I had a great time at IU. Thanks to the 3000 plus who showed up on a Friday night to hear a guy in a sleeveless sweatshirt talk. And talk. And talk.

Some inside info on the event for those who weren’t satisfied with the four hour chat session, and might’ve been disappointed that I also didn’t have them up to my hotel room to fuck my wife after the show…

– About two hours before I went on, I learned that a signing and photo op were advertised to follow the Q&A. Mere hours prior to that, I was told that the sold-out venue seated over three thousand. Naturally, knowing that I’d be speaking for at least four hours (as that’s what I normally do at these things), the prospect of signing three thousand autographs (heck, even half that amount) was daunting. Because I’d be there until four in the morning? No – I’ve stayed late at colleges signing stuff after the show many times in the past. What was daunting was…

– I was informed that the auditorium was going to close down at midnight, sharp. By 12:00, the doors were to be shut. This means that, even if I started signing at 11:00, many, many folks were going to walk away empty-handed, if they were there for a signature (which isn’t what the college Q&A’s are about anyway, but that’s a different topic altogether). The only prospect worse than staying ’til four in the morning signing stuff is signing for a few people, and then having to stop because the folks who run the building we’re in want to go home (and I’m not coming down on those folks; they’re completely justified in not wanting to stick around all night after the show proper is over). The only other option at that point would be to take the signing outside and stay ’til all were satisfied. But as much as I love the fan base, the idea of standing around in thirty five degree weather for more than five minutes isn’t too appetizing. So…

– I talked to Jamie (the student advisor, and a very cool guy) about the situation, and he assured me that they’d had other visiting speakers (like Colin Powell) do signings following their gigs (isn’t it weird that Colin Powell signs autographs?), and that the Auditorium Crew had gotten through similarly large crowds fairly quickly. Assured that we’d be able to do the same, somehow, in the hour we then mutually agreed to (from 11:00 to midnight), I said “Okay.”

– I go out and talk. And talk. And talk. 11:00 comes, and the questions get cut off. However, the audience (at least, the vast MAJORITY of the audience) demand that I stay and answer more questions. Majority rules, so I opt to stay on stage for another hour, answering questions, working under the assumption that an alternate signing plan would be worked out.

– At four minutes to midnight, I am escorted off the stage (and contrary to what folks seem to think, I am not offended by this in the least; I mean, the folks who run the place wanted to go home, for the love of God). When I get backstage, I am told there will be no signing. I say “Are you sure? Does the audience know?” I’m told “They do now.” Then I’m ushered into my car and back to the hotel, at which point, I spend an hour signing stuff for the UB folks who were kind enough to book me. Following that, I go back to my room, eat some snacks with the wife, then go to sleep.

I’m not blaming anyone, mind you. I’m just laying out what happened for the benefit of the outraged. There was, indeed, going to be a signing, but because I wound up speaking for so long (at the audience’s behest) the signing was scrapped. Not by me, mind you; and not by the UB folks. It was scrapped by the Auditorium staff, and with good reason – as they were prepared to be there only until midnight. No harm, no foul.

But, jeez – these things are always, first and foremost, Q&A sessions. Anyone showing up thinking it’s going to be an autograph party shouldn’t show up at all. Any signings that occur after the show (time permitting) are a bonus, as far as I’m concerned. Sometimes there’s time to do it, sometimes there isn’t. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about the fans. Shit – the four hours I spend on stage (and sometimes, much longer than that), smiling through sometimes idiotic questions should make that fairly clear.

Also, while we’re all being honest here…

For those of you who thanked me for choosing to speak at IU in the first place: don’t thank me – thank yourselves and the UB folks. You paid for my appearance with your student activities fees, and they put your money to (hopefully) good use. While I dug being there, my reasons for doing so weren’t completely altruistic. I mean, they handed me a pretty nice check to show up. Granted, I’d like to think it’s money well-spent (based on the amount of time I put in on stage), but there IS still a check involved. Let’s not paint me as Ghandi just yet (wait until I get your school out from under British rule before you do that).

Hope that clears it all up for the cry-baby bitch who had the audacity to email mmygeneration with the ironic thoughts…

“To whom the asshole is, Dude, your a fuckin little bitch. I think that sums it up. Kevin Smith has you spanked.”

I mean, dude – you’re the one who spent Friday night listening to Kevin Smith talk for three hours, and then waited 45 minutes for Kevin Smith’s autograph. If anyone here is “spanked” by Kevin Smith, it’s you.

ZING!

As Kevin quite literally ascended into the auditorium, I reveled in my third row seat. In a sorta cool, sorta goofy move, they had both the speaker and the podium rise up from under the stage. Explaining that he wasn’t going to lecture, and after a brief introduction, we all queued up to ask our questions. Fielding numerous “are you high on the set” queries with patience and charm, he used the questions as a jumping off point for many personal anecdotes. One of the highlights being a forty-minute tale on being invited to Prince’s Paisley Park to talk about filming something for Prince, and ending up staying there a week filming a documentary about “The Truth” about Jehovah, that “will never see the light of day” (As apparently many, many other Prince projects. He has an actual VAULT of films and music videos that will never be released.) The contrast between Kevin’s pragmatism and Prince’s fantasia (”it’s 3 AM and Prince wants a camel, it’s hard to explain that you can’t get a camel in Minnesota at 3AM”) was absolutely hysterical.

Also wonderful were the stories about Jason Mewes. The affection he has for Jason is warm hearted and infectious. I really don’t want to paraphrase, but, Kevin said he realized that Jason was special and “genius”, when he walked into a youth center library and proceeded to fellate every phallic object in the room, never acknowledging Kevin’s presence. Jason walked up to a videogame machine, saw that there was a trackball instead of a joystick, and froze. Then, well, he just went down on the trackball. Jason even called Kevin’s cell phone, “Are you getting some Indiana ass?” (Right as I stepped up to the mike! It made me lose all train of thought.). Oh, and all the variations of “Snootchie Bootchies” mean “Just Kidding”. (”I fucked your mom! Snootch!”)

Other tidbits include that Fletch Won is proceeding with Jason Lee as Fletch, Jersey Girl has to wait a bit since the male lead “want’s to wear a red suit”, the next comics include some DC “ands” (Batman and.”) and Black Cat, and, as Kevin feels he is a writer first he “has a book in him” (Yeah! I was hoping he’d say that!) . Favorite comics, Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing run. And, he’d like to guest on Sopranos and, “the ultimate”, Simpsons. Favorite directors include Spike Lee and Oliver Stone. The Star Wars character he’s most like to be is Han Solo, and the Star Wars character he’d most like to screw is. Han Solo. “Harrison Ford’s a good lookin’ man!”.

As the hours passed (four of them!), and the auditorium was coming to a close, the questions got goofier and goofier (”I’ll give you head for $5!”, “Why did you waste so much time with the Prince story!”, and the inevitable “Can I be in your movie?” and “What’s a nubian?”). One guy said he lost his job to come see Kevin, and Kevin called the restaurant where he worked to try and get him his job back to no avail. Someone asked him what he smoked, and a gentleman brought him a pack of Marlboro Menthols. When told he had to stop taking questions and go sign autographs, Kevin declined, saying that it’s much more personal to answer questions than to just sign things. He actually kept talking after numerous pleas from auditorium staff that they were closing, only leaving the stage at the stroke of midnight, when the University charter states it has to close.

All in all, Kevin Smith proved to be much like his films, chatty, personal, incredibly charming, hilarious and completely unpretentious. I’d give him head for free. 😉

– Amy Lawrence

Any monkey that beats the hell out of James Van Der Beek can grace the pages of Toyfare any day.

With his immense pop culture knowledge and brilliant storytelling sense, Kevin Smith knew that to make a quality road movie, he needed a monkey.

The true star of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, the orangutan named Suzanne is stolen from a medical research lab (the Fugitive-referenced Provasic) and goes with the guys to Hollywood, becoming chummy with the Silent One along the way. She saves the day by beating the creek out of Dawson and Jason Biggs. You may have seen Suzanne walking hand-in-hand with Jay and Silent Bob at the end of Mallrats, scratched your head and wondered why. Now you know.