I notice this is a lot less interesting a week afterward.

Nobody wants nemitz in their homes, and apparently nature doesn’t want nemitz outside, either.

Last week on Bimshwel, State Street New Haven, Connecticut, Amelica residents were mildly inconvenienced by a dwindling hurricane that actually did damage in other places. I actually made this picture before that even happened and meant to post it on its own, in anticipation of the electricity going out, me thinking that a decent excuse to post an entry of minimal effort, but the electricity went out before I could, and then afterward I no longer had my justification.

Ehhhso the next day more trucks came and went. I considered that the tree may have been declared a cultural landmark that was actually being protected from removal.

12:30pmish: A slightly more organized rabble assembles at the usual meeting place. It’s about time some professionals took pictures of the tree. And this time with video cameras, just in case the tree tries anything.

Here they assess whether an apartment building is tragic-looking enough to film in front of. The sight of me living inside it must have clinched the deal.

Unfortunately I haven’t had local television access in a while so I didn’t recognize the famous Jocelyn Maminta of WTNH Action News 8. Though who would, with those magnificent sunglasses? That is twice as good as Clark Kent’s disguise. I might recognize Al Terzi, even though he defected to WFSB3 which I never watched in 1989. WTNH also hasn’t been called “Action News 8” since around the same time.

The Mayor said some things here, such as that approximately 100,000 manly hours had been expended in this aftermath. He did not clarify how many of the hours were devoted to driving up to stuff and then driving away from it, and if the county accountyants had multiplied this by the number of extra people in the vehicles who weren’t even driving.
I wanted to emerge from my doorway and proclaim something in the vein of

Please citizens, do not be alarmed! We are doing our best to drag this story out as long as possible! We are taking every measure necessary to keep up the illusion that we are the primary victims in this matter that was actually killing people and destroying homes two days before it made us ornery, and continue comparing it to an incident from 1985 that this is in no way comparable to. I am enormously honored to see that you deemed my apartment decrepitated enough to make your speeches in front of.

However, I should inform you that it looked like this before the hurricane, and as far as I can figure those trucks kept coming and leaving because you ordered them not to remove the tree until your schedule allowed you to personally admonish it.
I didn’t. I also just today didn’t go to a free local barbecue because I was terrified at the thought of having to speak to a stranger to get a hot dog. In food service situations it is alright because I can imagine I am paying people to not impose further social obligations on me.

I don’t know who was here with NBC; I assume it was the guy who kept glaring at me like I’d messed up his shot after I chose to emerge from my chamber with a queenly wave in the midst of the mayor’s words to take a picture of this van. I only know that if there’s any justice, it got legally held for ransom towed away and impounded, like what happens if somebody who actually lives here tries to park here. Don’t they know this lot is reserved for

sex limousines?

There are/were some legitimate disaster areas in Connecticut, and even further north in Vermont and such, but New Haven isn’t one. That’s why my parents were evacuated and came to where I was.

As to why they stuffed my kitchen with cucumbers and cans of beans and then left, I’m afraid that’s a personal, family matter and it’s highly inappropriate for you to bring it up.

The mayor should have posed in front of this. It is the apartment above mine. It was also like this before the storm. The people renovating it haven’t finished yet, I guess. They didn’t bother to lock the door to it, either.

I bet the mayor was ecstatic when he found out there were some locales under his juristiction without power. East Haven, my old haven, had some actual wrecked homes to shoot. All New Haven got was a tree that was due to fall over anyway.

Now only the stump is left, but still surrounded, and still presumably dangerous. Or maybe this is meant to be interpreted as a shrine. I thought this would be funny but actually it makes me kind of sad. It’s going to be even harder to park here now.

This is the zone of my previous dwelling, as seen by a picture telephone my mother sent before she rounded up the beans. Thankfully my brother Ibrow uploaded it at the internet through his aggregate-accessory fruit, because Verizon would have charged me twenty five cents if I’d done it.

Two people like that my ancestral home is in peril. The same number of people who historically have liked nemitz. There is no coincidence.

Here is how it looks from another angle. What a catastrophe! Oh and also this was from last year and a regular thunderstorm. This street floods EVERY year. Gobward it’s a good thing I made this story two entries; otherwise it would be lazy of me to use the same non-gag twice. Observe how I started out by implying this place was worse hit than the other place and then I dismissed that as folly. I wrote all this for nothing. It makes me sad. In the future I pledge only to address matters of substance.

Next week: exclusive before and after pictures detailing the tragic effects of a hurricane on disco.

8amish Sunday, I woke up to find this tree had overslept. The tree must work at the electric company because nobody had turned on the power until after it left.

Before then, some fire trucks and passengers gathered about for a while. After they determined no fire was on the premises they left in hot pursuit (ha ha) of more exciting tasks.

I can’t imagine they could see it very well with all these leaves in the way, though.

A few pedestrians strolled by to take pictures of the tree.

The hurricane was originally scheduled to stick around until late in the evening but when the lack of electricity terminated the free wi-fi it decided to get going and beat the traffic.

My own interest similarly spent on the matter, I wandered about in the rain, in search of things I understand.

Hey DUCK: this is NOT a lake or a pond. It is just WATER FROM THE SKY. There are no FISH in there because fish do not FALL FROM THE SKY. This wasn’t even THERE yesterday, dumb bird! They love finding the stupidest looking places possible to make their legs disappear.

Also on State Street: Aw frank, look at this disaster! What a mess! And i’ve just been reminded I actually took this picture the day before the hurricane showed up and that this scene has been blocking the road since last October.

As I returned to the climb scene at almost noon, an irritating alarm sounded from the liquor store that for once I’m going to assume I don’t need to show you. People love alarms. That’s why they always let the ones on their cars run for ten minutes before doing anything of pertinence to it. This situation was no different. Though the amount of people had increased in size, nobody bothered to take advantage of the already activated and blatantly ignored alarm noise and steal anything. They were too busy photographing the tree. I would approve their lawfulness and not deride their lack of initiative, but they also blatantly ignored the CAUTION tape around the tree. You fools! Don’t you know they’re more likely to bite when they’re injured!

A ha, progress, and order. Now a licensed work crew with reflective vests can take pictures of the tree.

They hung up some homemade stop signs about the intersection and departed.

By all meeps, get out of your car in the midst of the road to take several pictures of the tree. I’d put extra importance on this if your car has screen windows.

This yellow truck showed up in the vicinity of 3pm to make it clear that coalition forces now occupied both sides of the street. Also, some cones. The tree slowly starts to realize it is outnumbered. More people took pictures. If that thing doesn’t clean up its act in a hurry it’s going to be REALLY embarrassed on face book later.

A hobokin on the steps of the building nearest the tree observed me looking at the tree roots and interrogated “You know why this happened?” Before I could prepare my defense he answered his question and blamed it on the sidewalk which had been installed during the previous year. Supposedly the roots were cut from below this area for no reason I could guess and that made the tree feel more inclined to recline. Two hours later this fellow was still there, no doubt keeping the populace informed. I suppose he thought if electricity was never restored we’d revert to a tribal system and he had a shot at becoming village elder, getting control of the magic sword in the process, and then he could use that to rob the liquor store for real this time.

An industrial loader! Now we mean business. Enough to not call that a “bulldozer,” even. When the tree sees that unoccupied construction vehicle staring down its caution tape it will surely be intimidated into compliance. Despite the loader looking like a toy in this picture I assure you it only did the job of one. The loader’s driver continually asked a similarly dressed fellow “is it ON, stupid?” Oh it’s on NOW, with you calling me names and such.

The shovel machine was friends with a dumptruck. The dumptruck left when it realized somebody had already dumped on this street. The yellow truck was actually blinking its lights now.

5:30pim: The loader was gone when I came out to make another departure, and suddenly from the right it came speeding toward the object on the left. At last! Then it slowed down and stopped again. I think the tree is getting the message. The yellow truck had turned off its lights in the meantime.

Somebody bought the flashlight, I surmise. A pity for the scarcity; the best part of blackouts is frosted mini-wits standing in the street, illuminating the ground in front of them and then courteously blinding me when I approach to walk past them because if I just felt like staring at unchanging darkness without going anywhere I’d have stayed inside.

An hour or some such thing later, at about 7 in the PM, the yellow truck is gone but the tree remains. But what’s this? A van has just arrived branded UI, United Illuminating, a company that actually deals with electricity. THIS blinking light will get the tree’s attention finally.

By 9pm the tree was still there, but we successfully set a record for most amount of diesel powered vehicles to idle outside a single apartment complex and then leave without doing anything.
I crossed the danger line to get this incredible footage. That was foolish, and I should not have put my life in peril. The wind blew a small speck of dirt into my left eye. But for 9:30pm, another truck shew up. THIS time it was one of those hauling/utility/whatnot trucks that I’m used to seeing around fallen objects during power outages. It left immediately. I’m glad some people still keep traditional values alive.

Eventually I went to my sleep lump, realizing my chances of the truck fairy compensating me for even one of them dwindled by the minute while I remained awake.

Ah I see. Yes of course, you’re supposed to bring in the noisy devastation machines after midnight so as to not disturb anybody. NOW things will be done.

For example, you can take pictures of the tree in a whole new context. I wish I’d written my website url on it.

A police car is over here. The tree is obviously resisting arrest. Collapsed in the street like that, it’s probably been abusing drugs. We expect to find high quantities of bud in its system, and not a little bit of weed.


On second thought we’ll let it go with a warning. But just this once! Goodnight folks. (imagine this is a picture of the loader rolling down the perpendicular street and not Snarf from Thundercats ambushing you in the dark)

Howdy. I do not have local electricity at the moment! This prevents my computomatic from from participating in many tasks. While I borrow the electricity of others I foolishly neglected to bring my mouse, which prevents me from doing everything else!
==============================

Last.fm is yet another one of those websites with a stupid name that exists soley to collect personally identifiable information about users for the purpose of directing advertisements at them. Information which people gladly give up because it’s easier to get popular by liking stuff that already exists than by making your own stuff. So once I realized this site wasn’t getting me anywhere, I waited five years and got my own last.fm page. Naturally I can’t excell at last.fm either because the only stuff I like is stuff that nobody I like likes.

This then causes stuff that I don’t even like to like me.
Anyway last.fm is pertinent to whatever we decide is music. I considered putting a little gizmo from last.fm on this my page here which would show you whatever thing I had listened to most recently that lasty had agreed to acknowledge. However, as much as I’d love to impose my obtuse musical tastes on every person in the universe, it wouldn’t do ANYbody much good to know I was listening to “Stage 3” by “Sakamoto, Takenouchi, Fujio.” Fortunately, I am a compulsive wreck and it turns out that I enjoy having a sorted list of the noises I choose to hear. This also now means I will deliberately not listen to a specific piece by someone if I’ve statistically listened too often, if the site cannot count it at all due it being in an incompatible sound format, or I just don’t know who made it, and thus cannot label the file appropriately. So then I spend a considerable amount of time seeking out accurate titles and author data, and then reseeking them when I suddenly decide what I have “seems” wrong. It’s the most work I put into anything that nobody cares about if we exclude the webpage I wrote about Pac in Time.

Since the site content is largely determined by users, it takes on a few negative wikipedia similarities, such as asinine edit-revert battles and inconsequential gags interpreted as canonical fact.

Meanwhile, any of the 71,270 or so purported listeners who end up at this page will see this inexplicable fragment of your petty argument in the absence of actual information. Do you know what an accomplishment it is to make the site’s-point-missing totalitarian bonehead whose entire music collection is credited simply to “nintendo,” including an inestimable number of tracks named “Title Theme” seem sensible by comparison? (I think that you do not)

As it wasn’t fashionable to acknowledge video game staffs in 1987, Castlevania therefore contained joke credits. That the composer is listed as “James Banana” in the joke credits does not mean the real composer uses that as an alias or was ever actually known as that to anybody. After initially getting ornery at the intro line there I considered it may have been inserted facetiously and that I should feel bad for composing such an elaborate complaint without an alias, but a visit to the Videogame Music Database website, where I get most of my compulsion feeding data –my dealer, in effect–, reveals a lively argument over whether James Banana is an “alias” or a collaborative “unit.”

How can I trust you if you won’t even face me, coward!


If James Banana gets to be a unit then Green Stranger should be a module, Cafebar Read can be a cafe bar and Christopher Bee is a hatrack. The only unit I have time for is Unit 7 in my first grade math book because it has clocks in it.

I am going to keep talking about this.

By the presented logic, the game’s data must have formed over millions of years through a natural geotechnical process, because there are no artists or programmers in the credits at all, because the credits are 100% FAKE. In the breakthrough interview where Yamashita revealed that she didn’t create the ubiquitous “Vampire Killer” theme (maybe you should take a minute to let that sink in before continuing) and only seemed to have implied so in the past because like a normal person she doesn’t know what the “titles” of any video game music is, the inquisitor wastes time asking why she is credited as Jimmy Bans. Asks this before anything else, in fact.

The PROPER question would be “why aren’t you credited at all?” Or “why are you credited as James Banana when nobody else on the Konami staff was afforded a precious joke name? Was that a stipulation in your contract, that you get first pick of all the non-acknowledgement? Who do you think you ARE, anyway? Oh right, James Banana.” It appears that most of Yamashita’s online correspondence with Americans is from people trying to find out which specific songs she made, just so they can tag their mp3s properly because the only people I have anything in common with are embarrassing nerds.

NO YOU CANNOT BE MY FRIEND

Artists who collaborate on a project are different than either of them credited separately, and often just from themselves.

Jun Chikuma seems to be jealous of herself. Although to be fair the regular one did the music for Faxanadu whereas Chiki enjoys continual success rearranging the same 10 note tune in endless Bomberman titles. Both of these examples leave me surprised that the composer can play a flute. Perhaps she just likes to pose with it.

Faxanadu, incibiddly, has the only game music that I can play on my verizon telephone.

Yes I’ve been using computers for 18 years why do you ask?

I don’t mind last.fm converting my romanized japanese names into fancy symbols, but I don’t appreciate the green splat icon showing up every time I play one of these, telling the imaginary world that looks at my page that I have “misspelled” someone’s name. They actually expect me to go through my entire collection and replace “noriyuki iwadare” with some characters that I cannot type and that I cannot read. I have no concept of what means, even if it’s directly beside While there appear to be two Kenji Yamamotos whose names are spelt differently in their native print, that hardly justifies splotching rotten tomatoes all over my play-lists.

These two clearly have it in for me today.

De-dei-de-de-deih dat’s all, folks!

Next week I will post weird pictures to distract from the boring stuff I type about.

how did this take hours to do?, I can't... move!, I think you broke it | How to lose a guy in (2) days | !

We, in the first world, as exhibited by considering ourselves “first,” like to imagine that we are infallible. We tell ourselves we are safe, and above the likes of widespread rioting, nation decimating natural disasters, the environmental and economic side effects of our most successful businesses. In the last few years these things have increasingly become impossible to ignore, even for the willfully ignorant like myself. Our government is an endless abstract series of money wasting schemes to get elected for nothing more than the sport of it, and my own optimism took a blow after I saw people I voted for repeatedly roll over from principle at the whim of the people I didn’t vote for, who would never give a thought to returning such a favor. The analogy that’s being pushed these days is that the house of representatives and whatnot are like “spoiled children.” Children cannot be spoiled without parents to spoil them, I say.

Sometimes I think that’s part of growing older, seeing things in a greater context, and that while far from ideal it’s not much worse than it’s been and I’ll get through it. Other times I really do worry.

Things are going GREAT. And they’re only getting better.

Really, Nerd? You think that? I don’t see how-

I I I! I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me. I’m doing all right. I’m getting good grades. My future’s so bright, in fact, you might say I gotta wear shades. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Are you an idiot?

Hardly! *I* study nuclear science. And what’s more, I love my classes. I’ve got a crazy teacher; he wears dark glasses.

Oh, I see. Forgive my imprudence. You’re not an idiot. You’re the dumbest person who ever lived.

Actually, I’m heavenly blessed and worldly wise!
I’m a peeping tom techie with x ray eyes!

I wish you would die.

Got a job waiting for my graduation. Fifty thao a year’ll buy a lot of beer! (harmonica solo)

~bimshwel has left the chat

I’m talking about nuclear war! I read that on Wikipedia! Also, I wrote Wikipedia!

Woh, really? Let’s be best friends!

Finally somebody who can get things done!

Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (3) days | !

This is the best painting I have uploaded. That does not mean a whole lot. It means enough for my opening statement, however, and that is grand because I do not know what else to say about it right this moment.

Page 45 of this. Scroll down, like always!

Ah ha, two new pages in just under a month! This is the first time that has happened in a while, and probably the last time that will happen in a longer while.

My mother has been telling me for years that I might do well to get involved in theater. However, these characters clearly exhibit that I have no respect for the profession.

This page, like the previous, may also ultimately prove to have no bearing on the future. Whoopth. However, the source image for this page and the previous are increased from the pages before, creating the possibility of a higher quality end product! Can you tell? No, of course not. I made it harder and more hard drive space-wasty for absolutely no reason, and it still looks cramped. Whoopth 2.

Dumb dragons that nobody is afraid of. Why do they not protect their obvious snouts? And what’s the point of being a dragon at all if you need a sword? I mean, in the event they were smart enough to hold the pointy end facing out. Or an ORB, for that matter. Dragons love their stupid orbs. Unless that’s the crystal coconut, I’m unimpressed. And that brings me to another topic:

Come to think of it, I’m still unimpressed.

This was screened in my home once, eleven years ago. Do you remember when this sort of thing looked impressive? Neither do I. These days people make stuff like this alone as personal projects, but there was a time when it was made by professionals in France and licensed by the Japanese to be sold to Americans. It was an animated series that I could easily find out the entire length and broadcast success of, but there are some particles of knowledge that I prefer leaving to the pre-/early internet fog of past pop-culture vagueness. As far as I’d like to think, only one episode ever aired, which I came across on cable or whatnot, laughed at the very idea of, and promptly removed from my sight. After the cancellation, the producers cut together a bunch of episodes to form a single semi-coherent narrative. Not to try and make back some of their investment so much as punish me for my bold, childish hubris.

If you didn’t know this was associated with Donkey Kong, what would you think it was? (don’t watch it, I’ll just barely explain it) The first three songs possibly pertain to some storyline or another, but by this point nobody’s sure. In an earlier song, the fore creature, Captain Scurvy, sings about wanting to steal the Crystal Coconut from Donkey Kong. This has no possible relevance to anything. Scurvy has by this point failed to acquire the coconut and gone back out to sea, because this isn’t really a film, only some random episodes with no direct continuity. So forty minutes in there’s just some dumb pirate croc singing about booty while a camera pans around his chronically understaffed ship for no reason. My guess is they realized they can’t sail this thing with just three people and they’re doomed to die at sea, so they slipped into highly delusional states, unable to cope with reality. There may be additional reasons to lose one’s coping capabilities while within that version of reality. After this sequence the view cuts to some totally different booted scalous lump in a totally different place doing a totally different thing. My mother took special displeasure at the fact that the lizardoids had nipples. I think shortly after this she demanded that the tape be switched off. We were certain it had been three hours but Amazon.corn insists the total running length is just under one-and-a-half.

Although Amazon also displays a five star rating, so maybe I ought to be suspicious. I meep, that’s only half the stars that Who’s Your Caddy? got.

Oh yes

“Oh yes” was an artifact of something else I started to write there but ultimately removed. However, when I found it just now, left and forgotten, I decided I approved of its presence.

The song was introduced to me through my less eld brother, who one day appeared (he was a sorcerer) singing parts of it and the other songs. HE had been influenced by a friend, who we’ll call “Erik,” that being his name, who in addition to singing these songs in public, sent to an approximately random assortment of people he knew an email message –equally explicable as the loosely related series of animations or his fascination with them– which referenced several of the songs, chief among which being “the booty booty.”

Though chief among the references on the whole were local inside jokes that couldn’t possibly make any sense to you. Finally we have something in common!

After listening to the song I accepted this as the title. I had to listen to it, because we apparently needed to rent this movie, because everybody in town was terribly afraid of Erik and did anything possible to appease his demands, or at the very least understand them. He was much like his romanticized Viking namesakes, except instead of burning down our house he and an accomplice just broke into it while we were away and stole a bag of frozen peas.

The song is posted in youtube with this bootastic title, also (where it is identified as “song #4.” I have not actually reviewed the program in full to make my song or minute counts) It was not until I read some recently posted comment that I realized it’s actually, in all probability, SUPPOSED to be “Booty Boogie;” a boogie being a dance, and a sort of thing a person can be said to “do.” It will surely go down in misery as the most intellectually stimulating thing I ever read in a youtube comment. Why did this never occur to me? Why did it seem so perfectly acceptable (considering the context) for the pirates to be saying “booty booty” that I never for a moment wondered if maybe they were saying something else (apart from the actor pronouncing “boogie” as if it was pronounced “boo ghee”)? More importantly, why am I thinking about this now? Why did I ever think about it enough that I remember what I used to think?

I’m glad we got that out of the way before I had time to chastise myself for bringing it up.

Google is confident that I can boo ghee even if it requires the question be changed.

So, to recrap: I was afraid to let anybody see me playing E V O on an emulator, but other parties had no shame about bringing

this into my home. Why, then, a decade later, am I the only person with ready access to plus lingering shame for both?

I think that’s twice as bad as being either.

Also at this time I declare an indefinite moratorium on the wordish “booty” appearing in this here web location.

how did this take hours to do?, Not Being Cool | How to lose a guy in (5) days | !

Or Disgracy’s Angstgiving Malaise, if you prefer, but why would you?

Do you remember when I used to write stuff? Well I have forgotten and that is why there have been so many of these lately.

It was meant to be a response to that because I talk to myself. However, I rarely listen, so it was rather a bit over a year before it could be shown. Ordinarily, people would have stopped caring by then, but fortunately nobody cared to begin with. The only thing I got right was the bland layout.

It may strike you as decadent for one character to hog the rope belt AND the single suspender. Are you going to put up with that?

Through no deliberate thought by me the central figure (“dope”) is the most dignified looking idiot here through not having made any botched attempt to appear dignified.

And now that I have made this, what do I do with it? It has no purpose. There is no reason I should have spent so long on it. I lack even the motivation to update this page’s banner twits. The secret to online fame is to acknowledge and pay reverent homage to stuff that already exists, but that doesn’t work if it’s your own stuff, unless you referenced other stuff prior to referencing your own, and chances are people will be annoyed that you didn’t just reference the stuff you usually reference.

I didn’t say so in the past but generally these things conceal links to larger, more clear versions of themselves. I don’t actually believe that this conveys any information here on the page. I don’t believe the full size conveys much more, but it’s slightly more and that’s the amount I intend.

Most of the development for the background occurred before I had merged it with the characters, because at the image size of 20000×7000 pixels it was irritating having to deal with constant delays while I added large amounts of blurry computer paint (the fourth row is just a temporary mock-up that I have saved for some reason). Having multiple layers, then, made the situation totally unbearable. Then at some point I realized nobody would notice or care if I reduced everything to 10000×3500 and after I did, it became feasible to merge them and development escalated, now (then) that I could see where things were in relationship to each other better. The result was still an unsightly, muddy mess, but and I’ll think up a justification later.

This was removed from the space where the yellow creature eventually was placed because the character is sort of boring, and I thought it worth incorporating alternate modes of improper dress.

This was earlier removed from the same position not for looking too stupid, but I imagined this thing would not be pleased that others challenged its bow tie supremacy and would refuse to stand with them. At that point I had considered having the center dope also wearing a bow tie, which further complicated matters. I drew a new one into the background because I forgot I had made one already.

The creature elpse is mildly allergic to stripes, and so appears to merely be sneezing, rather than protesting. In fact this sneeze would have seemed to be directed away from the dope out of courtesy, which I cannot allow.

This pose was too interesting.

Of course I’m kidding. Most of these characters need to be in trash AND jail.

dopes, dorks, elpse, Kopiu J. Plimpton, NEMITZ, nope, pog, popular with the robots, unsightly | How to lose a guy in (5) days | !

A perhaps obsolete edition of a creature called Jumbi faces the ultimate temptation. This image was made to commemorate Jumbi, (no relation), more recently called Cosmos Ogler, soon to be called let’s say Sorbet de la Murklebean, who is very helpful and it is a shame the situation depicted is ultimately so stressful and conetentious. These are harsh coneditions which cannot be conedoned.

I ought also to point out that the Jumbi person, merely through noticing that I was hiding them in stupid places, was in large part responsible for the continued proliferation of pine cones (that’s the what the thing in the center is) in the images I produced after late 2008 or so and so it seemed logical to include one. That would be the only logical thought that occurred the entire time. As for why I started hiding pine cones to begin with, I was most likely afraid my oppressive governess would find them and scold me severely.

I had been meaning to put this image in the internet for a while, because this is the sort of thing I put there, yet I had not put it there, because it wasn’t well finished, for almost a year. I put off finishing it because I have trouble finishing things like this, but I thought I should. So I’ll try and get around to that later. And then next year maybe I’ll do another.

I produced four or five things like this one in 2010… the first one was good and each subsequent one was less good, so when I got to this it seemed sensible to postpone completing until people forgot I had played the style out. Fortunately, I forgot also and was able to put it off even longer.

You might observe that I only noticed that the large figure’s head was somewhat off-model toward the end, and my revision did not work as well because I have very limited abilities and in any event didn’t think about it for long enough. Either the eyes are huge and crossed or they’re creepy.

Howdy. I will try and… aw beans I don’t even know anymore. If I put something new here then it will be here.

=========================================

I think there should be a movie in which He Man, The Smurfs, Fat Albert, Garfield, The Thundercats and every other cartoon all-star to the rescue accidentally enter a magic portal to New York City at the same time. Also present are Underdog, the Ninja Turtles, George of the Jungle, Hercules, Curious George, Alf, Crocodile Dundee, Thor, Clifford the Big Ol’ Dog, King Kong, the Capital One vikings and I don’t know Squiddly Diddly who dwell in The City anyway. In fact I think that must be what happened because otherwise every legal resident would be used to weirdos running around “not understanding” how things work and causing comic mischief that their convenient, less interesting normal person friends who mysteriously get equal billing and screen time have to cover up and pay for, and would have long since exhausted their ability to be amused at this schtick. Likewise, I expect that when the The Avengers movie happens the crony hangers-on to the various heroes will travel around in a van solving mysteries together so that they don’t all get separate time-wasting scenes.

Congratulations. You found a way to deprive the word “trilogy” of the last of its reputation solidifying clout without putting the word “prequel” in front of it.

I’m GLAD a smurf movie has traveled forth at last to give challenge. Between this and the chipmunks it’s about time we were doing soulless corporate hip ‘n edgy remakes of stuff that was shoddy and insufferable to begin with.

page 44 of this, I suppose.
That slide goes into my ball of fame for badly designed metallic objects that I can’t draw consistently next to the lizard’s car and every metallic object I have designed. Jack Kirby I’m not. I think this became clear when I devoted several paragraphs to complaining about characters that prominently display their neon waist triangles at all times. I keep my fame in a ball because I dwell in an apartment and don’t even have a hall, much less a spare one to devote to my personal failings. A ball because mother says I can’t go to the ball, and I don’t want to see this stuff anyway.

And unlike Mr. Kirby, there isn’t going to be forty years of indistinguishable comic artists trying to copy my style. They couldn’t if they wanted to because they’d have to change in every frame.

This is the first, perhaps only page whose ink was placed entirely without disposable pens. It is very dark because I didn’t do it very well. Every time I DIPped the NIB, the mark was very wide at first and then got really narrow. When I wanted a heavy line I felt like I had to use the narrow remnants and when I wanted narrow lines I didn’t want to waste the heavy ink. Even so, I covered a few nearby paper objects with blot marks to rid myself of excess ink and seem to have half-emptied one of my two ink bottles.

The result was still unsightly and I still had to do hours of digital correction, but it’s fun to pretend I’m improving sometimes.

It’s entirely possible that references to future events on this page will amount to nothing because I don’t know what they are yet.

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Now I understand why pog does not talk about its family much

Hi want some ice?

I’m proud of you

However absurd a concept, Doom’s day prophecy seems like kind of a grim topic to be joke fodder for a soup discount. Although on that note, “adventure shopping” carries the slightest implication that I may not survive the journey.

Abuelita is my favorite grandma-flavored drink mix.

Harlot Ben Franklin is another good one.

Welcome to America, where we heat-seal plastic bags full of twigs we just found and sell them to you. Skipping stoanz packed in styrofoam coming this July! I expect nothing less than perfection from a product that can’t even legally call itself a “stick.”

Well I’m glad somebody‘s paying attention.

World’s poutiest man sums up our collective populist angst.

Deih deih d’dee that’s all folks!

candy allsorts | How to lose a guy in (4) days | !

Another paintish from a photograph whose origin I neglected to properly record despite taking the time to scan it.
I didn’t like this as much as my job with the bird, though I didn’t make a second attempt either. I think it should be far darker, but the issue has been raised that strictly imitating the photograph isn’t always the ideal end goal. Yes, a goal would be a good thing to try sometime!

The subject is an unadorned rock wallaby. Indeed any observer can see that it is quite naked.

More water-color paint, this time with ink on it. The “paper” is hot-press cotton, which possibly sounds more exciting than it is. The work is still not great but I didn’t spend the last six months lowering everyone’s expectations for nothing (in fact I paid for the privilege). This object is approximately four by three-and-a-half inches large (approximate because it is slightly parallelogrammy), produced in an hour or so. Attempts to create things of similar quality at twice the size in proportional amounts of time have not been entirely successful. Howdy. Apparently I can’t draw lizardy things unless they’re malnourished and wearing hats.

Water-color paintings of an intense bird which starred in a series of photographs in an issue of National Geographic magazine from 1982 or thereabouts. The second was an improvement but the first attempt was more colorful, yet I can not justify displaying the same picture twice under peace-time circumstances. One of them has to GO (away).
I have forgotten what sort of birds these are. I only know that they are very judgmental and potentially seek vengeance.