Just returned last weekend from the ComiCon, which has really morphed into a MediaCon or Pop-Culture-Con, which is why it's bloated to the point that you have to shove your way through the isles like a spawning salmon trying to swim up a stream of sweaty pudding.

Somehow I managed to spend only half the fortune I normally burn on art books ––the Bud Plant booth being the main reason I attend. Either I'm becoming more discriminating, or I'm just running out of shelf space, the latter being the likely reason for my moderation––well, that, and being broke.