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ZebraCon 13 (1997)

Vid Show

Playlists and vid show reviews from the 1990s and 2000s are being collected at ZebraCon/Vid Show.

Program Book

Convention Reports

In 1997, one attendee advised:
"A friend of mine was just told by [J] (better known as Fanny Adams) who runs the ZCON art show and helps organize the con, that we are Expected to Dress Up for the Saturday evening Costume Party. So bring your lycra..... and the rest of you had better be thinking about costumes. Our group of 9 or so is thrown into a tizzy, because no one can get into their mercenary ball dresses any more."[2]
In 1997, Shoshanna posted a two part convention report to the Virgule-L mailing list. The first part deals with Zebracon and the second part focuses on a follow-on convention she attended, Eclecticon:
I arrived at ZebraCon already exhausted, since I had spent the previous two days at a fannish house party in central Pennsylvania. So I got to the hotel, checked in, and decided that I wasn't officially there yet and so couldn't go socialize immediately. Instead I shut myself in my hotel room -- my roomies wouldn't arrive until later - and read "In a Dark Time: Sleepless" until I fell asleep. There's something meaningful in there somewhere.

After a two-hour nap I felt much more ready to start the con. The lobby was the usual jangle of shouted greetings and hugs, rapid-fire conversation, and bemused flight attendants and trade-show participants looking for a bellhop. ZebraCon is rather unusual in that it's one of the largest cons of its type (media, no guests, mostly slash), and yet a larger proportion of the hotel is taken over by mundanes than in most other cons. (Escapade is much smaller, and MediaWest is much larger, but both cons virtually take over their hotels. At ZCon, fans are in the minority except in con function space. I've never heard of this creating a problem, though, not even several years ago when Charlotte Hill proved to me that a sexual position in a story of hers was feasible by slamming me against the corridor wall, crotch-to-crotch and pulling my thigh up to her hip, just as a couple of airline pilots went by.)

Since I run the charity art show and auction at ZCon, I got a committee badge; it said -naturally enough, I suppose - "SHOSHANNA CHARITY." So I went around encouraging people to give generously. (I also told them that "only you can prevent Shoshanna," on the principle that if I didn't, someone else would.)

The con's Halloween theme was terrific: decorations everywhere, committee listed in the program book with titles such as "Karen B, Wicked Witch of the Midwest," and costumes at the party. The people who set up the decorations for the party worked most of that day on them, and did a wonderful job. The pizza at the party looked more like a trick than a treat, though, and I avoided it.

I bought more zines at ZCon than I have at a con in years, I think. Manacles had one new zine of their own and three that they were agenting for Julien. Gryphon Press had at least two new ones, including Helen Raven's new novel. The Gryphon Press table seemed to have the biggest crowd at the feeding frenzy, and Jilly R went down the line of eager, crowding, anxious would-be buyers offering swiss roll in that wonderful accent. It was a lovely gesture. Unfortunately, very few people wanted sweets at that hour of the morning, and Jilly was reduced to begging people to take it off her hands. As I was browsing dealers' tables later, Jan Levine tapped the cover of ROSES AND LAVENDER and told me, "It's very well written." "Huh?" I asked, a little taken aback, and she grinned at me and said, "I'm just trying to pitch it to your kink..." I bought it.

I didn't go to any panels. For one thing, I was usually already having a great conversation, and saw no reason to break it off for another one that might not be as good. For another, they all looked less than gripping. I tend to be relatively uninterested in "the Wiseguy panel," "the X-Files panel," even if the shows are ones I like; topics restricted to one fandom don't seem to thrill me. (This is the same reason I haven't joined any show-specific email lists.) I was tempted to drop in on the Sentinel panel, which was subtitled "Why is this the hot new fandom?", just to see if anyone could give me a coherent answer to the question, but I didn't. Word of mouth suggests that I didn't miss anything. (I have yet to hear an answer to that question more coherent than "But they *live* together!", to which I have the same response as bingo does to "Giles, he's so DREEAAAMMYYY!" I keep reading Sentinel fic, though, in hopes that one will appear.)

I hadn't remembered crucial details of how the charity show would be organized, and I found when I got there that I had to provide staff for five hours of charity check-in on Friday. Fortunately all my volunteers are faithful, hardworking, honest, loyal, and true, and I bought them sodas and stayed out of their way. Special thanks to Danajeanne and Misti, who started working even before I asked them to, and to Jody and Jen, who pitched in when I realized in desperation that I had only half an hour to organize a charity auction three times larger than anyone had expected it to be, while rehearsing a play at practically the same time. Next time, *two* bids to auction. The auction alone raised $1790 for Pet Rescue, and I didn't get lynched for the snarky comment I made about Sentinel while auctioning a piece. It looked close for a moment there, though.

The play has been described already. The audience seemed to enjoy themselves, and I can reliably report that the cast certainly did. One bit of stage business got a number of "aww"s, and it wasn't until the next day that Paula and I, who had not been looking at each other at the time, compared notes and realized that we must have been mirror-imaging each other's poses at that moment. Jane Mailander says she found that she liked having my legs wrapped around her waist; I found that I was glad Jane has good balance. There was water spilled all over that stage, and a three-foot drop off the edge!

Most of the con was just getting to hang out and talk with people I don't see nearly often enough. I didn't spend enough time in the art show, didn't go to any room parties, didn't get to see the songvids. I did finally see Mystery UNCLE Theater 3000, and thought it was terrific. Do it again, guys!

A new feature of ZCon this year was a dead dog feedback/bitch session. Karen and Jean are considering changing hotels, and they were fairly strongly encouraged to do so. Of course, there's no guarantee that another hotel will have more of what the con wants than this one does; it's always a compromise. But the con is growing steadily - this year's membership limit was 275, and next year's will be 300 -- and it doesn't quite fit in the current function space any more. I personally rather like having three dealers' rooms next to each other - everything is close together, but it avoids the echoing vastness of a huge single room like MediaWest's -- but I gather I'm in a small minority on that one. And the hotel is starting to charge ridiculous amounts for small items; the reason the TV at the songvids wasn't higher (and thus more visible) was because the hotel would have charged something like $200 to provide two carts to prop it on.

Then I lugged all those zines home, piled them up on the floor, did a pile o' laundry, and set off for EclectiCon."

In 1997 Jane Mailander posted the following convention report to the Virgule mailing list. It is reposted here with permission:

Z-CON 1997: A Report by Jane Mailander


I hadn't been to a Z-con since my first one in 1993, and was looking forward to the respite from my job and my roommate -- even if I did have to walk to the BART station at 4AM Thursday with all my luggage (a Samsonite case and a knapsack perched on my rugged little dolly). On BART I met a man on the very same flight as I -- we split cab fare, and I had 2 uneventful flights to Chi via Phoenix. (Only problem is they were both "snack" flights -- I brought a big loaf of honey-wheat bread to supplement the peanuts and ginger ale.) Half an hour after I landed at O'Hare I was seated in the Ramada shuttle bus yakking with a van full of fans. The party didn't stop till late Monday. My roommate was already there and checked in; all I needed was my key and to find the room. Except that the Ramada is built *long* like a space-station, necessitating miles of walking through corridors to find one's room. I spent half an hour walking the wrong way to find my room, and got lots of exercise that whole weekend.

Unfortunately a Chicago ordinance forbids selling material out of a hotel room; many dealers who couldn't get a table were left out. ('Course, if people just happened to look at large numbers of zines while talking to friends, and if a few twenties just happened to change hands, who would know?) I dined with a small group in the hotel (I didn't have a single bad meal that whole weekend in that coffee shop). Among the diners was artist Suzan Lovett, who is now a Due South fan! Unfortunately she was finding it hard to find good shots of the characters other than the official head-shots, which was the reason there was no DS Lovett art at Z-con. Ironically, she had several splendid Sentinel pieces in the art show despite the fact that she's not a fan -- she just knew what would be selling big this con. (See Art Show, below.) After dinner we trooped upstairs to register and chat. A lot of fluid socializing -- fans hugging and touching each other, moving from group to group, renewing acquaintances. I spent the brunt of Thursday night chatting with Debbie H. in her room (that woman writes the best slash for cartoon characters I've ever read) and buying a zine of her RGB stories. I finally hit the sack at 12:30.


Feeding Frenzy! Three dealer's rooms dealt with swarms of buyers. I bought a foot-high stack of zines, haven't done that in a while, as well as a Tombstone button and a Xena mag. I actually didn't buy much Sentinel despite being bitten by the bug -- I'm saving myself for Due South. I mostly got multi-media, and bits of everything else.

The video room showed the best angsty/slashy eps of S&H, Pros, X-Files and Voyager, British documentaries about Pros and S&H, season openers of Sentinel and Due South, and other treats.

The first official party welcomed British fans to their first Z-con, many of them from Gryphon Press. Bags of Halloween candy were handed out at the door, and party food supplemented the true nourishment at these affairs -- talk!

Friday night was Video Night (a prior commitment kept me from seeing an hour's worth of them). Among all the Sentinel and Pros offerings, the most vivid standout I saw was a gut-splittingly funny Highlander vid.

At 10PM Bingo & Co. performed Mystery Uncle Theatre 3000, giving the two-part "Five Daughters Affair" the trashing it deserved. Attendees screamed with laughter. I thought it was better-written than many good MST3K episodes. Afterwards I tottered to bed and read zines till 3AM


More dealers, more vids, more panels. I managed to miss all but the Sentinel panel, which tried to explain the sudden popularity of the blow-'em-up cop show. (I think a good part of it's timing -- people discovered TS about the time they found out who *wasn't* going to be back on Due South this season.)


Pizza Party Night! Also a Halloween party. The decor was appropriately funereal, with cobwebs, headstones, gargoyles and eerie music and lighting. (I pushed aside a big clump of cobweb in the doorway to help someone through, saying "It only takes a second to be polite to the undead, Ray.") Lots of wonderful costumes. My Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (black robe and hood, necklace of skulls, belt of holly, pointing finger) scared a good number of people. The Cereal Killer (little cereal boxes stuck all over her body with knives) was a hit, as was the Slash Slut, a hairy-chested Doyle, a table full of Sentinel characters, Highlanders, mercs, Cowley (a cow-costume with little whiskey bottles tied to the udder), vampires et al. Best Costume went to Steve Hanson's half-Starsky-half-Hutch (the man shaved half his mustache just for the occasion)! I loved the woman dressed as Hester Prynne, bearing a scarlet "/" on her breast and carrying a slash-zine wrapped in her shawl. Also loved blonde baby Sam dressed up as Cupid's son Bliss from *Xena.* The pizza itself was functional fare; I also had my first caramel apple that night. The main problem was the lack of available drinks -- they weren't included with the pizza and one had to go to the bar at the back of the room to *buy* glasses of Coke or stronger drinks. Bowls of punch would have been a nice addition.

The Huggy winners were announced and received with much applause. Suzi Lovett should simply *stay* at the podium till she accepts all the art awards. I remember the Pros winners: Motet for Zine; Sebastian's "Wonderful Tonight" for Novella; HG's "Jigsaw Puzzle" tied with Maiden Wyoming's "Journey West" for Novel; "No Floaties, Please, We're British" from MOTET for Short Story; DanaJeanne's "Disintegration" in C&C 17 for Poem. After the awards came The Play -- Paula Smith's traditional musical-comedy parody of a slash novel. This year the target was "Revolution," which became "Revolution 9 From Outer Space." As I was in the play I can't be objective about it -- we were fuckin' *great*. The audience screamed, cheered and roared with laughter; for the next 24 hours every cast member was lionized by passersby. As a theatrical tyro, I was stunned to feel that thing that happens when you start playing off each other and picking up on each other's stuff (one piece of physical humor was born live on stage). Fluffed lines were smoothly hidden, one garbled song actually enhanced the reality of the situation, and no one broke a leg. I discovered that I *like* carrying Shoshanna locked around my hips. A most triumphant production, Paula! After the play I'd fully intended to sit in the art auction and watch the blood fly, but Melissa D. wanted a partner to try out the hotel bar's dance floor. I agreed to one or two dances -- and we wound up dancing till after 1AM, with or without other fans. The highlight was a whole squad of us boogieing to "Holding Out for a Hero" and "It's Rainin' Men, Hallelujah!" We emboldened wedding attendees to get up and dance with us -- including a male couple! (But two guys who kept moving their table closer and closer to Melissa and me backed off when I needed to tweeze a chin-hair and pulled out my Swiss Army Knife.) I chatted in the hotel bar with some of the British fans till 2:30AM, trading chocolates and travel-talk as well as fan-talk.


As expected this year, lots of Sentinel as well as Millennium, X-Files, and Highlander, with Trek, Pros and S&H making a good showing as well. Alas, hardly *any* Due South art (except for my cartoons). But I wasn't the only one to pick up on the subtext between Pinky and the Brain -- another artist portrayed them as weaponed and besuited MiB ("Mice in Black"). Warren Oddsson's and KOZ's inks, TACS' computer art, Karen River's and the Fister-Liltzes' portraits, as well as many others, made this the largest media-fandom art show since Mediawest. The 3-D art was represented by several stunning dinosaur sculptures, especially a cavorting blue-striped Deinonychus called "Mating Dance." (You'd *think* I'd remember the artist's name...) I produced a bunch of new cartoons for Z-con; it paid off as I sold all but one, first time I've done that in years. Three even went to auction -- and I was tickled that "More Celebrities Discover Slash" (a horrified Brain and an enthralled Pinky reading a P/B zine) was bought by Suzi Lovett! (BTW, I won the award for Best Humor, category Starsky & Hutch -- but as I had the *only* S&H cartoon in the art show I was hardly surprised.) As I spent the art auction boogieing my butt off (see above) the following prices are mostly recollections and hearsay: Lovett's "Blue and Green" (the end of the 'story' of the pictures "Blue Harmony" and "Green Peace"), Doyle and Bodie enmeshed, landslided all the newbie fandoms by selling at auction for a whopping $630. Lovett's erotic Sentinel piece, "Urban Jungle" (Blair in an urban landscape and Jim in a Peruvian junglescape frame both men tangled together naked in the middle) sold for around $150. She also had a lovely picture of Methos and Duncan (HL) lying together in the grass, fully clothed, smiling dreamily. I have no idea what it sold for, but it was in the triple digits *before* it went to auction. Her heartbreakingly beautiful S/H piece (Hutch sprawled on a bed looking longingly at a prone Starsky beneath an O'Keefe poppy) was not for sale.


I tottered awake at the ungodly hour of 8:30 to watch a few video treats with other fans, once someone unlocked the room. In the dealer's room, Suzi Lovett had brand-new prints of her most recent artwork for sale and they were snapped up like Beanie Babies. I spent the remains of the day chatting with dealers and helping tired people load boxes and bags into their cars. I missed Bingo (was going to join the XF-premiere-watching party at her house), but otherwise I had a fine time that evening; some excellent pork chops at the coffee shop, a nice piece of money from my art (just as I was running out of the green stuff), and I watched the premiere in my room by myself. (I don't know the official title of that ep, but I subtitled it "Thank You, Mr. Exposition.") Afterwards I went back to the coffee shop for ice cream and chat with a gang of people taking the episode apart. Then I went beddy-bye with Agnes T. whose flight was leaving way-early in the morning and who needed a place to crash.


I woke up, dressed and looked out in amazement. It was snowing. I went outside and grinned up at the cold little bits of shaved ice that fell on me. (I was born and raised in L.A., lived in S.F. for a year, and have *never* seen snow live and in person in my whole life.) Eventually sanity and my fingertips prevailed and I went back in to get breakfast. Monday was still brisk -- a good number of fans stayed on, including a pack of the British fans who climbed into a limo to go sightseeing, and clumps of people leaving late in the afternoon as I was. We sat in big comfy chairs and sofas in the lobby for hours, peacefully reading zines and hugging people goodbye, winding down from the four-day high we'd all been on and melting away by ones and twos as the shuttles carted us away. A peaceful, uneventful pair of plane flights ended the con on a gentle note for me, and now I have two years to prepare for next Z-con.
In 1997, Morgan Dawn posted the following convention report to CI5 List. She then posted a private version with editorial comments in brackets to a private mailing list, once again proving that fandom and snark go together like Bonnie and Clyde (and often can result in the same notoriety when, 15 years later, they are persuaded to post their unedited comments on the Internet):
"Having had a brief time to recover, have to say that I like Zebracon -- it's a chance to really see the different groups of fans (particularly the midwest and east coast fans) in a relaxed atmosphere.

[The atmosphere was filled with choking smoke and I barely got a chance to meet these "other" fans as they were all scurrying off to their rooms -- Zebracon has no con suite or place to hang out.]

The con was held again at the Ramada. I liked the indoor swimming pool and whirlpool which I actually did use. [I used it once -- and came out parbroiled -- the pool was 91 degrees and the whirlpool 109]

O'Hare airport was a challenge -- in the last two years, they've moved the pick-up point for all hotel guests down an escalator, under a roadway, through a long passageway, onto a moving conveyor and up an elevator. We were hopelessly lost -- even though they had painted huge red arrows on the floor saying: "This way to hotel shuttles." Thank god for the hustlers cruising the passageways -- they scooped up our luggage, loaded it onto their carts and we chased after them until we reached the right spot.

[No one thought to warn us -- and who looks at their feet when they're wandering the airport. I was so concerned that the hustlers were going to disappear with our luggage (although why worry about pre-con luggage) that I was never more than 3 inches away from our "helpers' backside. I think I made him nervous.]

I really recommend arriving early at a con --you check in early, get your room and get settled. This year there were several mini-parties throughout the hotel (and if you know the hotel, you realize that this often means a 20 minute walk to the back 40).

[If you don't, you'll find yourself the back of beyond]

I stopped by the CI5 room -- found J and others doing "research" on some interesting sexual positions -- the one with the throne chair and the table grapes looked interesting.

[Since there is no function space or room to hang out, you have the choice of lounging on public display, fending questions from the Teamsters Union (wearing "Hoffa Now!" jackets) about what you "gals" are up to, or wandering the halls like a lost soul, ears cocked for the sound of fannish laughter.]

The songvid contest had too many Sentinel vids (hey, stop hitting me you guys, I was joking), a good showing of Highlander (a really funny HL vid) and some odds and ends (a Melissa Ethridge song set to Crying Game that I liked).

[We could hardly see the vids -- they had a new 27 inch TV but had it set so low that only the first row could see it. They eventually made us sit on the floor cause they didn't want to risk injuring the TV by moving it.]

But the one that had me laughing was Media Cannibals "Hippy Boy" set to Sentinel. It won an award much to the surprise of the vid makers.

[They were so surprised -- the main vid maker had left the party and was somewhere else. I almost missed it altogether as I was playing games with the free toys that were given at the party. We were eventually shushed up and had to put the toys away -- but only after spilling a glass of water and sending one spinning top sailing into someone else's pizza]

Speaking of awards: The Huggies.

What I vaguely remember: Motet winning for best Pros zine. Journey West and Jigsaw Puzzle tying for best novel. Sebastian winning for 'Wonderful Tonight' (best Pros story).

[What can I say. When I heard Motet won, I whimpered (softly --having already been chastized for playing too loudly with my toys). I think I may have grabbed someone's hand in shared pain. The silence that followed the question: "Who will pick up Sebastian's award" did the UK contingent proud. Left me wondering if they were really from "over there" or where just pretending to get all the attention.]

The decorations for the Sat. night party were very spooky -- and there were several good costumes: Maiden Wyoming in a cow suit, with whiskey bottles tied at the udder. She was brave enough to accept her Huggy award in costume.

[Hey! I liked the costume. The food was horrible -- gooey pizza. But then I ate before I came -- which was suggested (so helpfully by the con organizers in their last Progress Report.: "Don't like pizza? Tough. Eat beforehand so you won't be hungry when everyone else is eating.")]

I attended one panel I enjoyed: ' Starsky & Hutch: Justify Fan Canon. Was Starsky ever in Vietnam? Was Hutch neglected as a child? Prove it!'

[It was the only panel I enjoyed. All the rest suffered from myopia or topic drift.]

Not much to do on Sunday, however. I wandered into what I thought was a Dead Dog Party but discovered it was a "Give Feedback To The Con" session.

[Sunday was absolutely boring. Nothing going on -- no con suite to hang out. All the dealers leaving. And the "Feedback" panel consisted of many suggestions and the con organizers explaining why they wouldn't listen to the suggestions. You'd think they'd have the wits to smile politely, nod and lie!]

So, I am looking forward to the next con event: Escapade 98.


I found the URL for the 1st Escapade Progress Report, and they've listed excellent panel topics. And my favourite: free food and munchies and drinks tucked throughout the con.

[And a con suite!!!]
From Killashandra in The K/S Press #16:
Yes, you read that right, I'm doing a con report for Zebracon. Now, I realize this is not a Trek con, a K/S con, a slash con (well, okay, it pretends not to be a slash con) or even a science fiction con. But hey, K/S is wherever you look for it, and believe me, I was looking! So this Zebracon report will be missing several important moments of the weekend, namely, everything that wasn't related to K/S.

I got there Friday night and went straight (I use this term loosely) to the dealers' room to look for the few people I knew by sight. (Pretty strange to be traveling cross country to see people you wouldn't recognize on the street because you only know them on the internet!) Of course as soon as I got there I was distracted by zines. I'd like to give a big thank you to a certain gracious lady with the initials R.K. who was selling some wonderful older K/S zines at really low prices. I was delighted to find several choice items I'd been looking for forever. When I commented to her how amazing her prices were and how happy I was to be getting these zines, she said, "well I would rather get the zines to the people who love them than charge an arm and a leg." Bless you, kind person!

The song-vid competition Friday night was fierce. I could go on a long time about all the great videos, but I won't because none of them were K/S and so who cares? There was one notable exception however, a charming multimedia video entitled "Younger Men" which featured several lovely shots of our very own boys (including JTK sans shirt) and I feel compelled to point out that this video won against very, ah, stiff competition. It was the only video in the show with the boys in it, so of course it won (she said smugly.)

I'll skip straight to the good part, since this is what I really wanted to relate anyway. Every year at Zebracon the brilliant and talented Paula Smith puts on a musical play at the Saturday night party. The play is always a parody of a well-known fan novel. In the past, the stories have generally been Starsky and Hutch, or in more recent years, other fandoms. But this year Paula put on a production entitled "Revolution 9 from Outer Space," based on the K/S Mirror Universe crossover novel Revolution, by Madelein Lee. (Madelein was there in the front row, and watching her watch this play was the best part!)

The play opens on the bridge of the Mirror Enterprise, where we see the following posted on the wall in foot high letters: "ISS Enterprise Mission Statement: T o Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before and Shoot What's There." Spock (complete with beard), Kirk, and several redshirts are on the stage, and begin the play by singing to the tune of "In the Navy" by the Village People. Right off, we learn that Mirror Spock is harboring hidden passions. Spock sings, "I am wary now because...I look at him and feel a buzz..." and bites his knuckle, a la the Salt Vampire.

As the scene unfolds, we find out that Mirror Kirk has just returned from 'our' universe, and is demanding to know why Spock covered for him in his absence. Spock tries to play it cool, but Kirk is not fooled. He quickly cuts to the chase. "We can't talk with all these underlings around," he says, and promptly whips out his phaser, shooting the entire bridge crew. (Hmm, never tried that one in a story...)

Spock is ecstatic to learn Kirk 'shares his longings,' but Kirk evades his clutches. It seems it's revolution that's on his mind, and what he really wants is Spock's family fortune to finance it. With the help of some suspiciously familiar characters (this is a crossover novel, after all), Kirk comes up with a plan. They'll become rock stars (a la Bill and T ed's Excellent Adventure) and bring the word of revolution directly to the people. Spock is skeptical. He tells Kirk, "You've squandered my money, put a price on our heads, and spaced my pet sehlat. But I shall still follow you, no matter what."

Defending the sehlat remark, Kirk cries, "well he chewed up my favorite toupee! Say, this isn't another Vulcan time of the month, is it?"

"Yes, Jim. We call it the (fill in some nonsense syllables here.) It means, 'to beat one's cranium with a blunt instrument, because it feels so good when one stops.'"

It got progressively more silly from there. After much ado, Kirk finally figures out that Spock is hot for his bod and (after singing a solo to the tune of Macho Man) gives Spock what he's longing for. (Insert love song to the tune of Daniel by Elton John.)

"I take you for my mate, ‘til the day the stars grow cold," Spock says happily. "And now, we have sex." He holds out two fingers. Kirk gleefully places his paired fingers against Spock's.


Spock puts his hands behind his back.

"Is that IT???" Kirk cries, dismayed.

"What did you expect, Jim, Courts of Honor?"

A rollicking rock and roll finish (We Will Slash Them, sung to the tune of We Will Rock You) and more silliness ensues. This account probably does not do justice to the experience of watching the play, but I have not laughed this hard since the dancing penii. Paula, wherever you are, you are goddess.

My final bit of news from the con: I was absolutely ecstatic to learn that a certain writer of K/S who has been too long silent may be writing for us again in the near future. Oh please, please, please let it be true! I won't reveal who it is, since I don't want to put any pressure on her or anything. Let me just say that the very thought of reading brand new stories by this author has become A Private Obsession of mine.


  1. reference link.
  2. Post to the CI5 mailing list dated April 25, 1997, quoted anonymously with permission.