Monday, July 1, 2019

Perpetual Man-Babyism

Hello.

I have no style. I wear a t-shirt with my own face on it about twice a week. My other t-shirts are for food trucks that no longer exist. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "Maybe you should start dressing better on yours days off of work." That idea never materializes.

Comfort always takes precedence. I am comfortable with myself enough to admit I spend forty five minutes on the bathroom floor crying every morning about how uncomfortable I am at all times during the day.



Anyways, that's noise. Beginning fluff. Here's the real stuff.

Recently, I've been in a little bit of a funk. I haven't been able to finish anything. Can't finish movies without falling asleep, can't finish books, can't finish my own damn stories. I still have brief moments of electricity where I can pump stuff out quickly but afterwards, I'm exhausted and I just want to sit on the couch and scroll through social media making fun of everything.

It's no good.

But the first step of fixing a problem is identifying a problem.

There's this regular at my place of work. Quiet dude. Always reading. We trade recommendations, we rarely take each other up on our recommendations but our interactions are always pleasant. I told him I was having trouble finishing anything and he said to me, point blank, "You just gotta make the time."

I'm a brute-force type of learner. If I don't know something, I fuck with it aggressively until I make progress. I jump into the problem. I make the time for the problem. "You just gotta make the time." This sentence resonated with me.

I picked up the Michael Moorcock book I was loving but taking forever getting through and started reading. I sought the advice of my pals, Miguel and Zach. They know comics, they know graphic novels. They gave me a list. Let me tell you, I'm powering through things.

Mister Miracle by Tom King is an absolute masterpiece. It's about the struggles of making time for the things that pull you; your obligations and your duties. As a writer and a soon-to-be father, the book pulled me in immediately and wove an emotional fabric that was funny and satisfying panel after panel. The artwork is also top notch.

I've got Hoopla (you should get it if your library offers it) so I've also rented Vision by Tom King. It is also a great story that asks about humanity and family in ways that you don't expect a "superhero" comic to do.

But I've learned something here. I've learned that the popular concept of "superhero" is often condescending. I used to be one of those people. I am learning that a superhero is simply a medium to weave a narrative. Some narratives are just monster of the week slug fests. That's okay. Good guys win, bad guys lose. Some narratives dig deeper. Both types of narratives have value.

When I was a kid, I looked up to my oldest cousin. He was cool, knew everything, and had the best, meanest-spirited insults. I loved him. Still do, in fact. He was a phenomenal artist and he always drew one character more than any other: Spawn. I noticed Spawn is racing to #300 so I decided I'd pick a recent one up. #298. I used to love Spawn. It was the dark hero. It was the cool hero. Well, this shit is not good. I don't know if it's me or if it's Spawn but it is overwritten. The text bubbles are almost always exposition and telling the reader what is happening in the story rather than letting the art do any legwork. I'll probably look at #300 out of nostalgia.

The point is, I'm allowing myself to explore different mediums of narrative and I'm starting to immerse myself in reading again. It's not all comics and graphic novels but I'm glad I let go of my own arrogance to discover something. It's also paying off in my own creative work. The more you read, the more you write. And that's all I want to do, anyways.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: My Foot's Asleep Deluxe! Edition!

Please stop inject Mountain Dew straight into the veins of your armpits. 1) it's bad for you 2) it hurts me to think about 3) Mountain Dew wasn't made to do that.

They smell like they haven't wiped their asses in ages.

I sentence you to death.

Doc, this couch is sopping wet.

Hey! There's a new Deerman for Patrons! Click here! Become a patron!





Eat a friggin' carrot.


Sunday, April 21, 2019

Game of Thrones

I planned on writing a post for the Game of Thrones premiere but Elizabeth Warren beat me to it.

I've said good things about all candidates but I've got a friend who, despite his best intentions, is a total twat online about his love for Barnhard Sandora. He posted, "Thank you for your smile, your encouragement, your [it goes on for a paragraph]. Thank you, Bronie Sumter." It could have ended with "Jesus" or "Cosmic Center."

Here's where I rate all Democratic candidates.

ANDREW YANG NEEDS $1000 A MONTH TO BUY A TIE

PETE BUTTIGIEG NEEDS A MORE STYLISH BOWL FOR HIS MOTHER TO PUT ATOP HIS DOME

BERNIE WANTS UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE BECAUSE THAT BANDAGE IS SUPPOSED TO BE ON HIS PENIS BUT HE HAD TO GO TO THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE FOR AN AFFORDABLE PROCEDURE

ELIZABETH WARREN WANTS TO TAKE A MIRROR OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE BATHROOM AND STAND BEHIND IT TO WAIT FOR TRUMP TO SEE IF HE NOTICES THAT IT'S JUST HER PLAYING A PRANK

AMY KLOBUCHAR THREW THIS FROM THE BOTTOM OF THIS LIST. IT HIT BERNIE IN THE PENIS.

JULIAN CASTRO STRUGGLES TO STAND OUT

HAD TO PUT THE CASTRO BROTHERS AND THE BINDER THAT HIT BERNIE IN THE DICK BETWEEN JOE BIDEN AND ELIZABETH WARREN

COREY BOOKER SAYING FUCK BECAUSE NOBODY LIKES HIM

KAMALA HARRIS YELLS AT ALL THE KIDS SHE PUT IN JAIL TO STOP TALKING ABOUT IT

TELL YOUR MOM TO CUT AROUND THIS BOWL, BUTTIGIEG.

GILLIBRAND MAKES A BETTER TV PRESIDENT

STOP THROWING SHIT, AMY. 


Thursday, January 31, 2019

The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Gone for half a year and something somebody posted me offended me! edition.

Hey, oh! It's the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest! Woo! A contest I never enter, will never win, and will constantly do because I hate its very existence. A friend of mine once called my attempts "derivative" of his attempts but he ignored the fact that I never entered and mine actually made people laugh every once in a while. Take that, punk ass!

Please go until completion. I can probably get a discount for that. 

The winds of change are upon us. HA! HA! It's a Trump joke. Get it? No? Fuck you, Fascist. 

Constantly with the Mexicans and the refugees, too. Ugh. 

So I said, "Look! If you're going to wave that thing of milk-potatoes at me, at least take me out to dinner before you bend me over and poop in my butt!



And for my next trick, I unshred a document.


This motherfucker forgot to order drinks.



Listen, bitch, if you keep doing that I'm going to have to call your mom. 



This is a really dumb place to live.