To paraphrase the immortal Silky Johnson, what can I say about Wizard World that hasn't already been said about Afghanistan?
It's obnoxious to have to keep beating this dead horse, but another year, another floor layout designed as a joke or possible social experiment. This year the Wizard World…wizards(?)... bifurcated the show; forcing anyone with a BMI over 46 to get some much needed elevation, and allowing pretentious assholes like me the affordance to use the word 'bifurcated'.
Artist alley was setup in a first floor hall that had enough concrete pillars to qualify as an ancient wonder of the world. A forest of concrete pillars so numerous that I can only assume that they are decorative in nature.
(Photo courtesy of our good friends at The Simon Corporation. Go there and buy stuff.)
The merch area was located in a hall on the second floor of the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center & Hot Injection Molding Emporium, and was only accessible by a single, rickety ladder.
When a small child smartly Linda Blair-style vomited all over the only way up or down, the con-goers on the top floor were forced to jump to their deaths to escape, unknowingly receiving sweet, sweet relief from their Wizard World captors.
Of course it wasn't all vomit and plummeting to your death fun, there was serious work to do. I strapped on my best climbing equipment and scaled the sheer east face of Donald E. Stephens Smut Dungeon in order to find The Single Worst Thing For Sale: Wizard World 2013 Edition!
First up, how about a case of double-barreled Conjunctivitis?
The more I think about it, the more mogwai companionship doesnt seem to be in the cards for me. There's a lot about mogwai anatomy I don't understand, but that illegal, exotic pet store owners in Chinatown apparently do. If they can't get wet, how do they clean themselves? Is it like a cat? I'm not sure that Gizmo's noggin is going to be able to split the uprights if that's the case. Also, do they only know how to hum that one song? I like it, but I could definitely see myself getting pretty tired of it after a while. I'm not great on the keyboard, so maybe if you could train them by setting up a playlist while your not home or something. At the very least he could sing backup for me in the car when I blast Super Bass.
There were so many bullshit toys made between 1980-1989 (a time period I will now refer to as the '80s'), that nothing should surprise me by now. And yet every once in a while I find something that makes think to myself 'wait, were kids really into stained glass representations of their favorite characters?'
Only finding one could be considered an aberration...
But maybe stained glass cartoon art isn't your bag. Perhaps you're in the market for a toy that says 'effortless decapitation'. We have something right up your alley.
'Complete' is such a misleading term here. There's no way that dude/robot is going to have an open casket cyber-funeral. Sometimes the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Another life lesson brought to you by TSWTFS.
Now THIS is great.
I know what you're thinking, 'what's that vague food-like item on the plate behind Superman? Is it paint, or possibly a melted piece of plastic?' Wrong on both counts, Lex. It's Superman Pasteurized Process Imitation Cheese Spread accompanied by some pickle slices and a radish. Since you're eating something that's one electron away from being a steel belted radial, you gotta get your fiber in whenever you can.
Anytime you have a food stuff from the late 60s you immediately put yourself on the shortlist. When it's pasteurized process imitation cheese spread, endorsed by non other than Krypton's last son, you make the hall of fame.
Superman Pasteurized Process Imitation Cheese Spread, you are The Single Worst Thing for Sale: Wizard World 2013 Edition!