The pomp. The pageantry. The surgical augmentations that cause babies to salivate, a wistful twinkle in their eye. All of this, and more, can be found wandering the convention.
Costumes are plentiful and varied, some amazing, some childish, like the selection of greeting cards in a Hallmark store. But all these costumes share one common trait: boobs.
Imagination. Unnecessary around so much skimpy attire. The San Diego beaches are a black tie affair in comparison, bikinis as provocative as a nun's habit. But don't blame the girls for their suggestive costumes. They can't help it. They are drawn that way.
Even the press wear costumes. Nothing screams serious journalism like a reporter dressed in a Star Trek jumpsuit. But if it increases ratings—what the hell!
Costumes of Disney characters are popular. Never Mickey Mouse, though. Maybe if his little mouse ass was hanging out of his trousers he'd be a more popular choice. Here Snow Not-So-White meets Bigfoot. Nary a dwarf in sight. Less they're hiding in Bigfoot's magnificent pelt.
Comic Con. Only one of two locations a man can walk up and ask you to rub his lamp. And not violate a local statute. The other place: the U.S. Senate.
Huey Lewis once sang, It's Hip to be Square. He lied. What's even more tragically un-hip? Wearing as much blue as this girl. A fashion faux-pas. Unless you're a Smurf.
Girls dream of growing up and becoming a princess. Proof that's a bad idea. Stick with wanting a pony, sweetheart.
Remember those test questions that asked you to identify which item was unlike the others. Let me give you a hint: it's not Batman.
The Playboy Club had a presence at the Con this year. You're welcome.
The last picture was completely gratuitous. I'm ashamed. But I need the hits. Do you know how many people Google Playboy? Let me make it up to you. Here are photos suitable for the whole family. As long as they're over 21. Bonus points for finding the tattoos in the pictures. Think of it like Where's Waldo. But with body art.
Sinful. That's how I feel. I need absolution. But who can I call?
Ghostbusters. Funny. You're a regular comedian. Seriously, my soul is in peril. I'm too pretty for damnation.
The taste of sweet salvation finally. Wait. That's your costume? Someone had too many years of Catholic schooling. Either that or he got lost on his way to the San Diego Theologi-Con.
Cue Lou Reed, because this concludes our walk on the wild side of San Diego Comic Con. The Con isn't all scandalous costumes, though. But that is best left for another post.