PDAC 2012: What PDAC and Sci-Fi conventions have in common

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By Gary Jones

I’ve been an actor-writer in Vancouver for 25 years. And like any geologist worth his weight in ionic salt, I hit the proverbial motherlode during my career: I spent 10 seasons opening and closing the gate on the sci-fi television smash, Stargate SG-1, starring Richard Dean Anderson of MacGyver fame.

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A sweet byproduct of that much TV recognition is getting to appear and sign autographs at science fiction conventions around the world.

So when my wife, who works for Mansfield Minerals Inc., asked me to go with her to this year’s Prospectors and Developers Association of Canada (PDAC) conference, she made it clear that the PDAC is a “real” convention and not a “fantasy” one like the shows I attend. Oh really? No similarities between the boring, real world of mining and the sexy fantasy world of film and TV?

Well, how about this for a start? The “Stargate” in question was made out of a precious metal called naquadah, a weapons-grade ore mined on planets P2C-257, P3R-636 and, naturally, P4S-237.

Sound familiar?

In Stargate, once the U.S. government discovered naquadah, they figured they were sitting on a proverbial gold mine. I was quick to point out to my wife that this is what her company is (hopefully) sitting on in a property in Argentina.

Though I’ll grant you that the main difference between our two worlds is that planet P4S-237 can be time-travelled through the Stargate in under two seconds, while Vancouver to Salta Province is an ass-numbing 36 hours, regardless of which gate you depart from. Some sci-fi conventions, like the PDAC, are simply massive. The famous ones include San Diego’s Comic-Con, Atlanta’s Dragon-Con and Germany’s Fed-Con.

I’ve appeared at many of these cons. And much like the fickle world of mining, sometimes I hit it big and get besieged by legions of Stargate fans clamouring to pay me US$20 for my autograph. It’s just like the prospector who discovers a huge mine and earns legendary status, allowing him to lead myriad investors down whatever rabbit hole he finds.

Yet also like mining exploration, some sci-fi conventions come up dry, and I’m left sitting with a stack of my own unsigned photographs while geeks and nerds drift by my table eyeing me like I’m a washed-up old whore in an Amsterdam window, many of them suddenly very picky as to where they’ll direct their hard-earned cash. Thanks for coming guys, there will be no flow-through financing this week.

At the PDAC, resource companies set up booths in hopes of attracting shareholders and raising their companies’ market value. I do exactly the same thing at my conventions. In tough economic times, PDAC booths might offer creative enticements above and beyond the traditional brochure and free pen that writes upside down. Interested investors might walk away with baskets of Swiss truffles and Red Bull, handed to them by busty “booth bunnies.”

Since all I have to offer is my autograph on a photograph of me, I might throw in that I’ll use a pen that writes upside down to sign any body part… for free! I’m not sure if Robert Friedland ever tried this, but he definitely should have.

The PDAC holds short courses in geology, health and safety, and investing. Some of my sci-fi conventions hold even shorter courses in, say, “Darth Vader: Deathstar Dad or Deadbeat Dad?”

Mansfield Minerals is listed on the TSX venture exchange as MDR. Richard Dean Anderson is listed in SG:1 as RDA. And believe me, if RDA was an actual stock that I bought back in his MacGyver heyday, I’d be retired by now.

The PDAC is attended by financial fat cats, while every single sci-fi convention is attended by fat ladies with cats.

I do need to note one major difference between the world of mining and sci-fi: toys. The spin-off cash from sci-fi-related toys is an economy unto itself, something totally foreign to the world of mining, or, indeed, any other world. And while I suppose someone could manufacture the 12-inch collectible “Rick Rule Action Figure with Gold-Bugging Powers,” that could be the beginning of a very slippery slope.

Bottom line? Both worlds require a suspension of disbelief and a huge fantasy life in order to exist. You’ll never find a bigger gathering of eternal optimists than at the PDAC. That’s because in mining, it’s less about the money and more about the dream.

It has been said that old actors never die; they just lose the plot. If the median age at the PDAC is any indication, old miners never die; they just dig deeper.

If you see me at the PDAC, stop me and I’ll be happy to sign any body part for free with my pen that writes upside down. And that’s no fantasy. That’s real.

Gary Jones is a Vancouver-based comedian, actor and freelance writer