I didn’t like Anamanaguchi so much. The other members of The Group were less displeased that there appeared to be no connection between the acts committed by musicians onstage, and the sounds produced. It was cool when Jim Henson pantomimed performances with Muppet musicians, but I don’t think Mr. Henson was really asking us to believe the puppets were really playing the instruments. Pantomiming a live performance with real people watching you from a distance of three feet doesn’t carry the same charm. I respect the originality of the way they do their thing, I just think if they can’t do it live, it’s dishonest to pretend to do it live, and really tasteless to do it in such a transparent manner that your transgressions are visible from space.

Jonathan Coulton was the usual perennial showering of awesome. Rickrolling the entire audience would only have been made funnier if he had somehow involved LFG’s Richard the Warlock.

Ryan introduced me to several incredibly good beers at the Taphouse, such that I ended up dropping a hundred bucks on dinner. We didn’t progress through the stages of binge drinking terribly quickly, we just had an enormous head start — we were buzzed an hour into dinner, and no one else got serious with their hooch until an hour or two after that. Ryan left me behind with the Whaler’s, though, unless he didn’t — I was putting back very powerful Mojitos (50% rum or so), and I don’t know Ryan’s tolerance, but I just came off a week of drinking with Draesek, who is part alcoholic wifebeating rhino, on his mom’s side.

I hadn’t met half the crew when I showed up, but I want the exact same people back next year. Best PAX so far, and we’ve set the bar damned high for next year, but we’re already kicking around ways to clear it by miles. Shirts, a possible multi-room hotel reservation, better-planned-out boozohol selection, not letting Jake navigate, restaurants where Ryan cannot endanger my immortal soul.

This oughta be good.