I’ve come down with the dreaded “flu-like symptoms,” so posting Day 3 of the Armadillocon pictures will have to wait until I’m feeling better
Archive for August, 2010
And here are some more photographs I snapped at Armadillocon 32.
“Steampunk Guest of Honor” Michael Bishop upon seeing that I had a box of books for him to sign.
Michael Bishop upon finding out that I had a second box of books for him to sign.
Better pictures of the dealer’s room:
Better pictures of the hotel atrium:
Robert Jackson Bennett, whose first novel, Mr. Shivers, no less an authority than Joe Domenici called “The finest first novel I have read in years.”
Lovely Editor Guest of Honor Anne Sowards reviewing a manuscript at the signing table, presumably a novel about shape-shifting car mechanic who is also a werewolf, or perhaps a shape-shifting wolf mechanic who is also a werecar.
Noted lush and former Armadillocon fan GoH Scott Bobo, who once tried to help us pick up teenage girls in Japan.
Kasey and Joe R. Lansdale.
Kasey and Joe R. Lansdale, now with 75% more Fortified Cuteness per serving.
The wily Maureen McHugh, who skillfully avoided lesser hunters by not appearing on programming.
Two Views of Mark Finn from his one-man show, “Colonel Kurtz Goes Bowling.”
Chris Nakashima-Brown and Paul Miles, poised artfully in front of a display of Michael Bishop’s books.
SF Signal honcho John DeNardo caught during a spare moment of his one-day whirlwind tour.
Lillian Stewart Carl.
Jayme Lynn Blaschke. Disclaimer: I feel it only fair to warn you that the planets depicted on his vest are not, in fact, astronomically accurate.
GoH Rachel Caine.
Don Webb, preparing to lead his troops up the beaches of Normandy. Or perhaps Cancun.
Hugo-winning fan artist Brad Foster IS Beldar Conehead!
Noted lush Mikal Trimm, enraged that I’ve temporarily delayed him from obtaining more beer.
Old Earth Books publisher Michael Walsh. (And if you want to buy signed copies of the Best of Howard Waldrop volumes he published, look here.)
Paul Lynde expert Steve Wilson.
Dwight Brown, contemplating exactly how he will murder executives at AT&T slowly and painfully.
Yvonne Daily and Phil Brogden,
Chuck (not at the con), Michael Sumbera, and Milton (also not at the con)
An attendee’s Steampunk purse, which is just a few dials shy of a certified weather station.
Said purse may or may not have belonged to one of these Steampunk aficionados.
Kim Kofmel and Al Jackson. (I have another picture of the two of them, and Al’s eyes are also closed in that one.)
The lovely Denman Glober, camped out below a giant Space Squid banner. But I do wonder why her parents named her like a James Bond villain. “Denman Glober” sounds like someone who should be running a shadowy international conglomerate from his secret lair underneath the Pacific…
New York Times best-selling author Aaron Allston, struggling mightily to stay awake after having just seen a compilation of the line-dancing scenes from Howling 7.
Program director Jonathan Miles, who put me on not one, but two 10 AM panels after I asked not to be scheduled for any panel before noon. Incidentally, this picture was taken just after Jonathan had finished his busy day of selling crack to school children, but before he went off to kick puppies and burn American flags.
Houston writer John Moore, looking snazzy in the seersucker pants he borrowed from reporter Carl Kolchak.
Here are a few quick-and-dirty photos from Armadillocon 32, all except the first taken Friday.
Michael Bishop, from the Thursday Pre-Con dinner.
Neal Barrett, Jr. in his stylish hat. “I got it from Walgreens. I buy all my clothing there.”
Richard Simental, AKA RoadRich.
Matthew Bey. Photo uncropped to give you some idea of the dealer’s room space. (Will try to get a better picture today.)
Stina Leicht, looking at Elizabeth Moon (who only dropped in briefly the first day, due to a busy schedule)
Stina was complaining about me taking pictures of her, so naturally I had to take several more.
The first of three unsuccessful night views of the Renaissance Atrium. I’ll try to get some daylight shots today.
Phil Brogden, Yvonne Daily, and Mike’s torso
Karen and Kasey Lansdale.
Updated: You can find Part 2 here.
Maybe as soon as tonight, as it’s just about ready to roll. If you want a copy and are not on my mailing list, drop me a line at email@example.com so I can add you. This time around there’s lots of new Joe R. Lansdale, Alastair Reynolds, Jack Vance, etc., and the usual selection of small press first editions, Award winners and rarities.
And in case you hadn’t noticed, the new Lame Excuse Books webpage is now at http://www.lawrenceperson.com/lame.html.
(I should note that I too had a problem activating my iPhone, but that my problem was considerably less severe and I was in the Apple store at the time.)
This is such a pitch-prefect amalgamation of everything from Dracula to Creepshow (with a hefty dose of many a Cthulhu Mythos tale) that I would totally read a story based on this premise…
I have mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand, I’ve seen lots of interesting and occasionally great films at the Dobie over the years, including:
On the other hand, the actual theaters at Dobie were small and uncomfortable, and the equipment was far from state of the art. (Even though they had improved. Before they remodeled, I remember seeing a film there and realizing that I probably had a better stereo system at home than the one used in the theater.) If the parking garage filled up, the possibility of actually finding a parking space ranged from problematic to impossible. Finally, in recent years they had switched from being an art house to only having one or two art films with the rest being the usual Hollywood fare available all over town. I guess they figured they had a captive audience near campus, but their closing suggests otherwise.
The ideal outcome would be for the Alamo Drafthouse to buy the space and restore it to its former arthouse glory. Plus, since they’re right next to the food court, an Alamo kitchen selling food and drinks at lunch might make a very lucrative side business…
Nirvana covers Terry Jacks’ maudlin hit “Seasons in the Sun.”