Long nights satisfied by an orgy of violence and potato chips.
So I've been working on a new book for a publisher that has been keeping me on a pretty strict schedule. I don't mind it at all...I'm the kind of guy that needs strict schedules otherwise I'd be doing something stupid like...I don't know...stupid things. But last night I needed a bit of a break so my wife kindly allowed me to go see Rambo. Wow. What a movie. So many people that I've talked to about it have raised some pretty interesting questions concerning it's message. It certainly is a violent movie...made Saving Private Ryan look like a special from National Geographic. So what kind of message did I get from a movie so violent? A very simple, yet extremely important and life saving lesson. If Rambo tells you to go home...then go home. This whole movie could have been averted if those nice, kind missionaries had just taken the very buff, growly man's advise: "Go home."
I mean...he told them about 5 times.

...course, then I wouldn't have been able to watch a guy get shot in half by the biggest damn machine gun I've ever seen. But, keep in mind I've only ever seen maybe 2 machine guns in my life so I'm not a very good judge.

After the movie, I walked back to my van (which, for some reason, I kept thinking to myself how much I really wanted to attach a big ass machine gun to), drove home and found quite possibly the lamest TP attempt on my shrubbery. Now, seriously...who TPs someone's shrubbery?? A house, yes. A car, sure. Your grandpa sleeping on the laz-e-boy? Absolutely. But a bush? I wasn't pissed because we got TPed...I was pissed because it was a gay TP attempt! If I'm gonna get TPed, I want it to be good...don't TP my shrubbery! And don't use good toilet paper...that was some soft toilet wipes somebody used. I wanted to go poop just so I can use such fine papers.

So after coming home and explaining to my wife why I was carrying a bundle of toilet paper, I got back to work. I finished the page (penciled one, inked 3), sent it the client, wrenched open a beer, took a sip, got instantly drunk (I'm a light weight...), and chowed on some chips. And now, my dear suckers, you're wondering what the whole point of this bulletin is. Ok. Here it is: I'll be in L.A. in March for the Wizard Convention in the artist alley. Come check me out, say hi, but don't TP my table.

And when Rambo tells you to go home...dude, go home.

Hugs and Kisses!
Da!