Based on a Mighty Boosh crimp. Inspired by this conversation.
Bonus: a terrible cartoon of Digby!
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
From the Sketchbook - Captain Cabinets
...Captain Cabinets, trapped in cabinets..
.
Based on a Mighty Boosh crimp. Inspired by this conversation.
Bonus: a terrible cartoon of Digby!
Based on a Mighty Boosh crimp. Inspired by this conversation.
Bonus: a terrible cartoon of Digby!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Short Fiction: He Stood in the Shadows
...in which I write extemporaneously...
He stood in the shadows, behind the wall, listening to the faint conversation. They would soon finish, murmur words of satisfaction, and leave. New ones would take their place, and he'd hear the cycle start anew. He found it interesting, the way the Master conducted the room. For long stretches, hours sometimes, he would hear only silence. But sometimes--as though silently beckoned--the adjacent space would swell with activity, bringing an exciting new array of sounds. Listening to the voices individually was a skill he'd quickly learned, though the speakers' words remained foreign to him. He always became excited for these loud times. The loud times brought the smells. Pressing his nose against the drywall, pressing so hard that his face would become sore, he gathered what he could of the sensations that were, he imagined, so clear on the other side. The smells made his mouth water, his heartbeat race; they made his breaths deep and intentional. He savored these moments; there were all he had to look forward to besides sleeping, which he also enjoyed.
My Boy knows nothing outside of the shadows, the noises, the smells. Eating the morsels which appear during his sleep, relieving himself down a small grate, the excitement of the lunch and dinner rushes, this is his life. Existing in a space barely large enough to stand, let alone to lay down, sit, or move, has changed his body. He stands now, at all times, though not through the strength of muscle and bone. The confining walls have become a mold into which he has been poured; his legs, useless for anything but small movements back and forth. If he knew the truth of his situation, that his entire life will be spent in a crawlspace, he would weep. But his ignorance, his devotion, keeps him happy. If he knew that the voices on the other side were just like him, but free, what would he think? It would destroy him. Would it be cruel to release him from his prison, to show him the world which had been locked from him? Yes, of course. I made the choice for him long ago, and it cannot be changed. My son will never--never!--be taken by the cruelness and sin of the world. I have given him a life for which so many of us yearn. His care and love will come only through me and he will know nothing of evil.
To protect him fully, I have locked him away.
[Note: Wow, what a weird story that turned out to be. Sorry if it got a bit dark, I wasn't sure where it was going until I was nearly done. Somehow, the idea of a boy trapped between walls in a crappy restaurant and what life would be like in that situation just came to me. Kind of a Plato's Cave sort of story. Anyway, I think I'll quit before it gets any creepier. Good night, all.]
He stood in the shadows, behind the wall, listening to the faint conversation. They would soon finish, murmur words of satisfaction, and leave. New ones would take their place, and he'd hear the cycle start anew. He found it interesting, the way the Master conducted the room. For long stretches, hours sometimes, he would hear only silence. But sometimes--as though silently beckoned--the adjacent space would swell with activity, bringing an exciting new array of sounds. Listening to the voices individually was a skill he'd quickly learned, though the speakers' words remained foreign to him. He always became excited for these loud times. The loud times brought the smells. Pressing his nose against the drywall, pressing so hard that his face would become sore, he gathered what he could of the sensations that were, he imagined, so clear on the other side. The smells made his mouth water, his heartbeat race; they made his breaths deep and intentional. He savored these moments; there were all he had to look forward to besides sleeping, which he also enjoyed.
My Boy knows nothing outside of the shadows, the noises, the smells. Eating the morsels which appear during his sleep, relieving himself down a small grate, the excitement of the lunch and dinner rushes, this is his life. Existing in a space barely large enough to stand, let alone to lay down, sit, or move, has changed his body. He stands now, at all times, though not through the strength of muscle and bone. The confining walls have become a mold into which he has been poured; his legs, useless for anything but small movements back and forth. If he knew the truth of his situation, that his entire life will be spent in a crawlspace, he would weep. But his ignorance, his devotion, keeps him happy. If he knew that the voices on the other side were just like him, but free, what would he think? It would destroy him. Would it be cruel to release him from his prison, to show him the world which had been locked from him? Yes, of course. I made the choice for him long ago, and it cannot be changed. My son will never--never!--be taken by the cruelness and sin of the world. I have given him a life for which so many of us yearn. His care and love will come only through me and he will know nothing of evil.
To protect him fully, I have locked him away.
[Note: Wow, what a weird story that turned out to be. Sorry if it got a bit dark, I wasn't sure where it was going until I was nearly done. Somehow, the idea of a boy trapped between walls in a crappy restaurant and what life would be like in that situation just came to me. Kind of a Plato's Cave sort of story. Anyway, I think I'll quit before it gets any creepier. Good night, all.]
Monday, February 14, 2011
I might have been scammed by a deaf lady...
...and why I don't really care...
It's a funny thing when someone knocks on your door in the middle of the night. One half of my perks up--one of my many friends is here for an impromptu visit!--but the other half is gripped with terror--murderer, rapist, bill collector, oh god oh god oh god. Turns out that our unexpected visitor tonight was neither.
She knocks on my door, completely unassuming, probably not a murderer, but I'm still a bit tense (I blame procedural cop dramas for my fear of strangers). I try to say hello, but she instantly makes the signal for, "I can't hear you, nor can I speak to tell you that I can't hear you."
Okay, this is going to be a new experience for me. She mimes writing on paper and I rush inside to grab my sketchpad and a pen. In immaculate, but nervous handwriting she scrawls a message for me:
A quick point to the nearest gas station and she starts off, on her merry way.
But this, dear readers, is where the plot potentially thickens. My girlfriend, expressing her bemusement at this story, begins to relate it with our friends online. We're not the first to be visited by deaf lady. Apparently she's made a business out of this little transaction.
Now, I might normally have been dismayed at this news, maybe even a little angry, but tonight I'm not. In fact, I'm disappointed that [girlfriend] told me that part of the story. Let me tell you why.
This encounter was a win-win scenario for both parties involved. She got five bucks and maybe a reassurance of peoples' decency (or gullibility, but I'm hoping for the best here), and we got to feel like fifteen minute heroes for helping somebody out. That, and it added some spice to what would have otherwise been just another night sitting at our computers (in this case we were both writing essays).
So I guess the moral of the story here is: Good on ya, deaf lady.
It's a funny thing when someone knocks on your door in the middle of the night. One half of my perks up--one of my many friends is here for an impromptu visit!--but the other half is gripped with terror--murderer, rapist, bill collector, oh god oh god oh god. Turns out that our unexpected visitor tonight was neither.
She knocks on my door, completely unassuming, probably not a murderer, but I'm still a bit tense (I blame procedural cop dramas for my fear of strangers). I try to say hello, but she instantly makes the signal for, "I can't hear you, nor can I speak to tell you that I can't hear you."
Okay, this is going to be a new experience for me. She mimes writing on paper and I rush inside to grab my sketchpad and a pen. In immaculate, but nervous handwriting she scrawls a message for me:
 |
| A hastily drawn and poorly photographed sketch of the event. |
Of course I'm inclined to believe her. So my girlfriend and I scramble around the house, looking for extra cash, and come up with five dollars and change to give her. She waits really patiently and politely outside the front door as we make fools of ourselves, rushing around the small apartment. We give her the wad of cash and she nods and signs, "Thank you." Again, super polite, courteous, the whole bit.Sorry to bother, my truck ran out, can you help w/ gas, cause I need to pick up my kids I have $$ but won't make it to [nearby town], truck is diesel
A quick point to the nearest gas station and she starts off, on her merry way.
But this, dear readers, is where the plot potentially thickens. My girlfriend, expressing her bemusement at this story, begins to relate it with our friends online. We're not the first to be visited by deaf lady. Apparently she's made a business out of this little transaction.
Now, I might normally have been dismayed at this news, maybe even a little angry, but tonight I'm not. In fact, I'm disappointed that [girlfriend] told me that part of the story. Let me tell you why.
This encounter was a win-win scenario for both parties involved. She got five bucks and maybe a reassurance of peoples' decency (or gullibility, but I'm hoping for the best here), and we got to feel like fifteen minute heroes for helping somebody out. That, and it added some spice to what would have otherwise been just another night sitting at our computers (in this case we were both writing essays).
So I guess the moral of the story here is: Good on ya, deaf lady.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
From the Sketchbook
...oh dear, not another one of these...
That's right, dear readers, since I've been so utterly bored this last week (snowfall keeping me inside), I haven't had anything blog-worthy to post. Instead, I've been watching countless hours of old shows on Netflix and generally being a layabout.
But that's about to change! Well, no, not really. Here are some sketches, though.
I'm a big fan of Fringe, and so I thought I'd check up on the series that pioneered the genre of paranormal investigation (not you, Ghost Hunters). It's still an incredibly entertaining show, if a bit predictable.
An all-day Cosmos marathon is also a really great way to spend thirteen hours of your life. Despite being made in the late 80s, the scientific insights and information are still incredibly relevant. This show was great at being at the cutting edge of science, and remains one of the most imaginative and moving science programs ever made.
[Cosmos on Hulu]
Finally, the Cinema Snob. One of my favorite reviewers on That Guy with the Glasses, he takes on the very worst of classic [insert any genre]-sploitation films. In addition to that, his blog is updated extremely quickly with new content. I could only dream of being so busy here.
[Note: I guess this is a decent sketch, but really doesn't capture the Snob well. It wasn't until I finished and stepped back that I realized that the beard is too full and his forehead too small. Oh well, that's why you don't pay me the big bucks.]
In closing: the snow is beginning to melt, and soon I'll be back to my jet-setting life of adventure. In the meantime, I'll continue to be extremely boring. Good luck all, especially to those who are more snowed in than I.
That's right, dear readers, since I've been so utterly bored this last week (snowfall keeping me inside), I haven't had anything blog-worthy to post. Instead, I've been watching countless hours of old shows on Netflix and generally being a layabout.
But that's about to change! Well, no, not really. Here are some sketches, though.
 |
| Our favorite Skeptic/Believer duo, Mulder and Skully! |
I'm a big fan of Fringe, and so I thought I'd check up on the series that pioneered the genre of paranormal investigation (not you, Ghost Hunters). It's still an incredibly entertaining show, if a bit predictable.
 |
| Evil Carl Sagan, striking from his hidden Fortress of the Imagination |
An all-day Cosmos marathon is also a really great way to spend thirteen hours of your life. Despite being made in the late 80s, the scientific insights and information are still incredibly relevant. This show was great at being at the cutting edge of science, and remains one of the most imaginative and moving science programs ever made.
[Cosmos on Hulu]
 |
| The incredibly prolific, Cinema Snob! |
Finally, the Cinema Snob. One of my favorite reviewers on That Guy with the Glasses, he takes on the very worst of classic [insert any genre]-sploitation films. In addition to that, his blog is updated extremely quickly with new content. I could only dream of being so busy here.
[Note: I guess this is a decent sketch, but really doesn't capture the Snob well. It wasn't until I finished and stepped back that I realized that the beard is too full and his forehead too small. Oh well, that's why you don't pay me the big bucks.]
In closing: the snow is beginning to melt, and soon I'll be back to my jet-setting life of adventure. In the meantime, I'll continue to be extremely boring. Good luck all, especially to those who are more snowed in than I.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Blog Post-crastination
...in which I forgo the completion of an essay...
I've got an essay due tomorrow, but that doesn't matter now. I've done a comic!
Inspired by this Neil DeGrasse Tyson video, which I watched tonight (instead of working). Hope you enjoy! Procrastinate Now!
Maybe someday I'll tell the story of the night I met Dr. DeGrasse Tyson (I'm a Physics student in addition to superstar blog sensation, after all) but I'll save it for another time.
I've got an essay due tomorrow, but that doesn't matter now. I've done a comic!
Inspired by this Neil DeGrasse Tyson video, which I watched tonight (instead of working). Hope you enjoy! Procrastinate Now!
Maybe someday I'll tell the story of the night I met Dr. DeGrasse Tyson (I'm a Physics student in addition to superstar blog sensation, after all) but I'll save it for another time.
Monday, January 24, 2011
From the Sketchbook
...a tale of Dungeons, Dragons, and Lizardmen...
It may surprise you to learn (because I'm such a cool guy) that I'm also an experienced player of Dungeons and Dragons--a Dungeon Master, no less. From my apartment, I run a weekly game for several of my friends in which we battle monsters, save damsels, and make dick jokes about every monster we encounter. You see, that's the magic (no pun) of a completely open-ended game like D&D. In what other fantasy game could we board a boat called the S.S. Fellow Ship and mingle with its all-gay muscle-bound crew, take the ship to Pirate Island, brave the dreaded Twisty Caverns, and castrate the defeated lizardmen inside (the player's idea, not mine) to sell their prized genitalia on the black market?
But I'm not here to talk at length about the game, since you're probably not interested anyway. It is the lizardmen that have brought me here, but for a different reason. I have a sketch.
And while this may look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon (because it is), it is, in fact, a lizardman from my game.
Rather than play using the miniature figures which were so pushed by the Wizards of the Coast marketing department, I've devised my own system of play, using one inch square tokens, each adorned with a lovely portrait such as this. If anyone is interested in the system I use, I could post some more details about it (I think it's quite clever), but if not, I'll continue to occasionally post pictures of the minis I'm proud of.
It may surprise you to learn (because I'm such a cool guy) that I'm also an experienced player of Dungeons and Dragons--a Dungeon Master, no less. From my apartment, I run a weekly game for several of my friends in which we battle monsters, save damsels, and make dick jokes about every monster we encounter. You see, that's the magic (no pun) of a completely open-ended game like D&D. In what other fantasy game could we board a boat called the S.S. Fellow Ship and mingle with its all-gay muscle-bound crew, take the ship to Pirate Island, brave the dreaded Twisty Caverns, and castrate the defeated lizardmen inside (the player's idea, not mine) to sell their prized genitalia on the black market?
But I'm not here to talk at length about the game, since you're probably not interested anyway. It is the lizardmen that have brought me here, but for a different reason. I have a sketch.
Rather than play using the miniature figures which were so pushed by the Wizards of the Coast marketing department, I've devised my own system of play, using one inch square tokens, each adorned with a lovely portrait such as this. If anyone is interested in the system I use, I could post some more details about it (I think it's quite clever), but if not, I'll continue to occasionally post pictures of the minis I'm proud of.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Going to the Gym!
...a tale of woe and disillusionment...
I've been going to the gym lately. No, this isn't a New Year's resolution kind of thing...I started going in December, thank you. And even though it's been great for keeping me fit, keeping me trim, I still really hate it.
The thing about the gym that's the hardest to shake is the feeling that everyone else is somehow, better at going to the gym than you are. Everyone seems to be in their element, the machines become an extension of their taut, rippling, youthful bodies. I haven't yet been able to reproduce it. Hell, I haven't even been able to properly fake it.
But that's the thing I'm going to get off my chest with this post.
It really is a strange and novel thing, being simultaneously worried that I may be sweating too much or, if I'm not pouring sweat, that I'm somehow not working hard enough to justify my position at whichever workout/torture machine that's causing me pain. But I really think that I'll be okay.
Without getting too far into a self-esteem boosting screed about just being myself, or giving my all, I'm just going to suggest (to myself) that I keep going, if only for the hell of it. I think it's fun, and maybe, if I participate enough, I'll become one of those guys who seem at home in the gym.
Only then may the circle be complete, and I'll be able to laugh at those who will resemble my current uneasiness. Yeah. That'll be the day.
I've been going to the gym lately. No, this isn't a New Year's resolution kind of thing...I started going in December, thank you. And even though it's been great for keeping me fit, keeping me trim, I still really hate it.
The thing about the gym that's the hardest to shake is the feeling that everyone else is somehow, better at going to the gym than you are. Everyone seems to be in their element, the machines become an extension of their taut, rippling, youthful bodies. I haven't yet been able to reproduce it. Hell, I haven't even been able to properly fake it.
 |
| Everyone else. Well, the guys, at least. |
 |
| Myself. Based on true events. |
It really is a strange and novel thing, being simultaneously worried that I may be sweating too much or, if I'm not pouring sweat, that I'm somehow not working hard enough to justify my position at whichever workout/torture machine that's causing me pain. But I really think that I'll be okay.
Without getting too far into a self-esteem boosting screed about just being myself, or giving my all, I'm just going to suggest (to myself) that I keep going, if only for the hell of it. I think it's fun, and maybe, if I participate enough, I'll become one of those guys who seem at home in the gym.
Only then may the circle be complete, and I'll be able to laugh at those who will resemble my current uneasiness. Yeah. That'll be the day.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
News: My "New" Computer
...in which I explain my absence...
First of all, I'd like to say thanks to all of you who visited from my twitter feed, especially to see my no-good Dune comic. Your support is really appreciated. Now that you're here, take a look around, stay a while.
In other news, my computer, my precious laptop, is no more.
It sounds dramatic, but I mean it in a sort of "Sure, Darth Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, but only in a vague metaphorical sense," kind of way. By that, I mean that the identity of my laptop has been destroyed, replaced by a shiny new OS and a clean hard drive. My old system was infested with more viruses than a.) an unprotected hooker, b.) a toxicology lab, or c.) a virus factory in Virus Town, you pick.
But now I'm back and faster than ever, but because of my computer woes, I haven't written anything or produced any art in several days. I haven't even been watching movies like I should.
In the meantime, here's another crappy comic about the hassles of a new computer. Enjoy, and see you soon.
First of all, I'd like to say thanks to all of you who visited from my twitter feed, especially to see my no-good Dune comic. Your support is really appreciated. Now that you're here, take a look around, stay a while.
In other news, my computer, my precious laptop, is no more.
It sounds dramatic, but I mean it in a sort of "Sure, Darth Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, but only in a vague metaphorical sense," kind of way. By that, I mean that the identity of my laptop has been destroyed, replaced by a shiny new OS and a clean hard drive. My old system was infested with more viruses than a.) an unprotected hooker, b.) a toxicology lab, or c.) a virus factory in Virus Town, you pick.
But now I'm back and faster than ever, but because of my computer woes, I haven't written anything or produced any art in several days. I haven't even been watching movies like I should.
In the meantime, here's another crappy comic about the hassles of a new computer. Enjoy, and see you soon.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Because Muad'Dib is Too Hard to Remember
...watch me, as I reference Dune...
 |
| Too bad, Jamis was Sietch Tabr's chief Bi-lunar Specialist. |
Monday, January 10, 2011
Starbuck Mountain
...in which I deal with my caffeine addiction...
Yes, I did just watch Brokeback Mountain and drink Starbucks.
The best way to view this image is: Stare longingly at it. Once you've got that single tear built up, turn away sharply--you can't let it know how you truly feel. Look softly into the middle distance, let that tear fall, and play this. You're welcome.
The best way to view this image is: Stare longingly at it. Once you've got that single tear built up, turn away sharply--you can't let it know how you truly feel. Look softly into the middle distance, let that tear fall, and play this. You're welcome.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
From the Sketchbook
...in which I post some pictures...
Just when you thought this blog wasn't going to be all about cats, I've included two more drawings of Digby...one of Jesus.
Just when you thought this blog wasn't going to be all about cats, I've included two more drawings of Digby...one of Jesus.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Film Review - Laserblast (1978)
...when a movie is so good that it defines a genre...
What genre you ask? Well, it's got elements of Sci-Fi, some teen movie, and some stick-it-to-the-man moments, but this film is undeniably
Seventiesploitation.
Yeah, the word really doesn't look as good written out like that. You know what I mean. This film loves the seventies, and all of those tropes that make films from that era distinctive. There are nonsensical sci-fi plot lines, bad special effects and makeup, hell, the movie takes a break in the middle for a fucking pool party. On top of that, the movie is so excited to exist in the seventies that our protagonist, for nearly two-thirds of the movie, doesn't bother wearing a shirt. Oh, and he drives a sweet van, and the inept police of the small town are potheads, oh, and the love scene in the film is scored by a sexy jazz flute. I've made my point.
The Premise
This film is your average, downtrodden boy finds a lasergun in the desert kind of story. Apparently some aliens (who look like the children of ET and a dinosaur) leave a wrist-mounted lasergun behind for our shirtless protagonist to find. The lasergun, along with a magical amulet that allows him to control the gun, somehow take control of his mind? So, when he's asleep the gun turns him into a zombie/mutant thing that seeks revenge on his enemies? Wait, now the aliens are chasing him, trying to get the gun back?
You'll notice that I'm using a lot of question marks there. I'm as confused as you are, dear readers. The movie doesn't make much sense. But hey, who cares about that? We've got a POOL PARTY!!!!!!
But seriously, that's about it. I watched the whole thing, I took notes, and I still don't understand the story.
The Review
I'm not going to lie to you and say that the film is good. It's not. However, it is a mindless romp through our most cherished decade, and hey, there are lasers. The most noteworthy aspect of the film, besides appearing in an episode of MST3K, is the aliens' animation, which is smooth and well done (even if the aliens themselves look like crap). So, if Seventiesploitation doesn't sounds like your cup of tea, it might be worth checking out the riffed version, but otherwise, I think you're safe in skipping this one.
What genre you ask? Well, it's got elements of Sci-Fi, some teen movie, and some stick-it-to-the-man moments, but this film is undeniably
Seventiesploitation.
Yeah, the word really doesn't look as good written out like that. You know what I mean. This film loves the seventies, and all of those tropes that make films from that era distinctive. There are nonsensical sci-fi plot lines, bad special effects and makeup, hell, the movie takes a break in the middle for a fucking pool party. On top of that, the movie is so excited to exist in the seventies that our protagonist, for nearly two-thirds of the movie, doesn't bother wearing a shirt. Oh, and he drives a sweet van, and the inept police of the small town are potheads, oh, and the love scene in the film is scored by a sexy jazz flute. I've made my point.
The Premise
 |
| Our protagonist, ladies and gentlemen. |
You'll notice that I'm using a lot of question marks there. I'm as confused as you are, dear readers. The movie doesn't make much sense. But hey, who cares about that? We've got a POOL PARTY!!!!!!
But seriously, that's about it. I watched the whole thing, I took notes, and I still don't understand the story.
The Review
 |
| Yeah, it's something like this. |
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Continuing Adventures of Digby!
...because everyone loves cat-toons...get it?
Just a few more comics to illustrate some of Digby's most perplexing habits.
 |
| She does this to frighten us; I'm sure of it. |
 |
| Kitties can be Time Lords, too. |
Friday, December 24, 2010
A lively debate - It's Christmas Already?!
...jesus christ...
What? You hate Jesus or something?
No, Fundamentalist Christian Caricature whom I invented for the sake of this Christmas related blog post, it's not that. Well, maybe it's a little bit that. The character of Jesus Christ is probably just an amalgam of early religious figures sprinkled with a few mythological characters. But I can't really fault him for having a holiday; he's pretty popular. Although it is a bit suspicious that Christians appropriated non-denominational winter solstice celebrations for their messiah's birthday. Furthermore, his birthday, according to many scholarly accounts, probably wasn't even in December, if he had a birthday at all. He's probably not real, is what I'm saying.
What's that? I couldn't hear you over the Hellfires. So it must be Santa. Look at his red suit, his jolly demeanor, his magical reindeer. Look at them.
I'm looking. But isn't the modern conception of Santa Claus just another amalgamation of folklore, myth, and (mostly) product placement? What does Santa have to do with Jesus anyway?
Jesus got presents. Santa gives presents. Boom.
Boom?
Boom.
But modern Christmas has become so entrenched in the idea of obligatory shopping and gift-giving, often with a direct correspondence between the price and quality of a gift (or so we're led to believe...BY CORPORATE AMERICA!), that Christmas, henceforth shortened to Xmas, is becoming more about presents and consumption than it ever was about any religious or spiritual source material. Besides, Jesus was the guy who preached simplicity and non-consumption, how does this mesh?
You're doing it wrong, then. It's about going to Church with your family, and hearing about Jesus. Sometimes you get to watch your kids act in the Nativity play.
...and what do you do the morning after church?
We open presents, dummy.
Would your Christmas celebration be any different without presents?
Besides the lack of presents? It shouldn't be too different, but...I wouldn't need to shop, spend hundreds of dollars on presents, get up in the middle of the night to pretend that a man benevolently broke into our house, or put on the itchy beard and suit.
See? That sounds way better. You still get to spend quality time with your family, have a nice meal, watch an Xmas special on TV, and you get to sleep in on the 25th.
But what about the presents? The joy in a family member's face when they open their new eBible...it's priceless.
I dunno, just give them an ipod some other time. My point is that we don't need a social convention to tell us that, once a year, 75 percent of the country needs to buy and give presents, all at the same time. It bugs me.
You are a tool of Satan. Get out of my house.
fin.
 |
| How can you hate this guy? He's adorable. |
What? You hate Jesus or something?
No, Fundamentalist Christian Caricature whom I invented for the sake of this Christmas related blog post, it's not that. Well, maybe it's a little bit that. The character of Jesus Christ is probably just an amalgam of early religious figures sprinkled with a few mythological characters. But I can't really fault him for having a holiday; he's pretty popular. Although it is a bit suspicious that Christians appropriated non-denominational winter solstice celebrations for their messiah's birthday. Furthermore, his birthday, according to many scholarly accounts, probably wasn't even in December, if he had a birthday at all. He's probably not real, is what I'm saying.
What's that? I couldn't hear you over the Hellfires. So it must be Santa. Look at his red suit, his jolly demeanor, his magical reindeer. Look at them.
I'm looking. But isn't the modern conception of Santa Claus just another amalgamation of folklore, myth, and (mostly) product placement? What does Santa have to do with Jesus anyway?
Jesus got presents. Santa gives presents. Boom.
Boom?
Boom.
But modern Christmas has become so entrenched in the idea of obligatory shopping and gift-giving, often with a direct correspondence between the price and quality of a gift (or so we're led to believe...BY CORPORATE AMERICA!), that Christmas, henceforth shortened to Xmas, is becoming more about presents and consumption than it ever was about any religious or spiritual source material. Besides, Jesus was the guy who preached simplicity and non-consumption, how does this mesh?
You're doing it wrong, then. It's about going to Church with your family, and hearing about Jesus. Sometimes you get to watch your kids act in the Nativity play.
...and what do you do the morning after church?
We open presents, dummy.
Would your Christmas celebration be any different without presents?
Besides the lack of presents? It shouldn't be too different, but...I wouldn't need to shop, spend hundreds of dollars on presents, get up in the middle of the night to pretend that a man benevolently broke into our house, or put on the itchy beard and suit.
See? That sounds way better. You still get to spend quality time with your family, have a nice meal, watch an Xmas special on TV, and you get to sleep in on the 25th.
But what about the presents? The joy in a family member's face when they open their new eBible...it's priceless.
I dunno, just give them an ipod some other time. My point is that we don't need a social convention to tell us that, once a year, 75 percent of the country needs to buy and give presents, all at the same time. It bugs me.
You are a tool of Satan. Get out of my house.
fin.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Story of Lady Digby Cordon Bleu
...my adorable kitty that wants to murder me.
To tell this story properly, I'll have to start from the beginning.
Almost a year ago, while we (my girlfriend and I) were living in a different apartment, we were occasionally visited by a strange, skittish, blotchy brown and white cat. Obviously starved for attention, she would mew at our window until we came out to give her a petting. And as it often does, petting lead to feeding, feeding lead to constructing a tiny kitty bed out of cardboard and t-shirts (that she never used, by the way), and that lead to us eventually bringing her inside. It was getting further and further into winter, and the temperatures were dropping quickly. We couldn't stand letting such a sweet kitty exist, homeless, on the dangerous streets.
Did I mention that she was a sweet, loving kitty? Good, that'll become important later.
It's important now. She was loving for about a day and a half. It was a ruse. We were duped into adopting this cat, who turns out to be hateful, misanthropic, and, at the best of times, indifferent to our affections.
She's laying on my books right now, watching me type this. If I go missing after writing this post, you know where to look for the killer.
We quickly noticed some of her stranger habits. She'll stretch her claws out on our favorite chair, digging them deeper and deeper into the fabric, tearing into it with glee and abandon. While she does this terrifying show of violence, she stares at you. It's a way of saying, "someday, when I catch you without the squirt bottle, this will be your leg."
Sharpening her claws is another favorite past time. This act is something that startled me to the core, at least the first time she did it, but apparently it's a common thing. She sharpens her claws with her own teeth. You could even ask, which instrument of death is being sharpened? It could very well be that she's honing her teeth, as well. All the better to bite you with, she'll meow.
I haven't even touched on how she petulantly knocks over her food and water bowls, or how she carefully times her trips to the litter box to exactly coincide with the beginning of our meals.
She just yawned. It may seem innocent, but I'm convinced that it's just a subtle way for her to bare her teeth at me. Oh god. She's coming this way...
Digby's got a plan. I don't know what it is, yet, but I'm going to find out. She won't win. I can't let her win. Oh god, she's gotten into my head!
The Moral of the Story
And how can this be? For she is the Kitty Haderach!
[Dune image by Flickr user "Hot Sake"]
 |
| This is why she sleeps so soundly. |
Almost a year ago, while we (my girlfriend and I) were living in a different apartment, we were occasionally visited by a strange, skittish, blotchy brown and white cat. Obviously starved for attention, she would mew at our window until we came out to give her a petting. And as it often does, petting lead to feeding, feeding lead to constructing a tiny kitty bed out of cardboard and t-shirts (that she never used, by the way), and that lead to us eventually bringing her inside. It was getting further and further into winter, and the temperatures were dropping quickly. We couldn't stand letting such a sweet kitty exist, homeless, on the dangerous streets.
Did I mention that she was a sweet, loving kitty? Good, that'll become important later.
It's important now. She was loving for about a day and a half. It was a ruse. We were duped into adopting this cat, who turns out to be hateful, misanthropic, and, at the best of times, indifferent to our affections.
She's laying on my books right now, watching me type this. If I go missing after writing this post, you know where to look for the killer.
 |
| I'm watching...everything. |
Sharpening her claws is another favorite past time. This act is something that startled me to the core, at least the first time she did it, but apparently it's a common thing. She sharpens her claws with her own teeth. You could even ask, which instrument of death is being sharpened? It could very well be that she's honing her teeth, as well. All the better to bite you with, she'll meow.
I haven't even touched on how she petulantly knocks over her food and water bowls, or how she carefully times her trips to the litter box to exactly coincide with the beginning of our meals.
 |
| A cat post and a Dune reference? I'm on a roll! |
Digby's got a plan. I don't know what it is, yet, but I'm going to find out. She won't win. I can't let her win. Oh god, she's gotten into my head!
The Moral of the Story
And how can this be? For she is the Kitty Haderach!
[Dune image by Flickr user "Hot Sake"]
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Here's a picture of the scarf I'm knitting
...forever alone.
While I like the idea of posting something every day, I'm afraid I'm not interesting or creative enough to keep to a schedule like that.
I mean, I've got a few short story ideas cooking, so I might post a blurb or two once I get writing again. In the meantime, random thoughts that I can't develop into full-length posts will continue to be posted to my twitter.
For now though, you should check out this picture of a scarf I'm knitting. As you can see, I ran out of yarn about halfway through and changed to another color entirely. The first ball (the ugly green/brown/blue) was just too hideous for me to continue.
I've been learning the very manly art of knitting with the help of a book titled, Knitting With Balls: A Hands-On Guide to knitting for the MODERN MAN (emphasis original). It's going to be a great resource to go to when I need a wool beer-cozy or a utility cloth to clean my hog*.
*The word "hog", in this case, refers to a hypothetical motorcycle. Given that this is a vegan blog, no animals were harmed in the writing of this post.
I've been learning the very manly art of knitting with the help of a book titled, Knitting With Balls: A Hands-On Guide to knitting for the MODERN MAN (emphasis original). It's going to be a great resource to go to when I need a wool beer-cozy or a utility cloth to clean my hog*.
*The word "hog", in this case, refers to a hypothetical motorcycle. Given that this is a vegan blog, no animals were harmed in the writing of this post.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
A New Drawing of Digby
...plus a sketch of a spaceman. What an interesting post! 
Here's a new one of my cat, Digby, growling at me (as she often does).
This is a sketch of an idea I've been working on for a while. The phrase, "The Spaceman Has the Answers," is so evocative to me that I couldn't help but make a piece out of it. I'm pretty heavily influenced here by The Day the Earth Stood Still, a fantastic movie from the 50s. Anyway, we'll see if anything comes of it.
Here's a new one of my cat, Digby, growling at me (as she often does).
This is a sketch of an idea I've been working on for a while. The phrase, "The Spaceman Has the Answers," is so evocative to me that I couldn't help but make a piece out of it. I'm pretty heavily influenced here by The Day the Earth Stood Still, a fantastic movie from the 50s. Anyway, we'll see if anything comes of it.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Jasper Johns Tribute Triptych
...three paintings on three canvases in three colors, but mostly because I wanted to use the word triptych.
The wal-mart bags and carpet are very much part of the piece.
Subverted Flag
See: Flag (1954-55) and Study for Skin (1962)
Colors
See: Diver (1962)
Numbers 1-9
See: 0-9 (All in One) (1960)
The wal-mart bags and carpet are very much part of the piece.
Subverted FlagSee: Flag (1954-55) and Study for Skin (1962)
ColorsSee: Diver (1962)
Numbers 1-9See: 0-9 (All in One) (1960)
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Little Tiny Nietzche
...to help me with my philosophy paper.
I know that recently I've been writing a bit to overwhelmingly about religion, but sometime this week I'm going to cap the whole thing off with a review of my Phil of Religion professor's new book, Is God a Delusion.
So far it's a fantastic book. He's written it to counter the wave of "new atheism" (eek! scary!), which basically means he spends half of the book attacking Richard Dawkins.
But it's a very good book, with a very fresh and well thought-out Christian perspective. Did I mention that you can buy your copy in time for the holidays on amazon.com?
In the meantime I've drawn a picture of Friedrich Nietzche to remind you that "Gott ist tot." Have a nice day.
I know that recently I've been writing a bit to overwhelmingly about religion, but sometime this week I'm going to cap the whole thing off with a review of my Phil of Religion professor's new book, Is God a Delusion.So far it's a fantastic book. He's written it to counter the wave of "new atheism" (eek! scary!), which basically means he spends half of the book attacking Richard Dawkins.
But it's a very good book, with a very fresh and well thought-out Christian perspective. Did I mention that you can buy your copy in time for the holidays on amazon.com?
In the meantime I've drawn a picture of Friedrich Nietzche to remind you that "Gott ist tot." Have a nice day.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
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