Get A Life

How many more reality shows do we need about addiction or some weird OCD disorder? I’m tired of hearing people say things like- “I can’t stop eating owl pellets” or “I can’t go to sleep without smelling all the couch cushions.” Enough. It’s called self control for crying out loud, and these people need to learn some.

I’m not addicted to anything. I’m just “extreme” about certain things. Being extreme isn’t a bad thing. It’s actually pretty cool. It means you’re passionate about your interests, and you live life to the fullest. Like for example- I’m extreme about flaming hot cheetos. I’m not addicted to them. So what if my fingers are always red, and it gets in my hair, and may have affected my last job. I’m not going to appologize for things that I like. I’m a flaming hot cheeto extremist okay? There’s nothing wrong with being an extremist.

Now see let’s compare me, to Roy Williams. Roy Williams is an overweight mayonnaise addict. A pig. Mayonnaise is not even real food. It’s really just a lubricant to get bad sandwiches down. The only people in recorded history who ate pure mayonnaise like that, lived during the Depression. And that was only when they ran out of hot garbage to eat.

I tried to help him break his addiction, but he wouldn’t listen. We happened to film it, and it’s going to be a reality show, and I happen to have a link to the trailer right here. It’s called Engrossed-

Engrossed Trailer

Oh and I’ll have you know, I am not a hypocrite. I have a clinic to run. An idiot would turn down the free advertising.



Grey’s Anatomy Meets Die Hard

Originally I set this blog up to keep track of my comic book making “progress.” Which so far, I’ve only done one entry on the subject. Well here goes number two. As the title of this entry gives away, the premise is exactly that- Grey’s Anatomy Meets Die Hard. A doctor for super-villains if you will. But instead of treating the traditional bullet wound for a mobster, it’s laser blasts and telekinsis headaches.

I just wanted to preview a little bit of the art, by the amazing artist Jerry Gaylord. Here’s a couple of finished character concepts for the pitch. For our first guest let’s bring in the doctor, Sara.




Don’t worry, I didn’t forget the super-villains. It’s a weretiger. You’re welcome.





That’s all for now. But I will post more as the process moves along.



Things That Are Gnar

Some of you lame dads out there who aren’t chill, probably don’t understand what gnar means. But gnar is short for gnarly. So here’s a list of things that I think are definitely gnar-

1. Telling teachers to shut up– Teachers think they know everything. But they don’t.

2. Reading Thrasher Magazine– So many sick grinds.

3. Drinking Capri Suns– I can drink an entire one in like 20 secs.

4. Chicks– Right?

5. Listening to Mudvayne– Metal dudes who wear makeup and overalls. Nuff said.

6. Cary Grant films– Charade, Bringing Up Baby, I Was a Male War Bride…How do you get more solid than that? Plus he did LSD, and drugs are rad.

7. Scars– Chicks dig them, and dudes want to have them. Feel me?

8. Streets Of Rage 2–  Rollarblade kicks all day.

9. Mothra– Everybody likes Godzilla and King Kong, but they can’t even fly. Stupid dawg…

10. Theme song for Beverly Hills Cop– I can’t sleep for at least a half hour after hearing this. Gets me way to pumped.

11. Not crying– You will never hang with me if you cry. The only time I ever cried was when I lost in the X-Games qualifier, and my arm got chopped off by that BMX bike. But that was because I lost, not the pain.

12. Cadbury Eggs– The original, none of that caramel shit.

13. Eagles– They fly, have talons, and beaks that can rip through armored tanks. That’s why they’re the state bird of California.

14. Boogieboarding– It’s extreme, but I also like to lay down when I do things.

15. Early Kevin Costner films– No Way Out, and Bodyguard are sick. But don’t get me started on Dances With Wolves. Somebody told me there was a boob shot in there. I watched all four hours of that, and there’s not. That movie sucked.

16. Axe deodorant– Like I smell good, but it doesn’t give me an armpit rash. Shaka mahala brah.

17. Farting in class– I always just blame it on the ugliest kid next to me.

18. Pranks– I don’t know, I just like to trick people. Like I’ll hide all my brother’s stuff, then tell him that it got stolen. It’s pretty funny.

19. The dude from Jurassic Park that says “Clever girl…”– I don’t know, I just always kind of thought that guy was badass.

20. Staying up as late as I want– Sometime when my mom tells me to go to bed, I just pretend to be asleep.

Tom Selleck and Gene Simmons Movie

It’s Friday, and I want to drink. So this is going to be short (plus nobody reads blogs on weekends). But I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t share this gem of a film. Frankly I’m angry I went 27 years without seeing it. Plus everyone could use a little more mustache in their lives. In 1984 when this movie was released, it was supposed to crush at the box office (crush is okay to use when you’re being cheeky). But instead Terminator came out, and destroyed it. I read this on Wikipedia so it’s probably wrong. But like I said before, I have brain cells to destroy.

The movie I’m talking about is Runaway. Tom Selleck is a cop in charge of the robot division (or something like that). They track down wild robots, because robots need to let off steam too. But then all the robots start malfunctioning at the same time! Who’s behind it? Oh just crazy Gene Simmons. He’s an evil scientist. I know magic. To top it off it’s written and directed by Michael Crichton.

Basically it’s just Tom Selleck fighting shitty robots, that look like those automatic vacuuming gizmos we have today. Gene Simmons is a creep and should never take his face paint off. Also there’s heat seeking bullets and a bullet cam. Here’s the trailer, and if you don’t want to watch it after seeing this, well than you’re a terrorist.


For my next film review, I’ll be doing The Witches of Eastwick.






Life In The Fish Factory

Before this whole unemployment thing, I put in 12-hour days, seven days a week at the Fish Factory. Not so puzzling now huh? I mean who quits a job in this economy? Try making fish for a living.

When I was a kid I used to think fish came from the water. You know when other fish got married. But no, that only accounts for roughly 15% of the world’s fish population. The other 85% comes from fish machines made in factories all over the world. I worked in the biggest fish manufacturer in North America. It was tough, backbreaking work. Not to mention it wore on me mentally. Try making a fish from scratch, getting attached to it, then having to turn it into fish sticks. It was harsh.

During my five-year stint there though, I kept a journal. Below are a few excerpts I’ve chosen that will hopefully get my experience across-

Dear Diary,


I can’t sleep tonight. I’m so tired it hurts, but I smell awful. Sandra is making me sleep on the couch, and there are no blankets out here. I’m freezing. I’ll have to remember to bring an extra thermos of coffee to my shift tomorrow.

See that was just one way it affected my home life. Here’s another example-

Dear Diary,


Today was the first time I saw a man die. But it probably won’t be my last.

“Make a fish!” was the last thing he said before a 300-pound tuna crushed him. John, our line boss had been instructing us, when Robert accidentally lost his grip on the pulley. The fish slipped off the pallet and fell with all its mass on John. Robert ran to John’s side, but it was too late. He was fish paste. Robert had to be physically pulled away, so the cleaning crew could come in.

When I was walking home, all I could think of was ways this could’ve been prevented. Why didn’t we prepare better? Why is sushi so popular? Why did Poseidon pick now of all times to seek his revenge? But none of that settled my mind. It only made it worse.

I drank a jar of gin until I fell asleep…

While I worked there, 437 more lives were lost. Not a day goes by when I don’t remember them. Here’s my last entry I’ll share with you today-

Dear Diary,


Why do they have to be so cruel? Why do they have to call them “schools of fish”? I made my latest batch of salmon, and they were glorious little guys. They were my pupils and I was the teacher. I named them all, but Gills, Butterfinger, and Sonja Blade were my favorites. I even taught them tricks, and they reacted to my voice. But this morning when I came in for my shift, they were gone. I learned that there was a salmon burger order that had to be filled. They chose mine. I…

I’m sorry but the rest of that entry is too personal. I’d rather not share it. But let’s just say I quit a week after that. Life has not been easy since being unemployed, but not a day goes by that I regret my decision. This blog entry is dedicated to the lives lost in the fish factory. May you rest in peace.



Taste Test With Myself is the first thing I see every time I open the Internet (I’m pretty tech savvy) . Today they had a taste test for “Best Canned Beers.” I was unimpressed. Half the beers you can’t even try unless you live in stupid places like Brooklyn. So to make up for their mistake, I decided to throw my own taste test….with myself. Judge, jury, and executioner. I knew I’d have a lot of hats to wear, but that’s what a journalist does.

The only problem is I didn’t want to actually make anything, because that would take work. I just picked random things in the spice cabinet (smells like old people vitamins), and other condiments. I still feel gross, but somebody has to write weird things for the 10 friends of mine that read this. Here is the taste test below with pictures and descriptions-

1. Tanjin Clasico Seasoning (1 fire symbol)- This is supposed to add a spicy zest to fruit and vegatables, but you know I hate things that are good for me. So I just licked a line of it, like drugs. I probably could’ve tasted it too by snorting it, and that would’ve been cooler. But then I would have had to film that, and I’m only one man. After tasting it raw, it reminded me of licking spicy lime ants. I’ve never done that, but that’s what I always imagined it would be like.

2. Agave Nectar– Honestly I always thought this went on sunburns. I didn’t know you could eat it. But you can, and it was surprisingly good. Sweet and good for you according to the back label. The girlfriend will have some explaining to do when she gets home. We have a “no hiding treats rule” in our home. Except when we’re dieting, but if one of us starts to cry we have to bring it out of the hiding place.

3. Dip? I say question mark, because it looked and smelled like dip. It had kind of a garlic-esque smell. But it tasted like weird chunky butter. This one was a little risky, but life is about taking risks. I’m still alive, and not hallucinating, so I’m probably okay.

4. Thai Barbeque Sauce– Tasting this should’ve been the easiest and most rewarding experience of the day. Barbeque sauce is great by itself, and add the Thai twist to it. Maybe some lime or peanut flavors. Sold right? NO! This company should be sued for false advertising! This is soy sauce masquerading as BBQ sauce. A travesty and an insult. I almost choked after taking a big gulp. Bad, bad….

5. Candle– This tasted just like crayon. It smelled like melon, so I figured that might affect the taste. Nope. I’m sure some of you are being judgmental, “What kind of idiot eats candles?” In the late 80’s and early 90’s I ate my fair share of candy wax lips, and I know I wasn’t the only one. If you’re really old (I’m not but I’m a candy connoisseur), then you even drank soda syrup out of wax bottles. So everyone just shut up. Remember your roots, and try a candle.



Living Room Hobo

Living Room Hobo is the name I go by when I recite poetry. Kind of how like Conor Oberst goes by Bright Eyes, but less Native American. Basically I’ve been writing a lot of it lately, and I think it’s pretty chill. It’s kind of political, but nothing too overt. I’ll rap a little for you.

This is my first piece. It’s about the class wars we fight everyday. It’s titled-

Seashell Sunshine:

-I went to the library today

-Tried to check out Logan’s Run

-But it cost money

-$2.25 actually

-I thought libraries were free


Now see, that one didn’t rhyme. But they don’t always have to. That was an example of narrative poetry. This next one is written in rhyming couplets. It’s titled-

Saxophone Enthusiasts:                                                                   

-Nachos are good but fatty

-Why does my teacher have to be so crabby

-Birds are like rocks

-Man it smells like dirty socks

-I know cotton candy is weird

-That lamb sure needs to be sheared

That was probably the style of poetry you’re more used to. But now we’re going to end it with one of my favorite styles- the haiku. Each line is broken into a set number of syllables- 5,7,5. It’s Japanese. I’m not bragging, just informing. This last piece is titled-



-How did your arms get so small

-Raptors are better

I hope you dug this session, and got a lot out of it. I know I did. Don’t worry, I’ll have my Hobo tumblr up soon, and you’ll be able to check out my tour dates on it. Oh and to end this post, I’m going to leave you with the classic song “Papa Hobo”. But sang by Ezra Koenig of Vampire Weekend, not Paul Simon. I couldn’t find his version on Youtube.

Shut Up Tom Clancy

I started Rainbow Six recently. The novel not the video game. Mainly because I’m cultured. It had nothing to do with being unemployed. I just felt motivated to sit down and read a 912 page espionage novel. But can I say something? I had to read a whole twenty pages before something action packed happened. Tom Clancy, stop wasting my life.

I don’t care what the characters look like, or that they’re on a plane, and that there’s three mysterious Spanish gentlemen trying to break into the captain’s cabin. Bring in some guns, or some nightvision already. Where’s the Tom Clancy that made Clear and Present Danger and Splinter Cell? Twenty pages. That’s ten minutes of my life I will never get back.

I don’t normally get personal, but Tom Clancy used to be so action packed that he gave my very own father nightmares. He had to stop reading them before bed because he woke up in cold sweats screaming about IRA members breaking into our home. And do you know what that does to a dad, to not be able to read Tom Clancy books? Van Halen and Tom Clancy are like fuel for white dads everywhere. I want that Tom Clancy back. The Tom Clancy that used to give grown men night terrors (It has nothing to do with the fact that my dad’s asthma medication could cause nightmares as a side effect).

So Tom Clancy if you’re out there, I want a novel of pure sniper rifles and flak jackets. Do it. I’ll be waiting. Well until I get a job.

This is me being all Chuck Yeager and shit.



Cry Dancing

Being unemployed as of late, I’ve taken up the usual bad habits- over eating, scratching too much, and holding sweatpants competitions with myself. I’ve caught up on Sherlock and Top Chef episodes. And I’ve even experimented with different grill cheese combinations.  “Oh yeah, but what about when you put parmesan on the crust?” Don’t waste my time. When most people would be crying out of lonliness (oh and I have), I was being productive. I was creating muscial movements. You might call it “adult contemporary” but I call it Cry Dancing.

Cry dancing is pretty self-explanatory. It’s when you’re crying and whimpering to yourself before your girlfriend gets home, but then a song randomly plays on your Itunes. Your head starts to bob and your hands can’t help but snap to the rhythm. Then when your girlfriend suddenly opens the door, she thinks you’re just dancing out of happiness that she’s home. No victims.

Below is a list of my favorite cry dancing songs. Remember these are more effective with blurry teary eyed vision. So hurt yourself or think of painful memories to fully enjoy these. Editors note- There’s no Morrisey songs, because Youtube was being an asshole.

1. Michael McDonald – I Keep Forgettin’. There’s pain in Michael’s voice, and I get it. He’s trying to get us to feel with him. But he screwed up because that beat fucking knocks too hard. Ask Warren G and Nate Dogg, Am I right?

2. Christopher Cross – Never Be The Same. Nice beat, great guitar riffage. Good for treadmill crying.

3. Phil Collins – Against All Odds. Inspirational crying that builds to dancing. Plus the video has waterfalls, neon triangle things, and young Jeff Bridges is a sexpot.

4. Electric Light Orchestra – Telephone Line. Starts out depressing and sad, but you have cool laser sounds giving you a taste of what’s to come. Pretty soon you’re dancing and crying on your knees doo wopping with ELO.

5. King Ralph- Good Golly Miss Molly. This is just good.

Con Men Are Dreamy

This is my latest project with artist Kewber Baal of Jennifer Blood, and I think he really killed it. It’s been completely finished for about a month now, and getting ready to pitch it around in March. Being a con men/con dragon tale (or would that be drag-con? I know hilarious), I figured we had to pay tribute to Paper Moon right?

To me it’s hard to beat a good con movie (yes that Caan too, Rollerball was awesome). Paper Moon, The Sting, and Nine Queens are probably my favorites. Tyrion of the lesser known George R.R. Martin series is somewhat of a schemer, but overall I thought the medieval fantasy world lacked con men/grifter stories. So with my new and totally fresh idea, I think I’m basically going to take the entire (comic) world by storm. Just crush it bra, you feel me? And let’s face it, if you want to make the big bucks, you get into independent comics.

Sorry, I know you skipped this rant to look at the pictures anyway. So just good ahead and look you pervert!

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