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MorrisonCon – Staring At Sid Vicious Anticipating Jimmy Urine

Howard Strayfield and Shawn Demumbrum report for Bleeding Cool from MorrisonCon. Forst Howard…

There's no way in hell that I could afford MorrisonCon. My discretionary income has been consumed by the Summer's previous events. But I love Grant Morrison, the writer, and am marginally fascinated by Grant Morrison, the cultural figure, and started, despite myself, to believe the marketing. What if it is a once a in a lifetime experience? What if I miss something amazing? What if I can talk Grant Morrison into making Batman Incorporated #12 about Batman coming to my house and drinking tea?

Fortunately, I am one of those people who embody the mobility of social class not through economic dynamism but via social connections. I've got a friend named Dave.

Dave is a man with too much money and too little self-esteem. He owns a t-shirt that reads: "I'M THE GUY WHO SUCKS." The reverse reads: "PLUS I GOT DEPRESSION." He's also a big fan of Grant Morrison. Much of our friendship rests on the fact that we've spent untold hours chatting about comics written by the Scottish scribe.

Seeing the problem and its possible solution, I became a person without shame. I begged. And pleaded. And cajoled. And harassed.

The thrust of my argument was thus: "Dave, you're terminally depressed. You're loaded with buckets of money. Grant Morrison promises that his convention will an anti-depressant, a kind of Prozac based on easy access to comics industry luminaries like Jason Aaron, and you dig Morrison's run on Batman. Why not pay to bring us to MorrisonCon? What if you miss something amazing?"

After an hour of such badgering, Dave relented.

And so here we are. In our room at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. The decor looks like the inner psyche of a NuMetal fan exploded on the walls. There's a framed photo of Sid Vicious, beside a page from a biography describing the Hotel Chelsea incident. Murder is now rock'n'roll kitsch. I can't stop seeing advertisements for DJ Pauly D. Even when I close my eyes, they're still there.

If you bought a package including a hotel room, MorrisonCon isn't that much more expensive than San Diego, but it offers the exact opposite experience. San Diego is a relentless orgy of product placement and fleeting access to thousands of creators. MorrisonCon is a curated event with a limited pool of talent. Some of whom, it must be said, are ultra Z-List. Seriously, is anyone here to see a 43 year old man who calls himself Jimmy Urine?

I'm a little appalled by the event's underlying implications. Comics are always at their best when the medium reconnects with the sheer democracy of its pulp roots. Whatever else MorrisonCon represents, it's a retreat from the idea of a cheap medium offering cheap entertainment for the largest number of people. We've been sold an experience on the basis of its elite access. I'm trying to have an open mind, so I'll refrain for now from making any judgments. I consider myself an expeditionary. We'll see what happens.

I'll also be tracking the state of Dave's depression and MorrisonCon's ability to function as a tonic on his worried mind. The last time that I saw Morrison was at an event in San Diego with Deepak Chopra, where they led a room of one thousand people on a guided meditation into the heart of the superhero. If the dude can get ten Catwomen to meditate simultaneously, surely he can cure Dave of the worried blues.

Then Shawn…

The big event tonight is at a Hard Rock bar called Body English.  It starts with a special intimate spoken word event discribed as "MorrisonCon kicks off in style with a new collaborative project – a one-off, never-to-be-repeated performance created especially for this event. Grant Morrison teams up with Gerard Way and James Dewees of My Chemical Romance for The Con – a thirty minute spoken-word piece with music. Part short story, part history, part occult ritual, as Howard Hughes faces Liberace in a duel to the death for the soul of Las Vegas!"

The Hard Rock Casino describes Body English as "Located underground, Body English offers intimate lighting, elegant leather booths, multiple bars and dance floors."

I dropped by the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino around 8:30 hoping to collect my press pass and join the festivities.  I walked in the main entrance and asked the bellhop where the MorrisonCon registration was.  Evidently MorrisonCon is so exclusive that the staff of the Hard Rock Hotel aren't privy to its location.  The bellhop said, "That's a point of controversy.  No one seems to know.  But I think if you go to that white sign (pointing the direction) and follow it back to the convention area, you'll find it.".  I followed his directions and was able to find the a hallway with a few tables set up and table runners with MorrisonCon screen printed on them.  For anyone looking for registration it is in the Muse & Artist Hall across from the 35 Steaks & Martinis restaurant.  The lack of signage was a little concerning.  There seemed to be confusion even among con attendees about where the only event of the evening would be.  At one point while charging my dead cell phone off my laptop, I saw James Simes, MorrisonCon Director, directing a large group of attendees to the elusive Body English nightclub.  The Bleeding Cool staff were last minute additions, so understandably they weren't ready for us.  I was assured by the professional convention staff that they would be ready early tomorrow morning.  I'm looking forward to what lies behind the velvet ropes of MorrisonCon.

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