The idea of one peg left is a lie perpetuated by the puzzle conglomerate.
Skroode
Retribution with orange juice on the side
And bacon of course. The lesson here is ‘Never get between a man and his triffid’.
Or no – actually it’s ‘Judge not lest ye be thnacked’.
Or maybe ‘Don’t get the cheese omlette. The cook still has pink eye’.
I don’t know man. I just post the thing. I’ll leave you to interpret the meaning.
What’s hot?
That’s right – your momma. You heard it. Hot. Maybe not to me, but to someone. Statistically speaking. I mean there are people out there who would say she’s hot. After all a lot of folks out there have really low standards. OH NO HE DIDN’T.
Yes. Yes I did.
It’s always something.
It’s the little things sometimes. Usually.
Hard to believe this storyline started back in February. Then the calm satisfaction of finishing the journey, quickly followed by the anxious panic realizing you have no idea what you will do next week since you pretty much had a roadmap for months.
Ah creativity. You fickle monster.
Ruining the end of the world
Some days you can’t even get through the apocalypse without a hassle. Amitirite?
It’s like that time when my friend Paul asked, “What do you think Bethany is doing right now?” and I was like, “Dude what do you think? Shuffling around the inside of that refrigerator truck with the blank stare of the living dead craving human flesh like 89% of the rest of the state.” and he was like, “But seriously you think she’s thinking about me?” and I was like, “Dude she’s a friggin zombie she ain’t thinking about nothing.”
It’s late. I should log off.
Just hold your head high and put that book down.
Gettin’ a little crowded out at that thar apocalypse.
I read To Kill a Mockingbird back in late grade school. Even though I only read it once, it stuck with me and was the first “assigned” book I really liked. Like most kids I assumed I would not and then halfway through it took hold. So now some decades later it still has an important place in my heart.
Full disclosure: I know almost nothing about the sequel. I know what I am hearing is motivating me more to avoid it than anything else. I doubt I would have liked any sequel really. But it’s not my book – not my characters. Not my call. Still, like Catch-22, in my mind the story stopped with the first novel.
Shared apocalypse
NO SHARSIES.
In other news, I suggest checking out Best WebComics. The folks there are working on creating a place where readers can find great comics and discover new ones in an easy to browse setup. Not to mention other news, articles, and interviews. Worth taking a stop over and browsing.
Point of personal impact
Impact point has been waiting in the wings for a while and its time has come. At first glance it may seem like a morbidly pessimistic way to handle a bad situation, but one could argue perhaps that it is actually optimistic. A reminder that in thousands of years whatever it is will seem minuscule by comparison so why let it bother you so?
No actually that is equally bad. Never mind. The point is we all deal with stress in our own way. Or something.
I keep a small sketchbook that I write ideas in. If you do anything creative, you hear that a lot – keep a list, write it down. Believe me – do it. You will forget if you don’t. I can’t tell you how many times I open the book and see something I forgot I even wrote down. Not all are ready for use, but many, over time, will evolve into something interesting. Also the number of times I didn’t have the book, and by the time I got to it….idea was gone. Pity. Anyway – keep a book.
And the rocket’s red glare, the grills bursting in air.
I was so hypnotized by the 69 Tints story line (and are we all not?) last week I nearly forgot the holiday this week. Time out for a summer day filled with explosives and outdoor eatin’.
One year a neighbor came over to me while mowing the lawn with a garbage bag. He said he worked sometimes cleaning out houses, and they had found some fireworks, and gave them to me ‘for the kids’. In the bag was a small collection of gunpowder laden cardboard of questionable legality, at least where I live. On the Fourth, after some debate, my wife and I decided that after our daughter (only one year old) went to bed, we would pick one to try and let my 3 year old son watch. I put a coffee can sized box in the alley next to our home, lit it, and went back to the driveway. Two seconds later a 30 foot column of fire was shooting into the air accompanied by ear splitting, shrieking howls. My wife and I looked at each other in alarm. My son watched wide eyed with a look of pure joy as if this was the best thing he had ever, and would ever, see in his life.
So yeah. Totally worth it.
It’s all in the spin, kid.
Sometimes I reflect on the people you see credited in comics and graphic novels for doing all the lettering and wonder what kind of world produces someone full of self hatred and masochism. Really. If you feel you are ever getting too confident, letter for five minutes. Problem solved.
Or perhaps I just need to practice more.
One of my end of week morning routines is coffee and an hour noodling a comic to death with paste ups, white cover, and 0.000001 markers. It’s getting obsessive. You would think I would just clean it up in Photoshop and typeset it. Yep. You would think.
Next week: the crew wraps up the 69 Tints story and it fades into canon as we move on into new waters. Or something.
Full contact marketing
Based on a true story. Sort of. In my imagination sometimes.
B.A. in Literature and a Masters in Disguise
Poor MacGuffin. He’ll probably never be the same.
Literary chaos
Happy Friday the 13th. Unless your dog was rear ended by a car. Of course.
If you are inclined, yinz can find the start of this epic chapter here.