The Peach is like so many very decent people; he just doesn’t know anybody who isn’t fundamentally like him, he doesn’t want to know them and he doesn’t really believe they’re capable of what they’re said to be capable of.
In our own way, we are all comic-book fans. We only hang out at our own convention, with our own people, and there are guards at the door, checking tickets, on our lives, our hearts and our minds.
The best we can do is be like the Peach — willing to let in kids with no money, or small-name authors, without worrying about every penny. And then let them run amok on the show floor, grabbing freebies and undermining the mass markets.
Right now in the Peach’s mind, a small band is trying to talk their way in through the door with their home-cut CDs, without offering any free IPods.
