Failure of the Chum-Burger Market…

Let me just start by expressing how much I love it when people survive a serious accident that would kill most others, and then emerge finding and thanking God. I mean, seriously….screw the doctors that worked tirelessly to save the person, let’s thank God for waving his magic wand and saving the life. Never mind the fact that this same God who has the power over life and death could have just as easily intervened and spared the victim the terrible suffering when the person was originally run over by a semi and then chewed on for hours by electric land sharks, only to be left in the ditch for a few weeks by the passing tornado that picked them up…I’ll stop….you get the point.
First, I get it. It’s a hard thing to process when coming face to face with one’s mortality, and while for some it brings with it a renewed appreciation for the life that they have, others seem to be forced to understand it by suddenly believing in Dungeons and Dragons in which a God has just rolled them a saving throw with his twelve sided dice.

I suppose I would be able to swallow it better if the victims (or survivors) (or critical thinking impaired) were to apply this to other aspects of their lives. I long to hear a variety in the stories that God has gotten involved in.
“I thank God for curing me of my twenty year bed-wetting condition!” or “I knew God was right there with me, helping me take that left turn with one hand while I used the other to stuff my slack-jawed pie hole with the convenient-store bought microwave burrito.”
Or how about “I would like to thank God for the minimal possible punishment I am receiving after beating my wife in public in Vail, Colorado!”

….and with THAT out of my caffeine fueled system, I will admit here that I am again aware that this is not the update that I’ve promised twice now. But I will not leave you this time without a little piece of my artistic doings behind these pages…..does that make any sense or am I waxing poetic a little too much?

One of the many side projects that I have been doing and returning to for these many years is my collection of zombiespoons. For those of you paying attention, you’ll be used to the fact that I’ll go through stages of producing many new ones, followed by long periods of nothing……much like this blog……and visits outside where people dwell…
In any case, I seem to be starting one of those production periods yet again (of both blogging and the creation of zombiespoons), and I share with you one that I honestly can’t believe I had never done in all this time….that is, just drawing him:

So yes, not only can you expect a barrage of random thoughts pouring from my brain (like the one above) into simple font form on this here computing machine, but now you can also look forward to the next chapter in zombiespoon personas….maybe even a Zombiespoon Book? You didn’t hear that from me……even though you did.

Technorati Tags: zombiespoon,chum,shark week,Chevy Chase,God,art,drawing,Charlie Sheen

(Re-Post) The Jeans are fine, it all the Drinking and Whoring that's making you Fat...

...or the Truth about Proverbs Revealed!

(this is a re-post of an entry originally written November 27th, 2005)

There are plenty of fish in the sea.
- Yes, but there are also sharks...and they'll eat you!

There’s more than one way to skin a cat.
- But the end result is always a sticky screaming skinless cat.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.
- Unless of course, it happens to roll through a patch of sticky, stone-sucking moss....found primarily in England.

There’s no accounting for taste.
- Which is why you don't see many successful Taste Accountant Offices around.

Time heals all wounds.
- Except for a severed head.

Two heads are better than one.
- See the above proverb to understand why.

Variety is the spice of life.
- Cannibals can come in all shapes and sizes.

Walls have ears.
- I suggest that you start wearing tin-foil and keeping to yourself.

A watched pot never boils.
- Unless of course you fill it with water and put it over a heat source, dumbass.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
- I dare you to refer to a woman as "gander" to her face.

When it rains, it pours.
- Unless it's just a slight drizzle, you gloomy bastard.

A woman’s work is never done.
- Which is why I suggest that you beat her....she's making a fool out of you.

A word to the wise is sufficient.
- The wise tend to bore easily.

You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
- But shit is still the best fly bait of all.

You can lead a horse to water, but you cant make him drink.
- But you can drown that ungrateful bastard of a horse.

You cant fit a round peg in a square hole.
- Unless you were to use tools, which is what got us all out of the jungles in the first fucking place!

You cant make a silk purse from a sows ear.
- And, seriously...a silk purse won't go with your new Sow Ear dress you made.

You cant squeeze blood from a turnip.
- Not without first soaking the turnip in blood for a minimum of 24 hours.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
- But a bullet in his brain will keep him away for good, and you could stop eating all those god damned apples.

Beauty is only skin deep.
- Yeah, tell that to the screaming cat.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
- The main reason world domination has never been achieved by those in cahoots with mice.

Better late than never.
- Not wise to say when your job was simply to deliver life saving medicines.

Blood is thicker than water.
- Which is why a turnip needs to soak in it for so long.

Brevity is the soul of wit.
- Stupid people tend to babble on and on and on...

Cleanliness is next to godliness.
- That is of course, unless you worship a Mud God, then the cleanest of people are obviously witches and should be burned!

Cold hands, warm heart.
- The beginnings of hypothermia.

Curiosity killed the cat.
- No, the skinning of the cat led to it's death...let's not blame how it got there.

The devil is in the details.
- Which is why the Cliff Note version of the Bible is so popular in churches.

Don’t cry over spilt milk.
- Unless your captor swore he'd fucking kill you if he returned to find the milk spilt...then cry your eyes out bitch!

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
- Unless you have reason to believe that it swallowed your keys...it's a far worse thing to just gut the horse in front of the giver without first being sure.

Don’t throw out the baby with the bath water.
- That is, unless you happen to have a bath-water baby....then by all means throw it out....what would the community think?

The early bird catches the worm.
- But in the end, it's still a worm and tastes like ass...I suggest sleeping in and then having some coffee.

Every cloud has a silver lining.
- Why then, have people not made their fortunes as cloud miners?

Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.
- Smart people stink and have no friends.

Give him enough rope and hell hang himself.
- Which is far better than giving him the materials to make a shiv to stab you with!

Haste makes waste.
- The reason behind the low cost of housing near Haste Factories.

He who laughs last, laughs best.
- Those that tend to chuckle first get the ever loving crap kicked out of them.

Ignorance is bliss.
- Yes, everyone on Jerry Springer seem so damn happy.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
- Which fails to explain why plagiarism is so ill received.

Knowledge is power.
- Really really smart people could power a city block, while those that are merely clever struggle keeping a string of xmas lights lit.

Love conquers all.
- This explains why Hitler lost...he just didn't love enough.

The meek shall inherit the Earth.
- It is very likely that the Great Meek Uprising will happen in your lifetime.

Old soldiers never die; they only fade away.
- So what exactly is buried in those cemeteries neighboring Veteran Hospitals?

A picture is worth a thousand words.
- Photographers are the most boring people on earth.

Out of sight, out of mind.
- Blind people are all insane!

Poets are born, not made.
- But ignored by everyone else nevertheless...now mimes, they are made in labs!

Procrastination is the thief of time.
- When Procrastination was finally arrested in '73, nearly three hundred years was discovered in the crawlspace or buried in the backyard.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating.
- Even the very best of pudding photographs can be faked, plus then you'd have to listen to the damn photographer for at least a thousand words!

The worm turns.
- Yeah...wait, what?!

Begin the Begin…

I’m going to cheat here a little bit….first, by not posting about The Death of Crumbly Nevertheless like  I said I would in the last entry (I still will, just not right now)….and second, by re-posting a blog entry in it’s entirety from a few years ago.
Now, before you get the torches and pitchforks out, let me just say this: don’t you think you’re overreacting? Just a tad? I mean, seriously….who the fuck starts an angry murderous mob in this day an age? Especially over a mostly-overlooked blog? Shame on all of you!! Shaaaaaaammmmme!!

The reason being is this: earlier today I was talking to my friend Jason about blogging and about my blog in general. It brought to the surface further how my descent into online rambling madness began.
Like I stated in the previous post, I started this form of online public diary writing on myspace….the first post being about not being able to find my coffee cup. Why did I write about this? Because I was bored and the option of “blog” was there. This might have been the first an only time I wrote anything had it not been for the fact that my post really seemed to upset Glen Danzig (or, let’s be honest, whoever might have been behind the Glen Danzig myspace profile), and an online fight ensued.

This clinched it…if I could upset someone like Danzig with a post about a missing cup of coffee, well I had no other choice but to keep writing!
It started of slowly: posts about “guess what Clint is listening to?”, which were usually answered with “strangled cats humping to an Ethel Murmen musical”, or the like.
What changed everything is the post that is to follow, the re-post, that is.

The post is titled: “The jeans are fine, it all the Drinking and Whoring that's making you Fat...    ...or the Truth about Proverbs Revealed!” and is nothing more than a list of proverbs and my own little take on them. It was just another example of what I do to keep myself entertained, and the fact that I write the most when I have nothing to say. But this entry took off unlike I could have imagined.
Within a week after posting it I had acquired several dozen more subscribers. I was receiving emails from people asking if they could repost it, one from a college student wanting to use it in a paper…and another from a school teacher wanting to use it for her class.

This solidified my writing habits, for the most part, from there on out. That is, write a lot about nothing….which is something that I am constantly filled with….nothing…obviously, I’m trying to get back to that…..

Looking for Reflections in a Burlap Sack...

This little blog has been going now, in one form or another, for about half a decade; ever since my first random posting on MySpace back in July of 2005. For those who are still with me, and by that I mean those few who have followed this blog for enough length of time that you are in for the long haul and want to see how it ends, I salute you. You have stayed with me through my rambling lists, disjointed observations and what some have called “a raping of the facts”…(ok, only one person has actually said that in an angry email to me, an email I like to pretend they were spitting mad while writing, but I like the phrase enough to use it here).

And those same few of you by now might have noticed the pattern to my posting methods, involving both, the cycles of frenzied, almost religious updating followed by long periods of silence and virtual tumbleweeds getting snagged on the barbed wire fences lining the long, dust-filled roads the lone hitch hiker has traveled without seeing an automobile in god knows how long…..and he’s running out of Skittles.

But there’s a little more to the pattern if one were to look a bit closer, even if one didn’t want to look closer, because I’m going to point it out anyway. The postings and absences coincide and can be mapped with whatever is going on in my little world. For example: take a look back at the periods when I was posting almost everyday if not more than once a day. You’ll notice that these are during some sort of transition in my life….as in struggling in New York, or staying in Pennsylvania looking for work and a new state to move to.
Now look to the voids….these usually coincide with periods of stability and production, usually drawings.

It’s a shame really…although this little soapbox was originally started as a way to poke fun at my friend Clint and just to record random stupid thoughts, I have tried to evolve it into also a venue to keep people informed on the progress of my professional targets, those being art and writing. If stepping back and looking at this blog as a whole shows anything, it is that I tend to write the most when I have nothing to say. This probably says a lot about me that I will continue to ignore….like this wound that is spreading and smells like cheese….or the shark in my bed wearing the clown hat. Some things are better left alone…..do you smell something burning?

So, if the lack of posts over the course of the past year is any indication, I have been keeping extremely busy drawing and writing and what not. The image above is a hint to one of the cooler things I’ve done during this time….click on the image to see where it leads….I’ll write more about that experience in an upcoming post. But for now, take this as my promise to attempt to bring this journal back up to speed, and maybe even try to stay on top of it…….Ooooooooooo look!! Something shiny!!

Technorati Tags: Drawing,Blogging,Sketch Theatre,Sharks wearing Clown Hats

Coming Next Post: the Death of Crumbly Nevertheless

Biscuits in High Altitudes…

Shortly, I will be on my way to Los Angeles….home of amazing art galleries, movie stars and victims of Sean Penn. This is just a quick and dirty trip that I’ll explain more about in soon to follow updates.
But, if my plane were to go down in the mountains and I’m eaten by survivors, I want to be buried in my own Mausoleum with a lifelike statue of myself looking panicked behind the locked doors.