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Fantasm 2001
part 1, part 2, part 3

As promised, here's the full review of Fantasm 2001. This is not for the faint of heart. You must be this tall to ride this ride. Rated R - no one under 17 admited without adult supervision. Keep away from eyes and face. Parental Advisory - contains explicit lyrics. Don't go into the swamp.
You have been warned.


The lovely Cloei came out in a very cool outfit and licked cherries off Ms. Fantasm 2000.
The drag queens made way for the Ms. Fantasm pageant. Overall, I wasn't stunned and amazed as I have been at previous pageants, particularly those at Magnum Opus Con (AKA MOC, http://www.magnumopuscon.com/) many years ago, but with Fantasm doubling in size every year I'm sure it will only get better.
Ginger, AKA Glampira, got on stage and ran off with all the cute girls from the audience she could muster.
The winner was a young nubile blonde with a great smile, but I'm sure it was the the nice breasts covered only in liquid latex that won her the crown. There were far more... moving presentations in the "talent" competition, but it's not about who wins, it's about making the crowd gasp and the overall show did that several times.
We hit the hotel bar and watched the con members scare a few mundanes, folks who were just at the hotel for the weekend and had no idea what they'd gotten themselves into. One older couple decided to register for the con just to see was going on, but I never saw them outside the hotel bar so I don't know if they really got an eyeful.

We hit the room to change and head for the parties. Degenerate JL, AKA "The Reverend," organized Jonestown Isle, "Can you survive the temptation?", a party with a Polynesian theme.

I wore my best, and worst, floral print shirt and matching pants while SW crashed in the room with an upset belly. Some of the party organizers were done up like the crew of Gilligan's Island, which became surrealistically disturbing when they got involved in the bondage events taking place in the adjoining suite.
"Hey, little buddy, just strap this around your wrists and..."


Here's The Professor (AKA The Reverend) behind the bar looking peeved. One of the problems with throwing your own party is you don't get to enjoy everyone else's, and you're lucky if you get to enjoy your own with all the organizational demands (I speak from experience.) But The Reverend consistently throws fantastic parties!


Dawn Marie wore nothing but ivy.

Other parties began down the hall and soon the traditional con exercise program began, "buns of steel, gut of beer." Take the elevator to the top floor, hop from room to room drinking like a fish, run down a flight of stairs to the next floor (the elevators are too slow) and repeat until you reach the ground floor. There you can check out some of the con events, like the dance, then catch the elevator to the top floor and start all over again. At many cons the elevators break down with the excess use, or are just too damn slow (particularly after one of the big events gets out) so we often end up climbing steps from floor to floor, hitting all the parties along the way. Sometime around 3 or 4 I gave up the routine and headed to bed, with the usual sore feet, tired legs, and abused liver.

Only mildly hungover, we got some lunch on Saturday and got back just in time for the Degenerate Press editor to star in Fantasm's version of The List, much like the VH1 show but focused more on fandom interests, such as "best underground film" or "best sexual deviance." With three cups of coffee in me I was awake enough to participate and it got a lot of laughs out of the sparse crowd, but we were up against a bare foot beauty competition down the hall so it was no surprise we didn't pack the house.
I got a quick shower and headed back down for the Iron Bartender competition. I got a seat up close, ready for a good show, only to be drafted into being one of the judges. Degenerate JS volunteered/insisted on joining, as a judge for a couple of rounds then as a competitor. Despite the near-total lack of organization and planning for the event, it came together and the audience loved it. Chairman Kaga came out and announced the battles and theme ingredients at the beginning of each round. Round 1 featured The Reverend as an Iron Chef against Ziggy, a bartender from Athens, in the Apricot Juice battle.

I've got to hand it to the competitors, the theme ingredient was always something awful. Yet, with only one exception, the bartenders did a decent job. Each managed to create three drinks in five minutes and the judges made colorful, and increasingly slurry, commentary before scoring and moving on to the next round.

JS won his match, due in part to his using a whole pineapple as a serving container, against Iron Chef Bardiva.
In the final round there wasn't a lot that could be done with the theme ingredient, some kind of vanilla liquor. We sampled the competitor's drinks first and were shocked at how much they each resembled some sort of cleaning product not meant to be taken internally. Truly nasty stuff. Iron Chef Bama, aka degenerate WW, made comparatively drinkable mixes and won the match. But the other Iron Chefs didn't fare too well, falling two out of three to the competitors, if I recall correctly. The problem is my recollection is a bit fuzzy and even the pictures I took don't help bring it to focus. By the end of the event fellow judge degenerate DM was having trouble standing. Fortunately for her we were running behind schedule so they couldn't let the other challengers compete and had to close the event after only three rounds.
Eugie worked as the chefs' assistant in a cute Catholic school girl getup. She's a hottie!

I prodded SW out of bed for the slave auction then rushed down to get in the action. I found degenerate JM and former degenerate DN making bids on every slave up for sale, but the emcee would beg and plead for anyone in the audience to outbid JM, driving the bids higher and higher.

Nobody wanted to be a slave to a degenerate like JM, "a fate worse than death" said the emcee more than once. It was JM's first Fantasm, but his reputation for drunken hell-raising at Magnum Opus Con had preceded him and his fame is on par with con whores of twice his experience. He positively terrifies those who don't know him well, but fortunately for me I've known him for about 15 years and despite the scary visage and aura of utter chaos he is totally harmless, at least to others if not himself.


Cloei was shoing off her new nipple piercings.

Continued in Fantasm 2001 Part III


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