Back From San Diego

Every summer, I make an effort to go to the San Diego Comic-Con, where I must spend a great deal of money, and suffer either a little or a lot.  I've considered not going a time or two, but I've made it a tradition to head down there every July, whether I can afford it . . . or not.

This was the first time I ever went when I was broke.  So I reaaaally need to do some work now that I'm back.  But I'll try to post a couple of pictures and a few words about it when I get a chance, because this was a pretty great trip, despite the heat, ants, and crowds.

Driving into San Diego, I was surprised (and delighted) to see a huge bank of fog coming in.  For about five miles, visibility was suddenly limited, and traffic slowed down for an actual reason instead of it just being Southern California.

There were a bunch of protesters all around the Convention Center again this year.  This time they had megaphones and were mostly preaching instead of screaming hate at the passersby (like the Westboro parasites did the last few years).  Even so, I didn't really understand why they were there, and holding up scripture signs that said, "Judgement Is Coming" and "God will Utterly Destroy Those Who Reject Him" (which flies in the face of a lot of the hellfire threats you usually hear, though I've no doubt it too is in the Bible).  The megaphoners would talk about the emptiness of what we were doing there and that without Jesus, nothing else would matter, though they did it more eloquently than the Phelps clan had.  One of them--on the last day--was really young and pretty, and that made me sad for some reason.

As is tradition, Comic-Con attendees brought their own signs.  Reading, "Frank Castle Will Punish the Wicked" and "Galactus Is Nigh" and such.  Those always amuse me, simply because they're usually clever, and less hateful than they easily could be. 

There are, of course, some protests I can get behind.