Uncle Hyena (unclehyena) wrote,
Uncle Hyena
unclehyena

GaryCon, Words, Racoon, DAT

Still recovering from being, sick. Dementia is sick. So: a movie, a convention fly-by, and a dead racoon.

"Bad Words" is funny, vulgar, and surprisingly heartwarming. The idea of a 40 year-old in an 8th grade spelling bee is preposterous, but it works anyway.

Spent some time at GaryCon Friday afternoon; it is an hour or so each way from my home. Picked up some swag, spent 20 minutes talking to a pair of Sweet Young Things in the dealer's room about Doctor Who, spent 30 minutes talking to a pair of Sweet Young Things at the hotel's catering table about the nature of fan conventions, the history of RPGs, and the history of gaming in general (These two were REALLY bored with their lack of customers, and latched onto someone who realized they actually had names like drowning rats); spent five minutes talking to Luke Gygax; spent 30 minutes talking to Ernie Gygax and playing fetch with his "service animal". On the way home, stopped by the original Gygax house at 330 N. Center Street in Lake Geneva, which is now a Chicagoan's summer home, but for the convention there is a gaming table in the living room, and a sand table in the basement (as there was back in the early 70s). Kind of cool. I failed to see Tom Wham. Failed to do any gaming. Went home exhausted after about four hours. Not too bad a time, all told.

About that racoon: We came home near midnight on Christmas Eve to find a large (35 pounds or so) dead racoon at the foot of our driveway. I flipped him onto the lawn with a snow shovel, and then it snowed, and the plows build a snow berm on top of him, and he didn't surface until March 14. By that time he was solidly ice welded to the ground underneath him, and his mass and fur kept the ice from melting. Every day since then I have been out there with a snow shovel, trying to pry him loose, and today (Sunday, the 30th), I got fed up and took a mattock to the ice. Mr. Raccoon is now inside his very own heavy duty garbage bag, and will be Someone Else's Problem come trash day. Finally.

And just in case you missed it: Gaming art legend Dave Trampier, who vanished from the scene in 1988, died on Monday at the age of 59. The world is just a little bit sadder than it was...

Uncle Hyena
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