This weekend is a rough one for those geeks who didn’t manage to score ComiCon tickets. The Internet, so long a source of comfort and interest, instead becomes our tormentor as Twitter feeds fill up with snippets of “omg, so amazing, I just saw ___” and articles leak out with details of cool things to see, cool things to do, and cool things to come.
I’m surprised nobody ever uses this feeling for evangelizing. It seems to me a really effective way to convince geeks to join your religion would be to describe being left behind during the Rapture as “it’ll be just like all the times you couldn’t go to ComiCon.”
I’m not saying that this would work, of course, just that I’m surprised nobody has tried this tactic.
Shit, maybe I should delete this post. I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of signs at next year’s ComiCon.
I can’t help but wonder about those people who bring the religious “hellfire and brimstone” religious signs outside the San Diego convention center each year. My assumption is that this behavior is a natural reaction to any large crowd of people, much in the same way that ants are a reaction to an outdoor picnic.
Do they truly believe they’re going to reach anyone? Do they not realize that, from the perspective of our tribe, they exist only so that clever geeks might counter their religious tracts with witty retorts?
I really have to admire these guys. The geeks, I mean, not the original sign-holders. These guys are kind of like that person who manages the perfect sarcastic comment during a really shitty movie trailer that makes everybody in the theater laugh. They’re unsung heroes whose identities will never be known but whose deeds live on in our hearts and on our Internets.
Zodspeed, noble geeks. Zodspeed.
Cynical Idealism 