field. Outside. I want to do something I can’t do in New York.” When I said maybe we could go to a museum in addition to shooting guns, she said, “New York has a museum on every corner. Fuck museums!”

Imperial Trouble Episode 95: A Cape Fantastic

Imperial Trouble Episode 95: A Cape Fantastic

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In this week’s episode, Bunny tells a Dave Coulier story, and Izzy, the official mascot of the Atlanta 1996 Summer Olympics, is revealed to be bullshit. Other topics include Betty Boop’s enormous head.

Guest hosts: Nicholas Tecosky, Myke Johns, and Bunny McIntosh.

Imperial Trouble Episode 48: Batman: Year One and Jason von Hinezmeyer of The Ghastly Dreadfuls

Imperial Trouble Episode 48: Batman: Year One and Jason von Hinezmeyer of The Ghastly Dreadfuls

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Sam and Jason review Batman: Year One in a car and discover an exception to Rule 34. Other topics include an interview with Jason von Hinezmeyer, resident puppet builder at The Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta, and a recap of his adult Halloween puppet show The Ghastly Dreadfuls.

Hooray for DragonCity
dragoncity

Hooray for DragonCity

My friends and I always joke about how we wish we lived in a city where DragonCon never ended. DragonCity, we call it. A city full of Stormtroopers and goths in steampunk goggles, the kind of place where you might see a slutty Batman. A city where you can walk with beer in hand among costumed men and women dressed in lightsabers, capes, tall boots and anime cat girl ears, driven by an overwhelming need to show the underside of their asses.

I guess you’d have to sentence people to live in DragonCity like some kind of prison island. Unlike my friends and I, most people don’t want to live in a world where you can throw a rock and hit esteemed science fiction actor Scott Bakula and then throw another rock and hit a sweaty degenerate in a Dragon Ball Z shirt with a messenger bag full of hentai porn. Also, where did you get those rocks? Are they collectible Spidey rocks signed by Stan Lee?

This year at DragonCon, I ended up at a cosplay porn website’s promotional party. There was a stripper pole for stripping on and everything. Or so I thought. As it would happen these ladies were not only not wearing costumes, but they had also decided to not not wear clothes. One girl was pole dancing in a long sundress. A wizard stood alone in the corner watching, presumably summoning a Patronus under his robe. Another girl was dancing in her underwear and a gentleman nerd put a dollar in her waistband. Well, there you have it. One dollar! My goodness, everyone should dance provocatively for science fiction and fantasy convention attendees because it’s a veritable gold mine. Hey there grizzled old prospector, put away the oversized skillet that you apparently use to pan for gold with and get yourself some fishnet stockings because booty dancing at a hotel party for a bunch of guys in Gandalf outfits and Ghostbusters t-shirts is like finding an oil well next to a chest of pirate treasure buried under a millionaire’s will encrusted with diamonds.

The cosplay website’s party got shut down by a hotel manager and a cop. So did another DragonCon party I went to, because there were reports that someone was throwing a bedsheet over the balcony. Who was throwing bedsheets from the 39th floor? Maybe a ghost lost his balance.

I got hooked on the four dollar hamburgers at the Marriott. I ate them for all my meals. I found them to be delicious and cheap. The hamburger guy recognized me eventually and gave me a free hamburger. I considered saving it for later but then the idea of walking around DragonCon with a cheap hamburger in my bag made me feel a bit queasy. There’s a lot of heat and walking and jostling going on in that bag. A stale DragonCon burger is not your steadfast companion, it’s a furtive glance at Wonder Woman’s cleavage- enjoy the thrill and move on.

I got good and drunk from scotch in a flask and hotel party beer and beer from restaurants at the convention, which to look over the receipt would have you believe you had purchased a bottle full of TARDIS keys and not a Corona Light. At one party a bunch of steampunk guys and dudes in Mexican wrestler masks were yelling Wu-Tang Clan lyrics. Later that night, I saw a girl entirely topless in the lobby except for her taped nipples. Hooray for DragonCity, how do I run for mayor? I also saw a burlesque show that included a transvestite dancer. He had tape over his nipples, too. I think he made the right choice. Had he not covered his nipples it’d be a vote of no confidence, in my opinion. I guess you aren’t a lady until taped nipples makes you a lady.

Toward the end of it, I was drunk and people-watching, walking around with my friends at 2:30 in the morning. A bunch of drunk guys were yelling, “Who wants to take a picture of this shit?!” I said, “I’ll take a picture of that shit!” in the spirit of good will and dragon themed conventions. Later, when I was editing my photos, I saw that one of them had managed to get his ball sack out from under his tights in an attempt to get his testicles in the picture. He wore an expression of calm self assurance. “Hang on,” his expression seemed to say, “I need to get this last part of my costume ready.”