Modest Proposals On Dragging Literary Conventions Out of the 20th Century, Part 3
(Remember how, in the days of standard episodic television before streaming and binging, many dramas and some comedies would give a thumbnail update starting with “Previously on…”, flashing scenes so fast that people starting midway through a season or story were more confused than before? Well, that’s what this newsletter is like. Look at these as regular updates of how the sausage is made, with what, and whether or not the staff washed their hands after they used the toilet. Or, worse, if they only washed their hands before using the toilet.)
For those coming in late, the current discussion involved Your Humble Chronicler noting the current contraction of literary events and conventions, especially those involving science fiction, fantasy, and/or horror. We return to the discussion, already in progress.
Okay, the plan was to go directly into suggesting ways to make literary conventions of all types more fun and more effective for attendees, guests, and staff, but we’ve got to take a little sideroute first. This affects science fiction/fantasy/horror litcons more than, say, Western or romance or mystery litcons, but considering the crossover and overlap, it’s worth discussing because if S/F/H litcons went away tomorrow, the focus of this little essay will just move over there, if they haven’t already. If this isn’t applicable to your genre of fiction, feel free to move on: I’m not offended and I’m not upset.
After spending the majority of the previous winter holiday contemplating possibilities of making literary conventions more useful for writers and general attendees alike, one individual kept looming over every aspect. Where to hold them, when to hold them, the focus, the programming, the frequency…it all came down to one archetype: Cat Piss Man. Cat Piss Man goes by many names: fanboy, grognard, slan, Sad Puppy. Cat Piss Man has been recreated over and over in popular fiction and given new names: Comic Shop Guy, Iggins, the Eltingville Club. So much as a mention of Cat Piss Man brings out the worst sorts of denials that Cat Piss Man exists, usually from the worst proofs that Cat Piss Man does indeed exist. By any standard, the term refers to the absolute worst sort of fan, the sort of fan who drives off others from a particular genre or hobby due to a combination of foul odor and even fouler personality. Table-flipping upon losing, random shoplifting and gatekeeping, a territorial call of “Well, ACTUALLY…”, a carefully curated set of personality traits or lack thereof that scream “This person is BROKEN”…one would think these are traits that would be selected against in polite society, and they are. However, inexplicably, nauseatingly, not only do they remain the popular image of “science fiction fan,” but so many businesses, from comic shop to game shop to bookstore, act as if keeping their business is vital.
Two things stand out about this. The first is that most fans LOATHE Cat Piss Man. We’re not talking just about a minor dislike. We’re not talking just about crossing the road to get away from one: we’re talking about crossing a continent. Have a discussion of bad fans, ones whose behavior is consistently awful and with no redeeming value, and the discussions of the guy whose hobby is to use acquaintances’ bathrooms and pee all over the place, on purpose, bust the dam. The guy who makes creepy and dumb double entendre comments to teenagers, especially after being told to knock it off. The guy who crashes parties, makes a beeline to the food and the wine, and doesn’t leave either until both are completely gone, and then sets up a bedroll to camp on the floor for the night. If the victim is lucky, he leaves the next day; if not, well, that person has a new roommate who won’t pay rent, always has an excuse as to why he can’t get a job or move somewhere else, and usually only leaves if the house is sold out from underneath him, and he’ll try to convince the new owner to let him stay anyway. Even people with the most peripheral connection to fandom understand: drop any other nickname for That Guy and they’ll raise eyebrows and ask for elaboration. Drop “Cat Piss Man,” and the universal response is “UGH. Yeah, I know this guy…” As I put it 25 years ago, the term is olfactory onamotopoeia.
The second thing that stands out is that while fans may wish for Cat Piss Man to jump into a tree mulcher, too many people in higher levels of fandom either tolerate or encourage him. Cat Piss Man never buys anything: he’s the guy who sleeps in video rooms and under benches in a convention hotel so he doesn’t have to expend any money on accommodations. Either he nurses one glass of water in a convention restaurant for six hours or he dines-and-dashes after telling the waitstaff “Oh, I’m with the (points to table on the other end of the room)” and leaves them with the check. The only time he enters the convention proper is in the last half-hour or so when convention security lets him in because nobody else is paying at that point. That’s when CPM strolls in, grabbing as many freebies as he can get in a greasy fist, insulting vendors, preventing others from breaking down their tables so they can GO HOME, and bugging everybody he can about post-convention parties, the next con he can crash, and whether anyone will give him a ride home…and he lives at least a two-hour drive away. (Oh, you’ve never lived until you get accosted by a CPM as a convention is closing who wants to know if anyone just happens to be going to Kansas City or Chicago, and of course he doesn’t have any money to chip in for gas.) If CPM gets so obnoxious that he starts interfering with the convention or the surrounding facility, the facility security may kick him out, but he’ll just find other ways to get in. If his depredations get so bad that the con staff has to do something, it’s almost always a sotto voce request to try to be a better person one of these days instead of a determined “GET THE HELL OUT OR WE CALL THE COPS.” In fact, CPM is so used to being tolerated at fannish events and venues that he’s always shocked and stunned when non-fan events and venues go to that level: don’t the mundanes understand to whom they’re talking? And in the few cases where CPM’s behavior is so egregious and intolerable that he’s finally kicked out of an event or organization (repeatedly being caught shoplifting or sexually harassing attendees, for instance), there’s always at least one person who gets vocal about “giving second chances” (never mind that CPM is probably on his 30th chance that year alone) and “Well, I’ve never seen this behavior” and “Well, I’ve known him for years…” Because of this, Cat Piss Man never really goes away: even if he’s hit with a lifetime ban, there are always more places to defile. Run a show long enough with one Cat Piss Man, and before you know it, nobody’s there who isn’t a Cat Piss Man.
Okay, so Cat Piss Man is loathed by most other fans. He’s not welcomed by most vendors (although listening to diatribes of how other vendors are stealing money right out of their pockets solely by dint of money not going solely to them, you realize how many old-school vendors are Cat Piss Men), or programming directors, or much of anybody else. Yet. somehow, he’s also the template for “fan” among people without connections to fandom or who might be considering joining. Mention “fandom” among exactly the sort of people we should be encouraging to join the ranks, and Cat Piss Man is the guy they think about. Problem is, you can’t change Cat Piss Man. Most people get smacked in the head for social faux pas, and they either change their behavior or avoid the situation entirely. CPM knows he’s obnoxious, knows he’s annoying, and knows he smells like an open grave, but he doesn’t care. It’s up to us to accept him as he is, to tolerate his behavior because he’s obviously so much better than the rest of us, and not to say anything about it because that’s somehow being unfair to the deliberately obtuse. Some Cat Piss Men can change: it’s absolutely possible, if rare. Most, though, without a massively life-changing experience that causes them to get their acts in order, usually involving someone’s severed foot jammed a meter up their rectum, would rather mumble into their Spaghetti-Os about how “they just don’t understand” and “oh, I’ll show THEM.”
So here’s a suggestion: advertise a show that’s proudly Cat Piss Man-free…and enforce it.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know: old-school fandom won’t stand for it. That guy who gropes the teenagers as he goes by is a long-running fixture, and you can’t buck tradition. Why, you’re just asking for the show to fail if you don’t allow every trog in a moth-eaten Star Trek uniform to come in and terrorize everyone else, by action or by odor. This just isn’t done, you understand! If we start excluding one Cat Piss Man, then we’re just as bad as the high school jocks and cheerleaders for which they blame their excuses for personalities!
To quote an inveterate bully who loved picking fights at every opportunity, you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.
Since this discussion is purely hypothetical, and I know that we’ll actually see something done about the Cat Piss Man problem about the time the Dallas Cowboys win a shutout World Series pennant (and I know at least one Cat Piss Man already whining “Well ACTUALLY…” at this comparison, and trying to explain the concept of humor is beyond him, so let’s press on), let’s discuss what to do if we could have a CPM-free litcon.
Give everyone a first chance, but no second chances. The Alamo Drafthouse movie theater chain has a world-famous reputation of kicking out attendees who will not stop talking or using electronic devices while the movie is running, no exceptions and no refunds. Everyone gets one warning to shut up and put away the phone or tablet: cross that, and the offender is dragged out and told not to come back. (A recent change to the policy allows cell phone use in Alamo Drafthouses to order food and drink, but let’s stick to the reputation.) Let’s try this with our hypothetical litcon. Obvious harassment, sexual or otherwise, is an automatic eviction right at that moment, but if someone accidentally offended, give them one warning. This will require organization with event venue and event security, with no exceptions because “Oh, he’s harmless” or “I’ve known him for years.” No looking the other way. Go beyond the basic warnings about Con Crud and start handing out bars of soap with written instructions and pictograms on each bar to everyone seemingly unfamiliar with its use. Don’t just hand out the bars, either: insist that the individuals receiving them come back only when they’ve washed. Yes, it’s being exclusionary…to health hazards. And if they try to sneak in anyway, out they go, and keep throwing them out until they get the hint.
Accept the boycott threats. “But…but…but if you ban Cat Piss Man, then others will boycott your event!” To which we can all say “GOOD.” Again, you might convince CPM to pay for admission, but you’re still losing more money from attendee dissatisfaction, security issues, event locale aggravation, and shoplifting. It’s a point I keep bringing up to the “by the fans for the fans” contingent that throws collective tantrums over how any decision on upcoming movies or TV shows based on a previous book or comic has to be done exactly the way they think it should, or else “the fans” will abandon it. Dudes, when it comes to obsessive fans versus those outside of fandom who would love to engage if they didn’t have The Wall of Funk standing in the way, you’re a rounding error. Not only are the totality of you a rounding error, but you’re precisely the biggest reason why people look in the tent flap of fandom, close the flap, and rush off shuddering. You don’t want to come to a party where you’re expected to behave yourselves? Oh, WOE. Then you’ll just have to go to the big media and anime conventions running all over the planet and be THEIR problem. At least, until they start cracking heads and kicking butts or until they go under, whichever comes first.
Amp up security. I know that most conventions, litcon and otherwise, are dependent upon volunteers, especially when it involves security. In this case, get security volunteers you can trust, and not just the dorks willing to put in a couple of hours watching the doors in exchange for a free pass. Offer pay if you must, but get people who are willing to enforce convention policy and kick out the Cat Piss Men as they appear. At the very least, make sure that you have people in convention security that encourage attendees to come to them with issues, instead of avoiding attending the convention because they know Security won’t do a thing. Let’s start a golden standard for security that causes everyone to whistle in appreciation: Texas Frightmare Weekend has that kind of reputation with its security for one of the biggest horror conventions on the planet, so it’s not impossible for a litcon, either.
For Elvis’s sake, don’t let Cat Piss Man move into convention staff or the dealer’s room. Again, most conventions are dependent upon volunteers, and some can’t be picky if they need to fill available slots. Naturally, whether it’s access to areas not available to the general public, the desperate need to feel important without working for it, or the need to smirk at the mere attendees who don’t have that special badge tag, Cat Piss Men are obsessed with getting in. This goes double for successful shows. If they’re in small positions, no matter how bad a job they’re doing, they’ll stay until kicked out, and oh so many wait, year after year, until another staffer leaves and offers to take over a position where they can cause some real damage. Resist the temptation, no matter the whining. If you don’t, there’s an eventual time where all of the original convention crew are dead or retired, all of their replacements are exactly the people that drove off anybody new, and they’ll keep electroshocking that dead horse for as long as they can. Who cares if nobody’s there but them and a once-successful convention is a national or international joke? At least they’re still in charge, if only because nobody else wants the job.
It should stand to reason, but this applies to vendor spaces, information booths, or any other mercantile outpost. Vendors absolutely should get security backup to fend off shoplifting or the dweebs who assume that they’re duly bonded law enforcement officers and assume they can tell vendors what they can and cannot sell. At the same time, Cat Piss Man vendors need to be cleared out, too. (We’re going to discuss vendors in a future essay, so don’t worry.) The fannish Statler and Waldorf who rag on the reading tastes of anybody under the age of 60 when younger fans start looking through their wares, or who make crude comments about “special discounts”? One warning, and then they can pack up and go right then. The twerps throwing tantrums because they’ve been there A WHOLE THREE HOURS and nobody’s bought anything from them yet? Out. The git who expects the convention to watch his booth while he takes off to smoke/get stoned/hit on attendees for hours at a time? He comes back and finds his table shoved to the back with two security guards to escort him out. And the senile delinquents who show up at the last second, assume they’ll just be given a table because they’ve been in fandom for 60 years, and try to run their booth out of a hotel room because they didn’t plan? Out out out, and tell them not to bother coming back. And if one wants to complain that some other vendor is somehow taking all of their deserved money by having something customers are willing to pay for? Better secure that, right then and there.
As can be expected, this effort may be a tall order. However, I suspect that the positive response from people who otherwise would never go to a litcon, writers and readers both, would drastically eclipse the whimpering of those who have been indulged for far too long. And the best part? If the Cat Piss Men don’t like it, they can always start their own convention, and see how long it runs and how many pay to attend. We’re now over a quarter of the way through the 21st Century: it’s time to start acting like it.
Want to get caught up on the St. Remedius story so far? Check out the main archive. Want more hints as to the history of St. Remedius Medical College? Check out Backstories and Fragments. Want to forget all of that and look at cat pictures from a beast who dreams of his own OnlyFans for his birthday? Check out Mandatory Parker. And feel free to visit the St. Remedius Medical College Redbubble shop for all of your Mandatory Parker needs.
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