All songs
copyrighted
by David Rood
except as noted.

Talkin' Convention Holy War Blues

Story

Always wanted to do a talkin' blues, like Dylan's "Bear Mountain Picnic". Always wanted to do a song about the various factions having a holy war at a con. I had plenty of ideas for lyrics but not a dream of a melody, and suddenly it came together.

I'm particularly amused by the idea of the advertising team going "berserk"--the word comes from Middle English "bare sark", without shirt, used to describe a particular tribe of German warriors. I can just see a bunch of advertisers splitting up into Shirts and Skins for a round of Five on a Side Hot Potato...

Lyrics

The Committee got together and they made their plans
For the best convention ever, and it got out of hand,
And the advertising team went completely berserk

Taking their cue from Altamont
The ConCom Collective said, "We want
Hell's Angels to do security--we think that will work."

They rented a space and set up registration
And it seemed that reality went on vacation
But that's what we expect from this kind of event

Well it only took about forty minutes
Of robots and aliens and giants and midgets
Before the Angels decided life was too short for this kind of nonsense
And they left, Baby! For the open road!

The hogs and choppers took off for the border
The hotel staff said they'd maintain order
And told the ConCom committee to proceed
...as if they had any choice at that point.

Well, they got underway at the Masquerade
And the Klingons were sure that they had it made
Until their weapons were confiscated by Security

There were batlefs and blasters and more, don't ya know,
And light sabers in every colour of the rainbow
Even Vodun dolls and most of a Golem for tokens

The guards had no costumes, and they looked pretty awful
They got their equipment out of Mission Impossible
Had a big sign on the vault door that said Absolutely No Smokin'.

The Jedi and Trekkers are fighting over dinner
The Whovians are waiting to take on the winner
There were half a dozen other factions in uneasy alliance

We started to panic in the rising crowd
But nobody wanted to complain too loudly
After what happened when the Fire Marshall demanded compliance

So many movies were being re-enacted verbatim
Even the Borg Queen couldn't have assimilated 'em
And we were wrong every time we thought it could only go so far

The ConCom was holed up in the ConSuite
Hoping they had enough there to eat
To wait out the siege until the whole hairy drama played itself out

Nobody's sure exactly what happened
But with a hideous sound and a flash like lightning
We were all starting at an interdimensional vortex

Now nobody speaks the name of that Con
And we survivors just try to carry on
Despite the loss and some unknown effects to our cerebral cortexes

The Committee is spoken of in only hushed tones
Young children are scared to walk past their homes
Their story's the stuff of which legends are made

The fandom community was greatly reduced
A number of mundanes disappeared, too
In the Fall of the Con That Must Not Be Named.

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