Fuck. The Captain just killed my external drive. I wasn't in the room, but from the subtle clues he left all over the floor, it looks like he got under my desk, became entangled in my computer cables, and ran for his life. The drive was five feet away from my desk on the floor when I found it.
The drive powers up but all it does is make a buzzy noise every three seconds or so. No letter drive comes up when I hook it up. Fuck fuck fuck.
I have no idea how much is gone, but it's not as bad as it could have been. Back when the backup program went haywire, Seebs was able to get all the data off and move it to a spare he had lying around. I still hadn't finished checking to make sure the files were all copied back to my drive, so much is still intact. But it gets worse. I just moved 11 gigs of new stuff to the external drive this week to make room on my PC. I can't remember what I moved, but it was good stuff and I deleted it all right afterwards.
Fuck.
Fake edit: The beeping noise stopped, but still no connection. The suck of today is so spectacular that it has given me a headache. And it started out so good, too. I was getting things done, processing orders, cleaning out my email, and then bam. Fail after fail after fail with a big old rotten hard drive cherry on top.
Shoot me now.
January 28, 2009
Can I Borrow Your Dagger For A Sec?
Phobia be damned! I've just had my first haircut since grade school. Five inches gone, gone into the night. Practically bald now!
It was scary, but the deed had to be done. The scraggle-monster got into the ends and it went bad, so I lopped it off with achainsaw pair of office scissors. Before, it was just past my knees, and now it only goes to mid-thigh. GASP! I could join the Marines!
On the bright side, I bet I could ride my bike with it down and not fear being scalped by the back wheel. That's something to look forward to.
It ended up lopsided so Rah evened it out for me, taking off a bit more while she was at it. Then I gave her a trim of her own to repay. It wasn't that bad a job for my first attempt at a haircut on another human being. Not completely even, but she can't see that so it's all good. I wisely didn't tell her about the bald spot. Muahaha. Let her find out on her own. As for me, I'm away laughing on a fast camel.
The house has declared victory in the war against split ends.
It was scary, but the deed had to be done. The scraggle-monster got into the ends and it went bad, so I lopped it off with a
On the bright side, I bet I could ride my bike with it down and not fear being scalped by the back wheel. That's something to look forward to.
It ended up lopsided so Rah evened it out for me, taking off a bit more while she was at it. Then I gave her a trim of her own to repay. It wasn't that bad a job for my first attempt at a haircut on another human being. Not completely even, but she can't see that so it's all good. I wisely didn't tell her about the bald spot. Muahaha. Let her find out on her own. As for me, I'm away laughing on a fast camel.
The house has declared victory in the war against split ends.
January 26, 2009
Adventures In Fang Repair
Fillings a-go-go!
I didn't get lost on the way to the dentist's office this time, and the actual appointment took about twenty minutes from start to finish. The modern anaesthetic needle didn't hurt nearly as bad as the giant spikes they used to use when I was a kid, and the assistant brought me a mirror so I could see the drilled holes before they got filled in. it was kind of awesome. The fillings themselves are tooth-colored and I'm hoping I can get the amalgam ones that have fallen apart removed and replaced with similar ones on Unka Sam's dime.
The whole drive home I played with my dead lip. Even now I can't feel my face from temple to chin.
This calm adventure has been brought to you by Zoloft, makers of "Holy shit, I was able to leave the house alone!" and other fine products.
I didn't get lost on the way to the dentist's office this time, and the actual appointment took about twenty minutes from start to finish. The modern anaesthetic needle didn't hurt nearly as bad as the giant spikes they used to use when I was a kid, and the assistant brought me a mirror so I could see the drilled holes before they got filled in. it was kind of awesome. The fillings themselves are tooth-colored and I'm hoping I can get the amalgam ones that have fallen apart removed and replaced with similar ones on Unka Sam's dime.
The whole drive home I played with my dead lip. Even now I can't feel my face from temple to chin.
This calm adventure has been brought to you by Zoloft, makers of "Holy shit, I was able to leave the house alone!" and other fine products.
January 25, 2009
The Burden of Fame
A year ago I made a snarky post about some truly wretched and self-absorbed E!D!G!Y! teen artwork on Deviantart. Over time, that post somehow ended up high on the list of Google results for a self-injury related search string, and now that old entry is getting heaps of anonymous comments.
So far not one of these newbies has bothered to comment on the entry itself. Overnight the comments just became a forum to share their issues with the usual poorly concealed self-admiration. Mid-conversation, even, like they all migrated at once during a thread somewhere else.
It's like somebody's copy-pasting Harry Potter hurt-comfort fanfic in my blog, complete with self insert characters who listen to Evanescence and think suffering is just so romantic.
Of course I'm fucking with them. It's like a law of physics. Gravity pulls, objects in motion tend to remain in motion, and Luka hungers for the blood of Mary Sue. I added a shit ton of attention whore macros to the entry, and put a trigger warning at the very end just in case.
God bless you, blink tag. You get a lot of shit in this world, but you might just have saved me some eyerolling.
So far not one of these newbies has bothered to comment on the entry itself. Overnight the comments just became a forum to share their issues with the usual poorly concealed self-admiration. Mid-conversation, even, like they all migrated at once during a thread somewhere else.
It's like somebody's copy-pasting Harry Potter hurt-comfort fanfic in my blog, complete with self insert characters who listen to Evanescence and think suffering is just so romantic.
Of course I'm fucking with them. It's like a law of physics. Gravity pulls, objects in motion tend to remain in motion, and Luka hungers for the blood of Mary Sue. I added a shit ton of attention whore macros to the entry, and put a trigger warning at the very end just in case.
God bless you, blink tag. You get a lot of shit in this world, but you might just have saved me some eyerolling.
Pep Talk
I have a plan for this upcoming summer, but I don't know how to put it into action.
Basically, I want to travel the country on a rockhounding tour. I plan to visit Oregon, possibly Arkansas, the North Shore of Superior and Thunder Bay up in Canada. If I can get my shit together by then, I can contact folks with private mines who take guests and learn how they do their stuff.
Maybe I'll meet some other hounds who know good collecting spots and stay with them as well. I may hit rock shows and talk to the people who work them. Ask how they got into their line of work and take notes and advice. They give it freely to others who have the bug, I already know that much. I wonder if people in the rock business take apprentices or interns. At the very least, I can join the Minnesota rock club and go on field trips.
One thing that's for sure is that I'll never break into this business if I don't get out there and do it. And I know I can do it. For all that I feel like I'm completely adrift and incompetent, all I have to do is look back to 2004 and see what I did with conventions despite having clue zero. Despite being WAY more messed up than I am now (god bless you, therapy and the soothing affects of maturity), I made plans. I bit my lip and jumped into the chaos and it all worked out beautifully. I think of the hours of travel and the hard work and it makes me nostalgic as fuck.
My fear of burning out on what I love to do should not hold me back either. I have never been as enthusiastic about going to conventions as I feel about fossil and crystal hunting, but I still like them just fine.
There is nothing to be afraid of. I have a charmed life and I have support. If it blows up in my face, I have a hilarious blog entry to share with the world so you can all taste the schadenfreude. If it all works out, I will have knocked down a huge portion of the wall between myself and a Genuine Sense Of Meaning In Life. I know what I want and it's all about dirt and sweat and sunshine. It's what I've always wanted, and only now that I'm older and starting to define myself as a person can I admit it. I've begun to understand that I, Luka Delaney, have a genuine Passion and can follow it. All these years spinning my wheels and it was right there, but I never thought for a moment I could seriously do it. It never even occurred. I'm slow like that.
I love art, I love writing. I'm well aware that my talents in the creative field will not win me any great status in life, and I'm OK with that because I do my shit well enough to satisfy me and get my ideas across, and that's awesome. I'm always getting better, always learning, always impressing myself in new ways. But I don't want to attach pressure to these things, and that lack of fire holds me back from turning art or writing into a genuine Career. I love creative stuff, but I NEED to explore my world. These things can co-exist. I know what I'm doing. Admitting that my largest drive lies elsewhere won't make me give up on my art, like I used to think it would. Why quit doing something I love just because it isn't my entire universe? That kind of flawed all-or-nothing thinking holds me back way too much in life as it is.
What I need is my own permission.
All of this makes me excited as hell. And worried. Most of all, it makes me insanely, giddily optimistic. I can realize all of this if I work hard. I need to train, plan, save and scheme. No excuses, just jump the hell in and watch the results.
I've driven through all but three states in this nation and I can read a map. I can't get lost, I won't be murdered, the planet won't throw me off. There are no excuses left, only problems to be solved so I can move on. No fucking way am I wasting another year sitting on my fat ass, feeding my life to a glowing screen so I can watch other people live my dreams and continually sigh "If only!"
You all have my permission to quote this entry back at me if I get discouraged or whiny or angsty later. I have a habit of shying away from big plans when they start to feel tawdry, once the glow of euphoria wears off and I start to second-guess myself. Right now I have clarity, and no matter how discouraged I get later, I won't be able to take it back. Can't even fuck with what's already been said on the internet.
So basically, I want to be like Brother Ali when I grow up.
(Well get to it, dork!)
Basically, I want to travel the country on a rockhounding tour. I plan to visit Oregon, possibly Arkansas, the North Shore of Superior and Thunder Bay up in Canada. If I can get my shit together by then, I can contact folks with private mines who take guests and learn how they do their stuff.
Maybe I'll meet some other hounds who know good collecting spots and stay with them as well. I may hit rock shows and talk to the people who work them. Ask how they got into their line of work and take notes and advice. They give it freely to others who have the bug, I already know that much. I wonder if people in the rock business take apprentices or interns. At the very least, I can join the Minnesota rock club and go on field trips.
One thing that's for sure is that I'll never break into this business if I don't get out there and do it. And I know I can do it. For all that I feel like I'm completely adrift and incompetent, all I have to do is look back to 2004 and see what I did with conventions despite having clue zero. Despite being WAY more messed up than I am now (god bless you, therapy and the soothing affects of maturity), I made plans. I bit my lip and jumped into the chaos and it all worked out beautifully. I think of the hours of travel and the hard work and it makes me nostalgic as fuck.
My fear of burning out on what I love to do should not hold me back either. I have never been as enthusiastic about going to conventions as I feel about fossil and crystal hunting, but I still like them just fine.
There is nothing to be afraid of. I have a charmed life and I have support. If it blows up in my face, I have a hilarious blog entry to share with the world so you can all taste the schadenfreude. If it all works out, I will have knocked down a huge portion of the wall between myself and a Genuine Sense Of Meaning In Life. I know what I want and it's all about dirt and sweat and sunshine. It's what I've always wanted, and only now that I'm older and starting to define myself as a person can I admit it. I've begun to understand that I, Luka Delaney, have a genuine Passion and can follow it. All these years spinning my wheels and it was right there, but I never thought for a moment I could seriously do it. It never even occurred. I'm slow like that.
I love art, I love writing. I'm well aware that my talents in the creative field will not win me any great status in life, and I'm OK with that because I do my shit well enough to satisfy me and get my ideas across, and that's awesome. I'm always getting better, always learning, always impressing myself in new ways. But I don't want to attach pressure to these things, and that lack of fire holds me back from turning art or writing into a genuine Career. I love creative stuff, but I NEED to explore my world. These things can co-exist. I know what I'm doing. Admitting that my largest drive lies elsewhere won't make me give up on my art, like I used to think it would. Why quit doing something I love just because it isn't my entire universe? That kind of flawed all-or-nothing thinking holds me back way too much in life as it is.
What I need is my own permission.
All of this makes me excited as hell. And worried. Most of all, it makes me insanely, giddily optimistic. I can realize all of this if I work hard. I need to train, plan, save and scheme. No excuses, just jump the hell in and watch the results.
I've driven through all but three states in this nation and I can read a map. I can't get lost, I won't be murdered, the planet won't throw me off. There are no excuses left, only problems to be solved so I can move on. No fucking way am I wasting another year sitting on my fat ass, feeding my life to a glowing screen so I can watch other people live my dreams and continually sigh "If only!"
You all have my permission to quote this entry back at me if I get discouraged or whiny or angsty later. I have a habit of shying away from big plans when they start to feel tawdry, once the glow of euphoria wears off and I start to second-guess myself. Right now I have clarity, and no matter how discouraged I get later, I won't be able to take it back. Can't even fuck with what's already been said on the internet.
"They say my reputation precedes me
I don't know the meaning of off season, I ain't taking it easy
Ain't taking a day off, never had an off night
Never been laid off, I live on the job site
It all pays off though when I squint in the spotlight
And see your lips are moving to the true shit that I write
And we gon' be alright every night of my life
It's my night cause I view the future like it's hindsight
I ain't waiting, I'm patiently persevering
I see greatness in the person in the mirror very clearly
And that's why I take this seriously
Baby come near to me and truly, truly hear me."
So basically, I want to be like Brother Ali when I grow up.
(Well get to it, dork!)
January 24, 2009
Ha Ha Ha, I Made You Eat Your Parents!
Legendary anti-Scientology advocate Arnie Lerma has finally spilled the beans on that infamous Big News he's been sitting on for half a year, and boy howdy was it worth the wait!
See, a while back Mr. Lerma got in touch with a sympathetic health food store owner in Clearwater. This fellow supplies local Scientologists with a supplement drink that's supposed to boost their mood and help them pass their whackadoo e-emeter interrogation sessions. When they fail, they must subsequently pay to retake the session, over and over again, until they get a "floating needle" on the quackmachine and pass. Their anxiety supplies the cult of Scientology with plenty of money for suing critics and paying off the occasional coroner.
As it turns out, Mr. Lerma and the health food store owner see eye to eye on many things, and between them is born a wonderful idea. Mr. Lerma suggests the addition of a new ingredient to the magic brew: Lithium Orotate. A relative to the Lithium that keeps people with severe bipolar disorder from spontaneously combusting on subway trains, Lithium Orotate is available at any health food store as a "natural" alternative for hippies with the blues. In El Paso, Texas, it's in the groundwater, and the local crime and mental illness rates are famously low for a city of that size.
Anyway, long story short, the new ingredient is swapped in and life goes on as normal.
But what was the end result of these pharmaceutical shenanigans, you might ask? I'll let Mr. Lerma himself sum it up:
Hee hee hee. Psych drugs to the rescue again.
See, a while back Mr. Lerma got in touch with a sympathetic health food store owner in Clearwater. This fellow supplies local Scientologists with a supplement drink that's supposed to boost their mood and help them pass their whackadoo e-emeter interrogation sessions. When they fail, they must subsequently pay to retake the session, over and over again, until they get a "floating needle" on the quackmachine and pass. Their anxiety supplies the cult of Scientology with plenty of money for suing critics and paying off the occasional coroner.
As it turns out, Mr. Lerma and the health food store owner see eye to eye on many things, and between them is born a wonderful idea. Mr. Lerma suggests the addition of a new ingredient to the magic brew: Lithium Orotate. A relative to the Lithium that keeps people with severe bipolar disorder from spontaneously combusting on subway trains, Lithium Orotate is available at any health food store as a "natural" alternative for hippies with the blues. In El Paso, Texas, it's in the groundwater, and the local crime and mental illness rates are famously low for a city of that size.
Anyway, long story short, the new ingredient is swapped in and life goes on as normal.
But what was the end result of these pharmaceutical shenanigans, you might ask? I'll let Mr. Lerma himself sum it up:
"...it turns out to have a fantastic side effect - a little bit of this stuff will give someone who needs it a FLOATING NEEDLE!!!
So they can FLOAT THROUGH THEIR SECURITY CHECKS!!!
Which is EXACTLY the result it had!
And Flag's income crashed."
Hee hee hee. Psych drugs to the rescue again.
January 23, 2009
January 23
Made it through another year without my mother.
Aside from some truly weird and morbid dreams about her corpse showing up in various disturbing places (and sometimes in various disturbing pieces), the second year wasn't so bad. Definitely better than the first one was, by a longshot. That first year kinda sucked monkey dicks, and I'd heard that the second could be even worse. But nah, it's just getting better.
I am very glad to be getting some peace. Her death coming after a decades-long slow motion suicide plunge might have made things easier--I was already braced for it when it came. The years of dreading the inevitable end were much worse than the real thing. At least now I'm free of the waiting, and she's free of the everything else that sucked for her.
Last night I had another tower nightmare. I have these a lot, and I hate them. Usually they involve having to go to the top of a very high building, against my better judgment, then trying to get back down again when the building begins to sway and distort and fall over. Ever since I started having them, the leaning tower of Pisa gives me cold chills.
Sometimes in these dreams, I'm clinging to rickety fire stairs outside the building. Other times I'm inside, lost on the 78th floor. Occasionally I try to take an elevator only to plunge to the bottom with that horrible sinking sensation in my belly, or I get hauled back to the top and have to get out and start all over again. Last night's was one of the latter.
If you're really into dream interpretation from a Freudian standpoint, I gues you could blame this theme on a repressed fear of teh cock, but it's not. I'm just very afraid of tall buildings. Five stories or more makes me very uncomfortable, but I can handle it. 10 or more means I will try not to go inside. Fifty or more stories and I need to drink alcohol to stop the panic, even if my room's only on the 25th. Conventions in big cities always fuck me up because of this. You just know that sucker is going to come down right on top of you. If you're, you know, me.
Meanwhile in real life, functionality is restored to my brain. Life goes well. I'm currently tired as fuck from the day's errands, but it's a good tired. An honest tired, earned with productivity and sweat. I'll spend tomorrow working on the comic so I can update on or before Monday.
Ah, Monday. A nice arbitrary day for a nice arbitrary change of schedule. You may have noticed that Saturdays appear to be cursed lately. Oh wait, that's just me sucking. Ho ho.
Aside from some truly weird and morbid dreams about her corpse showing up in various disturbing places (and sometimes in various disturbing pieces), the second year wasn't so bad. Definitely better than the first one was, by a longshot. That first year kinda sucked monkey dicks, and I'd heard that the second could be even worse. But nah, it's just getting better.
I am very glad to be getting some peace. Her death coming after a decades-long slow motion suicide plunge might have made things easier--I was already braced for it when it came. The years of dreading the inevitable end were much worse than the real thing. At least now I'm free of the waiting, and she's free of the everything else that sucked for her.
Last night I had another tower nightmare. I have these a lot, and I hate them. Usually they involve having to go to the top of a very high building, against my better judgment, then trying to get back down again when the building begins to sway and distort and fall over. Ever since I started having them, the leaning tower of Pisa gives me cold chills.
Sometimes in these dreams, I'm clinging to rickety fire stairs outside the building. Other times I'm inside, lost on the 78th floor. Occasionally I try to take an elevator only to plunge to the bottom with that horrible sinking sensation in my belly, or I get hauled back to the top and have to get out and start all over again. Last night's was one of the latter.
If you're really into dream interpretation from a Freudian standpoint, I gues you could blame this theme on a repressed fear of teh cock, but it's not. I'm just very afraid of tall buildings. Five stories or more makes me very uncomfortable, but I can handle it. 10 or more means I will try not to go inside. Fifty or more stories and I need to drink alcohol to stop the panic, even if my room's only on the 25th. Conventions in big cities always fuck me up because of this. You just know that sucker is going to come down right on top of you. If you're, you know, me.
Meanwhile in real life, functionality is restored to my brain. Life goes well. I'm currently tired as fuck from the day's errands, but it's a good tired. An honest tired, earned with productivity and sweat. I'll spend tomorrow working on the comic so I can update on or before Monday.
Ah, Monday. A nice arbitrary day for a nice arbitrary change of schedule. You may have noticed that Saturdays appear to be cursed lately. Oh wait, that's just me sucking. Ho ho.
January 21, 2009
Chore Wars
Fuck yeah, my Chore Wars ranger hit Level 2.
This website is the absolute best thing ever. I had planned to make up something like this, an RPG-style planner website where you frame your to-do list as a series of quests, and gain exp for doing chores. Turns out somebody else has done it already, and way better than I would have managed.
Rah, Jesse and I formed a party yesterday and created about 20 different custom adventures. They cover everything from changing the litter box to updating Kagerou. We also plugged in a ton of zany shit as items you can win for clearing the adventure. I got a puppy, an empty condom box and 225 gold pieces for two days' worth of work. Rich beyond the dreams of avarice!
I used the empty condom box already, but it didn't give me any stat bonuses :(
I am particularly pleased with the way this system logs your cleared quests. Now I can keep track of how often I do the laundry. Also, it is insanely fun to compete with the other roomies to see who can get the most done. I caught myself doing another load of dishes before bed last night just to claim the 10 XP and bragging rights. Inking my comic gave me 40 points and put me in the lead.
Your move, dickfaces.
Anyway. Bedtime for me since it's past midnight and I'm being good for my therapist and obeying the clock.
Try that site out though, seriously, it's rad.
This website is the absolute best thing ever. I had planned to make up something like this, an RPG-style planner website where you frame your to-do list as a series of quests, and gain exp for doing chores. Turns out somebody else has done it already, and way better than I would have managed.
Rah, Jesse and I formed a party yesterday and created about 20 different custom adventures. They cover everything from changing the litter box to updating Kagerou. We also plugged in a ton of zany shit as items you can win for clearing the adventure. I got a puppy, an empty condom box and 225 gold pieces for two days' worth of work. Rich beyond the dreams of avarice!
I used the empty condom box already, but it didn't give me any stat bonuses :(
I am particularly pleased with the way this system logs your cleared quests. Now I can keep track of how often I do the laundry. Also, it is insanely fun to compete with the other roomies to see who can get the most done. I caught myself doing another load of dishes before bed last night just to claim the 10 XP and bragging rights. Inking my comic gave me 40 points and put me in the lead.
Your move, dickfaces.
Anyway. Bedtime for me since it's past midnight and I'm being good for my therapist and obeying the clock.
Try that site out though, seriously, it's rad.
January 20, 2009
HURR DURR
So back in mid-July, I noticed a user called HelenaRothStock on DA who was taking photos of other people's artwork and posting them as stock images on her DA account.
She caught my eye with a journal rant about people who were stealing her art, which is always such a fucking giveaway. Anyone who flips out like that inevitably has 99% ripped art on display, it's like some kind of law. I also saw lots of comments graciously giving other artists permission to manipulate the artwork in her photos for their own pieces. She was posting her way through the entire Tarot of Casanova series, with each one bearing the irritating and (for DA, at least) ubiquitous "don't steal my work" whine underneath.
What balls! Anyway, I went and found the tarot deck she was ganking from, and submitted a violation report including links to that deck on amazon.com, which featured sample images showing several identical cards to the ripped "stock" pieces. I pointed the identical images out and even linked to the artist's website where they were posted, in case the staffer who handled the report suffered from more than the usual DA moderator brain damage. Months went by after I sent off the report, hearing nothing back. By and by I forgot about the whole thing.
And then tonight I opened my DA notes, and was greeted by this message:
Elvis Christ. Six months to look at the report and they can't spare two seconds to read the damn thing? Whatever salary these nimrods make working for DA, they're overpaid.
She caught my eye with a journal rant about people who were stealing her art, which is always such a fucking giveaway. Anyone who flips out like that inevitably has 99% ripped art on display, it's like some kind of law. I also saw lots of comments graciously giving other artists permission to manipulate the artwork in her photos for their own pieces. She was posting her way through the entire Tarot of Casanova series, with each one bearing the irritating and (for DA, at least) ubiquitous "don't steal my work" whine underneath.
1. Credit me for my work at (LINK)
2. Send a link by note to my normal account (LINK) (the avatars look the same but its two seperate accounts.
3. No pieces are to be used in prints unless you ask me first by note. I don't bite.
What balls! Anyway, I went and found the tarot deck she was ganking from, and submitted a violation report including links to that deck on amazon.com, which featured sample images showing several identical cards to the ripped "stock" pieces. I pointed the identical images out and even linked to the artist's website where they were posted, in case the staffer who handled the report suffered from more than the usual DA moderator brain damage. Months went by after I sent off the report, hearing nothing back. By and by I forgot about the whole thing.
And then tonight I opened my DA notes, and was greeted by this message:
Your Art theft (General) Violation Report on 400 was reviewed by a member of the staff and action was taken, marking the report as Need Information.
Additionally, the following comment was provided:
Not enough information was provided in the report for any review or decision to be made.
-- deviantART Staff
Elvis Christ. Six months to look at the report and they can't spare two seconds to read the damn thing? Whatever salary these nimrods make working for DA, they're overpaid.
January 19, 2009
This Seems A Little Bit Passive-Aggressive!
General note: the people who use this website should be dragged out into the streets and shot.
Oh shitbiscuits, I said that wrong. Allow me to rephrase.
Perhaps if the people who seem to use this website could be dragged out into the streets and shot, the environment would be better for everybody involved. And that would be super.
Seriously, what's with the flaccid language? You're using the internet to tell Cousin Billy that his cock hairs keep showing up in the salad bar and that his breath smells like a cat's asshole. Will the use of pussy uncertain terminology magically render the sentiment inoffensive?
No sir, I don't like it. Give me a website that sends people anonymous notes like "I'm going to hire Andre the Giant to butt-fuck your Grandma to death if you don't stop quoting Eddie Izzard" and maybe I'll participate.
Oh wait, no I won't, because I value communication and honesty a little bit more than I fear confronting a friend.
Oh shitbiscuits, I said that wrong. Allow me to rephrase.
Perhaps if the people who seem to use this website could be dragged out into the streets and shot, the environment would be better for everybody involved. And that would be super.
Seriously, what's with the flaccid language? You're using the internet to tell Cousin Billy that his cock hairs keep showing up in the salad bar and that his breath smells like a cat's asshole. Will the use of pussy uncertain terminology magically render the sentiment inoffensive?
No sir, I don't like it. Give me a website that sends people anonymous notes like "I'm going to hire Andre the Giant to butt-fuck your Grandma to death if you don't stop quoting Eddie Izzard" and maybe I'll participate.
Oh wait, no I won't, because I value communication and honesty a little bit more than I fear confronting a friend.
Two More Pages!
Did somebody just say "BRAAAAAAAAAAIIIIINS?" I think I heard somebody say "BRAAAAAAAAAAIIIIINS!"
January 16, 2009
January 15, 2009
End Of An Era
So here we are, in the final days of George W. Bush's presidency. As you probably know, we've disagreed over the years on various trifling matters, but he's the leader of the free world and I am a patriot who loves this fine country. As such, I must do my part as an artist to express what I'm feeling, with appropriate dignity and the respect befitting this most solemn of occasions.
I do not wish to impose my plugins upon your tender ears, so I instead would ask that you imagine Yakkety Sax is playing as the background music for this post. Thank you, and God bless the USA.
I do not wish to impose my plugins upon your tender ears, so I instead would ask that you imagine Yakkety Sax is playing as the background music for this post. Thank you, and God bless the USA.
"Operation Slickpubes" Operative Arrested
Once upon a time in the faraway land of Lulzia, a severely retarded member of Anonymous volunteered to have his body slathered with Vaseline in the name of Project Chanology. His partners in crime contributed wads of donated pubic hair and toenail clippings to the slippery brew. Once his preparations were complete, the intrepid space monkey frolicked through a Scientology building to share his wonderful blessings with the Org's many grateful employees.
Several days later, epic legalities ensued.
Several days later, epic legalities ensued.
Who Needs Fingers Anyway?
Today would be a perfect day to throw a pan of boiling water into the air and watch it instantly vaporize into a cloud of snow. Maybe I could record a video and put the controversy to rest for good.
...Nah. Too cold.
January 14, 2009
Off With Their Heads!
I have such a hard-on for rapture fans and their wacky predictions about how the End Times will go down. This one is somewhat unusual in that it actually made me cackle out loud:
From here.
I dunno about you guys, but I'm reserving a whole family of true believers. It'll probably wipe out my Cintiq Fund, but what's the point of saving up for a high-end graphics tablet anyway, if the world is about to end? Webcomics come and go like wisps of mist on an October morning, but stylish bookends made from the shrunken heads of the faithful? Those are forever.
The world will be practicing ritual magic (using both sex and drugs as sources of "power"). As it is believed that the "Shrunken Head" of your enemies has great power, these Christian "heads" will be highly prized and coveted for their magical "properties" to make your spells come true.
"And the world will not repent of their thefts and murders." What greater crime could be committed than to Kill (behead) Christians and steal their material possessions (clothing, shoes, jewelry, cars, homes, entertainment centers etc as well as the THEFT of their Vital Organs and their very heads to be shrunken and sold!.
From here.
I dunno about you guys, but I'm reserving a whole family of true believers. It'll probably wipe out my Cintiq Fund, but what's the point of saving up for a high-end graphics tablet anyway, if the world is about to end? Webcomics come and go like wisps of mist on an October morning, but stylish bookends made from the shrunken heads of the faithful? Those are forever.
January 10, 2009
Slight Setback Snowballing Into Suck, Subverted Swiftly
Feeling much better now. Still painful to do art because of the position it puts my body in, but I'm getting as much inking done as I can in little bursts, and trying to adjust my posture when I work on the computer.
I have these AWESOMETASTIC shoe inserts that were custom-molded from my very own foots. I've been breaking them in and enjoying the strange sensation of arch support. My podiatrist assures me that proper support will stop my toes from going numb when I jog or walk very fast. That's fantastic, because the pain distracts me from hitting my Zone, and frustration leaves me less willing to move my big fat ass, leading to depression and even further reduction of energy.
My schedule flipped again, for the first time in months. At the same time, my desire to get exercise, do housework and get my comic done utterly tanked. I've been flipping it back for the past four days or so, and everything's been kind of smeary and bright through a film of exhaustion. I couldn't sleep more than four hours at a time, and four hours after waking up I'd be drowsy and stupid again. My interest in cooking was reduced and I'd find myself standing in the kitchen in the middle of a blood sugar crash, staring helplessly at the ingredients and wondering exactly how I keep myself alive when nothing in there looks like food. So I'd eat sugary stuff that was ready-made, and then wonder why I felt like shit a few hours later, and eat more sugary stuff that was ready-made to drive away the headaches. It was a way to live, I guess.
Last night I put off sleep til 5. I spent the time playing 1500 Rupees worth of 5-Rupee Rollgoal on Twilight Princess. Then I slept, praying I could make it a full 8 hours. I had restful sleep until 1:30 this morning, and woke up feeling sparkly and alive again, with the urge to go for a night walk under the full moon blazing in my head. This after over a week of complete torpor and timeless confusion.
I had a big breakfast (1/3 of a frozen pizza instead of something home-cooked, but baby steps, you know?) and took my meds to bring on competent ADHD focus. I've been inking and answering emails since then and feeling generally energized.
The fact that this has only happened once since the onset of medication makes me feel very hopeful. Backsliding is to be expected, and compared to my previous situation of constant pendulum-swinging insanity, the setback I am getting over now wasn't such of a much anyway.
I'm reading tons of audiobooks while I go about my day. I made it through Christine, Gerald's Game and most of Insomnia just while playing Zelda. I think I spent 200 hours on that fucking game during my wacky spell, but I beat it the other day. I even whooped the Cave of Ordeals' ass! Hint: Stand on the ledge and drop bombs on the unseen cluster of Darknuts below, two or three at a time. Armor will shoot across the room on a regular basis, and after about 60 bombs, you should have at least two of them throwing away their heavy gear and going ninja. You'll still need to dodge their weapons from up there, but it levels the field nicely and is pretty fucking hilarious.
I found all 60 poe souls. There were 2 left and I was going insane, printing out all the location guides and crossing the completed ones off one by one until I was down to a list of 14 or so that I couldn't remember getting, but every single one of them was a wash. After three long and miserable days of this (during which I DREAMED about the little fuckers) I finally noticed that one of the areas marked as "already cleared" mentioned a hidden grotto between some trees and two poes inside. The tree configuration didn't sound familiar, and sure enough there they were. It was close to another dig spot and I guess I just conflated the two. WOWFASCINATINGLUKA.
Four great things about Twilight Princess:
1. Midna is the most adorable thing on the entire planet. I've been doodling little Midnas all day. I love her little fang, the pot-belly and shrunken legs. And her hair-hand. Holy crap, the hair-hand. She reminds me a lot of my early sketches of Cho, who was more feral and about the same size as Midna. Eventually Cho became much more humanoid-looking, but the personalities are still similar.
2. Link is a genuinely awesome hero. I actually bought the "farm boy hero" archetype for the first time playing this game. Something about how humble and determined he is, coupled with a certain lack of angst and spiky hair.
3. Twilight Princess managed to creep me out way more than Silent Hill ever did. Three words: NOT TAKE MIRROR!!!!!!
4. My ultimate OTP is now Yeto and Yeta. Even though they discuss eating Link right in front of him if he's in wolf form, and even though Yeta kicked my ass 9 times out of 10 at snowboarding, I forgive them. Because yeti wuv. Yeti wuv.
That's about it for now. I've got a bunch of comic to do and a dog who desperately needs exercise after my several-day hiatus from the real world. Better go get to it!
I have these AWESOMETASTIC shoe inserts that were custom-molded from my very own foots. I've been breaking them in and enjoying the strange sensation of arch support. My podiatrist assures me that proper support will stop my toes from going numb when I jog or walk very fast. That's fantastic, because the pain distracts me from hitting my Zone, and frustration leaves me less willing to move my big fat ass, leading to depression and even further reduction of energy.
My schedule flipped again, for the first time in months. At the same time, my desire to get exercise, do housework and get my comic done utterly tanked. I've been flipping it back for the past four days or so, and everything's been kind of smeary and bright through a film of exhaustion. I couldn't sleep more than four hours at a time, and four hours after waking up I'd be drowsy and stupid again. My interest in cooking was reduced and I'd find myself standing in the kitchen in the middle of a blood sugar crash, staring helplessly at the ingredients and wondering exactly how I keep myself alive when nothing in there looks like food. So I'd eat sugary stuff that was ready-made, and then wonder why I felt like shit a few hours later, and eat more sugary stuff that was ready-made to drive away the headaches. It was a way to live, I guess.
Last night I put off sleep til 5. I spent the time playing 1500 Rupees worth of 5-Rupee Rollgoal on Twilight Princess. Then I slept, praying I could make it a full 8 hours. I had restful sleep until 1:30 this morning, and woke up feeling sparkly and alive again, with the urge to go for a night walk under the full moon blazing in my head. This after over a week of complete torpor and timeless confusion.
I had a big breakfast (1/3 of a frozen pizza instead of something home-cooked, but baby steps, you know?) and took my meds to bring on competent ADHD focus. I've been inking and answering emails since then and feeling generally energized.
The fact that this has only happened once since the onset of medication makes me feel very hopeful. Backsliding is to be expected, and compared to my previous situation of constant pendulum-swinging insanity, the setback I am getting over now wasn't such of a much anyway.
I'm reading tons of audiobooks while I go about my day. I made it through Christine, Gerald's Game and most of Insomnia just while playing Zelda. I think I spent 200 hours on that fucking game during my wacky spell, but I beat it the other day. I even whooped the Cave of Ordeals' ass! Hint: Stand on the ledge and drop bombs on the unseen cluster of Darknuts below, two or three at a time. Armor will shoot across the room on a regular basis, and after about 60 bombs, you should have at least two of them throwing away their heavy gear and going ninja. You'll still need to dodge their weapons from up there, but it levels the field nicely and is pretty fucking hilarious.
I found all 60 poe souls. There were 2 left and I was going insane, printing out all the location guides and crossing the completed ones off one by one until I was down to a list of 14 or so that I couldn't remember getting, but every single one of them was a wash. After three long and miserable days of this (during which I DREAMED about the little fuckers) I finally noticed that one of the areas marked as "already cleared" mentioned a hidden grotto between some trees and two poes inside. The tree configuration didn't sound familiar, and sure enough there they were. It was close to another dig spot and I guess I just conflated the two. WOWFASCINATINGLUKA.
Four great things about Twilight Princess:
1. Midna is the most adorable thing on the entire planet. I've been doodling little Midnas all day. I love her little fang, the pot-belly and shrunken legs. And her hair-hand. Holy crap, the hair-hand. She reminds me a lot of my early sketches of Cho, who was more feral and about the same size as Midna. Eventually Cho became much more humanoid-looking, but the personalities are still similar.
2. Link is a genuinely awesome hero. I actually bought the "farm boy hero" archetype for the first time playing this game. Something about how humble and determined he is, coupled with a certain lack of angst and spiky hair.
3. Twilight Princess managed to creep me out way more than Silent Hill ever did. Three words: NOT TAKE MIRROR!!!!!!
4. My ultimate OTP is now Yeto and Yeta. Even though they discuss eating Link right in front of him if he's in wolf form, and even though Yeta kicked my ass 9 times out of 10 at snowboarding, I forgive them. Because yeti wuv. Yeti wuv.
That's about it for now. I've got a bunch of comic to do and a dog who desperately needs exercise after my several-day hiatus from the real world. Better go get to it!
January 2, 2009
Scientology, You Suck So Much Ass
John Travolta's son just died because of a seizure. I think it needs to be mentioned that Travolta's church, the Cult of Scientology, strictly forbids its members to take medication for epilepsy-related conditions. Or any conditions, actually. Poor kid.
I'm not saying anything so dramatic as "the cult killed Jett," but their harmful treatments for life-threatening illnesses do cause death, and have done so many times already.
Did Jett's parents secretly obtain treatment for their son's condition, against the explicit teachings of L. Ron Hubbard? If so, how can John continue to publicly support and represent an organization that seeks to do away with the entire medical industry and replace it with LRH tech, while in private reaping that same industry's benefits for himself?
Rest assured the cult won't be shedding any tears over the death of Jett. He had what family friends have described as completely untreated autism (his parents wave it away as Kawasaki Syndrome, but I've seen photos and the kid was a toe-walker). In the cult of his parents, that disability made Jett a "degraded being" and therefore better off dead. They rarely took him out in public, and the only therapy he recieved for his impairment was an herbal detox straight from L Ron's big book of quack remedies. You bet your sweet ass that pisses me off.
There are thousands of children and adults in the cult whose life-threatening conditions go without treatment. Some of them are younger and more helpless than Jett was. I really hope Travolta will withdraw his support of Scientology now that he has seen first-hand that LRH tech does not work. Jett was not healed by vitamins. He was not elevated above his degraded beinghood.
And he's not the only one.
I pray the Travolta family does some serious thinking about the other children of Scientologists who suffer on a daily basis and even die because their parents truly believe that vitamins and e-meters cure everything. As a prominent member of the cult and as a father of a child with disabilities, Travolta is trusted by these parents. They look to him for an example.
So be a good example, John. Don't be the moonbat hypocrite who spouts a dangerous anti-medicine credo that kills people's sons. Don't step across the grave of your child with that Scientology banner held high. Turn to the people who can still be saved and use your influence to rescue as many as you can.
Edit: Then again, the brainwashing dickweeds probably have him in session as we speak to ensure that this very thing doesn't happen. Bad for business, don't you know.
Assholes.
I'm not saying anything so dramatic as "the cult killed Jett," but their harmful treatments for life-threatening illnesses do cause death, and have done so many times already.
Did Jett's parents secretly obtain treatment for their son's condition, against the explicit teachings of L. Ron Hubbard? If so, how can John continue to publicly support and represent an organization that seeks to do away with the entire medical industry and replace it with LRH tech, while in private reaping that same industry's benefits for himself?
Rest assured the cult won't be shedding any tears over the death of Jett. He had what family friends have described as completely untreated autism (his parents wave it away as Kawasaki Syndrome, but I've seen photos and the kid was a toe-walker). In the cult of his parents, that disability made Jett a "degraded being" and therefore better off dead. They rarely took him out in public, and the only therapy he recieved for his impairment was an herbal detox straight from L Ron's big book of quack remedies. You bet your sweet ass that pisses me off.
There are thousands of children and adults in the cult whose life-threatening conditions go without treatment. Some of them are younger and more helpless than Jett was. I really hope Travolta will withdraw his support of Scientology now that he has seen first-hand that LRH tech does not work. Jett was not healed by vitamins. He was not elevated above his degraded beinghood.
And he's not the only one.
I pray the Travolta family does some serious thinking about the other children of Scientologists who suffer on a daily basis and even die because their parents truly believe that vitamins and e-meters cure everything. As a prominent member of the cult and as a father of a child with disabilities, Travolta is trusted by these parents. They look to him for an example.
So be a good example, John. Don't be the moonbat hypocrite who spouts a dangerous anti-medicine credo that kills people's sons. Don't step across the grave of your child with that Scientology banner held high. Turn to the people who can still be saved and use your influence to rescue as many as you can.
Edit: Then again, the brainwashing dickweeds probably have him in session as we speak to ensure that this very thing doesn't happen. Bad for business, don't you know.
Assholes.
2009 And All Is Well
Fuuuck. I made it through 48 levels of the Cave of Ordeals, and then got fucked in the eyesocket by three pissed-off beefcakes in armor in the last room. They beat my ass so hard my poop will probably come out sniveling for a month.
I guess I'm glad it wasn't a puny enemy getting off a lucky shot from my blind side, because I honestly think I would have shot myself.
This game has been consuming my brains for the past week. My daily schedule currently consists of Twilight Princess, plus occasional breaks from the game in which I sleep, brush my teeth and fart around with house chores and errands. I guess I just need the recharge.
In other news, I believe the meds are kicking in. I was looking up at the stars on my walk with the Captain tonight, and I got to thinking about the spinning of the planet and the way we just sort of cling to its surface and magically don't fly off. For the first time since I was five years old, contemplating the fact that we spend our lives clinging to a spinning ball of rock and politics as it hurtles through space at holyfuck MPH didn't give me a panic attack. In fact I had a hard time feeling anxious about it at all.
I actually felt a little awed, and that was just plain strange. Usually if I make the mistake of thinking about this stuff when I'm outside at night, I never get to the awe stage because I start shaking and have to go back indoors until the vertigo goes away. So yay me, and also yay the stars.
I'm thinking about going back to LiveJournal. I've fallen out of touch with a whole bunch of people I used to talk to all the time when I was on LJ. Lots of folks never made the jump to Blogger or the local feed account. Dunno what will happen to this site if I do go back, but frankly I'm getting lonely. Hmm.
I guess I'm glad it wasn't a puny enemy getting off a lucky shot from my blind side, because I honestly think I would have shot myself.
This game has been consuming my brains for the past week. My daily schedule currently consists of Twilight Princess, plus occasional breaks from the game in which I sleep, brush my teeth and fart around with house chores and errands. I guess I just need the recharge.
In other news, I believe the meds are kicking in. I was looking up at the stars on my walk with the Captain tonight, and I got to thinking about the spinning of the planet and the way we just sort of cling to its surface and magically don't fly off. For the first time since I was five years old, contemplating the fact that we spend our lives clinging to a spinning ball of rock and politics as it hurtles through space at holyfuck MPH didn't give me a panic attack. In fact I had a hard time feeling anxious about it at all.
I actually felt a little awed, and that was just plain strange. Usually if I make the mistake of thinking about this stuff when I'm outside at night, I never get to the awe stage because I start shaking and have to go back indoors until the vertigo goes away. So yay me, and also yay the stars.
I'm thinking about going back to LiveJournal. I've fallen out of touch with a whole bunch of people I used to talk to all the time when I was on LJ. Lots of folks never made the jump to Blogger or the local feed account. Dunno what will happen to this site if I do go back, but frankly I'm getting lonely. Hmm.
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