June 30, 2008


Remember that "White skin still the best, study finds" headline CNN had on its front page last year?

I am now convinced that they're doing it on purpose.

Turns out the story is about a host club. It's a romantic tearoom Disney princess fantasy with good-looking English-speaking guys. I didn't see any groveling.

And since it takes place in Japan, CNN sent their Asian newscaster to do the video report. She's Korean, but never mind that because all look same anyway. CNN uses her in every Asian puff piece, whether her role is to eat lo-mein, model a kimono or play with a robot doggie for the camera.

I don't necessarily believe that's a huge problem taken strictly on its own merit, but it's part of a larger phenomenon that I feel deserves to be acknowledged. Also, I wonder what the reporter thinks about it, if indeed she thinks about it at all beyond thye level of "WHEEEE THEY LET ME GO ON THE TELLY!"

Don't miss the bonus laff: For a limited time only, you can buy the 'groveling' headline as a T-SHIRT! Now where'd I put my wallet?

June 28, 2008


Two new pages!

June 23, 2008

The George Carlin Theory

"The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it?

Death. What's that, a bonus?

I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch and you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities. Spend your last nine months floating...and you finish off as an orgasm."

Yeah three posts in a row about Carlin. Screw you, I'm traumatized D:

"Ahhh, he'll turn up! Have you checked the dumpster?"

George Carlin was a kickass guy who made me laugh as a little kid. His routines never got old. To this day, I count him as the best in the business, the head of the holy trinity of comics, right up there with the Great Electron that goes "WOM. WOM."

He got me through shitty times with a smile on my face. I never met the guy, but he's been with me on road trips, long walks, bad days, awesome days. I've shared him with friends, read him aloud, packed him on about five different generations of portable media, from my shitty WalkMan tape deck to my iPod.

George Carlin is in several hundred pages of my comic, woven into the line art, especially the shaky bits from when I was giggling too hard to keep the pen still. No one else can see it, but all I have to do is look at a particular page and there's his voice, snarking away. "Get on the plane, get on the plane. Fuck YOU, I'm getting IN the plane! There seems to be less WIND in here!"

What can I say about this guy?

George Carlin reassured me that the plane is going to survive humanity. He proved to me that language is a beautiful and crazy amusement park where the rides never stop being exciting and the tickets are all free. He taught me to take note of the hundreds of quirky, goofy and generally bizarre things people do that unite us as a species, like losing your keys and wanting to break open a batch of fresh-baked muffins in case the keys fell into the batter.

He cheerleaded the apocalypse because it sounded like a fun way to die. He mocked airline safety lectures. He told a mean fart joke.

I'm going to miss his brain. I'm going to miss a world with his angry and cantankerous lectures on human self-importance. I'm going to miss getting the giggles when a new bit of his takes me by surprise.

He once said life was a succession of dogs. You get a dog, it gets old, it dies, and you go out and get another dog. Sometimes you get a dog that looks just like the old dog, and you go on like that, and it's okay.

I didn't know the man, but he was good for the world, and I'm going to miss his brain. I've never actually cried because a fucking celebrity died before. But with George, it's not the personality that's been lost. It's the thousands of potential bits that died with him, unshared. He took his brain with him, and that's a fucking tragedy.

I'm keeping him in my thoughts, between "my ass hurts" and "let's fuck the waitress." I think he'd like that :)

June 22, 2008

Dear Satan...

Dear Satan,

I know we don't speak often, but I have a favor to ask of you. As you probably know by now, world-class comedian George Carlin passed away today from heart disease. He was getting on in years, but I believe he still had a lot to share with the world. I think he was taken before his time.

My dark lord, I wish to draw your attention to three other names you may find all-too-familiar: Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, and Andrew Dice Clay.

Three equally well-known names in the stand-up world, O Lord of Screaming Assholes.

Three highly controversial (past and present) personalities.

Three completely tempting bargaining tools, if you get my drift.

You see, Satan, as the Prince of the Fallen you know more than anyone else about how unfair and capricious the hand of fate (or the whims of your opposite number up above, whom I shall not name, but I think you know exactly who I mean) can be. I mean, look what happened to you and your union when you tried to organize and buck for a measly little pay raise after ass-thousand years schlepping around in the celestial dirt with the rest of the scrubbies, singing "holy holy holy" to you-know-who until your nuts just about fell off from disuse.

Trapped under the earth in a giant fireplace full of screaming morons and losers over 45 measly cents an hour? Cold deal, dude. I totally feel for you.

What I'm saying is that sometimes the wrong guy takes the fall. Sometimes the piece of shit with the ricermobile gets your wife and you get a motel room full of dead hookers. It happens; life sucks. Now, part of that is because of your evil influence, but I'm not bitter; I'm not holding a grudge here. I'm over it.

Dane Cook.

Carlos Mencia.

Andrew Dice Clay.

Please, Lord of the Dark Mass, please consider this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do the right thing for the little guy, what do you say? Help out the common man a little bit by righting what went so tragically amiss this week.

I know you have it in your power to pull just the tiniest of strings and make everyone's dream come true. You have power; you have influence. You own the biggest names in Hollywood and I know for a fact that you dabble in politics.

For all I know, you may be reluctant to surrender your hold on this brilliant mind, but let's face it: three for one is a hell of a deal, and I think we can both agree they have it coming. Might as well pay the devil his due today instead of in 2045, right?

Please think about it, Lucifer. It might be the best choice you ever made, but don't let that stop you from helping a brother out of the putrefaction of your cavernous, flaming heart.

Eternally Opposed in Sacred Combat,
Luka Delaney
Age 27

June 20, 2008

Update Post

I updated a day early for once. HUZZAH!


So Glad We Moved

When you hear gunshots late at night in the North End of St. Paul: STAY INDOORS AND WAIT FOR THE COPS TO COME AND CHECK YOUR YARD AND HOME FOR THE SHOOTER.


June 19, 2008

Apt Lyrics Are Apt

As usual, I have been thinking a lot about my drama-whore family. It's interesting how much my perspective has changed since I got out of that cesspool. As with my breakup, I agonized for ages that I was doing the wrong thing by running away instead of staying to try and bail out the sinking ship, but more and more I feel a sense of peace and freedom and well-being from having gotten away.

I'll save you the seventeen paragraphs of rumination on the matter, because frankly there's nothing new I can say right now about my evil siblings and cowardly absentee father. All that's changed is that I'm starting to realize that I'm not crazy. The things that happened really did happen, and just because nobody cared at the time doesn't mean the problem wasn't valid.

I fantasize about writing my family members letters that explain where I'm coming from, although I'm afraid of both possible outcomes--reconciliation and rejection. I'd almost prefer the latter, since I'm used to it.

And besides, what can you say to crazy people who don't really care about the damage they do? Not a whole lot. But it might make me feel better. At least I'm planning to get therapy--but then again, I was never the dangerous one.

To lighten the mood:

Someone Is Crazy, by Jonathan Coulton

Is Bitter there?
I'd rather talk to her than Disappointed
Though she's not quite as fun as Good and Mad
You better put her on
She can change the game
She can make me say I'm sorry

You throw your hands up in the air and swear you didn't know
You think the world revolves around you but it doesn't so you sit and spin
Baby, someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you

You set the trap
You lie and wait till someone trips the wire
Then you jump out to get your feelings hurt
And you act surprised
How did that get there?
Why does everybody hate me?

We're all familiar with the tragedy of being you
It's hard to show you any sympathy when all you do is beg for pain
Baby, someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you

You're all alone
Well maybe that's because you're so unpleasant
You might consider dialing back a bit
Put those claws away
Stop the waterworks
Spend a couple evenings sober

The world's against you, so you think or maybe wish it was
At least that way someone would care but baby, no one does, not even you
Baby, someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you
Someone is crazy and it's you

There are times when I want to make a mixtape of songs like this and mail it to the homes of people who just plain aren't getting the point through face-to-face confrontation. I can't be the only one, can I?

June 18, 2008

Now I Feel Good!

Got this off one of the JF wank comms:

Since it's for my darling Discovery Channel and pretty fucking adorable besides, I will let my wanky anti-consumerism schtick slide for the nonce and admit that I love this ad.

Stephen Hawking, Buddhist monks and astronauts in a sing-along with the hosts of Mythbusters (who are on fire)? Sign me up.

June 17, 2008

Zombies Are Love

Thanks to Netflix, I've got like 68 zombie survival horror flicks lined up in my rental queue. I just finished watching Fido and it was pretty amusing. Not as funny, quick or morbid as it could have been, but it was actually kind of sweet and I never expected that. Quirky, a sort of Lassie-as-a-zombie satire.

I also watched Daylight, and was a bit underwhelmed. I like claustrophobic disaster films as much as the next masochistic asshole, but I'm afraid the only character I cared about was the dog. This happens a lot lately, now that the Captain and me are a team.

Speaking of whom, I took him to the vet this afternoon for his last vaccination, a Lyme booster. On the way out I grabbed a cow hoof and a bunch of chew toys. He goes through bully sticks kind of fast with those terrifying scissor-teeth, but the cow hoof has held his interest all day and is still somewhat the same shape as before. Good deal for 99 cents.

I seem to be having a lot of those weird dreams that scratch the fourth wall lately. Last night I had one where I was meeting Jesse and another friend (who shifted identities at random) for dinner at a Chinese place. We were all really hungry but for some reason I had to stop at a fancy dress store to find shoes, and on the way back I got lost and ended up wandering around a trashy neighborhood where the skaters left their gear.

Eventually I found the restaurant but by then it was dark and Jesse and the other friend had fallen asleep at the table. They were pissed and asked where I'd been all day. I was trying to understand how time could have gotten away from me so badly, and realized that my memory of where I'd been didn't match with the amount of time I'd supposedly been gone.

I came THIS close to figuring out that it was a dream and that was why time had gone all funny, but instead I blamed myself for sucking, apologized profusely, and we ordered ice cream since the kitchen was closed.

June 14, 2008

Riding the Wave of Sane

I decided to try the Adam Carolla method for fixing your life if you're a walking disaster area. Basically, when faced with a problem, ask yourself "what would a sane person do?" and do that, no matter what you personally want to do.

So here's a list I compiled of what a sane person in my situation would do:

1. Clear up what's left of my docket of overdue tasks:

  • Kagerou commission
  • Pirate comic
  • A-Kon sketchbook commission
  • Tonbo/Nick art for Megan
  • Pay A-Kon related taxes
  • Color "Something Wicked This Way Flops"
  • Remix another chapter of Kagerou
2. Buy new and respectable clothing and improve hygeine regimen so that I don't look like a homeless SA goon who has been too despondent to shower ever since he lost his Juggalette realdoll on the way home from a furry convention in the heart of Transylvania.

3. Get the shrink appointment. Get diagnosed and, if necessary, medicated for the crippling social issues and anxiety that make me withdraw from the world and keep me from getting anything done. Contrary to my previous assumption, the proper time to set up an appointment is probably when I'm in my right mind and capable of setting it up, NOT when I'm so overloaded I can't pick up a phone.

4. Learn to complete commissions on time so I can make art my job, meet my expenses and become independent. Or, failing that,

5. Get a part-time job that forces me to interact with the world.

I have already made a fairly decent headway by using the Adam Carolla method. I've gotten the vet stuff done, seen a dentist and had my teeth dealt with, and put myself on a shaky but tolerable schedule of household chores that serve to anchor me to a sense of time. These small and overdue successes have led to significant improvements in my overall mood, plus a general feeling of can do, can fix, can achieve.

Proving to myself through action and effort that I'm not helpless to change my life means I will not be as likely to give up on future efforts before I've properly tried. A few bad doctor experiences, family dramas, and financial setbacks have retarded my development for years, and I'm so tired of apathetically taking it up the ass.

A sane person would fight back, especially against the self-destructive urge to withdraw and give up because sometimes things suck a lot.

So that's what I'm gonna do.

Update Post

YAY! Updates are back.

Meet Neffie Ferandlt

June 13, 2008

Tom Cruise's Lawyer: Jewish Man, You're a Total Nazi-Pants!

Dr. Drew Pinsky ("board-certified internist, addiction medicine specialist...") had Anonymous and Tory Magoo on his radio show a few months back, talking about Scientology. He was wary of Anonymous and skeptical of the cause, but said he planned to look into the matter more closely after the show ended.

Well! He's in Playboy now, calling Scientology a 'cultish environment'.

A lot of people in the public eye who behave strangely have mental illness we can learn from, and much of it is based on childhood trauma, without a doubt. Take a guy like Tom Cruise. Why would somebody be drawn into a cultish kind of environment like Scientology? To me, that's a function of a very deep emptiness and suggests serious neglect in childhood - maybe some abuse, but mostly neglect.

Looks like our guy followed those links we sent him!

Never one to let the chance at a last word slip by, Tom Cruise's lawyer responded with the Godwin of the decade: "The last time we heard garbage like this was from Joseph Goebbels."

That's the spirit, chums! When in doubt, the most logical and effective response is to compare your Jewish opponent to a contextually incorrect Nazi figurehead.

I'll just go ahead and tag this one as 'epic fail', shall I?

Scientology forgoes torturing cats in favor of hassling the disabled

Crazy shit! Stu Wyatt, beloved SA goon and physically disabled Anon protester, has been arrested and charged with assault against a Scientologist woman. Said woman followed him around as he navigated his electric scooter, trying to stick her foot underneath with a cry of "Wolf! Wolf!" that struck mild confusion into the hearts of all who saw it. And then she called the cops and filed a complaint.

Oh, but guess what? STU GOT THE WHOLE THING ON TAPE!

You can skip to around 4:00 if you want to see the actual 'assault' in all its fingernail-pulling cringe humor glory, or watch the whole thing from start to finish to earn valuable prizes.

I don't know if I can stand up long enough to do Sea ARRRGH. My leg isn't really up to scratch, and if I got a wheelchair I'd feel like a faker. That arm still gets weak much more quickly than normal, so I'm still not even really up to the challenge of that hypothetical pimp cane I was musing over earlier today.

Six hours standing and walking around makes my feet hurt when I'm at my buffest. And as Wyatt's video suggests, a physically impaired person on his own in a strange city might be a tempting target for these dorks.

Hmm. Perhaps if I chop it off at the thigh, I can replace it with a peg leg and really get authentic with the whole pirate theme.

Here are some wise words o' warning for everyone else hoisting a jolly roger in preparation for Saturday's protests:

The R.A. warns Anonymous to guard against the escalating pattern of "Body Bullbaiting." This physical form of Bullbaiting consists of a pattern of elbows, shoulders, and feet of Scientologists hatted in physical instigation "accidentally" bumping into Anons while uttering slurs under their breath. OSA's goal is to have an aggressive Anon physically assault a Scientologist when the Scientologist "Accidentally" bumped into the Anon. OSA targets for Body Bullbaiting are Male Anons who are physically and vocally aggressive. Female Anons can also expect some elbows and shoulders from female Scientologists.

-From this thread on OCMB

June 11, 2008

Gay Marriage: The True Menace

Gay marriage expected to boost California's troubled economy

Oh noes, our poor society! Look what they're doing to our poor society!

Dental Insanity III: The Scrapening

So it turns out a lot of what I thought was below-gumline tooth decay was actually just twelve years of buildup turning the edges of my teeth funny colors.

Not the best shot, as I (the dumbass) didn't take a shot this morning before leaving the house. But you get the idea. All my teeth are blended together in the before but become separate entities in the after.

Having the stuff scaled off was pretty traumatic, but it'll never be that brutal again. I'll be going back in December for my first regularly scheduled 6-month cleaning.

How like life this cleaning appointment was. I've lived so long in a haze of confusion and incompetence, surrounded by trouble and setbacks and too terrified to confront my fear because it might turn out to be more than I can handle. And then that all gets scraped away, and find out that underneath the buildup I'm actually pretty fortunate. Not to say I don't have problems, just that they are nowhere near as bad as the time I spent running from the unknown. The anticipation was vastly worse than the reality.

Next step: Dog needs a booster for his distemper, I need a shrink consult so I can deal with the anxiety that has put me in such a quagmire, and I have to fill out a tax return for last year's A-Kon because I just got a letter from Texas charging me an arbitrary $100. Since I didn't make anything, I can get that back as a refund, but I can't keep fucking off or it will get more expensive.

Above everything else: replace my tablet! Because there's never so much on my plate that art can't come first.

June 10, 2008

Whew, feeling better. Boy do I have a headache, though.


Today my PC alarm clock failed to go off, and I missed my dental cleaning appointment. After rescheduling for tomorrow, I decided to be hard on myself and pick the worst task on the list for my day's project as a punishment.

So I went to Wells Fargo to cancel my Mom.

Honestly, I expected some kind of bad news. Overdrafts. Penalties. Fines, fees, lectures. Something to chastise me for not doing it sooner, for letting this bit of business drag out so long. I've been putting it off for a year and a half. I worried about what would happen when I went in and found out how much I owed the bank as the only survivor of our shared account. For all I know I was liable for her debts or something now that she's gone.

I have been worrying for all this time that somewhere, somehow, giant debts were piling up. But I didn't want to go and straighten it out, because I thought the news would be bad, and I was a coward.

But I never suspected $10.96.

At the bank, the teller told me Mom's accounts were already closed, except for one checking account that was listed as inactive. I didn't owe them anything for taking so long, and in fact, they seemed to take a customer waiting for ages to close a dead family member's account as a matter of course.

I had come in planning to tell them my Mom had died. As an excuse, almost, when I knew damn well I should have done it all sooner. The teller said she was sorry for my loss.

And then I went into an office, and a very nice banker re-opened the account for purposes of shutting it down. It took maybe two minutes to run through the paperwork, and then she handed me a piece of paper detailing and endorsing a check for the balance of the account, which I signed.

$10.96, all that was left in her account. The last money she ever owned. The last money she ever cried over. My mother died in poverty, so much poverty that a bigoted funeral director held her ashes hostage and she missed her own charity funeral.

Such a tiny, pathetic amount of money. $10.96 she'll never get to break on another stupid pack of that gum she liked so much, kicking off a huge fight with my sister over finances. Jesus wept.

Cleaning out her stuff after she died, I found a Tarot card torn to pieces in a keepsake box. When I looked it up on Google, a website said that particular card held strong connotations of financial and emotional ruin, ill health and shitty luck. Ripping it up must have been like writing her autobiography. All that suffering until you just can't take it anymore. First she killed the card, then she killed herself.

The banker came back with an envelope that was sealed shut, handed it to me, and told me it was done. I was trying to hold it together. She was very nice and I thanked her for her help, but I barely made it out of the lobby alive.

I'm still crying. I think part of me is going to keep on crying forever.

Her world was so small and empty and helpless, and now it's gone, traded in for $10.96 and a pile of dust.

I want a refund.

So, So Wrong


13-year-old alleged child porn victim: Innocent victim or dirty slut?

Hi, this is 2008. Your virgin/whore dichotomy called and it wants its age of consent back.

June 9, 2008

Dental Insanity II

TOOTH DECAY USES 'Rot and Sorrow'

LUKA'S 'RFLECT' BOUNCES 'Rot and Sorrow' back!






GOT 1000 EXP

So yeah, apparently not going to the dentist for 12 years has given me the equivalent of six months' worth of accumulated crap and tooth decay. No cavities. No cracks, diseases or polyps. I don't have anything that needs immediate attention, and even the fillings that flaked a decade ago are still in good condition.

I usually only remember to brush once a day, so all of this came as a huge fucking surprise.

We were done so far ahead of schedule that the dentist remarked that it was a pity he hadn't scheduled the cleaning on the same day as the exam, but he thought after reading my file that it would be much worse.

I told him and the hygeinist how my personal expectations for the visit had included multiple root canals, a jaw removal and my potential death and they had a good laugh at my noobish good fortune.

I do have two troublesome wisdom teeth, one of which is impacted and needs to come out. The other is just chillin' but he suggested extracting it at the same time because it's a very stupid tooth and nobody even likes it. If so, I'm keeping it for a necklace. There aren't any on my lower jaw at all, as it turns out.

No need to set aside funds for dental care in the immediate future, you say? Well well.


June 6, 2008

One Piece Haiku


For serious, though.



June 5, 2008

Weather or Not, Part Deux



I just had the weirdest dream. I had a thing growing out of one of the moles on my chest (which exists in the real world in exactly the same place) that looked like a ring of flesh with bumps all around it. When I looked back it had grown into a flower, complete with leaves and a loopy stem, about four inches long, and the doctors refused to examine it because it was such a common ailment.

Now I go to the IRL doctor about my hurty neck and back and knees and wrist. Hopefully they won't tell me the same thing.

When I get back: THE DRAWING!

June 3, 2008

Pseudo-Feminist Media Meltdown

Here I was, being all smug and superior and thinking my "The Giving Tree was a Metaphor for Incest" theory was such hot shit. But now I've been blown right out of the water by this very stable chick's deconstruction of the phallocentric womyn-skewering feminism's-good-works-undoing pornography that is Firefly:

In which Wash is a seething rageaholic and Joss Whedon sexually assaults his wife

I just have to marvel at this rare glimpse at what Firefly would be like if we lived in a parallel universe where shrimp didn't exist, up was down and batshit was sane. It's just fucking bizarre. I did try, but she lost me right around the time the words "most" "sex" "is" and "rape" appeared in a single sentence.

Mind your manners if you go over there, now. You know that one guy at the zoo who gets really drunk and tries to climb over the tiger exhibit wall and gets eaten by psychotic pseudo-feminists? Yeah. Don't be that guy.

The Core: A Fan Comic

Or click here for non-DA file: BOINK

Watched the movie yesterday, in case you can't tell. Suspension of disbelief was a strand so close to the breaking point with the Core that I witnessed a spider actually refusing to climb it for personal safety reasons. Fun, though.

June 2, 2008

Hookers and Bank Codes

Wednesday, October 31 1:17 p.m. An officer met with a women on upper H Street who explained that a female prostitute had stolen $390,000 from her bank account by using “bank codes” – a technique the larcenous harlot had learned from a police officer, and could be heard talking about it from her apartment upstairs (in the one-story building), which is accessible only through a secret passage located behind the building. She showed officers a cable hanging behind the building which, when turned right, opens the secret passage. Police speculated that there might be a mental health issue involved with the report.

These Arcata Eye police logs are the funniest things I've read in a while.

I gather from a conversation with Seebs that there's more where this comes from, which means I'm not the first person to think police logs would make a great humor blog.

Ah well, more time for me to do my ACTUAL work.

June 1, 2008

the vanity-dance of the digital dickweed II


People's faces are so Gaussian Blurred they no longer even look human. And it's still just as random as Stefan Sonnenfeld's butchery of Sweeney Todd; every five seconds a random patch of pores and laugh lines will briefly reappear.

Sylar's forehead looks like Barbie's cooter, for fuck's sake. How is this not a direct violation of the Geneva conventions!?

Photoshop: Just because you can, doesn't mean you oughtta.