Tie-Dyed Brain Rays

Epic Fail-Con USA: Putting The Con In Convention

LynchMobOrganizer on the Fedcon USA boards wrote filk lyrics on the Epic Fail-Con USA meme, sung to the tune to "Faith of the Heart."

Epic Fail Con
To the tune of "Faith of the Heart"(Enterprise Theme)
------------------------------
It'll be a great show
That's what the con staff say
It'll be a great time
But something's off the first day

Aaron Douglas should've warned me right then and there
Things were going wrong
Saturday morning the show's shut down
Now all I can do is sing a song

Of Epic Fail, at the con
Not Even Dr. Phlox could save it
Epic Fail, of the staff
they can't do anything
Epic Fail of the lies
Our Con Chair's Spine is leaking
Shoulda Just Stayed at Home
Epic Fail, Epic Fail, Fail of the Con

Pretty clever, LynchMobOrganizer!

On TrekMovie.com John Champion filed this report on the demise of Fedcon USA. TekToday.com also ran a story. But the real skinny comes from Aaron Douglas, Chief Tyrol on Battlestar Galactica, who has scathing comments about Tim Brazeal's mishandling of the contractual details and travel arrangements for this Kobayashi Maru. His Live Journal is complete with emails between himself, his agent and Fedcon USA organizers. It doesn't paint a pretty picture. Douglas was online refuting the Brazeal propaganda machine even as the convention (what there was of it) was in progress. With an amazing A+B button spinning death-kick combo, the Brazeal team managed to not only screw the fans out of seeing a couple of their favorite stars, they screwed Aaron Douglas out of a bonding experience with his cast mates:

I cleared my schedule to be there. My schedule that is now in the final 2 weeks of shooting. Shooting the show that has meant so much to so many for 6 years of my life. We are shooting on location next week and the cast and crew are heading there early to spend the weekend together. James and I chose differently. We chose to go to Dallas and be with all of you, much to the chagrin of many of our castmates. I was so excited to watch the final episode in a room full of fans and then have drinks and talk about it.
This is profoundly disappointing to me.

Meanwile, back at the Death Star, the Fedcon USA website was still promoting Aaron Douglas and James Callis as confirmed guests. Mr. Douglas suspects that this was done deliberately to lure unsuspecting fans, and their money, to a convention that had no intention of delivering the goods.

I just got a call from a friend in Dallas who was listening to the radio and it stated that myself and James will be at Fedcon this weekend?

WHAT!?!?!?!

are you insane?

tell you what fans. I am consulting my lawyer in the morning and I will look into a blanket letter I can sign that you will all be able to use to have your credit card charges reversed because you bought your tickets with the promise that I would be there when they clearly had no intention of ever having James or myself.

This smells a lot like fraud. I am not saying it is... just smells like it.

Now that's putting the CON in convention!

Something that really sticks in my craw is that Tim Brazeal claims that his budgetary woes are due in part to a large out-lay for media spots:

I know that we all had high hopes for the show. I am not sure what happened exactly.. I spent thousands on radio, print advertisement etc.. So it was not from lack of trying. JackFM ran and is running over 200 commercials for the show. I did newspaper etc.. anyway. I don't see a reason in making everyone continue to suffer through this.. So I told them to shut it down now.

I contacted Fedcon USA as early as January to offer them as many 20 minute interview slots as they could fill on the biggest NewsTalk radio station in Central Texas. I offered them live spots, pre-records-- whatever they needed, to be aired during morning drive time. I asked for interviews with any of the scheduled guests, who were contractually obligated to do media according to Chris McKeown, the media relations person for Fedcon USA at that time. I also asked to interview Tim, Richard Anderson, or any other of the convention organizers they wished to provide. I was eager to help promote this event up to the day of the convention, report from the convention and do follow up interviews after the convention to help jump start the buzz for the next one. He couldn't have bought the airtime I was offering for free!

Phone calls and emails were not returned. No interviews ever materialized. Even at the convention, Steven Burkholder, who replaced Chris McKeown couldn't score me a single interview with guest, fan or the hotel employee who was cleaning up the empty press room. While Steven appears to be a nice enough kid, and is at least as good at disappearing as Harry Houdini, I'm not sure he was actually qualified to park the cars. "Dude, I partied too late last night," he told me on Saturday morning. "I think I saw Robert O'Reilly in the elevator. I'll try to go get him," he said before he vanished in a puff of smoke(screen).

And while KXYL is not a major market urban affiliate, we do reach a potential listening audience of 100,00 people in the mid and small sized towns and in the outlying rural districts. There are several large colleges in our listening area as well as several community colleges and Junior colleges, all full of eager young fans. You might be surprised at how well science fiction plays down on the farm. Our station gave away ten pairs of tickets to some of those eager fans who drove upwards of 200 miles to see the show. Imagine the embarrassment to the station when I had to call these folks and tell them, "oops! My bad. No show. So sorry." I personally called them all on Saturday, as soon as I heard the bad news, which was delivered by some random, disappointed, fan as we stood by the elevators. Unfortunately, most of those folks had already arrived, some having even plunked down the cash for rooms.

If you got burned in this deal, or if you want to share stories of the actors who stepped up to the plate for the fans, please contact me. I would like to set up short phone interviews for a podcast on this blog. Please email me at [email protected] or [email protected] to make arrangements. 

Epic Fail-Con USA

Here's the official story of how Fedcon USA collapsed from Tim Brazeal:

There are a dozen reasons that lead to the downfall of FedConUSA, and truth be told, none of them are pretty. We could have been more organized. We could have communicated better with the public and staff and actors. We could have done more advertising. The economy was already headed to the pits a year ago when we started this thing. El Niño, simply because it's been too long since we've blamed something on El Niño. In the end, however, it all came down to money.

As anybody who has run a convention can tell you, it's not a cheap thing to do. There are a thousand little things that add up, as well as many big things. When we started off on this endeavor with FedCon Germany at our side, we had the financial backing and experience of one of the best convention organizations on the planet. However, with their understandable withdrawal from FedConUSA, we were left without the inside experience and cash reserves.

We had expected much more walk-in attendance than we received, and hoped that we would have been able to pull things together enough that the show could go on. As you know, that didn't happen. We are truly sorry to everyone for what has happened and disappointed that we couldn't have put on a better show.

You can read the full text of Tim's comments here.

The angry, disappointed, fans who shelled out the latinum and drove or flew long distances to attend this debacle don't seem impressed or in a forgiving mood. Many had bought non-refundable airline tickets with travel restrictions and had pre-paid for expensive hotel rooms only to find themselves all dressed up (as Klingons) with no place to go. Some hit the Fedcon Usa forums trying to put together impromptu outings to kill the time while they were stuck in Dallas. Several mentioned taking a trip to the Sixth Floor Museum, no doubt fantasizing about Tim Brazeal motoring through Dealey Plaza in an open car.

The chatter on the Fedcon USA forums include terms like "fraud" and "class action lawsuit." For Tim Brazeal it will in the end, no doubt all come down to money as those on booth sides of the ticket booth demand redress. And this is not the first time Mr. Brazeal's name has been associated with Star Trek related fiduciary problems. He was behind the Trek United, "Save Enterprise" fiasco which cost trusting fans their hard-earned money and accomplished exactly nothing.

It certainly seems that accounting is not Mr. Brazeal's strong suit. Perhaps the failure of Fedcon USA was best articulated by an irate conventioneer who obviously had some experience in this arena. He lectured a group of dazed and weary volunteers holed up in the box office. "You NEVER depend on the gate to pay the bills," he growled. "You NEVER risk somebody else's money like this. You raise the seed money yourself and hope to make your investment back. You hope the dealer's room will pay for the convention and the gate will pay the actors, but unless you already have the money in the bank you have no business putting on a show."

And while the no one officially involved in the Fedcon USA (dis)organization seemed to know what was going or to be able to accomplish much other than pass the buck and make excuses, the stars did what they could to salvage the weekend. They valiantly soldiered on, like the band who stayed and played to boost the passenger's morale as the Titanic slipped beneath the waters of the icy North Atlantic. While all the actors, writers and other talent did yeoman work keeping spirits up, the posters on the Fedcon USA forums credit John Billingsley with making sure the autograph room remained open for the fans and taking the lead in getting answers from convention organizers.

I didn't get the pleasure of interacting with John Billingsley or the other guests, but I did corral Garrett Wang for a few minutes and he was most gracious. He was willing to grant me an interview even as the convention was falling apart around him. He requested that we do it in the autograph room as he promised that he would sign for the fans. He was friendly, accessible and upbeat despite the circumstances. The autograph room quickly filled up with eager fans wanting their last shot at meeting their favorite actors, and I didn't want to pull his attention away from the guests who bought tickets and flew or drove long distances for this event. I thanked him for his willingness to give me an interview, got a quick snapshot and prepared to leave. He asked for my contact info and promised to get in touch with me sometime in the next week for a phone interview under better conditions. He certainly didn't have to go that extra mile for me or the fans and I think that shows what a class act he is.

Garrett Wang-- a class act!

See a small gallery of snapshots from the con and get links to my posts on the Fedcon Usa forum in the post continuation

Fedcon USA Self-destructs in Dallas

Fedcon USA imploded today. I'll provide the postmortem tomorrow. Right now I'll leave you with the post I logged on the Fedcon USA forum:

I host a News-Talk radio show on KXYL FM in Brownwood, Texas-- about 200 miles away from Dallas. I came to Fedcon USA as a member of the media (and as an enormous science fiction fan). It was my first, and probably last, sci-fi convention. I started contacting the Fedcon media liaison several months ago and was delighted to do everything I could to promote this event. I was promised a slate of guests to interview-- first by Chris McKeown, then by Steven Burkholder. None of those interviews ever materialized. My station gave away 10 pairs of tickets to eager fans wanting to attend. I promoted the event on my personal blog and talked it up on my program. Needless to say the station was highly embarrassed to have to track down those winners, many of whom had already checked into the hotel, and tell them to go home.

I knew things were in trouble when I got to the site and they had no press kit, no media credentials-- they couldn't even produce a lanyard in which to display the day pass I was given with "Press" hastily scrawled across it. I tracked down Steven Burkholder on Friday and again was promised one-on-one face time with the guests. Again on Saturday I left voice mail, and hunted Steven physically until I cornered him and he again promised interviews. (I think I saw Robert O'Reilly in the elevator," he told me.) I spent a good part of Saturday morning sequestered in the deserted press room waiting for Steven to deliver somebody--anybody to interview. Whenever I made a foray into the convention looking for Steven I was told by staff, "I'm not in charge of that," or "That's not my job," Or "I'll see what I can find out," upon which they disappeared never to be seen again.

I personally observed volunteers mis-charging for tickets because there was confusion over prices. "I'm just doing what I'm told," was the standard response. By Saturday, the events were thrown wide open to anybody who wandered downstairs, no doubt to the chagrin of Gold level ticket holders who shelled out big cash for special access. Nobody seemed to know what was going on, nor did anyone appear willing to take responsibility for a convention that was falling apart even before it got off the ground. The guests were all class, put on brave faces, and did what they could not to disappoint the fans. The guests shouldn't have had to shoulder that burden. Too bad that this fiasco has left such a bad taste in people's mouths. I doubt that Dallas will see another Sci Fi convention anytime soon. I heard there was a Hell of a party on Friday night, though. Too bad I missed it.

Where No Me Has Gone Before

Captain's log: Stardate 0608.11 we are in orbit around the planet Fedcon, our mission-- to make contact with the inhabitants and observe their strange social rituals. This away mission promises to be unlike anything I've encountered before.

This weekend Victoria Rose and I will be beaming  into Fedcon USA 2008, my first trip (believe it or not) to a Sc-Fi convention. Needless to say, I'm stoked. The best part is that as a member of the media I get the Federation ambassador treatment complete with face time with all my favorite science fiction stars. I'm especially looking forward to chatting with James Cawley of Star Trek Phase II, formerly Star Trek New Voyages. I want to ask him what it feels like to make Chris Pine the third actor to play Captain Kirk, and to hear first hand how he once out-Kirked Shatner at a Star Trek convention.

I'm also looking forward to schmoozing with Conner Trinneer, Trip from Star Trek Enterprise. He is in part the inspiration for Van Dyke Brown, one of the characters in my as yet unwritten fantasy opus. I haven't decided whether I'll mention that or not-- perhaps it is best to leave the fan-boy gushing back in the hotel room and maintain my high journalist standards and professional demeanor. (Hard to do when you are wearing a pair of ill-fitting Spock ears and a plastic phaser.)

I'll be sure to capture as much video as I can, snap lots of pictures and interview as many Klingons, Cylons and Super Heroes as I can corner on the way to the buffet. I may even do a bit of live blogging. I'll keep you posted-- Hah! I just made a funny.

To get in the proper head-space for my impending close encounters, I've been listening to audio books of "Up Till Now," Bill Shatner's autobiography and his earlier "Star Trek Memories," Both read by the Shat-man himself. I guess you could think of them as William Shatner's Guide to William Shatner. Victoria Rose just obtained "Star Trek Movie Memories," also read by Shatner. I don't know if you can overdose on Star Trek lore, but I'm willing to take the chance.

Victoria Rose is being a great sport about the whole thing. She enjoys science fiction, although she doesn't have quiet the same enthusiasm as I do (Pretty much that of a twelve-year-old.) I'm not sure if she finds my eagerness endearing or just a sign of immaturity. I've resolved at the very least not to jump up and down at the vendor's room begging her to buy me action figures.

Maker Faire Austin Video

A sampling of the wondrous creations at Austin's Maker Faire with interviews of Mark Frauenfelder, Mitch Altman, Bre Pettis and John P. Funk.

I interviewed some of the other makers too, but either the sound was too bad to use (I was recording with the camera's on-board mic and it picked up all the ambient noise.) or I had to cut them for time. Keeping the video within YouTube's 10 minute constraint was a challenge. I would have like the music montage at the end to be longer, for example.

Space Above And Beyond

Victoria Rose and I will be attending the 2007 International Space Development Conference in Dallas. I've applied for my media credentials and we've already reserved our room at the Intercontinental Hotel where the event is being held. It ought to be a blast-- a BLAST OFF, that is!

My old pal Buzz Aldrin will be in attendance. I interviewed Buzz last year for the radio station and it would be a huge thrill to meet him in person. I would like the chance to give him a CD of my interview and the Crystal Method "High Roller" mashup I made from it. In case you missed it, here is my blog entry where you can hear and download both.

To Insanity, and Beyond!

"I'm Lisa Nowak, Astronaut. Whether I'm on my way to the International Space Station or travelling cross-country to eliminate the competition, nothing keeps me more comfortable and secure than Depend Undergarments. Why risk embarrassing leaks while you are struggling over a can of pepper spray or being booked into the county jail? Depend Undergarments cover your ass-- for all of life's little 'Oh shit' moments."

I blogged about this on Tie-dyed Brain Rays 1.0

Fast Away The Old Year Passes

Where In The World Is Tie-dyed Tehuti?

Perhaps the following video can answer the question on almost nobody's mind: Where IS Tie-dyed Tehuti?

The Way Out

Helps eliminate voter irregularity

The election has come and gone, yet the political anal-ists drone on. Why? What is left to discuss? Kerry has conceded. There will be no endless recounts. The armies of lawyers have been sent back to their anthills proving that after all the contentious mudslinging even the Devilcrats can lose with dignity. Now we are safe again in the hands of God and George W. Bush. We can sleep soundly knowing that we are protected by the might of the Mighty White Right.

Dick Cheney can be wrapped in tissue and returned to his secure, undisclosed location. The talking heads can be put back in their specimen jars and stored neatly on the shelves until the next election. The pundits can be sent back to the pundit farms for re-education. And you there—sissy boy, you might as well drop the bouquet. You aren’t getting married anytime soon.

My trip through the Underworld has come to an end as well. Halloween has come and gone and I did not find what I had lost, so I stopped looking for it and started looking for the way out. I stumbled through the dark basement of Limbo (where they keep the overstock and close outs) for quite some time before I found a hatch in the floor. It was the kind of hatch one might find on your run-of-the-mill U-boat. After a bit of tugging and yanking I managed to force it open, lifting the heavy hatch cover up on it’s rusty hinges with a mighty heave.

Flames shot up my kilt.

I slammed the hatch shut. It isn’t nearly close enough to Christmas to start roasting chestnuts. That’s when I noticed the wrought-iron spiral staircase, spiraling upward (as spiral staircases are wont to do) into the darkness over my head. It seemed to go on forever. With great trepidation I began to traverse it. As I wound my way up I reminisced about the time my Great Uncle Milty tried to invent the spiral escalator and screwed himself into the ground. (Then there was the time he tried to combine his love of cookies and tobacco and came up with Double Snuff Oreos.)

After an hour or two, a few more pointless reminiscences, a couple of random daydreams, a panic attack, a snack and the odd erotic fantasy, I bumped my head on a manhole cover. Why does everything in the Underworld have to be heavy and rusty? With a mighty shove I dislodged it, emerging into a vast desert wasteland.

This doesn’t look like home. I knew I should have turned left at Albuquerque!

I could see a structure in the distance through the wavering heat. A mirage perhaps? Hey, maybe I was near Vegas! I began to trudge off toward what I hoped would might harbor a cold drink or a hot showgirl. I found that my journey proceeded much faster when I spun the hands of my watch around and around, just like they do in the movies. I was there in no time. Einstein was right. Time is relative.

A trio of glass and steel pyramids surrounded a tower in a central courtyard. The place was in ruins, and seemingly uninhabited. I could not find the entrance to any of the pyramid structures, so I looked for passage into the courtyard with the idea of finding my way to the top of the tower for a good look around.

In the middle of the courtyard, before a long-dry reflecting pool, stood a towering bronze statue of a buxom young woman astride a giant boar. Both were depicted in full armor, the maiden armed with a spear and wearing the kind of horned helmet (with one of the horns broken off) that a heroine in a Wagnerian opera might wear. The boar looked almost like an ironclad rhinoceros, brandishing a large spike on his headpiece, as well as a pair of the most menacing tusks you ever saw. On his flank was carved, “Hell on Hooves.” What a beautiful, fearsome pair they made.

As I stood marveling, the silence was broken by the sound of a human voice. I nearly jumped out of my skin and spun on my heels to see an old man with a flowing white beard approaching me. He wore long tattered robes emblazoned with a crest. The Greek letter Omega sat atop the letter Tau. Taken together they formed the Crux Ansada. He hurried toward me excitedly, pursued by hideous, wee beasties that tugged at his robes and battered his shins with sticks. He looked like something out of a Schongauer painting.

 

“Are you here to rescue me?” He asked hopefully.

“Actually, I’m lost,” I answered, apologetically.

“Naturally,” He said. The poor fellow seemed crestfallen.  He lifted his robe and tried to shake loose one of the little monsters that had latched onto his leg.

“What are those awful things?” I asked.

He sighed. “Those are my angels of chaos. They manifest out of my dreams at night. They are a real pain in the ass.” He turned to reveal a hairy gopher sized creature clinging to his hind-parts by a mouth full of pointy teeth. “See?”

“My God!” I grimaced.

He pointed toward something, which darted behind the statue of the warriors. “That spiny bastard is the worst,” he said. An evil giggle emanated from the shadows. “But they are the only things to eat around here.”

“Blech!” I exclaimed, wrinkling my nose.

“Eh, the Duken is pretty tasty,” he said, gesturing to a small campfire I hadn’t noticed before. Roasting on a spit was what appeared to be a brain with rooster's legs and leathery bat wings. “Care for a drumstick?”

I declined. “How long have you been here old-timer?” I asked.

He scratched his head, counted on his fingers, and took a deep breath. “It’ll be One thousand, four-hundred twenty years, six months, three days,” he said. “Come next Tuesday.”

I eyeballed him dubiously. “Who are they?” I asked, pointing at the sculpture.

He looked at the maiden wistfully. “She was the love of my life.” His eyes began to water.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

He shrugged and turned away. “I was just her companion on the first of her adventures,” he said sadly. “I heard once that she died rich and lonely, the name ‘Rosebud’ lingering on her lips.” He paused. “Or maybe I saw that in a movie once. I forget.” He began to usher me toward the tower. “She might have run off with a poet, or a circus freak… Who knows? I don’t guess it matters much anymore.”

He swung open the tower doors and we entered into a great library. In the center stood a magnificent ten thousand year clock. It rose majestically up through the center of the tower, rockers and gears slowly grinding out the advance of centuries. There were hands to mark the passage of the ages, dials to chart the rise and fall of civilizations, and a cuckoo that chirped but once a millennium.

 

“It’s ten minutes fast,” he said.

Hundreds of thousands of books lined the tower walls. “The sum of human knowledge,” he whispered reverently. “There are even one or two by you,” he said smiling. Before I could ask him anything else he shoved me toward a turnstile. “You’ll find that is your way out,” He said, slapping something into my hand. “You’ll need a token.”

“Hey!” I protested. “I have a few more questions. What is this place? Who are you? What’s up with the pig? Where is the girl now? And do I really write a book?”

“You’ll find out,” he said slyly. “In time. Now go. And if you see that damned brush elf, give him a swift kick in the pants for me.” Then he turned and walked away, whistling the Gary Owen and swatting at the angels of chaos that surrounded him once more.

After one last glance I deposited the token and passed through the turnstile. I emerged into the sunshine, surrounded by the familiar buildings of my hometown.

“Hello movie house!” I gushed. “Hello gas station! Hello building and loan!” I rushed down the street, past the places of my youth. It felt good to be back in the Overworld, back among the living. I guess I really will have a wonderful life after all.