My thinking about the somewhat unprecedented uninviting this past week of a much-celebrated American comic book talent, by a comic book convention in the UK, brought some experiences of my own to mind.
A few years back, I was invited to a convention in a town to which I drive, rather than fly. I accepted, and then, after all the arrangements had been made, I got a look at the list of the other comic book guests invited to this show.
The best I can say about this list was that among these other guests were a couple I would walk across a street to avoid, devolving to the remaining few, several of whom I would have been delighted and pleased as punch to see repeatedly run over on that selfsame street.
In all honestly, I am fairly certain that in most if not all cases, these feelings I bore were all too mutually shared by these colleagues of mine.
I told the convention promoter that I wouldn’t be able to make the show. I don’t recall what reason I gave, but under no circumstances did I ever consider pointing out how much I loathed so many of my fellow guests, nor had any expectations that this loathing would, could or should make any impression on him.
Instead, I offered to make up for my no showing by doing a store signing at my own expense, next time I was in town to visit friends, and did just that. No one should have to suffer for me or my issues.
More recently, I was at a show in Europe, where one of my fellow guests was a woman who had been among the mob that had demanded a book of mine be censored, and cancelled, and then, in the spirit of comically unrecognized irony, did her morally performative, self-congratulatory best by participating in a company wide declaration against censorship, celebrating Banned Books Month that year.
This was the rare comedy highlight of a really shitty year, and I deeply appreciated it in all its willful ignorance.
She and her husband, who, a few years earlier, before we’d actually been introduced, mocked my mild stammer (I have yet to find a reason to forgive. So sue me.), and, apropos of nothing, looks precisely like a serial killer who just can’t remember where the fuck he parked his van, damn it, spent most of the convention evenings going through increasingly comical gymnastics in order to avoid sharing a communal table, at which my beautiful wife and I were two among many convivial guests.
In the course of this, she and her spouse missed a number of meals that were transcendent examples of a national cuisine that is among my favorite things in the universe.
As far as I know, she never approached the promoter with anything like an ultimatum in my regard, and to her credit, she showed up at the show despite my toxic presence.
But those gymnastics. And those incredible dinners. There are people with whom we shared those tables with whom I still reminisce about those evening meals.
Comedy gold of the cruelest kind.
Now, it’s worth noting that the comic book talent who found himself uninvited—not to say cancelled of course, because that would be wrong— by this UK festival has a massive and enviable commercial footprint, a presence in other more visible entertainment media, and so enormous a horde of fans that he needs bodyguards around him to keep his admirers at bay when he makes appearances at comics shows.
I actually experienced some of this stardom the last time I attended the big show in San Diego. I was ordered off the sidewalk outside the convention center by an SDPD patrolman, as this talent was approaching. Really.
That brilliant cartoon by the late, lamented and brilliant cartoonist Hap Kliban came immediately to mind. Without the laughs, of course.
At any rate, apparently, some years back, this fellow produced a comic book that was regarded as Islamophobic. I qualify with “apparently” and “regarded” because I’ve never seen the book, so I can’t speak to whether or not the material was racist.
Not to pat myself on the back, but this is just one more aspect of my character that sets me apart from many of my colleagues, and an alarmingly large percentage of institutionalized comics fandom, too. If I haven’t read it, I can’t offer any thoughts about it. Seems fair.
At any rate, this fellow has publicly stated, more than once, that he regrets doing this book, with a number of explanations for the whys and wherefores that produced the work that seem like the sort of Mea culpas a good Catholic boy would come up with.
Good for him.
But apparently not good enough for some, who insisted that the promoters of this show, at which, it’s worth noting that this guy would be the majorest of major draws, dump him or else, whatever “or else” might entail.
Needless to say, I can’t speak to whatever the decision-making process on the part of what must have been dreadful for the anguished promoter in this mess, but, also needless to say, the decision to uninvite the big deal, in response to what is apparently a much smaller deal’s charges, threats and accusations, was made.
A decision made, of course, in the publicly trumpeted name of “inclusivity” and “diversity,” with the usual acknowledgment of “consequences,” despite the nebulousness of consequences and what star chamber doles them out, not to mention the exclusivity of inclusivity, nor the specificity of diversity, as applied so often these dismal days.
And of course, “cancel culture” is just a right wing canard. Plus “consequences.”
Of course.
All this notwithstanding, this comic talent, as anyone with half an ounce of sense knows, will be just fine.
The convention will do its business, and be fine, too.
The person who extorted this situation with emotional blackmail will gather enormous props from the victim culture which loves such pointless victories—the usual “punching up,” “speaking truth to power” self-congratulatory grift ringing across the digital landscape.
It’s worth noting, not to ascribe nefarious motives to anyone here, but “punching up,” while often perfectly justified, is also often just the enraged whining of an utterly unjustifiably entitled newcomer demanding a place at the better table with their betters, without doing the work and earning the sweat equity to justify that seat and that place at the table.
Again, I can’t and won’t say that this is the case in this case. But I maintain an open mind.
But wait, you say—what part of any of this my business? Why should I give a fuck about any of this, you ask?
Simply put, the same people who consider this massively successful hugely commercial comics talent as Satan’s spawn hold me, if they think about me at all, in similar regard.
And, unlike this fellow, whether he has anything to actually renounce or apologize for or not, I have done neither for the work that has generated the universal disdain in which I now find myself regarded.
So, if this big deal comics talent can be tossed aside, it seems likely that this chilling effect will spread beyond this single incident, to potentially have an impact on those of us who aren’t any kind of big deal, but deemed “controversial,” or my other favorite, “problematic.”
I certainly don’t look forward to being on the receiving end of this sort of cancellation, but you can bet your bottom dollar I will most definitely raise one serious fucking stink about it when and if it does happen, punching in any direction deemed necessary.
It seems only fair.
