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A poorly written guide to Comic Con panels

Next week is Comic Con, an annual gathering of people who can’t get an erection. I’m kidding! Kinda. It’s actually a gathering of people who can’t discuss the new Star Trek or Star Wars movies without throwing a temper tantrum that ends with them sobbing like a little girl. Again, just joking. True nerds like that haven’t been able to get into Comic Con for years. These days, the people running the convention give 90 percent of the tickets to pretty people who work at film studios.

Being quite pretty and douchebaggy myself, I managed to score a ticket. I’m looking forward to braving the crowds, standing in line for hours with people who actually think getting a seat closer to Kevin Bacon will make their view more enjoyable. I plan to buy at least $700 worth of toys and be wasted the entire time. The latter is frowned upon, but so is peeing in the back corner of the room during the Funky Winkerbean panel, and lots of people do that.

Seriously though, I’m not a douchebag. I’m actually a very honorable guy. Does anyone know if IGN will be at the convention? I want to see if that blonde host with the weird mole on her forehead will give me a handy in exchange for JJ Abrams’ phone number. I wrote it down a few years back when I was working for a casting director (or at least that’s what I plan to tell her).

Comic Con has panels for almost anything you can imagine. Gay comic fans, African American comic fans, and even a panel specifically for actresses who have played strong leading characters in comic-based movies (they were only able to find three. No, seriously). This year they even gave a panel to the band Metallica, despite the fact that they have no connection whatsoever to nerd culture, and likely spent their teenage years beating up and perhaps even sodomizing people exactly like those who attend Comic Con.

On the brighter side, there are three different panels for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles this year. One for the comics, one for the cartoon show and one showcasing all the different action figures they’ve released over the years. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go into the other room and get rid of the huge boner that typing this paragraph gave me.

There’s another panel this year strictly for Twilight Fan Fiction. I’ll be attending. I plan to sit way in the back in hopes that people won’t hear me laughing hysterically as I allow the comedy material to just float onto my paper and arrange itself into a nice little column for next time. It will be the funniest column I’ve ever written, and I’ll barely have to lift a finger.

Remember when I said before that there was a Funky Winkerbean panel? I wasn’t joking. That shiz is for real, yo. From what I hear, it’s not so much a panel as a potato sack just large enough for the artist and the one person who would attend a Funky Winkerbean panel. I plan to be that person, so I can ask him if old man Crankshaft ever fit three dongs in his mouth at once. These are the sorts of questions people pay the $175 ticket price to ask.

The only thing missing from this year’s Comic Con is a Supergirl panel. I have no idea why, but that character is just a straight up insta-boner for me. Perhaps it’s the little skirt, or the unreasonably tight blue shirt, or the idea of banging a girl while she’s flying through the sky with me holding onto her cape. All I know is if there were a room somewhere filled only with women dressed in that costume, and that room also had an endless supply of Little Debbie Snack Cakes, I might turn mentally retarded for a moment. That’s what happens when your ultimate dream comes true. Your brain can’t handle it and you poop yourself.

If you ever meet me in person, dear reader, don’t bring up the versions of Supergirl where the costume doesn’t have the skirt, or worse yet, where she’s wearing those weird 1960s lady shorts that look like something a zookeeper would wear. I will cut a man for bringing up such things. Also, don’t bring up how they killed her off in 1985 and then proceeded to make future versions of her non-relatives of Superman. That’s just nonsense. I want to bang Superman’s hot cousin, not some nobody named “Linda”. And don’t even think about bringing up Power Girl in the same conversation. That skank is so over the top slutty that there’s no point to her existence. Give me something to imagine, and create on my own using tracing paper.

I’m sorry, what were we talking about again? I blacked out for a moment. Supergirl? No, that’s chick stuff, man. I’m not into that character at all. Also, if anyone asks, I definitely don’t also have a thing for She-Ra that involves banging her atop her magic unicorn. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the store to buy more tracing paper.

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