by Karl Johanson
with Stephanie Johanson, Monica Spencer, John W. Herbert, Philip Freeman, Roy Fisher, Adam Charlesworth, Paula Johanson, Leslie Keetley and Robert Runté.
Most conventions allow people just to arrive and assume any role they want. This willy-nilly method of role distribution is hardly fair and often leads to some people getting to take the fun roles over and over at several conventions while others are stuck with boring, stuffy or annoying roles. To alleviate this problem, our convention will require people to sign up for one of the following positions before being permitted to attend.
Big Loud Guy:
-Must talk loudly at all times (even when conversing with the person right next to you in the elevator).
-Should be big.
-Should be loud.
-Must have beard. Preferably one which any decent crime lab could study to determine the last 11 meals you’ve eaten.
Greasy-Haired Blanket Woman:
-Walk around the convention with a blanket over your shoulders for a cape (tied in front with white butcher string).
-Long greasy hair.
-One green polyester blanket.
-Spend the entire convention talking about how the Russian Mafia are poised to take over the Former Soviet Union & launch a first strike on the US before the tritium in their hydrogen bombs decays too much.
-Army surplus camouflage gear.
-11 tubes of military issue camouflage paint (complete with the “FACE PAINT IS SAFE!!” instruction sheet with the smiling soldiers on it).
-Web belt full of caps and other minor explosives.
-Satchel bag containing a Sergeant York comic and a military ration tinned omelet.
“Here, read this” Person:
-Walk up to people at random, shove fanzines under their noses and say, “Here! Read this!”
-Flip out at people who say, “Um, thank you, I’ll read it later.”
-Several dozen fanzines.
-Glasses (more of an option than a requirement)
-The ability to determine the least likely topic to interest a person
-An ability to stare through people.
-Wander around con interrupting conversations to introduce your own (irrelevant) topics.
-Attend panel discussions and interrupt the speakers before they ask for questions.
-Lots of erroneous information.
-A collection of swizzle sticks which you think everyone wants to hear about.
“Woe is my life” person:
-When asked for questions during panel discussion you should give a 10-minute monologue about a moderately traumatic childhood event which happens to be thoroughly unrelated to the panel topic. Would be best if you can repeat key elements of the anecdote over and over.
-Must have suffered a mildly traumatic event during your childhood.
Mr. 2 Jokes:
-Tell the same 2 jokes to everyone at the convention (should anyone not laugh at the jokes try telling them over again or explaining the jokes until they laugh).
-A piercing voice.
-A repertoire of 2 jokes (preferably one about Star Wars and one about Battlestar Galactica).
Fur Bikini Woman:
-Wear a fur bikini.
-Try to look like you don’t notice people watching you.
-Wander around bitching about how some previous con was way better than this one. Try not to make it too obvious that your major (only?) complaint is not getting laid at this con.
-Lousy sex life.
-Spend the entire con in the video room.
-Should be able to spend 14 hours in an uncomfortable chair.
- a catheter.
-Should spend the entire con in the video room, making loud, boring comments about the videos.
-Chat with Big Loud Guy whenever he happens into the video room.
-A loud voice.
-Complain about the quality of everyone else’s art in the art show (especially those pieces which receive bids for purchase).
-Complain about the obvious lack of artistic taste on the part of anyone who purchases art done by someone else.
-The assumption that you’re far better known than you actually are.
-Moderate artistic talent.
-Drape yourself over numerous males at the convention, until they actually show an interest in you. Then you should move on.
-Wonder out loud in the hospitality room about why men are such pigs.
-2 “X” chromosomes.
-A lace teddy.
-A knack for draping.
-An willingness to rub your breasts against people, seemingly by accident.
-Wear a costume made out of old drapes.
-Inability to sew.
Sword in a Crowd Person:
-Swing a sword around in crowded rooms.
-Should have seen at least one movie with a sword in it.
-Attempt to ‘one up’ every statement made by any person in ear shot.
-Be willing to make mutually exclusive statements. For example, if someone complains about not getting laid this con, point out that you haven’t gotten laid at the last dozen cons you’ve been to. If someone mentions getting laid at the con, talk about the multiple partner encounter you just exhausted yourself at.
-Avoid contact with Name Dropper, lest your conversation gets stuck in some sort of endless loop.
-Must believe that you are in competition with every other human on Earth.
-Must look like a troll (short, poor grooming skills, bad teeth, one eyebrow).
-Put up with the boring comments and immature giggles of people who find the term “con virgin” screamingly funny.
-Must have never attended a convention before.
-Continuously tell people how important you are in Hollywood.
-Mention that all the big writers consult you all the time (refer to the few you’ve heard of by their first names).
-Tell people that Data in Star Trek was named after you because everyone in Hollywood calls you that because they’re so impressed with how much you know about everything.
-If anyone else at the con mentions any movie or TV news, explain to them (and anyone else in earshot) that their news is wrong. Replace the story with something incorrect.
-Must be oblivious to the fact that pretty well everyone can tell that you’re a compulsive liar.
-Shouldn’t have that good a memory lest you realize that many of your stories are contradictory.
“Did You Know” Guy:
-Start every sentence you utter with, “Did you know. . .”
-An earnest, fixed look.
-Knowledge of truly trivial trivia.
“Fandom Has Been Cruel To Me” Person:
-Complain that club elections are merely popularity contests & that they thus don’t put the right people for the job (i.e. you) in power (this assumes that you mistakenly think that there are positions of power in such groups when they are in fact more ‘positions of responsibility’).
-Complain that most awards are just popularity contests & that the right people don’t win them . . .
-Complain that most fans just don’t follow the rules.
-Complain that fandom just isn’t fair, damn it.
-Complain that you didn’t get a medal, pin, ribbon, ticker tape parade or anything else like that, when you attended your 100th con.
-Complain that there is a fannish conspiracy to keep you from being recognized as someone really important in fandom.
-An inability to recognize irony.
-A legendary ability to recognize when history is being rewritten by someone else, but not by oneself.
-A persecution complex.
-Tell people how big your hard drive is.
-If a person happens not to leave when you tell them how big your current hard drive is, tell them how big the hard drives were on previous computers you've owned.
-If they still don’t leave, tell them the size of the hard drive of your friends, neighbours and relatives' computers.
-If the person still doesn’t leave, check their pulse.
-Must own something with a hard drive in it.
-Should have a working knowledge of CPR.
-Inject sentences into conversations such as, “Well, Fred Bort and I talked about this very topic 15 years ago, and he told me he liked my idea for a novel about a guy who looks like me, who goes on this space ship and meets a girl and kills this bad alien and finds this shiny metal thing.”
-Make a point of name dropping to non-convention goers, telling them how tight you are with some SF author or actor they’ve never heard of.
-Must have talked to (or seen, or read something by) someone famous (or moderately well known).
-Drink the con away.
-Write a scathing review of the con complaining for several paragraphs about the half hour period in which you were unable to obtain alcohol. Mention alcohol wasn’t available in the elevators.
Goth Gaggle (also Gothabees):
-Wear pseudo gothish outfits.
-Wander about in a group in such a way that it appears you’re all attached by rubber bands.
-A vague understanding of the definition of “goth”.
“Swing the topic back to me” Author:
-Should use anything (and everything) said as an excuse to talk about your writing. (E.g. “My that is a nice picture of your new baby. That reminds me of the second chapter in my third novel, which won the Wunsler award, about this big guy with a sword, who meets this wizard and then this dark lord from the underworld captures the golden baby so then the sword guy and the wizard have to . . .”)
-Must be capable of mentioning your writing while answering innocuous questions such as, “what time is it” or “ where’s the washroom”.
-Attempt to take any topic of discussion or panel over to your favorite topic (cheese, ducks, nuclear energy, 17th century politics, Japanese armor, Space 1999, the international communist conspiracy, your new baby, whatever).
-Avoid any panels, which are actually about your favorite topic.
-A hobby horse topic.
-Continually complain about the government.
-Explain how Robert Heinlein was a genius.
-Must hated Verhoeven's adaptation of Starship Troopers.
-Probably best if you didn’t actually read more than a chapter or so of Starship Troopers.
Doctor Who Groupie:
-Wander about dressed as Doctor Who.
-A very long scarf made with lots of unnatural colours of synthetic wool.
-Should know the Doctor Who joke:
1st person: “Knock knock.”
2nd person “Who’s there?”
1st person “Doctor”
2nd person “Doctor Who?”
1st person “Waa ha ha ha ha”
Trek Groupie (Classic):
-Wear a classic Trek jersey.
-Say “He’s dead Jim” and “What have you done with Spock’s brain?” as often as possible.
-Pinch people’s sub-occipital muscles.
-Something vaguely phaser shaped.
-(Optional) Green face paint made from skin cream and food dye which won’t come off.
-Large rubber ears.
Trek Groupie (Next Generation):
-Wear a Next Generation costume which rides up in the crotch uncomfortably.
-Talk about how much better you think Next Generation is than Classic Trek.
-Make disparaging remarks against William Shatner, as that “get a life” sketch struck too close to home.
-Say, “tea, Earl Grey, hot” when ever you’re in the hospitality room.
-Something shaped like a vacuum cleaner attachment.
-Silly putty stuck to your face.
Trek Groupie (Deep Space 9):
-Wear a Ferengi costume.
-Explain to people just what the hell “gold-pressed latinum” is.
-Hate Babylon 5, even though you haven’t seen it.
-Make inept advances at Fur Bikini Woman.
-Very large rubber ears.
Trek Groupie (Voyager):
- Stick some model kit parts on your face, then claim you're Seven of Nine.
- Spend all your time at the convention trying to figure out how to go home.
Trek Groupie (Enterprise):
- Doeasn't really matter. Everything you do has been done better before.
-Carry one of those stupid curved Klingon weaponish things.
-Have conversations with Big Loud Guy.
-Disarm Sword-in-a-Crowd Guy.
-Growl at other forms of Trek groupies.
-A lobster stuck to your forehead.
-A knowledge of the Klingon language and/or the ability to burp the alphabet.
-Waggle your finger and natter at anyone who claims to not like Elfquest.
Star Wars Groupie:
-Get mad at people who don’t think Star Wars was the greatest work of science fiction in history (I mean, really mad).
-Brag about your Boba Fett poster.
-Should say “Use the force” at every appropriate and inappropriate opportunity.
-Should say “Use the forks” at any meal when people happen to use spoons.
-Should use the pronunciation, “Stah Waz.”
-Obsessive compulsive disorder.
-A Boba Fett poster.
Babylon 5 Groupie:
-Continually refer to all telephones as "Babcom".
-Say "the circle is now complete" whenever you bump into someone you
-Explain to everyone how Babylon 5 is so much better than Star Trek.
-Explain to everyone how JMS is so much better than Gene Roddenberry.
-Continually complain about how bad the final season was.
-Must be having a good hair day.
-Volunteer for security.
-Walk around convention looking threatening and trying to find opportunity to enforce some sort of rule.
-Impress on people your willingness to use deadly force.
-Camouflage or black jump suit.
-Knowledge of a small percentage of the Ten code.
Literary Snob (version 1):
-Wander about expressing contempt for SF fans who enjoy any aspect of SF other than the written form.
-Feel extremely pissed off at anyone at the convention who happens to be enjoying themselves doing anything other than reading SF.
-A ten year old brown tweed sports jacket with black leather elbow reinforcement pads sewed in with tan thread.
Literary Snob (Version 2):
-Wander about expressing contempt for SF fans who enjoy reading SF which doesn’t focus on characterization over interesting ideas and events.
-Feel extremely pissed off at anyone at the convention who happens to be enjoying themselves doing anything other than reading SF which focuses on characterization.
-Part of a fine arts degree.
-Unpublished novel manuscript in desk drawer.
Literary Snob (Version 3):
-Wander about the convention expressing contempt for SF fans who enjoy reading any form of SF whatsoever.
-Feel extremely pissed off at anyone at the convention who happens to be enjoying themselves doing anything whatsoever.
-A genuine feeling that your contempt for SF in any form, and fun in general, makes you superior to people who actually enjoy some of it.
Cell Phone Guy:
-Arrange to have people phone you while you’re attending panel discussions (don’t wander off into the hallway while talking into your phone).
-Attempt to make Big Loud Guy jealous whenever you talk into your phone.
-Say, “Okay” several times per call.
-Must know at least one person willing to talk with you on the phone.
-Must assume that other people think that you’re devastatingly cool because you have a cell phone.
S&M chick/guy (S&M means "Stand and Model"):
-Wander around. Act as if you are a person with tremendous sexual appeal.
-Do not let on that you have no clue that there are people for whom these things are really sexual implements.
-Leather bikini with metal spikes.
-An inability to notice people snickering behind your back.
Meffie (media fan)
-Talk about how Star Wars “started the SF craze” and that all other science fiction done since then has been a rip off of Star Wars.
-Hang out in the video room (but not as long as Video Roomer or Video Commentator).
-Rumage through boxes of magazines in the dealers room looking for back issues of Starlog.
-Talk about how you’ll have a really cool costume at the next convention you’ll go to.
-Must not be aware that there are other forms of science fiction other than TV and movies.
-Must not have read any books, even novelizations of movies.
-Already own every back issue of Starlog (doesn't mean you can't look, right? If only you could just find thatissue with the Logan's Run tv show on the cover...)
-Reply to all comments with non-sequiters
-Randomly tape potatoes to the doors of several hotel room doors.
-Fear of conventional conversations.
-A duck, three right shoes, a deck of cards missing the 5 of clubs, a can of Spork, a bag of potatoes and a roll of tape.
-A t-shirt which says, “The Pope and a carburetor”.
-Must have never heard the phrase, “funny once”.
-Walk around convention with camera hung from neck. Stand in the corner. Try not to interact with anyone. Take pictures of other people having fun.
-One or more cameras and accessories.
-A zoom lens which could easily be mistaken for an M72 anti-tank rocket.
Expensive Camera Guy:
-Tell everyone that you are a professional level photographer. Point to your expensive camera. Explain that you could easily make a living at photography if you wanted to. Point to expensive camera again. Offer to take pictures of young women in scanty costumes back in your hotel room. Point to camera bag full of expensive and esoteric lenses.
-Expensive camera and expensive accessories.
Self Referential Truman:
-Start conversations with complete strangers by providing updates on relatives they have never met or explaining why you felt it was necessary to revise sections of your eighth unpublished novel, even though they have never seen the manuscript. Ask if they were as offended as you were by Aunt Sally's behaviour last Thanksgiving. Explain how mad it made you the time those guys did that thing to that other guy, right there in front of those authors, that time at that convention, and then ask what they think about it.
-Belief that everyone is watching your life on television 24 hours a day.
Too Big Name Author:
-Wander hallways looking for free booze and easy gropes.
-More published books than friends.
-Avoid any contact with regular fans by attending only private invitation-only parties with tiny circle of close personal friends.
-Large check from Concom to attend.
-A small circle of snobby friends.
-Approach each author at convention about the logical inconsistencies and scientific flaws in their books. Tell them that their error was as bad as "that time Niven had the Earth spinning in the wrong direction". Keep pestering author until they come up with an explanation for the apparent inconsistency, or apologize for not asking your advice sooner.
-A first edition copy of Ringworld.
-Complain about the line-ups at registration, no matter how short the lines actually are. (Don’t volunteer to help at registration.)
-Complain that the concom didn’t get your pre-registration that you stuck in a mailbox in your hometown the day before.
-Complain that there are no panels on some obscure topic such as macramé on the Space Shuttle.
-Tell people that the concom must be going out of their way to annoy you.
-Complain that you missed a panel at 12:30 in the afternoon because you slept in and it’s the concom’s fault.
-Complain that everyone else is having more fun than you.
-Converse with the Bitcher, then complain that it ruined the con for you.
-Must have a massive sense of self-entitlement.
-Should live in a city other than the one the convention is at.
-An ability to walk up to strangers and talk to them (complain at them) without introducing yourself.
-Hang out in the fanzine lounge.
-Explain that fans who are interested in anything other than fanzines are fake fans and that they’re ruining fandom for everyone.
-Explain the difference between real fanzines and fake fanzines which are about Star Trek or other trivialities.
-A working Gestetner.
-Must know what corflu is.
-Must have had Harry Warner Jr. write at least one LOC to your zine.
NonFan Killjoy Spouse:
-Wander convention making mental note of unsophisticated behaviour with which to belittle fans to spouse later. Be ostentatiously tolerant of "nerds in costume". Say, "I'm not saying anything against your friends, I really like them, but doesn't it bug you just a little that they _________ ...." (you can fill in blank with spouse's particular hobby horses) Drain all joy out of convention-going for fan spouse and his/her circle of friends.
-Controlling, yet clinging personality.
"Real Soon Now" Guy:
-Talk about all the big projects you have in the works (zines, trilogies, video productions, the more the better). Explain how fabulous they are going to be. Dismiss questions about last set of projects with airy wave of hand. Get very angry if anyone points out that none of your projects have ever come to anything. Point out that you deserve more respect because your next project is even more important and impressive.
Crossover zine publisher:
-Carry around, sell and/or talk about your crossover zines.
-Spend time in the fanzine lounge arguing with True Fan about whether or not your zines are real fanzines.
-Fan fiction about Spock flying the Battlestar Galactica to Babylon 5 and towing it to the Ringworld where they meet Gilligan et all who were actually teleported there when the SS Minnow went through the Bermuda Triangle.
-Fan fiction about the characters from Lost In Space, Far Out Space Nuts, Space 1999, UFO, Buck Rogers (the 80’s version with Tweaky & Dr, Theopolis), The Starlost, Barnaby Jones and Red Dwarf all arriving at a science fiction convention and spending the whole weekend in the hospitality room talking with the author.
-A fanzine which features inaccurately described sexual acts between various characters from wildly different shows.
-Wear a three-piece suit wherever you go, including the hot tub and the Medieval Duelling Workshop.
-Look faintly confused at intervals.
-At room parties, sit on large double bed with the Draper and Greasy-Hair Blanket Woman. Do not spill drink.
-A three-piece suit.
-Y chromosome not necessary, but it helps.
-Must be willing to describe the last convention you attended, which was an accountants conference. When pressed, admit that you were the life of the party.
Phone Phreak Fan
-Wander around waiting for someone to use a cell phone or pay phone then borrow it and make collect calls to Moscow or the Pentagon using third world trunk lines.
- Talk about phones and phoning long distance
-Use the term LD and Big Brother interchangeably
-Explain to people that you know people who know people that can do anything over the phone.
-Break into conversations with the line "I know a guy who did that over the phone..."
-Giggle a lot and tell stories about dialling long distance oops LD for free.
-Should actually know a lot about phones, long distance and where the remaining non-digital switches are located.
-No other abilities allowed.
-Find a room with other gamers in it and build a nest of dice and boxes of old games until no one can see you anymore.
-Harmless, unless someone tips over Star Fleet Battle boxes containing all of the millions of little square pieces needed to play the game.
-Must have played every RPG ever made and own a small fortune in fishing tackle boxes to store Squad Leader chits and Star Fleet Battles cut-outs.
-Similar to war gamer except the nesting room must be large. MW spends the first two days of convention setting up incredibly elaborate battlefield with several thousand brilliantly painted miniatures. With several other MWs. Then they argue about rule interpretations and who moved last at the last convention until it is time to go and then they pack up the miniatures and go home.
-Fine motor control skills
Evangelical War Gamer:
-Complain about latest war game magazine that has altered rule point 4b/7x of some damn war game (Starfleet Battles is a good one) in an unbelievably stupid way that some how makes a certain combination of drone attacks invulnerable if only the player knows to sacrifice 10 percent of his ships resources for an elite level engineer.
-Act like people should really care about the rules
-Should have never done anything but play war games, ever.
‘3D First Person Shooter’ Gamer:
-Arrive at convention.
-Disappear into the room full of computers.
-Emerge from room only for food (should only do this once).
-Must occasionally say things such as, “@#$%” , “&*%$”, “+~@#!$%^&” and, of course, “No @#$%ing way!!! The only reason you got me was that my mouse @#$%ed up, or maybe it was the @*&%$ for brains who set up the @#$%ing LAN cuz it must have caused lag or something. I’m way better than you @#$%s so there’s no way I’d get killed unless the @#$%ing computers @#$%ed up.”
-Develop carpal tunnel syndrome.
-A joystick, a catheter and a waterproof container.
Hallway Card Game Player:
-Wander about with your stack of cards asking everyone if they are playing whichever game it is you play with those stacks of cards people like you carry around.
-Find convenient places to hand cards to other players. Doorways, stairwells, the middle of hallways, meeting rooms in front of the panelists, are all acceptable.
-Buy more cards from the dealers room every hour or so.
-An eight inch high stack of cards which keep spilling out of their pile into a long line on the floor.
-An intense stare.
Panel Moderator Who Won’t Let Other Panelists Speak
-Wrangle the moderator position for several panels. (At least one of the panels should be on a topic which you either know nothing about, or upon which you have a wealth of misinformation.)
-Talk throughout the panel without introducing the other panelists or letting them speak.
-Show slides which are only vaguely related to the panel topic. Ignore the other panelists attempts to comment on the slides.
-Should answer questions from the audience which no one has actually asked. E.G. “After looking at this slide, I know everyone here is saying, ‘the XM-47 Floozeljam was a waste of R&D money due to the abrasion problem in the venturi interlocks’. Well, the abrasion problem was solved long ago by Byron Morseby (show a slide of you and Byron fishing together at this point) in Augustine, Georgia in 1965. So you guys don’t know what you’re talking about.” (Emphasize the word “what”.)
-Must assume that people want to hear you far more than the guests who were actually invited to talk about the panel topic.
-A slide show projector and 11 boxes of pictures of you at an aerospace museum somewhere.
-Must not know what “moderator” means.
-Run from activity to activity looking concerned and over worked. Rebuff all attempts at visiting with vague complaint about having to "put out yet another fire", the precise nature of which is never specified. Be seen everywhere without actually doing anything. After the con, imply that it was only your efforts that saved it from disaster.
-Breathe in very deeply then out rapidly every time you change directions.
-Official status as member of the comcon (any position).
-Inflated sense of self-importance.
-An ability to turn down competent volunteered help while complaining about “having to do all the work yourself”.
-Wear a body suit with a tail pinned to it.
-Must bring every conversation back to the topic of cats.
-Avoid conversations with Hobby Horser (unless their hobby horse topic happens to be cats).
-Must have at least 2 cats.
-Moderate ability to imitate a purring cat.
-Spend the entire convention in the elevator making the following comments.
“No going down in the elevator.”
“The button for the 15th floor doesn’t work, so push button 7 and button 8 at the same time.”
“This certainly is a small room. . .”
“You’re probably wondering why I invited you all here.”
“Did you bring the explosives?”
“The limit is 42 people.”
“Is this the panel on weasels in science fiction?”
“You’re standing on my tail.”
“Thank you for flying Otis Air.”
“Is this a bad time to mention I have leprosy?”
“Fourth floor. Dealers room, art show, ladies lingerie.”
“Just ignore me if I start screaming.”
“This is your captain speaking, We’ll be cruising at an altitude of 20 meters. Whoops, make that 30 meters. . . (Continue until you reach the top floor.)
“Who wants to sing? Kumbayah, my lord, kumbayah. . .”
“I got my tickets for this flight at Cheapelevatortickets Dot Com.”
-Lack of claustrophobia.
-Must have a laugh that sounds something like, “Waaa. Ha! Ha ha ha haw. . . Snort.”
-Arrive at con broke with no place to stay.
-Beg crash space in someone else's room. Once you have a key to their room, invite 10 others to join you. Assure them host said it was okay to crash. When host returns to find party in his room, explain that everyone pulled straws to see who got the bed while host was out and that unfortunately he lost. If they complain, tell them that you heard there was someone with crash space down the hall.
-Must have never lived anywhere but parent’s basement.
-Should never have held a full time job.
-A sleeping bag which hasn’t been washed since the invention of the 286.
The Specialist: (Difficult to tell apart from the Hobby Horser at times)
- Wander around the convention. Strike up conversations with people. Immediately turn the conversation to your topic of knowledge. Talk about it until the other person's eyes glaze. Repeat.
-Must actually know an enormous amount about one subject.
-Must have no conversational skills otherwise.
-Say things such as, “I’m glad the fangoh made it to the con’s dead dog as I was worried she had gafiated as her zine has been RSN since like Corflu 4 and she’s always been more of a fijagdh than a fiowal anyway."
-Refer to obscure movies by their initials.
-Feel fanninshly superior to people who don’t know all of your fan speak or who don’t recognize that SWIVANH somehow refers to the first Star Wars movie.
-Must know what “koffiest” means.
-Stand in front of someone's dealer table and chase away all their potential customers by telling them all about the UFO that blew up over India 3,000 years ago, and how that foreshadowed the US stealing the spacecraft the Nazi's dug up in Czechoslovakia, and them using it to blow up the face on Mars, all the while hiding the zero point energy technology and the DNA resequencer that their letting Monsanto use to create a breed of super soldiers... (You get the idea. Just keep going like that.)
-Must run to a near by window every twenty minutes or so, look up at the sky and yell, "Why don't you show yourselves?"
-Mention that hoaxers who make crop circles have actually been hypnotized into doing it. Half of them were hypnotized by aliens and the other half were hypnotized by the NSA’s black-ops division as part of their misinformation campaign.
-Less social skills than Big Loud Guy.
-A tinfoil helmet.
-A blurry photo of a roundish thing.
-Every book ever written by Velikovsky and Von Daniken.
Snooty persons who think themselves capable of accurately stereotyping people around them:
-Observe convention goers.
-Attempt to lump them into categories.
-More ego than observation talent.
-Somewhat judgmental attitude.
-Moderate sense of humor.
-A fanzine to publish observations in.