Comic-Con has been taken over by Hollywood, eager to push their latest movies.

Music is the one area that hasn’t really crept into the Con. Sure, Tori Amos was there last year to promote a book. And Go-Go’s guitarist Jane Wiedlin has signed autographs two years in a row.

I saw local singer, artist, poet, and bouncer, Ted Washington at a booth. That dude has some great drawings.

This year, I talked briefly to Gene Simmons, who didn’t want to say much. He was sitting next to his son Nick, who has penciled a new comic book he was selling for $5 (both he and his dad signed copies, with Gene not looking thrilled and not answering questions people asked him about KISS). I told Nick he sang well in a few episodes of his reality show. He leaned in and whispered, “I’m doing a secret show on Saturday night, across the street from the Hard Rock. Come out to it.”

I went to a party at the Hard Rock Café instead, that I found out later his comic book company Radical put on. Free booze and food, which is always nice. But the music was loud, and way too many people. It was really just like getting into a fancy nightclub.

The most interesting musician I saw during the five day Con, was sitting on a milk crate on the corner of 5th and Island.

I sat down on a corner nearby him, as he did a great version of House of the Rising Sun. During the course of the song, he made a few bucks from people walking by.

He then seemed more interesting in doing schtick. One couple was holding hands and he said, “I know, I know! The perfect song for a couple in love.” He played “Sea of Love” as they stood there smiling, before putting cash in his acoustic guitar case.

When a man with a crazy costume, which consisted of a brown cape, weird hat, and a long wooden staff walked by, the guy stopped in the middle of an Otis Redding tune. He looked at the three women in scantly clad costumes following close behind. He looked at me and said, “Was that guy a pimp? He had the stick and the cape. I dunno, maybe he was from Comic Con. I just can’t tell.”

One of the women, with a blue wig, stopped to hear what he was saying. He looked up and said, “Miss…what kinda shampoo you usin’?”

He looked over at two Asians and said, “Are you guys ready for some Muddy Waters?”

And as he started belting out an incredible version of Hoochie Koochie Man, I pulled out a $5 bill. He stopped mid-song to ask how much I was going to give him. I smiled and said “A five.” He then said, “Now, now, wait just a minute. You been sittin’ ring side. Front row seats for this great entertainment I’m providing here. You better get me something bigger than that.”

Just then someone took a photo of him and he snapped, “You want a picture, well…give me a picture. A picture of Washington!”

Two women walked by holding hands and he said “Wait a minute. What is that? Are you Lesbos or something?”

The women didn’t look amused, and he looked back at me said, “Hey…I have more misses than hits. But I have to keep talking. I’d be a millionaire if everything I said worked.”

I wanted to tell him to shut up and play.

My ride got there and as I got up to leave, he asked where the money was. I told him since he wasn’t happy with the five I was going to give him, I wouldn’t give him anything.

He picked his guitar up and held it over his head like he was going to hit me. I had visions of Abbie Hoffman getting smacked by Townshend’s at Woodstock.

As I opened the car door he was yelling something about not clocking me because he didn’t want me or him to go to prison.