Quick Bits 2

1. The Phantom comic strip has been in continuous publication since its debut on February 17, 1936. In all that time, readers have never seen the Phantom's unmasked face, unless hidden behind huge sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat. Until today:

That's him in panel 3, in bed with his wife, sleeping in his purple tights and stripey trunks. History in the making. You'll always remember where you were when you saw it.

2. Mark Evanier's blog alerts me to a second historic occasion, this heroic shattering of a world record:

I think that clip simultaneously captures everything that's wrong with America and everything that's right with it.

3. When someone asks me what my fee would be to speak to their group, I really ought to come up with a better answer than to snort hot chocolate through my nose and choke.
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Quick Bits

• I'm very excited about the successful landing of the Phoenix craft on Mars. Unlike other recent Mars machines, but very reminiscent of the Viking landers of my teens, Phoenix can't move. It will sit in one spot, scoop up soil (and, with luck, ice), and analyze it with a small onboard chemistry lab looking for complex organic compounds. The first photos from the landing site are coming in, and I'm again struck with the wonder of seeing something for the first time that no one in human history has seen before. Terrific!
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• We're not finding our quail family around the yard anymore, but trust they scuttled away safely. Taking over their niche in our little domestic ecosystem has been a group of three or four squirrels that look like young siblings. They're having a joyous time chasing each other through the trees and digging up Karen's newly planted flower pots. As always, our indoor cats are not amused. Nor is Karen, much.
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• Following up on this post, the family and I saw the new Indiana Jones movie on Friday. We all found Indy much too indestructable but thought there were enough good character and action moments to compensate. We each had our own quibbles and favorite bits, but on consensus thought it was worth our time and money. Not the painful embarrassment it could have been by any means.
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• EDITED TO ADD because I forgot to mention that I also made ravioli from scratch for the first time in my life this weekend. Fresh ricotta, mozzerella and parmesan blended with oregano and pinched between sheets of homemade pasta. My girls and I did it together and it was good. Suggestions for future ravioli stuffings will be gratefully accepted.

  
  

• Today is Memorial Day in the U.S. Take a second to remember why.

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To the Bat Ballot!

Upcoming elections make this a perfect time to pause and reflect on the wisdom of the Caped Crusader:



The nice thing about the clip is that it works no matter what your political persuasion. Because, you see, all the pandering and dirty tricks are the fault of those other guys.... Never yours.
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Cap'n, There Be Quails Here!

About 11 months ago, I wrote about a family of blue scrub jays that had nested in our backyard. Those fledglings are long gone (though I wonder if some of the babies I so carefully nurtured have grown into the annoying squawkers who dominate our bird feeder--if so, nice payback, guys), but today we found that another family has assumed their lease: Quail.

We count seven young'uns. Sorry the picture quality isn't better...

We've seen Dad around a lot in the past week. He's particularly handsome, a finely plumed dandy. He flies pretty well for a quail, too. We've been surprised to notice him watching us from high tree branches overhead. This morning the reasons for his diligence introduced themselves by scrambling over to a small shallow birdbath we have sitting in the dirt, taking a quick refreshing dip, then scurrying back to cover. I couldn't catch it with the camera, but there was a squirrel sitting nearby watching them the entire time, while one of our cats was perched on the windowsill watching both quail and squirrel and cursing the inventor of glass.

Family photo of Dad, Mom and a couple of chicks

I like the idea of our little suburban yard being a nature preserve. Once word gets out, there'll be no keeping the critters away.
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My Friendly Neighborhood Furry-tailed Rats

About a year and a half ago, I posted this sketch of a very determined squirrel in my backyard. This little guy worked extraordinarily hard for every seed he managed to sneak from my bird feeders, clinging to a slippery pole while an infinite feast awaited just beyond the tips of his fingers.

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This morning I looked out my back window and spied the little guy below, probably a direct descendant, no less determined and a slightly more capable climber. Or maybe the pole just wasn't as slippery today.

Odd Ends

I've been busy lately--very, very busy--and likely to remain that way for a while, which explains my dearth of blogging but does not ease the guilt gnawing at my soul. I appreciate the loyalty of everyone who checks in once in a while. I'll try to make it worth your while soon. Meanwhile, here are some Internetty things I've come across that I've found interesting:

1. Successful science fiction writer John Scalzi posted 10 tips titled "Unasked for Advice for New Writers About Money." Although aimed at aspiring, inexperienced, or struggling writers, I found much wisdom there for any sort of self-employed freelancer type (which I've been for about nine years, completely independent of cartooning). Scalzi's aim is to wipe the romantic stardust from wanna-be eyes and tell some hard truths: Treat it like a business. Don't quit your day job. Don't undervalue your work. Your income is half what you think it is (there's no automatic paycheck deduction to help pay those quarterly taxes). And my favorite, marry someone with a real job. I have little argument with any of it, although the comments raise some interesting counter-examples and objections.

2. Comic book writer Steve Gerber, creator of Howard the Duck, died today at age 60 after a long fight with pulmonary fibrosis. Mark Evanier broke the news and wrote a nice obit in his blog. I liked Mr. Gerber's work, which was intelligent and witty, but mention him here mostly because he wrote a blog himself. In it he discussed current comic book projects but also his illness, and his archived posts describing successive set-backs with a mix of hope, frustration, courage and fear reminded me very much of my mother's. It's good to remember once in a while.

3. Something lighter? Drawn is "the illustration and cartooning blog" that always gives me a dozen new ideas and two dozen talented people to be jealous of, while io9 is a new blog that delivers news about science fiction and speculative tech in a breezy format that consistently scores one or two hits a day with me. And every month or two I find time to listen to the JCB Song. I can't help being a sentimental dope; having kids'll do that to you.

4. Something lighter still? There's no going wrong with a Monty Python Video Wall.

More and better later. Thanks.

Wow, Should'a Seen That Coming

"We regret to announce that due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, the publication of The Astrological Magazine will cease with the December 2007 issue."

True irony is such a rare and precious gift.....
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Once More, With Feeling

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Don't we know archaic barrel,
Lullaby Lilla boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly wolly cracker n' too-da-loo!
Hunky Dory's pop is lolly
gaggin' on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloup, 'lope with you!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarum bung-a-loo!

--Walt Kelly

The Vast Wasteland

If you are anywhere around my age and grew up watching television in the United States, absolutely the worst possible thing you could do is click this link. (Link removed, see update below.)

I'm not kidding. Don't do it.

And if you do, don't leave it running on your computer all day. That would be wrong.

UPDATE: The link connected to a radio station that played nothing but old TV theme songs, commercial-free, around the clock. However, it looks like that was just a short-term gimmick while they switched formats. Now it's just a plain ol' rock-and-roll station, and more's the pity. They had a good thing going.

Another Reason to Love the British...

...Because when baby hedgehogs break their legs, they take them to the animal hospital and put little casts on them. Also, because they named an animal hospital "Tiggywinkles."


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I'm Here!

Everything's fine, just very heavy on deadlines and light on blogging inspiration.

In an upcoming post I'll recap the two cancer-fighting walk/run events I plugged earlier this month. In short: Great! Thanks again to everyone who read about them here and was inspired to help out somehow.

I saw the new Disney movie "Enchanted" a few days ago and thought it was very good. Many nice references to Disney classics that you'll catch if you've seen them a thousand times (during my raising of two girls we wore out tapes of "Little Mermaid," "Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," and Disney's "Robin Hood") and know some of their backstory. "Little Mermaid" voice actress Jodi Benson has a good role as Patrick Dempsey's secretary, and I've since read that Paige "Belle" O'Hara and Judi "Pocahontas's singing voice" Kuhn are in it as well, though I didn't catch them at the time. I think the movie's real accomplishment is successfully navigating the fine line between mocking the genre (as with "Shrek") and respecting it (I almost typed "respecting the essential validity of its archetypes" but then pulled the stick out of my rear and thought better of it). And little bits of cartoon at the beginning and end sure made me miss good ol' hand-drawn two-dimensional animation, which I understand John Lasseter has restored to Disney after previous administrations scoured it. Good for him.

Thanksgiving (U.S.) at the in-laws was very nice family time. It occurs to me I haven't often expressed thanks to the people who've bought my book, read my blog, or gone to the time and trouble to send me a note. So ... Thank You. It means a lot. Special appreciation for those few friends who were among the first to find Mom's Cancer online and have stuck with me since.

I expect I'll have more to say soon.
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I Can'nae Change the Laws of Physics, Cap'n!

That's my oven. It's a 20-year-old Whirlpool with the oven underneath, a microwave on top, and controls for both at the upper right. Yesterday, the control panel went dark. Dead. Joined the choir invisible. Same for the microwave. The oven still worked, although if we wanted to do something fancy like set a delayed cooking time--not that we ever have before--we were out of luck. We couldn't live like that ... like animals. Something had to be done.

It is understood that repairing a broken microwave costs more than replacing it. This wasn't just the microwave, though; it was the whole control panel, too, and they're both integrated with the oven. Either we would have to call in a sure-to-be-exorbitantly priced repairperson or replace the whole darn thing, and what are the odds we'd ever find anything that'd fit into our 20-year-old cabinet hole? Neither option was appealing.

This morning I figured I'd take a peek at its guts. Just in case there happened to be a huge, clearly labeled switch inside that had somehow flipped from "Work" to "Don't Work," because if it were more complicated than that I was pretty sure I was out of luck. I turned off the circuit breaker, unscrewed the control panel at upper right...

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"What should I tell the paramedics?" asked my wife.

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"Probably 220 volts," answered I.

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And there, sitting fat and pretty under a tangle of wires with a big blinking neon arrow pointing at it saying "Look Here!" was a 20-amp fuse. Gingerly reaching in (yeah, I know what a capacitor looks like), I pulled the fuse and checked it with my multimeter. Resistance = infinity; that's a hopeful sign (a good fuse would have had a resistance near zero). Called the hardware store half a mile away, went and picked up a new fuse for $3.75, and popped it in. Asking my wife to watch the oven and scream in panic if she saw sparks or flames, I flipped the circuit breaker and.....

It worked.

I think I now understand how a soldier feels dragging a wounded buddy to safety under fire. How a surgeon feels pulling a patient back from death's icy grip. But mostly, I now know what it feels like to be this guy:

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Ridiculous, Meet Sublime

1. This site features a detailed model of Uncle Scrooge's money bin built by 15-year-old Norwegian fan Mats Gullikstad. Based on blueprints sketched by cartoonist Don Rosa and architect Dan Shane for the back of an Uncle Scrooge comic book, the model features hundreds (thousands?) of individually cut coins, a removable wall that reveals 12 stories of office space, 250 individually built desks and chairs, tiny props that appeared in decades of Scrooge adventures, and--of course--a giant swimming pool of money.

2. This site features a super-high-resolution image of Leonardo daVinci's "Last Supper." And I mean super-high-resolution. Zooming in on the 16 billion-pixel image just 20% or 30% reveals the crumbling texture of the wall and its precarious hold on Leonardo's pigments. Zoom in all the way and I'm pretty sure you can see electron orbitals. The site also offers terrific background information about Leonardo's life and analysis of the painting's details and significance. I didn't care for the music, but you can turn that off. It also understandably takes each image a little time to load whenever you zoom, but it's worth the wait. I hope this project is the model for many more like it.

Feel free to conclude what you will from the fact that I think these two topics somehow belong together.

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S.F. 49ers 7, Baltimore Ravens 9

A portrait of failure:

I yelled "De-fense!" as loud as I could but it wasn't good enough. I'm sorry I let my team down.
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Avast Ye Bloomin' Cockroaches

For the desk-bound pirate in your life.

Dead men tab no tables... nor apparently backspace, spellcheck, ten-key, or ctl-alt-del, either.

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Arr? Aye!

Nearly as important as defending the right of free speech is defending the right of very, very silly speech, an aptly timed example of which is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Wednesday, September 19.

Wikipedia summarizes the growth of this most wonderful and pointless of holidays, from its humble origin in 1995 to its emergence as a worldwide phenomenon following columnist Dave Barry's endorsement in 2002. Note that it is not International Dress Like a Pirate Day, although I can't imagine how anyone would object if you did. People wear shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day and Santa caps at Christmas; who's to snicker if you show up for work with an eyepatch, parrot,* buccaneer boots and cutlass? Especially a cutlass.

So this International Talk Like a Pirate Day, please remember to answer your phone with a hearty "Ahoy!" Begin sentences with a growly "Arrh!" Refer to family and co-workers as "matey" and "scurvy dog." Work the word "Avast!" into casual conversation.

If we're afraid to talk like pirates, the terrorists win.


*As with bunnies at Easter or dalmatians following the release of a new Disney movie, the American Humane Association cautions the public not to purchase parrots just to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Very often, such parrots become neglected as the festive joy of the holiday season fades, with many winding up in animal shelters or abandoned to join marauding flocks of feral parrots. Participants may want to consider renting or leasing a parrot for celebratory purposes from a reputable parrot broker. Please be a responsible parrot owner/renter.
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Misc.

I was just absent-mindedly reading some light news stories when I came across the most remarkable sentence. I had to stop and read it over three times before I believed that it really meant what I thought it did. The sentence began:

"Michael Sands, a publicist whose clients have included the divorce attorney for Britney Spears' ex-husband Kevin Federline, said..."

Parse that: Britney married Kevin. Who has a divorce attorney. Who has his or her own publicist. Who gets quoted in a story that has nothing to do with Britney, Kevin, or Kevin's attorney.

What a world, what a world.

Still, publicist-to-the-stars'-husbands'-attorneys Michael Sands is doing something right. He's obviously on at least one reporter's contact list, filed under "Desperately Need a Quote from Someone Distantly Related to the Entertainment Industry Late Friday Afternoon When No One Else Picks Up the Phone."

Harvey Awards will be presented at the Baltimore Comic-Con tomorrow night. I'm up for three Harveys and am pretty certain I have no chance at two (remember, I have an excellent track record predicting the results of awards for which I'm nominated). The third one ... honestly ... immodestly ... maybe I have a shot. A month ago I hoped to make it to Baltimore and find out for myself, but ultimately couldn't. Editor Charlie thought he might go but he's not free either. So if anyone wants to attend an awards banquet, say a few words on my behalf if I win, and then mail a Harvey Award to me (I'll pay postage!), please feel free. If you're ruggedly handsome with thick dark hair and a strong chin, you can even pretend to be me. Sign some books, draw some doodles. I won't mind.

More seriously, I do wish I could be there. As I wrote a while ago, if someone honors your work with an award nomination, it just seems minimally polite to show up. I want to reiterate that I don't take the Harvey Award nominations for granted, I'm very grateful for the recognition, and incredibly appreciative. My absence is in no way meant to be cavalier or disrespectful. It's just life.

Inside the Studio

I think my video interview with the guys from the Norman Rockwell Museum went well. Of course, all depends on which five minutes of our two-hour conversation they decide to use. I'm sure I provided plenty of "idiot blowhard" ammo if they look for it, but I trust Martin and Jeremy not to make me look too bad. After all, Martin paid for lunch afterward; how evil could he be? If you guys read this, thanks again for lunch and for coming all the way out here. I enjoyed it.

Jeremy, Martin, and the interior of my office closet. Jeremy had to open the mirrored door to eliminate a bad reflection from a 2000-watt light rig they brought with them. I'm sorry you had to see that.

That glimpse into my messy closet dovetails nicely with recent posts on a couple of other cartoonists' blogs in which they shared pictures of their "studios" and inspired me to show off mine. The word deserves quotes because many cartoonists' workspaces consist of a corner of the dining room table or patch of floor beside a couch. My set-up is a little better than that but still nothing I'd elevate to the status of "studio." It's a spare bedroom with a couple of desks, bookcases, computer and a filing cabinet. Not a big deal.

I do most of my artwork at a rolltop desk I got when I graduated from college. Drawers hold supplies and I draw on a large board propped between my lap and the desk. The picture below shows a lot of brushes. In fact, I generally only use two or three at a time; I just can't ever throw anything away. Likewise pen nibs. I've got about three good ones and 57 bad ones that keep getting mixed in with the good ones.

So here--not posed or dressed up in any way, captured in its entirely natural state--is my "studio" with a key to its contents (I know some of the green numbers are hard to see. Sorry.):

1. Etch-a-Sketches (one small, one large)
2. Watercolors
3. Charcoal pencils
4. Conte crayons, tempera. I forgot to number it, but the wide drawer below drawers 2-4 holds acrylic paints.
5. Colored pencils
6. Gouache, oil pastels, oil paints
7. Felt-tip and technical pens, non-photo blue pencils
8. Electronic parts and doo-dads
9. Legos!
10. T-shirt I've used as an art rag since I was 16
11. Acid-free artist's tape
12. Triangle, templates for drawing circles and ellipses
13. Heap o' sketch books, secret projects
14. One-quart Baskin-Robbins bucket of old brushes, magnifying glass
15. Linseed oil, plastic cement, old nibs, deck of magic trick cards
16. Bigger brushes, more pens, compass and X-acto blades
17. Electric pencil sharpener
18. White-out, Sharpie, kneaded eraser
19. India ink that I keep in a ceramic saucer ever since I spilled a bottle and ruined a carpet 25 years ago
20. Active pens, brushes, pencils, erasers, etc.
21. Drawing board
22. Paper

This is, by the way, the same desk I depicted in Mom's Cancer:

I may have tidied it up a bit for the book. I haven't actually seen that much clear desktop since at least 1992.
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Coin of the Realm

I only asked my daughters to bring me back one souvenir from their trip to the U.K., if they were able to find it without too much effort. They were.

It's a 2-pound coin, worth about $4 U.S. I wanted this coin for two reasons: first, because the rings of gears and stylized circuit board make it an unusual tribute to technology, capturing progress from the early Industrial Age to the Electronic Era. I further learn online that the innermost circle's subtle pattern of whorls around a rudimentary wheel is meant to symbolize the Iron Age, while the outermost ring of criss-crossed lines is meant to symbolize the Internet. Neither is obvious to me but I appreciate the effort. An inscription on the edge of the coin quotes Isaac Newton: "Standing on the shoulders of giants." (The "heads" side is a portrait of Queen Elizabeth.) Not many governments acknowledge the importance of science and technology on their money like that.

Second, there is something about the coin I find irresistible. I'll say no more for now; I leave the reason for my fascination as a puzzle for the reader. All the necessary clues are in the image above. I'll update this post in a couple of days to explain.

UPDATE, August 7: Thanks for commenting and playing along. Your answers are better than mine, which I hope isn't too disappointing.

What I love about the two-pound coin--the quality that made me have to have it--are the 19 interlocked gears in that ring. Any odd number of gears arranged like that would be unable to turn (the size of the gears is irrelevant, assuming their teeth mesh up). Every gear turns adjacent gears in the opposite direction, alternating clockwise, counter-clockwise, etc.:

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Turning the top gear clockwise (red) moves the gears next to it counter-clockwise (blue)....

Go all the way 'round the ring and, with an odd number of gears, you hit a point where two adjacent gears want to turn the same direction. Won't work. The whole thing is locked up.

Examples of true irony (as opposed to the Alanis Morissette kind) are hard to find in life and I treasure them when I do. I think the government of the United Kingdom commemorating the formidable triumph of the Industrial Age with a machine that can't possibly
work--can't even move--qualifies as ironic. At least, it's the most fun I've had for $4 lately.

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Five Centuries of Pulchritude

This clip has been making the rounds and I found it fascinating enough to borrow myself. Five hundred years of female portraits in Western Art. I was especially struck by how similiar many of the women look--how consistent the ideals of female beauty were in several different countries over a few different centuries. And then of course how everything gets more ... interesting ... around the time photography takes over painting's role as an accurate recorder of images, and art becomes more about individual expression and exploration of technique.



It's 2 minutes 52 seconds. Even if the art doesn't excite you, everyone could use 2:52 of Bach in their lives.
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