In very many ways, I could care less about Joss Whedon. Not to start things off on a bad foot, but I just want to make sure you know where I stand.

From a cultural standpoint, I try consistently not to judge a piece of art by the strident fans it accumulates. Comic book fans kind of have to do this, otherwise we would be forced to miss out on some great books simply because the people most heartily recommending them are closer to ranting homeless schizophrenics than rational conveyors of personal taste. That said, I was just a little amused to observe the box office failure of Serenity because above all else, those "Browncoats" are super, super-annoying. Eat it, Firefly fans!

Now, although for a long time I considered Joss Whedon is be overrated and not as innovative as some would have you believe, I always gave him credit for doing what he did very well. Buffy the Vampire Slayer quickly lost me (I actually remember sitting down to dinner during the premiere episode and eating faster and faster so I could get up and go do something else) and I was more interested in the attractive cast than any kind of cliché-busting Whedon was doing with the primetime action/drama conventions. (Ask me about The Buffy Wall sometime; it's a very amusing yet simultaneously disturbing story!) And beyond that, Alien: Resurrection was either poop or not worth thinking too much about, because I sure can't remember much about it. I guess Angel was good once or twice when I flipped it on, but was it? I DON'T REMEMBER. I don't care, either. Oh no!

I felt the same about Firefly for the longest time, too. I went to see Serenity (on opening day, too, so don't come at me for not supporting creative dudes like the Whedon) and was like "Hmm, I think I'm glad I never wasted time watching Firefly because that was dumb."

But then Whedon was announced as the new writer of the Astonishing X-Men comic book. This was significant because my mortal God, Grant Morrison, was finishing his run on New X-Men, so Whedon was the "big gun" Marvel Comics was bringing in to follow Morrison (because really no one can follow Morrison, so all one can do is throw a "big name" out there and hope that something sticks). Not to play to a certain theme, but for the most part: I. Did. Not. Care. But at the same time, Whedon has always come across as fun and exciting in interviews, and I figured that perhaps I would be able to tolerate his dialogue quirks and attempts to subvert expectations with various out-of-left-field plot developments (accompanied with more! Quirky! Dialogue!) a little more easily in comic book form, especially when illustrated by the talented John Cassaday. Long story short: yes, but then no, the delays are killing the momentum, okay that was cool, why is he writing Kitty Pryde like she's Buffy, that was dumb, why is he doing oh that is cool oops no it's not, okay this is fun, wait it's going to be two months before the next issue OMG this is dumb whatever I don't care yes I'll buy the hardcover I guess this is okay it's no Morrison coolness, though; let's go get some burritos!

My point is: I've always respected Joss Whedon as a creative force, and I think I've managed to maintain my polite respect for him by avoiding as much as possible everything that he produces, because watching it and knowing that there are people who think he is supremely-talented is simply irritating. But to each their own, you know?

But then something completely unforeseen happened: I started dating a girl who was hot, intellectual, and a dedicated Firefly fan. She was as surprised about it as I was, as she was a Hawthorne scholar first and foremost and wasn't really one for such things as playful science fiction. And yet she and her best friend found Firefly to be absolutely brilliant, and both girls considered the characters and dialogue to be exceptional examples of what highly creative artists can create when allowed to do what they want.

We eventually broke up, but not before we watched a few episodes of Firefly and she talked me into buying the very cheap complete series on DVD at Target. So one day, I promised her I'd have a Firefly marathon with eyes, ears and mind wide open, and I intend to keep that promise. Their enthusiasm about the show encouraged me to reconsider Whedon, and as a result I picked up his new Buffy comic book (considered "Season 8") and when someone asked me at the comic book store for good X-Men trades to read, I mentioned Whedon's work in the same breath as Morrison's. Which is a big deal!

Despite my slowly burgeoning appreciation for Whedon, it should still be quite obvious that there are people out there (including those really excited for Whedon Week here at Mutant Reviewers from Hell) who would be insanely overjoyed to meet Joss Whedon, even for just a second, even if they planned to say "You are amazing" but they were so excited that it came out "Yuarzingding." Whereas I could take him or leave him, honestly. That's just how it goes.

Thanks to the ironic nature of California (it's in the soil out here, folks), I ended up meeting Joss Whedon and you didn't. Again: that's just how it goes.

Here's the thing about the San Diego Comic Convention: it's common knowledge that if you hit up the Hyatt bars pretty much any night during the con (but especially Friday and Saturday night) you're going to be rubbing elbows with creators and editors and actors and their entourages and other "regular" people who want to rub elbows and possibly more with the aforementioned people. It's a big mess that sounds like fun and is, but I had never gone before. But this year, my friends and I got a great room (upgraded for free to the Governor's Suite: hooray!) and Professional badges to the convention for all five days, and since we like to drink we figured we might as well do it at the Hyatt where we can meet a hero or two. Fun!

I need to write up a separate SDCC article, so I won't bore you here with anecdotes about trying to buy Rosario Dawson a drink, almost getting beaten up by Thomas Jane, getting mad-dogged by the entire editorial staff at Marvel Comics (I think they were intimidated by my Paul Frank tee-shirt and envious of the girl I was with), or a million interactions with various comic book writers you've probably never heard of. All you need to know is that other than Grant Morrison (who I wanted to buy a drink) I pretty much only wanted to say "Keep up the good work" to the rest of the professionals I encountered, as myself and my friend were more interested in hitting on girls. My other friend, however, feels obligated to explain to all of his heroes how their work has changed his life (for good or bad), and on this particular Saturday night was absolutely frantic about going up to people to speak with them as the night before he was nervous about doing anything, and so missed out everything I mentioned as well as meeting Frank Miller, Seth Green, Geoff Johns, and a whole host of other famous attendees.

So there we are (on July 28, 2007), standing right outside the doors to the smaller Hyatt bar after talking over future projects with some independent comics writers. The door opens up, and out comes Joss Whedon and a super-hot girl dressed vaguely like the workers at Hot Dog on a Stick (which may only be in food courts in California, but if you look them up you'll see they have very distinctive uniforms). Immediately recognizing him and not wanting to do anything more than acknowledge his positive contributions to pop culture (even if I don't particularly care for much of it), I clap him lightly on the back and tell him "Keep up the good work, sir." He smiles genuinely at me and continues walking with the girl towards the street, where a couple cabs are waiting.

"Who was that?" My friends ask simultaneously.

"Joss Whedon. That girl was hot." I reply.

Before I've enunciated "hot" my friend is hot on Whedon's heels. My remaining friend and I know that he's simply off to compliment the man on his body of work (the two of them are legitimate fans and probably read every MRFH contribution to Whedon Week) but we figure we should catch up to him and save him or Whedon or both from any kind of conversational shenanigans that might go down.

When we reach them, my friend is naming favorite characters and explaining how wonderful they are and how much of an impression they've made on not only him but also everyone who ever watched an episode of a Whedon show. Whedon looks bemused, but the girl (hereby to be referred as Hot Dog Girl) looks either horrified or terrified.

My friend takes a breath, so I interject. "Don't worry, we've come to save you from this guy," I say to Whedon.

"No, no, it's okay," Whedon replies, and at that point I'm like: okay, this guy is genuinely cool. I hate to be 'that guy' who meets a celebrity and because they are nice and accommodating that validates their work as more worthy of praise than someone with talent but poor social skills, but then again sometimes you're on the fence about something and all it takes to nudge you one way or another is the slightest push. And Whedon being cool was enough to nudge me to "okay, this is a cool guy who does good work."

Not to be anticlimactic, but that was pretty much it. My friend just thanked him for being "awesome" and we all shook his hand, then we walked off while Hot Dog Girl put Whedon into a cab for who knows where. I went off with girls I knew from Los Angeles for a couple drinks, and I heard later that my two friends saw Hot Dog Girl and made small talk with her, discovering that she is actually Joss Whedon's publicist, although she apparently didn't seem too interested in talking with my friends (ha ha on them!). If there is a moral here, I suppose it would probably be: don't be afraid to approach your heroes and let them know that you appreciate their work, because they are human like the rest of us and like knowing that what they do is making the right impression. Or how about: hire attractive people to work around you, because that makes your fans very, very happy. Hooray!

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