Park Bench Reprimand

This sketch is from a forgotten, wrinkled scrap of paper I found at the bottom of my work bag. I wonder what was going through my head when I drew it. That poor guy on the bench. Not only is he getting bitched out by a creepy man-bird, but he also has a penis for a nose. Maybe he's getting bitched out for offering the bird a seat next to him on the bench. As for the bird's disturbingly visible buttocks and complete lack of tailfeathers... I got nothing.

Boxers & Bowlers

I didn't set out to draw a zombie but I guess that's just what I did. I realize I'm the only one on Earth to feel this way, but I just don't get the entertainment value of zombies. I don't think they're cool, funny, or horrifying. I think they're pretty fucking lame, actually. And that's my opinion, internet!

Oh, and regarding boxers, I went through a good part of my life not realizing people actually wore them. I thought tighty-whities were the only plausible way to go. The only people I saw wearing boxers were cartoon characters and slap-stick buffoons who got pantsed. (By the way, shouldn't that be "de-pantsed"?) Therefore, to me boxers equaled comical and buffoonish. (I now realize that those characters exclusively wore boxers because most people don't want to see such characters in briefs. Ew.)

Eventually, I was (incorrectly?) informed that it's briefs that are comical and buffoonish. Oh, how I was shamed. Well, these days I believe there is no shame in tighty-whities. To me wearing boxers is like going without a bra. I don't need to be swinging around down there. And I don't need to be touching the ground when I'm an old man (if you know what I mean). One more strike against boxers is that they're associated with the idiots whose pants are falling off their asses. And that's another opinion, internet!

Caricature

This sketch reminds me of the fact that I have never attempted to draw a caricature of anyone. For some reason it feels like I should have after all these years.

Hopes & Dreams

You know, having lofty aspirations that you never attain is probably worse than accepting your shitty situation. I suppose it's better to set realistic goals for yourself, but... ugh.... BO-RING!

Who Are the Marketing Geniuses Who Came Up With This One?

There are some home improvement stores in Wisconsin called HOBO, which stands for "Home Owners Bargain Outlet." Is the ironic juxtaposition of homelessness and home retail intentional? That's kind of rubbing it in the faces of the homeless, right? They're named after the one group of people who would not be their customers. HOBO also has a stupid slogan: "You never know what you'll find, but you'll always find it for less!"

Husband: Oh, look, honey. An EZ chair made out of chicken wire and human excrement!

Wife: Ew! I don't want that.

Husband: But it's only $2.00.

Wife: Sold!

Good going, HOBO. Maybe that's why you're not exactly making Home Depot sweat.

Imminent Gastrointestinal Catastrophe

I drew the character above for an abandoned comic strip. A resurrected version of the strip starring Fingerhead is in UltraCrispy Issue #2.

Speaking of Fingerhead, check out his brother, Thumb Head.

D E P R E S S E D . . .

Yeah. Depressed. I'm not even sure why. I might spend the whole day in bed if I had the choice.

Big Arms, Big Skull, Chicken Legs

I don't think I realized it at the time I drew these, but I think the skull guy was influenced by Baba Yaga's house, and the big-arm guy was inspired by Ace-Face:

I'm totally sure you care.

Jesus Shit, I just can't find any time to myself to do anything, much less draw. I'm not miserable, but it sure feels like a big part of me is withering away.

Bowling Is Lame

This sketch probably overstates my mild reluctance to go bowling when someone asks me. I was just drawing the guy in a weird pose and it eventually turned into an awkward bowling pose. It's not like I said, "Geez, I just hate bowling so effing much that I gotta make a sketch about it and then throw in a fart while I'm at it!"

* * *

Sometimes when I get pissed off, I'll say the following in my head:

Shit
In a pit
Full of spit
While you're sucking on a tit
And you're popping a zit...

I don't always make it all the way through, but the first three lines are a given. If I do make it all the way through, sometimes I'll continue with some improv rhyming using words like "clit" and "fit." I am a fantastic person.

Unhinged

These are two unrelated drawings that ran into each other in my sketchbook. I decided to present them here together for maximum weirdness.

Messcular

See, "messcular" because he's muscular and a mess. Whatever. Just accept it.

* * *

I don't have much to say, so I'll just mention an illustrator I like who goes by the name Zeloot. There's her main site, and there's also her blog, but unfortunately there doesn't seem to be much recent activity at either site. I found out about Zeloot after a long search for who did the illustration for Patton Oswalt's comedy album:

Good stuff.

UltraCrispy Issue #2 Posted

You can see it here.

This post has no title... oh, wait, yes it does

Well. Now that we got that out of the way...

* * *

From Urban Dictionary:

cobra yawn. The involuntary spraying of saliva while yawning. Much like the venom spray from a cobra.

Great term. I'm amused/disgusted/embarrassed when this all-too-frequently happens to me. Now I at least know what to call it.

* * *

In a recent post I mentioned that I found eating junk food to be my greatest source of junk food these days. Well, apparently this very phenomenon plagues a lot of people, according to a new book called The End of Overeating. What a coincidence. Geez, the author even uses the word "eatertainment." He is taking about me! To no one's surprise, the food industry exploits the shit out of our cravings. The subject is more interesting than I'm making it sound. There's a post at Boing Boing that better highlights the books main points.

Here are some pretty flowers...

Flowers. That's for the the patient public* awaiting UltraCrispy Issue #2.

But for the people being utter douchebags, the people keeping me from making comics, here's what I give you:
Ah, yes. It's the fabled single fece.** And yes, you may eat it. I insist.

* Even if they exist only in theory.
** Why is it always plural, anyway?

Oh, Dear God...

The three characters above have nothing to do with each other other than the fact that I drew them next to each other. I mean, there's no narrative going on there or anything. Or is there?

The next UltraCrispy issue is coming along in spite of increased intrusions upon my free time by work. Geez, if I didn't choose the ridiculous concept of supersized "issues" I'd have pretty frequent (albeit smaller) updates. Oh well, now's not the time to do something that makes sense.

Last Post Removed

I removed the last post because it could get me into trouble.

Entertain Me

Entertain me, indeed. I bitched about my unentertainability earlier. Well, one of the more disappointing aspects of all this is that as much as I love making comics, it's nearly impossible for me to find comics I enjoy reading.* What an underachieving medium. I suspect that the best creative minds are attracted to more reputable media like movies, books, etc. Poor comics. There's so much unrealized potential. Comics will always be in the entertainment ghetto.

* Not that I think my own comics are the best thing ever or anything.

Three Weirdos

Above is a workplace doodle, as inspired by irritating co-workers.

***

I'm currently contemplating the entertainment value of ridiculing some of my more blatant art blunders in the comics at irkworks. But have I really improved enough to be able to look down on past efforts? Oh well. We'll see.

***

If I suddenly developed a disease that wiped out my inhibitions, I would probably start going around wearing this shirt:

The guy in the picture is some old ballplayer named Bert Blyleven. I don't know anything about him, but with a shirt like that he's all right by me.

***

If you ever find your self in too good of a mood, go to Walgreens and get stuck in line behind an old lady who (wrongly) insists that a certain coupon or newspaper ad applies to whatever useless shit she's attempting to purchase and who then proceeds to pay by check or pennies or both. Come on, nation, it's time for the elderly-free checkout line.

Three Faces

Although I didn't promise weekly updates over at UltraCrispy.com, I'm updating to say there won't be an update tomorrow. Work from my day job has spilled over into my weekend. I do have a backlog of sketches (such as the image above) that I'll be posting here more frequently.

On a different topic: Hey, everybody, shut the fuck up about Twitter.