What If....Nolan Canova Had His Dream Tampa Toy and Comic Con!

***Note*** To everybody name dropped in this blog post...I have said far worse to all of you and ya'll still love me...So take this with a grain of salt...PLEASE!

Sunday Feb. 20, 2011. A grisly afternoon of debauchery and inebriation the likes of which the city of Tampa had never before witnessed and shall likely never witness again.

The players. The Crazed Fanboys and The DOB's. Two clans of rival blog posters and 1,100 casualties caught in the crossfire.

This is my personal account of that day....

The morning started off simple enough. I awoke in the loving arms of a hung over beauty in a strange apartment in a strange part of town. As usual I quietly slung on my duds from the previous evening and slid a morning afterpill with a $20 bill next to her alarm clock on the nightstand with a note that read "thanks for the memories, babe". Then vanished forever into the ether of her imagination.

By the time I arrived home it was time to meet up with Chris Woods for a trip over to the Tampa Toy and Comic Con held at the now infamous Double Tree Hotel. If only we had known in advance the anarchy that awaited us.

Upon arrival we were immediatly greeted by a couple of suspicious charectors. Jason "The Shark" (who wears a T-shirt with a Jaws poster on the front as a deterent to any enemies who may try to get wise with him) and Laughin Lonnie (who never smiles, until its too late...For you!). They boasted to Chris and I about a stomp down they gave to a DOB member outside before chopping off his weiner, shoving it in his mouth and stuffing him in a dumpster. I'm not gonna lie, I was a little scared at this point and nearly wet myself. These are the types of guys that "dont fuck around" if you catch my drift.

The cool thing is the doorman was so terrified by the prescience of Crazed Fanboy members that he let us all in for free and told us, "the real show is upstairs in room 312, exclusive for VIP's such as you gentlemen". I don't know what was up there but one can imagine. These guys dont do anything unless it is in excess, it would have been instant death for that door man had a visit to room 312 been a disappointment.

We roamed the room for a few minutes before Chris spotted none other then Terence "The Tez Bomb" Nuzum, his current 'ol lady and none other then the don himself, Crazed Fanboy leader Nolan Canova. He doesn't have a nickname because his being is already so much larger then life that nobody dare offend by saying anything that may underwhelm his greatness. At this point I noticed Terence "The Tez Bomb" Nuzum shoveling novelty items into his pockets while his 'ol lady distracted the dealers. A terrible two-some if ever there were I tell ya what. Canova sat in the distance smiling with approval.

We made our way over towards the back of the room to exchange pleasantries with Canova, Nuzum and the 'ol lady. At this point I knew I was in over my head. Being a former Crazed Fanboy myself I knew their was a target on my back. Thankfully there are two ways of getting back into the good graces of this crew. Either kiss the ring or get the shit kicked out of you and have that ring shoved up your asshole. Scared to death, knees trembling I was in motion to lean down and kiss the ring. But just as I had started to move a choir of screams sucked the oxygen from the room (and the color from my skin I was so damn scared!).

Thirsty for vengeance over the savage death of a fellow colleague, DOB members including none other then Rob the "Bacteria Man" notorious for his vast knowledge of lethal pathogens and the HBIC Brandon "The Branjo" who's skill for playing his victims like a banjo is the subject of many a legendary story stormed the room with a small army of samarai sword weilding assassins.

It's difficult to explain what happend next, much of it is still a blur. What I could see through the sprays of blood and flying limbs was very little at best. I flipped over a table of bootleg hentai DVD's for protection from the chaos at hand. To the left of me was a bloodied severed head, probably a dealer, some poor son of a bitch trying to peddle a few comics to make extra cash to put food on his families table, a senseless tragedy. To the right, was none other then Laughin Lonnie, with a big bloodied smile on his face, gnarling the eyeball out of some poor saps face!

All I could hear was a bunch of back and fourth shouting over page hits and the content of computer cookies. Things were getting nuts.

As I cautiously peaked my head over the table I noticed the absense of Chris Woods from the brawl. At first I was concerned that he was possibly a casualty of the live-action blog madness at hand. Little did I know that Chris Woods has been living a lie this whole time.

Come to find out Chris Woods was none other then a android from the future sent back in time as a weapon to once and for all finish off first generation DOB members before they grew strong in numbers to overtake page hits from the Crazed Fanboys. Outside of the building his conservative looking Ford Explorer was quickly making its way towards the entrance of the building, where it would transform along with Chris into a gigantic steal fire breathing Tyranasaurus Rex. My mind was officially blown.

Things would only get nuttier from here. The Bacteria Man removed from his trench coat a small vile of powder, when approached by several Crazed Fanboys he began shouting from the tops of his lungs, "What? You want a piece, Fuckboys!" Then sprayed the contents of the vile into the air as it spread downward upon it's victims, eating away slowly at their flesh.

I looked around the once promising room of bargain deals on comic books and collectible items, now splattered in blood and guts. In one corner of the room was The Tez Bomb armed with a razor blade slicing up any and everybody who stood in the way of his madness, back to back with his 'ol lady who was armed with a sawed off shotgun blasting away at many a innocent by stander.

I peaked to the back of the room and spotted Canova shouting at a camera crew to document the days events, arguably for the purpose of adding the contents to his websites video archive. Diabolical bastard. A real life Schlock-O-Rama.

As the hotels foundation crumbled beneath the feet of the steal Tyranosauras fire breathing Chris Woods, I dodged flying knives, leaped over flaming corpses of melted bodies and ran away as fast and as far away as I could.

All I know is that as of Monday Feb. 21, 2011 both the Crazed Fanboy website and DOB had raving reviews of the convention both boasting of their respective successes for the day.

Reflecting on MLK Day

I like to celebrate MLK day by listening to nothing but Public Enemy's "By The Time I Get To Arizona" (which I guess is a little inappropriate considering what just happend in that state) for 24 hours straight.

When I'm not doing that I tend to reflect on the day itself. What it means, why we celebrate it and wonder if people in these harrowing times actually know or care anything about the man besides soundbytes from his "I Have A Dream Speech".

The reality of the day is that nobody really gives a flying fuck about Martin Luther King Jr. or his legacy. If we do then we have a pathetic way of showing it. Infact I am willing to bet that the modern world looks nothing as Dr. King would have envisioned it (Yeah I know the Boondocks already made a similar statement). This day really only exist as a means of giving the illusion that things have progressed.

Truth is (as I see it) black folks would have been better off in the long term by siding with a much more militant position as opposed to the movement that won out. By rushing into integration black folks were just sort of forced into adapting to a world that didn't work in their favor and from what I can tell taken advantage of by an opportunistic political/business establishment.

But I'm gonna shut up...I might get in trouble if I say anything more...

Blast From The Past Collectibles Show!

- Me with Brooke McCarter of The Lost Boys fame and the upcoming The Uh-Oh Show!

- Me with THE KING OF B MOVIES! Joel D Wynkoop!

After a less then stimulating Friday evening of making small talk with hot lesbians (or she might have just told me she was a lesbian?) in the CD section of the Goodwill and meeting a guy on the bus outside of the Derby Lane dog track with a gambling addiction (and cocaine addiction) who had just lost all of his money playing cards, I was determined to make the most of my Saturday. Oh wait, after re-reading that my Friday night was actually pretty fucking awesome!

I awoke early on Saturday morning, ran downstairs and caught the bus downtown to The Satruday Morning Market which is actually a pretty nice weekly event in St. Petersburg. From there I hung out in Williams Park with the homeless and caught another bus which dragged me on a 20 minute detour through "the hood" to the Central Ave Goodwill (if you havnt noticed I have a thrift store addiction).

While on the bus I managed to weasal a ride from a friend to the Blast From The Past Collectibles Show being held at Clearwaters Ruth Eckard Hall. What a blessing that was, without a ride I would have had to of made two or three different bus changes. Not to mention Ruth Eckard Hall is damn near a mile off of the main street! But hell, it was something to do and sure as hell sounded like a better option then sitting at home watching pornography all day.

What I didn't quite expect was just how much of a "blast from the past" this afternoon would really be.

I had a suspicion that my old running mates from the PCR (Nolan's Pop Culture Review) would be in attendence but it was an experience that I was hoping to avoid. After a timultous year of decaying relationships and verbal back and fourths it had been close to 6 months since we had shared even the slightest bit of contact let alone being stuck in a confined space with one another. Had I had a little bit more of a warning I would have atleast downed a bottle of Night Train to subdue my nerves.

Anyways, after paying the outrageous $10 entrance fee (ok maybe thats not so bad) I had entered the building and was greeted by no more then maybe six dealers tables and virtually no crowd, with exception for PCR'rs.

It was a little annoying at first cause I really didn't want to have to spend my Saturday afternoon being stuck in a ackward situation, but it was worth it. I was thankful to be able to make peace with Chris Woods and congratulate Terence on finally getting a piece of trim, hopefully he understands now why the rest of us spend our free time chasing after it.

It occured to me as we were greeted by none other then former PCR contributor Andy Lalino that the real highlight of the show for fans should not have been Mary Anne from Giligans Island or the awesome toy collection upstairs. The real show was taking place on a uncomfortable bench between a nasty concession stand with week old hot dogs and a table full of bootleg DVD's. It was a mini re-union of sorts, a collection of colorful charectors that have made up one of the most unique stories the general public will probably never hear.

But I digress, much more was happening at the con. Per square inch I'd make the arguement that this show had more going on in six or seven dealers tables and celebrity appearances then the standard Tampa Comic Con (The Double Tree con). Every table had something I would have like to of bought. In the end I settled for a original theatrical poster of the film "Walking Tall" (I love that movie!), a paper weight with The Jaugernaut from X-Men (for a buck!) and a Bart Simpson Key Chain (also a buck!).

After wheeling and dealing I wound up upstairs in search of seeing my old pal Joel Wynkoop and meeting Brooke McCarter from The Lost Boys. Also upstairs were the daughter from "Lost In Space" and Dawn Welles aka Mary-Anne from Giligans Island. Who, btw...Is still smoking hot!

After some small talk with Wynkoop I was honored to have met and conversed a little with Brooke McCarter an actor from a movie that was so pivotal to my childhood. I'm pretty sure the first two films my father ever rented for me were Blood Sport and Nightmare On Elmstreet but somewhere shortly following that was The Lost Boys. It was a defining moment in my childhood (and life).

Brooke was also kind enough to give me a signed photo with all The Lost Boys on it. The picture itself is pretty damn sweet for a fan like me but the autograph makes it extra cool. I even talked him into signing one for my friend Mindy who sadly is a fan of the crappy sequals Warner Brothers throwed together to exploit the originals retro cult appeal. Hers reads "The original Lost Boys is the BEST!"

On a personal level this show was a blessing. The dealers selection and celebrity line up were great for such a small show. Hopefully the promotors will hold other events annually and get bigger with time.

So Long Brighthouse!

**disclaimer** this was written at 5:03 AM after a debaucherous evening of bar hopping.

Its kind of funny. All of my earliest memories tend to revolve around television. Whether it was watching Star Trek with my father or baseball with my great grandfather (Actually I think thats the only memory I have of him). Television has always been the dominate force that life seems to centralize around.


And yet, it is with no sadness or regret that I can proclaim myself to be almost entirely free of the comforting enslavement of television. Sure, I will occassionally catch a ball game in a restaurant or a pub, but besides that the only time the boobtube is switched on is when I am selectively watching the video cassette or dvd of my choice.

Thing is, I really do love the boobtub. But lately things just havn't been the same. Television has been poisoned by less then a handful of greedy corporate over lords who corrupt it's charm in the interest of selling garbage and manipulating political debate.

After nearly two months of television free living I was taken back a bit as I sat in a restaurant and noticed a debate taking place on CNN. There was a hard lined left winger and a hard lined right winger and a wimpy moderator stuck in between to help give the illusion that this was all just a perfectly normal everyday regular Joe American back and fourth conversation. And suddenly, just like that, a moment of clarity had occured. It was all bullshit. We are happily being herded into boxes.

It took two months of detoxing to realize just how stupid this whole thing actually is. Television really serves no purpose beyond scaring the shit out of idiots and peer pressuring their kids into buying things they don't really need.

I mean, I guess I already knew that. It doesn't take a genius to realize that if a handful of intertwining corporations are in cahoots with one another that something is up. I cheated my way to a high school diploma and I'm barely capable of holding down a minimum wage job with the least bit of responsibilities, so why is this so clear to me and not so much to everybody else?

Anyways, going television-less is something that I truely recommend everybody try atleast once in their lifetime. It is truely a liberating experience. Why should I give a shit about what's going in Egypt when I am sitting on a peaceful park bench eating a $1 double cheeseburger? Right, I shouldn't, I can care less becaue it will never effect me. The only reason I knew or cared in the first place is because television told me too. Have fun being a bunch of "informed" citizens.

Halloween 2010

After a drunken night of Halloween-Eve at Ybor Cities Guavaween, I had a much more toned down Halloween night then anticipated.

The weekend was capped off with my homeslice Mindy as we explored a few of St. Pete's local neighborhood haunted houses.

One was located off of 4th street, the second one we visited was directly across from Kiwanis Park (where I honed my basketball skills!) off of 38th Ave.

I will say this, these haunted houses were cool as penguin shit and scary to boot. Both were made on what I assume were meger budgets but you'd never know it from the frights.

Which brings me to this. How in the hell can places like Universal Studio's Halloween Horror Nights continue to get progressively worse while low budget spook shows like these made in somebodies yard are of the upmost quality? Explain that one to me.

Method Man / Redman show @ Jannus Live

Determined to make the most of my Halloween weekend I kicked things off with a trip down to Jannus Live (which will always be Jannus Landing to me) and caught the Method Man / Redman show appropriately dubbed Smoke-A-Ween.

Conventiently priced at $18 (even though with stupid ass Ticketmaster my shit came to $26!!!) this was a can't miss show for Bay Area hip hop heads.

I showed up around 9 pm and witnessed the scariest site a 90's hip hop fan could lay eyes on, a "metrosexual boy band"! My first impression was what the fuck? Then after a few minutes of listening to this gay ass bullshit my next reaction was why the fuck aren't fans storming the stage with pitchforks and torches? Then I realized everybody was high and had no idea what was going on anyways, far as they were concerned it was Howard The Duck onstage or something.

From here on things steadily improved. The next act although almost equally as gay but not quite as metrosexual or boy bandish took the stage and tried to swoon the audience with their own unique brand of lyrical white boy bullshit. The lone black guy in the group was dope though so props to him. The other two guys just looked akward. With so much local talent in the area it is tragic that Jannus allowed some fratboys from Orlando to pay their way to opening for Meth and Red but whatever. Which is all this was. Some kids who use daddies credit card to swipe their way to the top....of the toilet!

One of the shows highlights was the costume contest. I wish I had been closer to the stage to snap some pics but I chose to spend the evening posted up on a wall near the wall throwing down $5 drinks. One girl just used the opportunity to get on stage and dance like a stripper (which was the fucking bomb!), another guy dressed as Redman from "How High" with a B.U.F.U. outfit but the crowd favorite were the two guys dressed as a sack of weed and a blunt. It was an epic costume to say the least.

The dj at the show was a little lame. It is normally standard precedure at these 90's rap shows for the likes of local legend DJ Sandman to rock the stage with a variety of old school jams. I've become so used to his sets that now days I look forward to what gets played before the show almost as much as I do for the main act. This guy was no DJ Sandman. It was tragic to hear Lil Wayne and other mainstream friendly crap to be used at such a show.

Thankfully all was not lost, DJ Sandman did arrive eventually along with the lovely and talented indie local artist Dynasty. He opened the Dynasty set with the theme from John Carpenters Halloween which earned him extra cool points from me. Then followed it up with Mobb Deeps classic "Shook One's Pt 2" to warm up the crowd. I swear the place almost exploded when this record came on. Dynasty's performance was charasmatic as usual. It won't be long before this chick is headlining her own shows.

Finally Method Man and Redman hit the stage about 10:30 and did a hell of a show until close to midnight. The only problem is that the majority of fans at the show aren't really Red and Meth fans. They are more like Wu-Tang fans who came to see Method Man, Redman is sort of the bonus to sell a few more tickets because there is no way that in the present day Meth could pack a crowd in this area without a little help.

Since the majority of people there really aren't fans of the duo's collaborative efforts it makes the audience a little stale until they hear tracks they are familiar with. The songs that recieved the most energy back from the crowd were Meths more popular solo efforts and ofcourse the M-E-T-H-O-D Man (you can hear that song instantly in your head right?).

Thing is, when I see these guys on stage as much fun as they appear to be having they also make it look like a job. Like they don't enjoy themselves being rappers anymore. I'm guessing part of that is a disconnect from their fanbase. Two black guys from the New York / New Jersey area are probably a little dumbfounded as to who all these college aged stone white kids are at their shows.

Not only that, both of these guys careers are shackled by the influence of The Rza. Method Man because The Rza militantly crafted the Wu-Tang brand and early careers of the groups members leaving them very little lee-way to branch out and market themselves to their own liking. Redman has always been stuck because without his collaborations with Method Man his career would have disappeared into the ether many moons ago. So both are essentially playing a role that is paying their bills but at the same time not necassarily representative of who they truely are.

One thing that bugged me a little bit was the smug elitism spewed by both of these guys on stage. Normally this type of talk doesn't bother me that much because who the hell am I to talk, right? Thing is, everytime Method Man publicly opens his mouth and lets loose his opinion (the Waka Flocka controversy for example) he always winds up retracting himself then appologizing. Not to mention all of his bullshit cameos on lame TV shows and movies (Soul Plane anybody?). Don't even get me started on the low quality of his solo albums. So for him to stand before a crowd of made up mainly of white kids and talk about the sad state of modern hip hop is a bit insulting. Same goes for Redman who had the most to say on the state of hip hop. Who is he to talk after collaborating with the likes of Christina Aguillera and doing modern day minstral shows like the movie "How High" and the stupid Fox show "Method and Red" which was cooning to the twentieth degree.

After the show I was kind of shocked by how tight security was. I've seen quite a few shows at Jannus and the artist are typically friendly enough to do some type of meet and greet with fans afterwords. Hell after the Wu-Tang show Rza and Ghostface handed out pizza and KFC. Public Enemy let everybody backstage and even Big Daddy Kane was kind enough to pose for pictures. Hell a bum I met outside showed me a picture on his phone of him and Young Jeezy!

Method Man and Redman though had the place on lockdown like they were Paul McCartney and John Lennon or something. It may be standard procedure for police to be present at these shows but this was outrageous. Both artist ran as quickly as possible to their tour bus and got out of there asap. How lame. Especially considering these guys cult following you'd think by now they'd have built some type of rapport with their fans through signing autographs, etc. Hell, they could even do what Tech Nine does and just charge a minimal fee after the show for a meet and greet.

Anyways, it was a dope show. Definitly worth the money. Hopefully soon the whole Wu-Tang Clan will make a return to Jannus. One member just isn't enough.

Me and Chris visit Artpools Abnormal Formal.

After a couple of months sitting around on my ass mooching off of unemployment I was delighted (to say the least!) to find out my old job was hiring back temporarily (which means forever cause they are to cheap to hire permanently) and I would not only be able to make a bunch of money very quickly in a short amount of time but also that I would be doing alot of hours working overtime on nights and weekends.

Feeling my free time was about to be pinched I had a jonesing to get out of the house for what could possibly be my last weekend of freedom for quite some time.

Normally this would mean drowning in liquor and oogling females before catching a cab ride home. But not this time, my cousin called asking if I'd be willing to watch her son Chris for the weekend. Ofcourse, I obliged and before I knew it I was celebrating an early October Halloween with the lil cuzzin.

Chris is a big horror fan for his age. Him and his brothers know the Freddy and Jason films like the back of their hands. So he comes over, we watch the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre and its sequal The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2 then decided to head out for a night on the town.

Our first stop was the soon to be demolished St. Petersburg Pier. This was a big deal for Chris since it was his first visit in years and a big deal for me to be able to share with him a place that was pivotal during my own childhood.

We followed that up with a trip to a Central Avenue pizza joint (I'm a regular there but the name escapes me), before heading up the road to the Artpool Galleries Abnormal Formal Art Party.

Readers of my blog know I was sold on Artpool some months ago when I attended with a friend to the I Love St. Pete show. This go around the gallery was packed with a halloween themed crowd and featured performers, musicians as well as a fashion show!

The price was a little steep this go around with an entrance fee of a whopping $20! But it worked itself out since Chris was free. My only complaint is that the DJ was locked up inside of the building instead of outside where most of the mingling was taking place amongst guest. This guy was pumping out some jams! Run-Dmc, Nas, the list goes on and on, I was actually pretty impressed.

When I wasn't snapping photos of Chris with costumed charectors I relinquished control of the camera to him and let him snap his little heart out. The kid had never been to anything like this before (hell, me either! I wish I had an older cousin as cool as me growing up) so virtually everything seemed to capture his attention.

All in all it was a great bonding experience and I was more then happy to have the opportunity to help stimulate the mind of a young horror fan.