Nov 12, 2009

Draw Your Own Conlusions, Vol. II

It's another slow day, and my creative juices continue to dribble rather than flow. One of these days I'll get out of this rut and generate something worthwhile. Until then, enjoy this deceptively meaningless doodle.

Weird.

Nov 11, 2009

It Runs In The Family

My younger sister has recently begun to show signs of her creative inheritance. The current medium: Photography.

When I asked her why she wanted to be a photographer she responded with "I just think it's interesting. And plus I like to take photographs a lot, so..."

Sounds like artistic genius to me. I present for your viewing pleasure a few of her latest works, taken from a moving vehicle on the night of November 8th, 2009.

Pride.

Sep 27, 2009

I Have Something To Say About Vampires

What the Hell happened?

F.W. Murnau would be so disappointed. For those who don't know, F.W. Murnau is the guy who directed Nosferatu. For those who have never heard of Nosferatu, you might want to navigate away from this page if you are easily embarassed or offended.

Moving on. This is fucking Nosferatu:

Nosferatu is a badass, and arguably the first honest-to-goodness vampire ever to appear in a film. In his day, he wasn't just a vampire, he was the vampire. He was a nigh-unstoppable force of pure evil that terrorized whole townships at a time. Not only that, but he lived in a castle. A CASTLE. He was basically the scariest shit anyone had ever seen at the time, and introduced the world of cinema to everyone's favorite bloodthirtsy desciples of Satan, the vampires.

That was 1922. It's been 87 years now, and vampires are not aging well. Say hello to the new poster boy for fictional bloodsuckers, Edward Cullen:


Edward Cullen is not a badass. He's a tool. On the supernatural creature scale, he's much closer to a fairy than a vampire. He attends high school, plays baseball, and sparkles in the sunlight. HE FUCKING SPARKLES IN THE SUNLIGHT.

My God, what have we done? The vampire has been reduced to a whiny, non-violent, vegetarian pansy who abstains from harming humans and feels sorry for itself. What happened to the whole not having a soul thing? You're supposed to be evil for fuck's sake! Relish that shit! Punt a toddler off the Hoover Dam! Systematically exterminate an ethnic group! Have premarital sex! TAKE OVER THE WORLD, YOU PUSSY!

Sigh.

It's time to abandon ship, folks. Give it a rest for a while and let evil be evil.

Show me something scary.

Aug 29, 2009

You Can't Write This Shit, Vol. I

There are things people say that no writer could ever come up with on their own.

Here are a few of the best I've heard. Some of them are hilariously offensive.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent.


  • "I'll come up with it in a second, just gimme a minute!"
    ~ My great uncle Kenneth Von Garglefelcher


  • "I don't have Asian eyes... I have human eyes."
    ~ Vajennifer Blemish, a friend of a friend


  • "The only bitch I would ever hit is my mom."
    ~ My roommate Ottavio Eduardo Garbanzo St. Lollipop

Chew on those for a hot minute.

Aug 26, 2009

Draw Your Own Conclusions

I love doodling.

It's a great way to clear your mind; just a little stream of consciousness drawing that kinda looks like it means something, but may or may not actually mean anything. I will be periodically posting my doodles for your viewing pleasure.

Here's volume 1. I call it "No Thru Traffic".



I feel silly every time I type the word "doodle".

Aug 19, 2009

Because Why!?

It's four in the friggin' morning and I cannot sleep.

Check out these bananas.


I know.

Aug 16, 2009

A Puzzling Occurence

Something odd happened last night. It might have been nothing, but it seemed unusual enough that it very well could have be something. Not sure what exactly, but something.

Last night, 8/15/09 at around 11pm or so, I heard some very unusual noises coming from the southeast. They were loud, but distant. At first I thought it was thunder, but then it sounded more like fireworks, then it sounded more like gunshots, but it really didn't sound quite like any of those things at all. Sort of hard to describe, I guess. Unfamiliar.

I figured it was nothing until I talked to a good friend of mine on the phone later that night. She mentioned hearing the sounds before I did. She heard them at the same time, from the same direction, and she described them in pretty much the exact same way. Thing is, she lives roughly 15 hours away in Kansas City, Missouri. Just today, I'm told my little sister's friend metioned hearing the sounds from Atlanta, Georgia. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Being the nerd I am, I did some Googling, and deduced that something loud enough to carry that far must have been pretty big, and there isnt a whole lot southeast of Charlotte (Just a little sliver of South Carolina). I figured it probably happened out at sea. Well, guess what lies right in the direction from which we all heard these strange noises:



The Goddamn Bermuda Triangle.

Just sayin'.

Aug 9, 2009

Fuck 'em if They Can't Take a Joke

Back when I was doing the film school thing, I once violated their smoking policy (actually I violated it a lot, but I only got caught the one time). My punishment was to write a 750 word essay on the history of the UNC smoking policy. I didn't do it, of course, and the whole thing seemed to have blown over. Just recently, however, I got a letter saying there was a "Judicial Hold" on my account, and I would have to turn in the essay if I wanted the hold lifted. I said to myself "Self, if they want an essay, you give 'em an essay, and fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." Here's what I turned in:


The Truth is Out There: A Cautionary Tale Regarding

the Somewhat Illustrious History of the UNC Smoking Policy


As a former constituent of the UNC school system, the subject of its policies regarding prohibition of recreational substances has long held a great deal of mystery and wonder for me. From my humble, apathetic beginnings as a tiny spore on the ubiquitous creeping fungus that is the American public school system, to my now lofty position as a slightly larger spore on a slightly larger fungus, I have grown increasingly interested in the undeniable trend of ruthless rule-mongering that seems to plague the system’s many institutions. Thus, I decided to delve deeper into the often enigmatic history thereof; specifically, that of its ideology concerning the consumption of cigarettes.


Initially, my search proved fruitless. My first thought was that perhaps I should consult God. I have always been taught by many of my elders that He in His divine and infinite wisdom would always provide me the answers I so desperately sought. Almost immediately however, I banished that thought from my head because He obviously does not exist, and therefore would bring me no closer to any logical conclusion. A longtime personal mentor told me to “Just ask the Axis (He knows everything).” I tried the Axis, who turned out to have no concern whatsoever for what he referred to as “Stupid bullshit.” I was beginning to get discouraged when my mother, in her legitimately infinite wisdom sent me to that universally worshipped oracle of all arcane and sacred knowledge: the internet. I returned to the search with newfound vigor, only to re-learn the ever persistent fact that Google is a cruel mistress, and could provide no enlightening insight on the elusive knowledge I desired.


It was at this point I began to ask myself “Why?” I found it hard to believe that even the likes of Google would be stumped on the subject. After all, it was not as if the history of the UNC smoking policy was an obscure or meaningless topic that no one in their right mind would bother to record, no sir. It became increasingly clear that there was an elaborate cover-up operation in effect; a conspiracy that reached all the way to the upper echelons of the Department of Education itself. I did not want to believe it, but I saw no other alternative.


I then turned to my trusted contacts in Washington D.C., an elite group of hackers and political investigators dedicated to uncovering many such conspiracies, exposing them for the scandals they are. When I arrived at their headquarters (a silver bullet trailer, the exact location of which I am not at liberty to disclose), I found them all brutally murdered, their trailer ransacked and conspicuously devoid of any useful evidence. As the thrill of the hunt further solidified itself, a very real fear for my own life and the lives of my loved ones began to sink in. Fear not though, dear reader, for it served only to breathe more life into my never-ending quest for the truth.


As I left Washington, I received a call on my cell phone from an untraceable number. I can say with absolute certainty that I will never forget my anonymous messenger’s voice, for it chilled me to my very core. The raspy countenance of a man known only as “Rusty Trombone”, arranged for us to meet on a remote mountaintop just outside the pleasant suburbs of Geneva, Switzerland. I returned home, eager to finally use my stolen Apache Longbow helicopter for such a purpose, as I had always wanted to.


I met the mysterious Mr. Trombone at precisely 10:13 AM, as per his request. There, he informed me (as informants often do) that not only was I right to trust my intuition that there was a conspiracy afoot, but that it reached much farther than I could possibly have imagined. In fact, this particular conspiracy had its dirty little fingers dipped into the sacred institution of time itself. That’s right, dear reader. I didn’t believe it myself, but there I was, atop a remote Swiss mountain, being told by a man named Rusty Trombone that everything I thought I knew about the sanctity of space and time was wrong. I had no choice but to believe him.


As it turns out, in the year 2094 a man named Jekyll Pantsfolds was appointed supreme chairman of world education. He had a rare form of lung cancer caused by secondhand smoke which he contracted while walking in the courtyard of one of the residence halls of the 2094 version of UNCSA (the A standing for “Arms Research”, as art was abolished in 2012). Being that he was an obnoxious politician, he got a wild hair to go back in time to the century we know and love today, and institute a set of rules which prohibit the consumption of cigarettes outside of certain designated smoking areas.


Jekyll Pantsfolds dies in January 2098 from a burst brain aneurism due to straining too hard on a White House toilet. Turns out we all have him to thank for the unreasonable prohibitions on UNC campuses in our own century. Pray no one has gone back through some wormhole to fiddle with your freedom in other areas. Not that there’s anything you can do about it in your own time, but you have been warned, dear reader. Then again, it’s all just bricks in the wall, as they say.