In honor of the San Diego Comic Con‘s most infamous trait, I offer this poem.
In sunny San Diego our story begins,
A starry-eyed lad’s first Comic Con.
He picks up his badge and posters and pins
And enters this geeky Avalon.
At first he is wowed by the sounds and signs
This celebration of pure fanboy bliss,
It’s only as the shock declines
He begins to sense something amiss.
At first he thinks, what’s that smell?
Faugh! Some stranger has sneaked a cheek,
He pushes his way through the swell
Hoping the putrid scent to cheat.
But our poor hero is not aware
This stench is beyond all known or reasoned.
Formed of sweat and body hair
It is many–it is Legion.