Objects on internet are in poorer taste than they appear.

There once was a fellow named Bernie
An ambulance chasing attorney
He'd race down the street
On spat-adorned feet
But was killed by a runaway gurney.

One for the Whedon-fan-type-folk-people.

A: Did you know the devil built a robot?

W: Ah, yes...El Robotico Diablo...

A: Nobody tells me anything.


I'm not exactly timely, I'm afraid, I tend to be about ten to fifteen years behind in my television viewing. It's best aged, don't you know, like fine wine. So I'm told, I just drink it, I don't compare where the grapes came from or when they were picked. Barely look at the label. Huh, look at that, it was gin all along. Explains why the room's angled that way, I suppose. Point is, old TV shows are like fine angled grapes. So get off my back.

Miss McGuffin, and Tea

Minstrel! Sing us a song!

She can't hear you
She's in her tower
She can't see you
She's across the sea
She's the one that
The Heroes strive for
Villains scheme for
Yeah, but she's with me

Chorus:
She's Miss Mcguffin
She's the Maltese Falcon
She's the Ring of Power
She's the Death Star plans
She's Princess Peach
She's the Golden Fleece
She's the Sangreal
She's the Spice Melange

She's Terrific
She's monolithic
She's full of stars
Floating deep in space
Locked in a crate
Top Men sealed her fate
'Cause she's enough to
Melt a Nazi's face

Chorus


Someday I'll be able write something without it being mainly pop culture references. But not today.

Also, sometimes people give me a hard time because I drink a lot of tea.



That'll teach you.

Toy Practice

I've read drawing your toys can be good practice. I did a pretty miserable job here, this is one of my favorite Popeye toys.

Rimshot!

In the year Twenty-eleven

2011 is off to a weird start. I have a job that may or may not last another month, I've been crazy sick, it's hard to recuperate because my new hobby is shoveling all the snow the evil sky god keeps dumping on us (and floods before that), and a nice lady from the government called the other day and told me I owe them 2 grand.

On the bright side, tho, Cindy gave me this awesome Velvet Elvis for Christmas:



Yessir, the King takes away the pain.

But with all this, I haven't really been drawing much, which puts me on edge like nothing else does. Whatever, here's some stuff that was lying around.



Never got around to posting this Ugly Baby strip with the other ones. Probably because it's kinda dumb. I mean, any idiot can tell that's not Magic Missile he's casting.





La la la happy bunny la la





Hamstoro demands cardboard tubes to run in! Caaaardboooaaard Tuuuuubes!


At least they eventually took my old fridge away. After the plow buried it 3 times.

Old School Comics

I miss those old school comics wherein just about anybody with a costume could become a hero. This was especially true of DC; for example, the original Red Tornado was a lady with a sauce pan on her head. Thus: Ajax is a guy who's a fan of the Iliad and happens to have some armor lying around. That's it. Instant superhero.

Marvel had some good stuff, too. They liked to take two seemingly disparate ideas and fuse them into wonderful nonsense, like a metallic alien who rides a cosmic surfboard. And so: a Voidac is an interstellar nosferatu that assumes the form of a cloud of cosmic dust until a ship blunders through it. The voidac then causes damage to the outside of the ship, prompting someone come out to fix the problem. Then it's lunch time.

Also like old comics, These drawings are plainly labeled for the reader's convenience. They just don't make 'em like that anymore, folks.

There's a Reason For This

Just don't ask what it is.

Zahd

Not Zod. But you can say "Kneel before Zahd!" if you want to.

And people wonder why I don't look rested.

I had some messed up dreams last night. Hand-to-hand combat on a bridge. Mutant Disney characters in the jungle. Watching soft-core pornography in the company of Betty White.

But all through these dreams, there was this tiger that would show up and start killing people. We would all scatter, I'd move on to the next dream, and then the damn tiger would show up again.

That is, until I arrived in a dream where it was announced on the radio that the Tiger Problem was so bad that a State of Emergency had been declared, and various resources had been called forth to deal with it. Foremost among these was a monkey.

"Is it Monkey-With-A-Big-Gun?", I asked, hardly daring to hope.

They nodded solemnly."Yes, it is."

At which point I leaned in to the mic and said very earnestly, "I just want to say that I'm a fan of Monkey-With-A-Big-Gun. I believe in him. I think he can do this."
Then my alarm went off, and I woke up.

Alright psychoanalysts. Get to work on THAT one.

Holee Crap, What's That?!

It's the end of the month! And it's COMING RIGHT FOR US!!

FLEEEEEEEEE!!!!