Degenerate Press

Welcome to Degenerate Press' feature article. If this isn't enough you can always subscribe to Electric Degeneration, our semi-weekly and semi-weakly ezine, or surf the Electric Degeneration archive.

If you can't find what you're looking for by surfing, use this handy search feature:

Frolicon
Crowne Plaza, Atlanta Airport Location
April 2006

I had to skip the entire convention except for Saturday evening/night due to my commitments for Creative Loafing and other efforts. Honestly, I had planned on never attending another con of this sort again. No, it's not that I don't enjoy them, it's that the years of Fantasm were so fucking mind-blowing I didn't think anything could compete. I'd seen it all (see the archives for Fantasm reviews) and anything else was going to be a let-down.

But I have old friends who I only see at cons, and I wanted this new one to get some press so I wrangled a pass for myself and covered it for the Loafing. No, Frolicon didn't top Fantasm, but it was organized and attended by many of the same people and featured many of the same events, so though it lacked the quantity and quality Fantasm built over 5 years, it offered enough fun to keep me out until 5 AM on a night I was planning to end relatively early.

But enough about me. You probably just want to see the nekkid people. On with the show.

I knew when a firetruck was pulling into the driveway when I arrived that I'd found the right place.

According to con security, they'd had "a health issue" and they'd called for an ambulance, and got a firetruck, ambulance, and two or three cop cars.

I ran into Reverend John Ling, one of the few folks who has been on the con scene as long, if not longer, than myself. More years ago than I care to mention, I was a judge at the first few years of party battles at Magnum Opus Con (may it rest in peace.) John consistenly got my votes, yet somehow took years before he actually won. These days he runs the party battles, doling out the offical judge badges rather than competing himself. He handed me a judge's badge without a word. I hadn't even clipped on the regular con badge yet.

I cruised the dealer's room hoping for a good picture for the Loafing article. There wasn't much new to me in the room but I figured Loafing readers might not be as jaded as myself.

I think this was my favorite this time. Sure, I'd seen vibrating rubber ducks before, but never one in bondage.

The one event I wanted to see was the Spankable Ass Pageant, a competition based on appearance, dance talents, and tolerance for a paddling administered by a person who really knew how to rosy up those cheeks. I took quite a few photos but here are my favorites, with some for both sides of the gender preference fence.

This was the winner for the women. Though she had the most amazing bubble-butt, it was her cute smile that got my attention.

OK, the smile and the bubble-butt.


The winning male butt.

I enjoyed a few minutes of Big City Burlesque but by the time I arrived I could only find a seat way in the back and I'd seen them many times before. I slunk next door and found Classic City Kings Drag Show the sexier of the two shows. To steal from my own Loafing article, "Several boyish ladies done up as men strutted their stuff, stopping occasionally to make out with each other in front of the appreciative crowd." But again, I'd arrived late so my seats in the back were not condusive to good photos. Sorry, gals/guys!

As the hotel did not allow smoking, the poolside patio functioned as the smoker's lounge, or just the lounger's lounge.
I pasted this shot together from two others taken seconds apart because the faces didn't come together like this at the exact moment of either individual shot. Eh, who am I kidding, you don't care, do you?

Since a lot of freaks, goths, vampires, losers, geeks and slackers are nicotine junkies, the patio was consistently one of the best parties, though unofficially so.

So I journed on to the official parties. I poked my head in at the Play Party, several conference rooms of people and equipment of all sorts performing vaguely sexual acts on each other. Even though the lovely lass who'd won the Spankable Ass Pageant was there, functioning as a human putting green (no, that's not a euphamism for something else), I find the mass exhibitionism and excess/odd equipment a bit of a turn off. Besides, they didn't allow pictures or alcohol, so after a quick look around I moved on to the party floors.

One room had been done up in post-Katrina FEMA trailer park party style.

I was in the mood for something a little quieter, a little... swankier. So I didn't hang around long and the FEMA folks would not ultimately get my vote for best party. However, they were nice guys and had a good party going every time I stopped by. When they spotted my Party Judge badge they bowed and scraped and asked if there was anything they could get me. A cute girl in a skimpy red outfit walked by about that time and I jokingly said, "You can get that girl to come back here and dance for me." The host rushed after her and moments later I was shaking my head in hormonal overload.


Ah, it's good to be the judge!

Often the halls were the best place to meet people, as the parties were crowded, hot, dark, and sometimes loud. This is the lovely Kim who snatched my camera from me and took the above picture of me being... uh... assaulted by the girl in red.

At a previous con, Kim and I had been the only two clothed people in a several-room orgy. She carried around this evil paddle/crop thing that people always said, "It can't be that bad," then offered the butts to her.


Usually they lasted only a few swats before pulling away, rubbing their bruised buttocks.


Tenderized then taken away.

The party that got my vote was a polynesian/tiki/jungle affair thrown by veteran hosts who's party I had reviewed at a previous Fantasm. One of the hostesses claimed my review influenced her musical selection for the evening, ditching the techno racket for Italian porn soundtracks from the 60's, a huge improvement in my opinion and fit in with the theme. This hostess also served as a go-go dancer behind a fishnet in the corner. Cute!

Unfortunately for you, I didn't get many pictures because I was too busy enjoying myself. As party judge, I skipped the line at the bar and was served up a glass of Maker's Mark. I settled in to chat with con whores young and old.

I wandered the halls at random, hitting the other parties, but kept ending up back at the polynesian affair. Eventually Kim and I discovered the party was dying so we headed on to a different floor on a rumor that there was a previously undiscovered party up there. We found the place, done up in a pirate flags, occupied by a few others who weren't ready to call it a night yet. I had stopped drinking an hour or three earlier so that I might sober up for the ride home, and to prevent being hungover for the long Sunday ahead of me. Sometime around 4:30 I made my goodbye's and sped homeward.

For more news and views of Frolicon, check out their livejournal. Fans will be posting photos, reviews, praise and idle chatter there for weeks to come.


Contact Degenerate Press

Take me to Degenerate Press' home page!
There's no place like home... no place like home...

All content on this site is owned by Degenerate Press and cannot be used without our permission. We have lawyers for friends with nothing better to do than cause trouble (no kidding), so play nice. Copyright 2006, All Rights Reserved