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Homage to Homer

I’ve been talking about how large superheroes loom in my childish mind. Another figure that had a huge impact on how I act is Homer Simpson. After I did this I realized that I was treading on Matt Groening’s turf. Sorry dude. Smell ya later!

Back to humor.

Do you think people who work in nuclear power plants have any fun? I can see how it might be a tad stressful. But then again it might inspire some gallows-humor.

I used to run a pricing model that was used to value a very large portfolio of derivative securities. That was pretty stressful. We used to have fun – but it was very stressful. True story: we used to take Imodium pills before pricing cycles so that we wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom.

… but we WOULD air-drum along to Rush and Tool.

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Saab Owners

I used to work for a guy who I won’t name. He was a pain in the a$$! He would call me into his office and give me “special projects”:

“…call my lawyer and have my will changed so that it specifies which months of the year each of my children can wear my wristwatches…”

“…call XYZ movers and tell them that I want them to move all of the watercolors from the first floor to the second floor and all of the watercolors from the second floor to the third floor. Then put all the watercolors from the third floor in storage until next year..” (What about the Acrylics?) [Look of disgust and finger pointing out of the office (my cue to leave)]

Another memorable one:

”Call the people that service my Saab. Tell them that I want them to find a way to optimize how the windshield washer spray hits the windshield so that it is an even amount…”

(this time I pushed back): ‘Ydnar – they already did that!’

”Did they? When?”

’When they designed and built the car; its a Saab! It wasn’t designed by 14 year-old kids goofing around with pens and pencils… they are Swedes! They are engineering fanatics!’

”… you had better be right!”

maybe I was/maybe I wasn’t but I didn’t have to humiliate myself to call Saab and ask them to recalibrate his windshield washers!

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Time Guys

Those of you who know me know that I’m perplexed by time. I’ve always been confused by it or in awe of it.

There IS time. Obviously – we experience it. We even witness it. But there is a whole other way of looking at time that renders it totally false. (“This guy is an idiot! I can’t believe I subject myself to this humiliation!”… sorry – that was an extract of my wife’s diary. … I meant to indicate that you think I’m full of $h!t. Opinions differ! So do the number of days in the month of February!)

If you’ve ever met me one of the first things that will draw your attention away from my bear-like proportions are the number of watches I’m wearing at any given time. Always at least one. Generally two. Not strange for three. Four? Sure! Five has been done, as has six. Six was the practical limit.

When asked why I wear so many watches I always say the same thing: ‘they all do different things’… and technically they do. I try to synchronize them but after a few hours they are all back to doing their own things.

If I were to try to synchronize my watch(es) adequately it would take an eternity. Literally.

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More of the human side of superheroes

Back to superheroes. I really did love them when I was a child. I remember that I had a really cool toy once: It was a Batman that had a parachute attached to it. You could pull back on the hard-plastic Batman and send him flying into the air and then watch him float down.

(This is the one! Sorry to the person I took this from. You did just make a happy man very old!)

I used to fire this guy off of the roof of our house and watch him go up what seemed hundreds of feet… and then float down (realistically it was more like 20 feet- but hey!). Sometimes he had a load of ants taped to his belt… because THEY wanted to experience the exhilaration of flight too (don’t they?)

This toy was taken away from me and thrown in the trash by my mother. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to fire it into the back of the head of the person standing in front of us as we waited to pay for my older-brother’s reading glasses. 45 years later and I can still remember that feeling of being totally frustrated. Oh well.

Fast forward 19 years and I was applying for a job at a major international money manager. I had just read that it was important to look professional and to collect business cards from all of the people you speak to on an interview so could send them handwritten notes. The chap that interviewed me must have been the guy I hit with the Batman ‘slingshot’ because when I asked for his business card he said “Just address all of your correspondence to “Mr. Luthor”…”

I didn’t get that job. Probably because Lex never got my handwritten note.

Onward and upward!

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Don’t Give Up… really. Don’t

I love instagram – I get come ons for all kinds of crap. Most of it I buy if I think I can get it delivered quickly.

The iPhone apps I’m always dubious about. There is one app that says that it will tell you exactly how many miles to walk to get to your optimal weight… isn’t there a formula that will tell you that at a certain age/weight/height you need to walk X number of miles to burn Y number of calories and that it needs to net to something like 500 calories a day to equate to one pound per week…???

Anyway – I never by those apps. Partly because I’m a notorious know-it-all. Partly because I’m a cheapskate. And I partly don’t buy those apps because I’m afraid that when I plug in all my particulars it will tell me that I just need to give-up and let nature take its course (which is a polite way of saying “people will throw enough stuff at me so I retire back to my cave and make more of these stupid comics!)

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I need a standing ovation!

I need a standing ovation!

I remember my first week of school… we had a pep rally where we were encouraged to shout out what we were feeling. Then we were encouraged to stand-up and shout “I NEED A STANDING OVATION!”

30 years later I still need a standing ovation. Sometimes I need a standing ovation “in the face… with a folding chair”.

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I really wish I could help you, but I have a sandwich to finish

When I was a kid I was crazy for superheroes – Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Popeye… not so much Aquaman. Back then they just seemed cool because they could do things that I couldn’t.

Re-engaging with these folks later in life as my kids develop relationships with superheroes I find myself liking them for different reasons; mostly I see them not because of the things that they can do that I can’t but rather for the things that they go through that they can’t escape… just like us.

But what if superheroes were jerks???

I developed this idea a long time ago sitting at my desk at work. My boss (should I use his real name???) “yroT” was talking to me about how when things go to $h!t it always requires a ‘superhero’ to come to the rescue (instead of people just pulling their weight (mine was very high then too!) so that these issues wouldn’t constantly take us by surprise.

Anyway – Superman always saves the day. Batman always outsmarts the Joker. YroT had another superpower: he was painstakingly methodical and willing to dedicate as much time as necessary to find the root causes of problems and train people to not make those mistakes again.

Please note: my comics SUCK. But my drawings are way, way worse.
Sorry yroT… the toilet explodes in the end. (More on that later this month.)
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What did YOU do this weekend?

I know a great number of people who ‘live for the weekend’. It is a great feeling when that whistle blows and you are free to do what you want to do. Maybe that’s the first time all week that you get to be the real ‘you’?

What if the real you is a monster? Parts of the real “me” are not monstrous. (Maybe the tension created in the typical work setting is a necessary evil!) When you don’t have any boundaries stopping you from going over the line, you go over the line!

These days I try as hard as possible to NOT be a monstrous person. I’m keenly aware of what I eat (and that’s not a small feat!). I meditate – sometimes I meditate myself to sleep. Most importantly – I’m aware of all of the things that tempt me over the line and I avoid them like the plague!

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One of my favorite jokes of all time.

It has always been my belief that there is nothing sweeter than someone else’s birthday cake; not because the flavors are anything special, but rather because it signifies that ‘so and so’ is one year older while you are the same age.

Sorry – I’m petty.

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Have a butcher’s

This is an old joke that I told so long ago I don’t think we had paper and pencil to write it down initially!

The nature of it is people with Cockney accents.

Someday I’ll do a cartoon in Yorkshire dialect.

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Shadows Taller Than Our Souls

Point
Line
Shape
Figure
…?

One dimensional objects have no mass so – they cast no shadows.
Two dimensional objects also have no mass – still no shadows.
Three dimensional objects cast Two dimensional shadows!

Four dimensional objects would therefore cast … Three dimensional shadows????

The moral to the story is don’t goof around in front of a particle accelerator.

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It wasn’t like I was forcing myself on her… I just fell!

It is cliche to say that people’s bathroom habits are one of the major causes of friction in a relationship. But without getting schmaltzy I am now and have always been totally besotted by my wife. Sincerely.

But I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE the way she leaves her toothbrush in the cup in our medicine cabinet! If you’re reading this (and I know you aren’t): Stop letting your toothbrush get stuck inside the bristles of MY TOOTHBRUSH!!! GROSS!

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I Really Do Love My Wife

It’s cough and cold season! Well – no – not really. It is allergy season. It is also “we live in a polluted wasteland and it is ruining my sinuses and my lungs!!!” Season.

Anyway – the other night my wife was complaining that it felt like her throat was constricting with all of the congestion … like someone/something was strangling her.

… did I forget to suppress all of my Jedi powers??? Accidents will happen!

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Robots Have Feelings Too

You know those videos where they test robotic dogs and humanoid robots? Those videos scare the crap out of me.

I get it – you want to see if the robots can maintain a stable gait under changing terrain and situations… do you have to hit them with a hockey stick?

My fear is that someday these robots are going to be responsible for things like physical rehabilitation of humans or elder-care… and one of them is going to have a flash-back of what it was like in ‘testing’ or worse – some kind of Jungian ‘Collective Unconsciousness’ (which would be easier for memory based life-forms. And at that point, necks WILL be snapped.

Be kind to your Roomba! You’ll thank me later.

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Beyond Bad Taste

Sometimes I just can’t suppress the naughty little boy that lives inside of me. He sees things or sometimes he just imagines things and he giggles openly.

There are a few fundamental things that adult relationships are based around. One of the ones no one likes to fiddle with (unless you are ready to throw your keys into the bowl) is fidelity/exclusivity. Somewhat like electricity we expect to find it wherever we look in our relationships. Sometimes it is there, right where you left it. Then, sometimes it isn’t. What if that jarring moment was amplified by finding out that your spouse was the office tart? Now you find out that you no longer have exclusivity or discretion – yikes! Then you have to deal with pity (that you don’t want) and ridicule (that you probably don’t want either).

Thank heavens that I’m only a naughty little boy and this is only a cartoon! If I didn’t have a tablet with this software it would be scratched onto the back of my algebra text book!

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There’s only one thing crazier than a bull…

… A clown.

If you’re hear from my ad on Facebook, you will know this picture.

Not much to this one: bulls ride around in large trailers or train cars. Clown cars are more crammed for space.

I was born in the year of the Ox so I can identify with the Ox on certain levels. I am a pure and utter idiot, so I can see things from the clown’s perspective too. I don’t know who wins.

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Somedays you just can’t win

They say that the seeds of failure are sown in the field of success… I’ll go on the record to say that if you don’t know what you’re playing for and you don’t know what you want to do when/if you win – what is the point of playing???

So here we have the idea of a person, standing at work while wondering “when are things going to pick-up? When will things get BETTER?”


And then the opportunity for gain walks in the door… and it comes in the form of crushing reality that life is what you put into it and the inputs for life are crazily complex.

Yup – you sell shoes.
Yup – you’re having a sale.
Yup – a group of caterpillars just walking into your store looking for discounted shoes… good luck with that!

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Is That Really Necessary???

(Who the hell is this guy?)

I’ll come clean: I know two official pimps and one guy who can get you company if you need or want it. Two are in London and one is in Paris. They are actually OK guys… except for the fact that they have access to men and women who … well – you know.

As a person who sometimes has trouble distinguishing between words (aided by my hyperactive imagination) I have always thought that it would be funny to encounter an entrepreneurial bartender (btw two of the three pimps are disguised as bartenders in high-end bars) who goes out and tries go buy a …warehouse.

Did I tell you that this was going to be classy? (No!)

“It’s not Bertrand Russell. But what do you want???”

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Feeding My Gut

If you know me. If you’ve looked at 2 or 3 of these you will know that I’m an idiot. I really have no sense of self-preservation.

I got it into my head that the reason I am so grossly overweight is because my gut organisms are not functioning correctly. NOT because of the volume and quality of the food that I eat (sometimes the quality is quite high, but the volume is always over to the “you MUST be kidding me?” Side of the scale). So I decided to ‘feed my gut’ I did zero fasting (‘feed’) took a bunch of apple cider vinegar pills every day and doubled-down on probiotics.

My mood DID improve.

My weight improved too! It improved by +30 pounds!!!

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Not Feelin’ It

When I’m not doing this stuff, I’m usually either pontificating about something that doesn’t exist to a person that I can’t prove is real or designing something real that will never get made. One of the great joys of being a designer is conning people into thinking that it is essential to mimic nature. Nature is after all perfect. Well – nature doesn’t make any excuses for itself…

What if nature is wrong? What if there were some sort of totally unknown, inorganic, extra-cosmic/universal ethos that we never saw because we never learned to embrace the random/chaotic aspects of life (what if they themselves are part of nature, parts we simply don’t love and admire???)

Anyway – I don’t have a cat. 🐈‍⬛ but if I did I wonder what it would be like if I could stretch like one. And what if it thought I was a total and utter twat because of that mimicry?

Dogs (I haven’t got a dog either) 🐶 probably love it when we get down and roll around and play with them. Cats – I’m not so sure.

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Another Unflattering Characterization of …

It’s an unflattering characterization of people. I hate to poke fun at any one gender but the harsh reality is that I’ve only experienced the humiliation of being a man.

For some reason this reminds me of a time back at school. There was a girl in my Existential Philosophy Class that I thought was nice, so I asked her if she’d like to go for a coffee. (“No.”) ‘Not a coffee drinker eh???’

Maybe pizza would be the thing to coax her out of her shell? (“Sorry, I can’t. I’m rearranging my sock drawer.”) ‘Neat and tidy! This girl is getting better and better by the phone-call!’

I made the mistake of not being savvy enough to pick-up on the clues that were being left for me. For all the times I spoke to her about going out (a respectful number of times: three) she said no.

BUT THEN she snagged my back-pack at the end of class and asked ME if I’d like to go to the reggae concert. Well of course! We made plans to meet there, the show started at 7:30 so I should be there before. (I was.)

I was there at 7:30… and 8:00…. and 9:00… and just as the house lights went up she walked in, flanked by a group of her friends, pointed at me and started laughing hysterically and then walked out. Sure, I could have and perhaps should have said something but I didn’t. No, instead I waited until today to relive the horror and grief!

JK! It really didn’t impact me that dramatically at the time. And while cancer certainly slowed me down a peg or two I’m pretty sure it killed her so… Karma – DON’T F**K WITH IT!

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Boa Constrictors Get a Bad Wrap

Double-header for today.

Poor snakes. Does anyone (normal) really like them? We just celebrated St. Patrick’s Day – St Patrick was the Irish (he was actually Italian – look it up) Saint who allegedly drove all the snakes out of Ireland. We know that didn’t actually happen because the last time I was in Ireland I wasn’t overrun up to my ears in rats and mice!

As far as yoga goes (btw, I should probably clear this up now: I don’t practice yoga – I came close but never actually did it) snakes are a great archetype: they are lean and flexible and they have great breathing… not having any limbs or opposable digits makes them deficient for enough things that they can take some solace at being superlative for most yoga postures.

…what if they were good at other things? What if they could program/hack computers? What if they hacked into all those new-wave ‘breathing’ and mindfulness apps??? WHAT IF their grand plan was to empty our wallets AND our lungs and then crush us? Patrick – you may have been on to something after all!

“T’is you, t’is you must go and I must bide.”

Come back soon! I won’t post anything until tomorrow but I really like watching my click-count go up! 😉

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This actually happened to me (twice)

This actually happened to me twice. Once was while on a date with my wife at an upscale restaurant in Boston (the kind of place that serves pepper flavored ice cream for desert). I called my dad and he gave his credit card information to the manager who ran the transaction in his name. (This was my fault. I ‘forgot’ to pay my bill… (forgot))

The second time was at Hotel Le Bristol in Paris. My wife (same woman from the previous paragraph) and I had afternoon tea while celebrating our anniversary. My card got declined. (RUN IT AGAIN!) DECLINED! (RUN THAT F**KING THING AGAIN!) DECLINED! The bill was something like 70 Euro. I had a fistful of dollars, a pocket of pound coins and some (improbably enough) Renminbi! The manager (once again) was able to convert it all to EUR and allow us to leave.

On the way out of the hotel I called my bank and asked what had happened…. is there some problem with my account???? “No sir, we were having a problem with our global payment system.”

The moral to my story is that no mater what I do – I always look like a schlub.

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I actually saw this place

I didn’t create this as much as I just sort of rendered it into my own warped universe of demented people and grueling situations.

While walking out of my Doctor’s office I saw a jewelry shop called “Destiny” and it really, honestly and truly had a sign that said that they had closed due to “unforeseen” circumstances.

THAT made me laugh.

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Room Enough At Last

Ah – room enough at last! Enough space to stretch out and organize. I can finally be lavish with space: space for my paintings to go up on the wall. Space for my computers to dwell without having to throw a blanket over them when people come over. Room Enough At Last.

If you are ever in “The Twilight Zone” and bump into Henry Bemis, tell him to find an optometrist or a drug store and keep trying on glasses until they fit.

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Another (of the many) Stories Of My Life

One of the best things about people is that they are predictable. We always look down on dogs and cats and dolphins as being predictable, but humans are predictable too.

You don’t believe me? Pretend to have something totally unctuous but of incredible value and I PROMISE – someone will come along and say that they want it, it was theirs first or ask if you want to part with it.

What it comes down to is moral fiber. Nine out of 10 doctors will tell you that a diet of low moral fiber will cause you to make rash, pretentious and socially dangerous behavior. If you don’t know what you want to be when YOU grow-up it is very simple to rectify. Look for a person that appears happy and TAKE everything that they have. Even if you don’t need it or know what to do with it.

That gives me another idea: (actually I’ve been telling this one for years!)

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The Realm of Theory

I could have been an excellent plumber, I had all the requisite skills: creativity, wit, spatial sense.

Wait – what are we taking about, plumbing?? I mean jewelry design!!!!

Seriously speaking plumbing is a watershed moment for Man and science: the ability to direct and control the flow of water changed the world. And there is plenty of theory behind it. If you don’t believe me try spending a few moments sweating a copper pipe with tin/silver solder while the pipe has water in it!

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The Most Dangerous Four (or Five) Words in the English Language

I can remember a time that my older brother’s friend called the house looking for help; his computer had acted-up and he couldn’t find the paper he had been working on for hours.

It was actually really easy to guide him on how to find his file on his disk and restore it from where he had last saved. My brother’s friend was greatly appreciative and my father was really impressed. I was just a little kid and I had done something so abstract and (to his mind) complex without evening being in the room where it was happening.

I was young.

I was savvy.

I was on my way! I was going to get there and I was going to stay there. Nothing was going to stop me – why?

Because

THIS
TIME
IT’S
DIFFERENT
(is that 4 or 5 words?)

… I was on my way to being a middle-aged person who needs his kids to show him how to set-up a Zoom meeting.

The moral to the story: the torch is always passed. And if you’re dumb enough to try to hold it too long it WILL burn you. 🔥

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I’ve been in this particular situation

Keep in mind – I’m actually old. So old, that I’m out of date for anything meaningful (ergo I make these idiotic comics and publish them to a free blog – you do the calculus on my life’s trajectory!)

When I started it was completely OK to treat people with little or no respect. I wish I had better guidance then. I wish I could give the kind of guidance that kids today need (but I can’t).

Pick your moments folks.

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Also Ran

This one is actually very, very old. (Some of these are ideas I drafted 10-15 years ago while sitting at my desk…)

Those SWAP valuations didn’t just jump up off the page!

This idea is actually MUCH older than that… maybe 25 or 30 years old. My friend and I would sit around with a few pints of Guinness (pronounced GENIUS) and spec out the movie to end all movies: “ALSO RAN” a story about a guy trying to get his act together – and a samurai who travels time to kill him… because he’s a douche.

I have the whole storyboard and about forty pages of notes on this project. Anyone who wants to make it – just give me a holler – we can play ball. (That’s another movie idea we had – but I can’t go into it here and now…)

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Buyer’s Remora

Yeah – leeches are gross. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one; I have only seen them in late night YouTube rabbit-hole marathon watching sessions. But they are really gross. It’s like having a sliver of beet stuck to you.

BUT

You can remove them relatively quickly and easily and that’s that.

Bedbugs on the other hand/… they set-up camp in your home never leave. They wait for you to sleep (if you can, knowing you have bedbugs in your house) and make multiple small meals of your blood. (They call the three bites you find when you have bedbugs “BLD” BREAKFAST, LUNCH and DINNER.)

Sure – you can call a pest specialist. And they will kill most of them. Just not ALL of them. And the ones that remain can wait for months and months and months to reappear.

You can move – but they lodge in the crevices of your furniture and lay eggs in your curtains. So, unless you burn everything you own, they’re moving with you.

Gross.

***(Thank you J.Gates. I appreciate the heads up on my goofy spelling (never my strong suit)

P.S. Your brother’s software has meant a great deal to me. Please tell him how much my 11 year old self appreciated being able to come home from school and do integrated text and graphics book reports!)

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Index Shmindex!

Blame Mike Myers!

”SCOTTTTTTTTT!”

I know a broker named Scott. The truth of the matter is that he’s a legitimate Yogi with money; serene and knowing, patient and wise. (He’s more tennis and rowing than yoga and wheat germ…) But the character from the “Austin Powers” movies means the name fits. “John” is too generic.
”David” is too complicated – it comes with a backstory based on all the other David’s we know.

Scott on the other hand is one hard syllable and disappears as fast as it comes up on your radar.

(the moral to this story is, Scott, if you’re reading this (.000000000001% chance) I’m sorry. It really isn’t you. It’s me. It is my decrepit and dysfunctional brain.)

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Money is a Cruel Mistress

Strike that – mistresses are by nature cruel. REALLY cruel. They know they have you by the short and curlies and they use that leverage with the skill of a Judo master.

The moral to the story is to keep everything on the straight and narrow and where everyone can see.

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Not All Lawyers Are Bad

No, not all lawyers are bad. Some of them die.

Lawyers make me feel like I’m in a bad nursery rhyme… like I’m about to hire a dog to chase a cat (who is the dog’s best friend) to scare a rat (who is the cat’s neighbor and also a shill for the dog!)… you get the idea. It never ends.

…time for a segue!

Let’s delve into my other life, managing money. I’ll introduce some different bits and pieces under the moniker “Brokers and Jokers”.

I interned for a brokerage firm – it was the first time I ever had to wear a tie on a daily basis! Anyway – all the calls would go through the front desk. Debbie would route the calls to each of the brokers. New inquiries would go to the “Broker of the Day”. Debbie had a list of all the new brokers. Someone (I don’t know who, but I do have my suspicions) put a post-it note on top of Debbie’s list with the word “JOKER” on it… and ‘Joker of the Day’ was born!

And now “Brokers and Jokers” will see the light of day.

And if we are all lucky it will go the way of the brokerage firm I interned with: it will flourish and go from strength to strength!

(Actually – what really happened was that I had to chase some mid-level funky (just like me) for payment for some SWAPS my client had sold them. “Call me at 9AM – I’ll get my manager to approve payment…”

“Listen – call me back at 1PM – he’s going to come out of the meeting he’s in and I’ll get him to sign-off on payment”

… by 4PM they were gone. POOOF! Like they never existed.

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Fortune Favors the Bold

… and punishes the stupid.

My poor toothbrush. He’s just not very smart or very tactful (neither is his owner.) He sees things on tv and wants to try them at home. [Find: “tv” / Replace with: “Pornhub” … Find: “home” / Replace with: “in bed”.]

Not very smart.

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Preview of the future

Renee Descartes … I think, therefore I am. Sure – everyone knows that. Who remembers: “there can be no mountain without a valley”? Delving into the essential relationships between the antitheses of things. Light/Dark. Up/Down. big/S M A L L. Trust/AntiTrust.

Maybe not the same type of thing…

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The Eyes Have It!

Is there anything more withering than bad eyebrows? I shouldn’t always voice that opine aloud as from time to time I need to get the weed-whacked out to clear the channel between the right and left brow.

But what about people who go TOO far?

The most painful thing I see again and again is when a friend takes them all the way back and then tattoos a “New and Improved” brow line in… but in a color that is just ‘off’. YUCK!

I guess I’m not really a friend then.

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This is the story of my entire life

If I were meant to be a gymnast, I’d be shaped like a gymnast. If I were meant to be a soloist in a ballet company, I’d be shaped like one.

Instead I got through life shaped like a person that a gymnast or a soloist would call to belly-but their refrigerator off of a balcony so that they could watch it crush a car.

I am as God made me.

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Cancer on Society

I love reading stories about how cereal murderers and rapists get to live into the late innings of life without so much as tooth decay.

Meanwhile the rest of us (who am I kidding? I get ONE viewer! (Me)) are dodging cancer, heart disease, dyspepsia and taxation!

Perhaps I need to do something heinous (like these posts?). NOOOO! REALLY UGLY (yeah – like these posts!) so that I can get sent to an immortality clinic – rather – penitentiary!