Tuesday, November 18, 2014

My Vaudevillian Roots

I haven't figured out who the asshole is between these two? Usually I think it's Larry, but then sometimes Rudy comes along to shake things up.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Why I Hate Parties

I think there's supposed to be something romantic about being an indie author. You know, the artist so devoted to his craft that things like people actually reading your work don't enter the equation.

That's not me.

I want the world to see what I do, and I want the world to love it.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Another Thank-You for the Review Cartoon


I'm currently at 11 reviews. And they're all good. I'm feeling pretty pumped.

It's probably not healthy keeping score like that. If I was more disciplined I would check once every few months. But I have OCD. Checking is what I do.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Another Thank-you Cartoon

I'm enjoying making these cartoons. There's something almost meditative about the process.

Remember, folks: review one of my books and I will make a cartoon about you.

On a side note, I stepped in dog poo today. I'm not pleased.

Monday, October 27, 2014

A bad review (cartoon style)

Little cartoon of mine. (I'm working on my thin-skinnedness.)
I've never been good at dealing with criticism. Even if it's of the constructive kind. It's immaturity, I think

It was suggested to me to do something badly on purpose. Then I would have no choice but to deal with the inevitable criticism.

Makes me sweaty just thinking about it.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Robots and Androids

Little cartoon of mine making light of an android's plight. (Of course, they're all nuclear powered these days)

Why did I choose to write Charlie Robot? It's not as though I'm enamored with mechanical things. In fact, I find them puzzling, maybe even a little intimidating. That one little broken piece could somehow ruin an entire machine is mind boggling. I see that with cars all the time: a tiny part breaks, and what used to be a powerful vehicle capable of speeds well over 140 kilometers an hour is left standing useless in the driveway.

Computers, too. They might as well run on magic, that's how much sense they make to me. But they're made up of all these little pieces, all working in concert to create this thing capable of making games, editing photographs and writing blog posts. It's one, long magical chain, and if one of those links breaks, I'm left screaming fuck you staring at an empty screen.

I suppose the same can be said about the human body. After all, what is a body other than a series of machines? But there's a difference, a body can heal itself. Machines can't. Or at least, not yet. 

But getting back to my original question, why did I choose to write about a robot? Maybe it's fear. Not of robots in particular, but of finding myself stuck inside a machine. There's something comforting knowing you exist within a natural cycle. You're born, you grow old and you die. A machine on the other hand...

I know I said mechanical things are only as strong as their weakest link, but on the flip side, a well-made machine has the potential to run for a very, very long time. That scares me. I mean, what if you woke up one morning and discovered that body of yours you assumed was made of flesh and blood was, in fact, artificial? And providing everything worked the way it was intended, you could live upward of ten thousand years?

I don't know. Maybe some people would like that. I, on the other hand, wouldn't know what to do with myself. Birthdays would become irrelevant, maybe even annoying.

(Could you imagine? Those drop-down boxes on websites asking what year you were born in would become never-ending exercises in downward scrolling. "I'm three-thousand-years old, dammit! Of course I'm old enough to watch this video!")

And unless your friends were androids too, your social life would be a never ending procession of funerals.

And then there would be the ultimate in horridness: being trapped in a chimney for a thousand years.

As you can see, the possibilities for misery are endless...

Of course, there are other reasons to write about androids, but those, I think, I'll leave for another time.
 
Poor Archie the Android has been stuck inside this chimney since April of 1976, but embarrassment has kept him from calling for help.