Yes, me beasties.

Just this past weekend, yours truly went to Seattle for the first time in around 4 years. I hated that place, the traffic, the overcrowding, the ridiculous prices. I went for a concert, the infamous Dethklok. The show was brutal, loud, punishing. I went with one of my dearest homies, the ever politically conservative stanky Frank. We ate clam strips, drank beer, moshed, drank beer, ate Huevos Rancheros, drank beer, and slammed Dim Sum at House of Hong with a vengeance. We kicked it the way fellas should, good music, great food, lots of beer, and even more laughs. I miss those bitches already, and so I dedicate this film that I made of the drive from Moscow to Seattle to them.

Mahalo, Brudda

All right. Artistic fervor aside for the time being, let's delve into the food. One of my vices is, indeed, the bestest of any ethnic food that comes my way. Case in point, a local haunt by the name of "Loco Grinz". It's fairly expensive for a plate, but it is worth it every now and then for a genuine Hawaiian plate lunch.

Vice number two of mine is the travel channel. Last night was a Man v. Food episode that focused on the big island and it's various local fare. Most of the big food is some kind of Hawaiian mish-mash of converging cultures, resulting in the construction of such dishes as the teriyaki and beef cheeseburger with egg on top. Lovely, tears beginning to stream. Wait, here comes a new dish, with a local history no less. Who cares about the history, though, when a plate of Moco Loco is staring you in the face and watching YOU back down? Lets, do a layer by layer roll call of this monstrosity. Pile of steamed white rice? Check. Two 1/4 lb. hamburger patties? Check. Two sunnyside up fried eggs? Check. Last but not least, the succulent brown gravy to drizzle over top of this protein/carb behemoth. Check. Large book to cover the hard-on in your lap. Optional.

Long in short, I was now curious to know as to whether or not this local establishment actually had the fabled Moco Loco on the menu, as I had never seen it. Today, young Cassius in tow, I boldly strode into yon restaurant and kindly asked the girl for a menu. There it is, staring right at me; the certified angus beef interpretation that is prepared on this premises. I order it in a two entree meal. Here goes the order: french fries, pork fried noodles, steamed veggies, chicken katsu, and a loco moco. Insane, I know. Cassius is going to have nightmares from this plate for years, images of the wild beefy gravy pile snarling and fighting off his father trying to plunge far too weak a weapon into its' thick hide. In any case, this post has taken over 3 hours to write, as my fingers are so fat and swollen that I can no longer dial a phone, and any keyboard activity is strictly hunt and peck. I'd have it no other way, as it is diet season for me, and this was the treat of the week. What a treat. Aloha, slutbags.

More stuff from the marvel front!

Please press play before reading. It will blow your mind!



I sit here reinspired after a night of Jonny Quest on Boomerang. What is it about those cool old shows that just stokes the flames? Is it the fact that they made something so cool on such a bare bones budget with minimal manpower? I think it's that rowdy theme music. That music starts and you just want to slug some frogmen and make a daring escape into a diving bell. My first pics here are some work on the big green machine. The hulk easily fits into that same action category as Jonny Quest, he had some late 60's action as produced by Hanna Barberra, too. In any case, here's some of the work.



Was trying to get down some movement on that sketch, on this one it's just work on the lighting.






This last pic is of a character that really didn't hit it big until the 90's, personally I don't like him much, but some fella asked me to bust out a pic of him. Guess he has a thing for Cajun swamp rats. This is my take on Gambit.





Hope y'all enjoy it. Any comments welcome. Later, pusscakes.- D.S.

Octo-draw

Recently I came up with the design of a tattoo that I would like to get someday. It is a rendering of an octopus done completely in black and white. It represnets my background in grappling(not that I was ever any good), however many years ago that was. I later did a stint in the submission wrestling club at the University of Idaho, triangle chokes and all. It wasn't until I saw a video of what an octopus is capable of that I made the connection.


Lovely, yes? I know that this video went a bit viral, but I can always hope that not everyone has seen it yet. In any case, this design is the result of that power. Octopus are intelligent, patient, strong, elusive, and opportunistic. Is it any wonder that they are still around after millions upon millions? To me, they're the living incarnation of the old saying "Speak softly and carry a big stick. You will go far."

Been workin' on it.

If anyone thinks that I have been doing nothing artistically as of late, you could not be farther from wrong. Truth is, I have been doing a lot of art, though it is far less than I would like to be doing. Been drawing a lot, which is any artist's first love. It's where we began, and ultimately where we will end. It keeps any of our other skills up to snuff and dually serves as a fantastic pastime. Here is a sketch of some characters that I'm working on for my own personal comic book.


The title character is named Bob Oso. He's a bear that I modeled after a version of myself a few (much skinnier) years ago. He moonlights as a Luchador named "El Autobus" and has a very endearing streak of callousness. In other work, I've challenged myself to put a personal touch to some pop culture figures, including this oft forgotten menace.


His name is trapjaw, and he likes white wine spritzers, long walks on the beach , and the occasional backrub. As having grown up watching masters of the universe, it's only natural that I would have an affinity for this buffoon. Not quite worked out yet, but I do like his look thus far. In any case, more posts to come soon.

One good Thing deserves another.

So, in my recent rediscovery of my own talents, I came upon an older sketchbook with some impressive musings that I had laid down on paper. Amongst them were the following renderings of a true original from the Marvel universe.


In a further exercise of the same character, I deided to rework the details of Mr.Grimm's lovely facial features.



In closing, I truly hope that those few who can view my work can look on it positively and appreciate my artistic point of view. If not, you have permission to peel my banana and fucking like it.- D.S.

Practice makes...uh...

Alright, true to my earlier post having everything to do with me being a lazy ass I am posting a pic of some of my recent work. This is my very quick pencil rendering of the classic beast known as the Swamp Thing. I thought to myself, it's been a while since that mo-fo has been visible on any news stands. So I went to the DC comics sight, and I guess the reason for Swampy's low visibility these days is because those bitch nuggets cancelled the series. Oh well, Swamps did find work recently. According to Gilbert Gottfried, Swamp Thing most recently hosted the Comedy Central roast of Joan Rivers, whining about it's hollywood D- List status and openly embracing smurfy queers like Mario Cantone. Enjoy my gifts, attention whores.- D.S.

Time for some Sunday fun

It's been a whirlwind of activity around here the last month or so, enough so that I'm actually excited about the upcoming school year and looking forward to the challenge, now that I'm painfully close to the light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. There is a picture that actually captures perfectly the way I feel right now. Enjoy, bitches.

If you are not in the know...

I'm turning you onto my fave cartoon. Metalocalypse. This is an episode focusing onthe birthday of the band's bassist, "Murderface". The episode is called "Birthdayface".

Metalocalypse S1E3 - Birthdayface

Yaaarrrgghh!!!

So, as we near the date of the wedding of my cousin Cesar, it so happens that he has asked me to stand with him. As one of his fellas of honor. Lovely. Barely a week out and your fatness decided to super-hero leap over a chair at the bar of his employ, chasing down a loudly grinding door alarm somewhere in the back. Upon my foot landing, the downward pressure of my monstrous bulk proved too much for the awesome bulk of my size 13 4E doggies.

I sit here at my computer torn a bit, unhappy to be missing work and the good feeling of cash money tips at the end of the night, but overjoyed at the feeling of being able to bust out new family rivalries on the WII that just adopted my family. The doc said to keep weight off of my foot. Impossible, how can I properly throw a digital frisbee or get proper trajectory on the fictional fairway without my planting foot? Damn, technology does bring out the secret nerd that lurks somewhere in the back of my psyche.

Yes, regrettably I may have a slight limp going down the aisle at said wedding if I don't take it easy. Try taking it easy as you cut a bunch of wookies down to size with the force.

Not bad, I sez...

It's been a while since I've posted on here. Seems like things just kind of fall by the wayside as my motivations hit their stride, and then inevitably wane late in their season and my creativity hibernates in a dream state. At this late hour, I begin to wonder, can I only be creative when I have built up a sufficient store of materials to use as kindling? Sure seems that way. I never stop being creative, however, I do find it troublesome to produce in a way that is actually productive, that actually yields results. It is with this pestering thought that I have decided to make this blog that I have rarely used into my personal outlet for all that I create. Whether it be poetry or drawings, paintings, stories, scripts, comic panels or just odd photographs, I'm putting it here. This is my world now, here I can be the almighty. And just as the Almighty said to Moses, "Who made man's mouth?", I'll use this vessel to spread the gospel of my equally foul and wonderful musings. Looking for subscribers, spread the word.- D.S.

Is it just me?

Recently, my dear brother posted a blog where he utterly lambasted the right wing politickers of our fair land. He posted it to facebook, where it was met with quite a bit of resistance by his peers down in Boise-land. While I have the luxury of living in a college town where free thought is abundant and we actually do listen to someone aside from Rush Limbaugh, he lives in a land where a girl who uses a condom is considered a baby killer. I am a mere stone's throw (Moscow, Id is only 8 miles from Pullman, Wa)from a consistently blue state, whilst he is smack dab in the middle of a bible belty, super evangelical, fire and brimstone, close the border down because Arabs and Mexicans look like the same kind of mud RED STATE. Shit, the potatoes here grow better when Savage Nation is played over a loud speaker.

I can tolerate the arguments from the far right, I can even see their point of view. Our government spends too much money, so much that they occasionally have to raise taxes to cover costs. Universal health care, while humane, would indeed raise our taxes. Mexicans running over the border to wash dishes destroys the economy, since they are taking away much sought after employment. Employment that Joe the Plumber would be proud to have. Yeah, sure. It seems that the right wingers to me, any way, have an agenda of altogether ignoring the signs of things to come. Many are convinced that Global Warming is a hoax. Good for you. Now, since the ocean levels won't swallow us in the next hundred years, let's go ahead and standardize all autos to run on V-10's and conquer Iran and Venezuela so that we Americans can have extra gas for those weekend trips, or those Christian retreats where teens are told the virtues of abstinence (and then sneak into the bushes late at night for anal activity because, well. Ya know it don't count in the butt).

Hold on, did we forget about that pesky air quality? Shit, how can we stop those little kids from being born with asthma? Bastards. Well, fuck air quality. Let's grill up some steaks, bitch! Forget the fact that we just bailed out Detroit. Forget the fact that we could have been riding electric or pneumatic cars decades ago, or even been phasing out hydrogen fuel cells by now. We should have at least bee onto fabricating them cars from better materials than steel, that material is like soooo 1900. Wait, could somebody have stood to gain if all of this kept on being done the way it has been for wayyy to fucking long? It's not those guys who smile at me in those TV ads, is it? Good God, did they really sell us on that whole lifestyle idea? Did we really need to super size all that shit for the last 110 years since industry became industrious?

Bottom line is, right wingers are dolts that can spend 4 years at Yale and magically, remain just as fucking stupid as they were the day that they snorted coke in the back row at orientation. It's not that they are intellectually inferior, for the most part. They're just stubborn as a Kansas City hooker on meth. They don't get what no means, and for that matter, they also don't know what know means. These are the folks who aspired to make mountains of buffalo bones, never thinking that one day there may be none left. Righties need to stop looking at Regan as the almighty, and perhaps strive to be like the uncompromising and charismatic no bullshit John McCain of the year 2000. Had it been him head to head against Al Gore, perhaps my ballot would have been thrown to the Dems a lot less easily, or perhaps not at all. We may have been in better shape these last 8 years had we had ol' straight talk McCain at the helm during wartime, perhaps avoiding the debacle altogether. The right needs to start smelling the cafe, ya dig? Stop throwing money at the farmers for not finding methods to cut water use or developing repellents rather than pesticides. Reward school districts for innovative educational practices, and expand the school district to include evening classes for vocational rehabilitation so we can start to improve the socio-economic status of these urban and rural areas. And for fucks sake, stop whining about people who English is not their first language. Your kids are going to learn Spanish just because they got a thing for them Latin curves.

Last but not least, let's do something about them troops. Why not send some to AFGHANISTAN, or as I call it, Diet Armenia. Now, it has undeniably been the judgement of the right that has been inching us into this boiling pot of water since 2001, but I must say, it is not their fault entirely. It seems that the Dems have been too fucking pussy since Slick Willy got out of office to so much as give a polite "good day" while watching Orrin Hatch squat low and bust off a big, fat, steaming, chocolaty pile of "fuck you" right on that democrat lawn while reading their newspaper. It's our fault too, it seems that we've forgotten how to stage a good coup. Anyone else thinking Jesse Ventura?

Tasty Tasty Beer.

This post is meant to be read by others of my bulky species, who can appreciate a cold oat soda as one of those small but sweet retreats. Frothy and frosty, they seem to turn the room gold when poured into a tall glass. Relax! Damn it...IN the classic tradition, our love for the simple pleasures have a profound effect on the proverbial winter layers appreciated by all of us lumbering beasties. I have recently taken it upon myself to control my zealous consumption, as it will undoubtedly take me earlier from my cubs than I would like to. Incredible gusto does have it's price.

What has been given up exacly? Golden french fries. Sweet cigars. The amber glow of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Double Cheeseburgers with bacon. The hanging mist of a crackling clove cigarette after a plate of finger steaks and onion rings. No more. Not to the extent of my former abuse, anyways. It so happens that our lot lives life wrapped in flavor, literally. We need music, art, culture, and food. We need it in broad sweeps as wide and far as the clouds at sunset. Fear not, for there are plenty of other flavors just as tasty that can be foraged without an ounce of the guilt associated with their deep fried nemeses. Toss out them fries and take some time to slice up some sweet peppers and avocados. Think of olive oil and balsamic vinegar on some baguette slices with pickled asparagus. Olives and chunks of feta on the side of some grilled salmon. Lovely, yes? Perhaps a little common sense can make for a more pleasant doctors visit and some easier sleep at night.

This is not all the change that can happen, however. As it is the dawn of a brand new year, and I do believe that we have a shade under 4 years until the end of the world and I would like to have a rockin' body when our planet caves in. Therefore, I have resumed the weight training that granted me a beastly size some years back. This time around, however, I will have trouble justifying eating a dozen eggs and a steak in one sitting. What else can fuel me with enough protein without the massive calories? Chocolate milk and ham sandwiches now become a part of my daily forage. No, not a jug of choc milk and a triple decker ham sammich. A glass and two slices of bread with tomatoes, lettuce, and ham can do me good. I like the weights, but I'm not trying to dead lift cars this time around. Just to be stronger, lighter, and a bit leaner. I think that the kiddies deserve a daddy who can keep up with their little feets, and my wifey deserves a man who doesn't wake her up with thunderous sleep apnea. There are sweeter treats than the ones we eat.- D.S.

Release the Hounds!

Well, as it is Tuesday in the week preceding my return to classes at the Uof I, I am understandably anxious. I feel good about the prospect of actually attending classes, about not having to work some shitty job that I'm using partially to keep bills paid and partially as an excuse to not grow up and graduate. Of course, I want to graduate. Given how deep the god damned snow has gotten here in Moscow over the last 3 weeks, I want in the worst way to nuke this town and watch the cloud rise in the rear view. Jesus, my kids can't even play in this snow since there's so much of the shit just piled up around here!

Imagine, if you will, watching an ecstatic 3 year old jump off the last 3 steps of your front stoop, suddenly being swallowed to the neck by the icy clutches of Moscow's wintered climes. He had taken off so fast that he left an after cloud in his wake. As his shrills of excitement turn to shrieks of horror, his reactionary older sister dives in feet first and waist deep in her rescue effort without so much as a word. It is at this moment, and every father has them, that he is reminded that he belongs to an elite yet common brotherhood. It is at this moment as his children look up with terrified and glassy eyes, immobilized by by a combination of severe winter weather and their physically small statures, you stand at the top of the steps shaking your head and gripping a snow shovel ironically thinking about how a few brief years before, someone looked on you in many similarly pathetic situations shaking their heads in the exact same way. A small rewind in the memory to bundling up the children with great care in preparation for the outdoors, the jackets, hats, snow pants, boots, gloves, jackets, scarves, whatever. You had this feeling that this exact scenario would unfold, even with your careful warnings to the children that it would. As you sigh, and remember where you are looking down at your sniveling little ones deciding whether or not to give them the "I told you so", or just to let them see the "I told you so" look on your face as you pull them out of the snow. Dads the world over have mastered this look, and you know that when you give it to them that you are passing it on from someone who masterfully taught it to you in the same way they were taught themselves. The "I told you so" look is a genuine human heirloom, interwoven into the very fabric of societies and cultures the world over since the dawn of stupidity. It is the signal of manhood as you realize it's significance, and the gong that introduces that sobering question as you grasp little bodies and drag them shivering up the steps, "Fuck. Was I really this dumb?"

This is Jesus, Kent.

This being my maiden blog on this given web space, I shall try to keep it short and to the point. Having said that, those whom have read my previous posts elsewhere know that my literary adventures often wind up being a veritable odyssey, so I'm giving no promises.

At the present time, I have quite a bit of spare time on my hands. Being between semesters here in the Great White North, not even my rock steady job as head bouncer at the local slut factory can fight the whims of the holiday hiatus. These are the physical constraints of a college town, which sucks for my wallet, but affords me all sorts of down time. It's been a little over 2 months since I quit as a custodian at the University of Idaho. It's a good thing I have a sugar momma and another job, let's just say that I'm not too keen on holding 2 jobs at a time any more. I would not have minded it so much, had either of the jobs actually paid enough to make a dent in our sizable debt. In any case, I was at my wits end taking orders from supervisors who spent more time listening to Dire Straits and the Steve Miller Band, trying to figure out crossword puzzles, and wondering why they just couldn't seem to figure out sudoku than get off their asses and work. It seemed every day that when we came to work that they told us we were soooo behind schedule, so we really gotta kick it in the ass or else...we might have to do the same fucking thing tomorrow! Pardon my sarcasm, but it's hard to listen to some bottom of the barrell chimpanzees telling a room full of people smarter than them this shit while they sit and search amazon for the download that mey just complete their fag jams collection while simultaneously searching ebay for a flux capacitor, since the 80's were the last time those tards got laid. Yeah, I had to quit.

Long in short, I've got some free time. I have had time enough to pull the sketchbook out, time enough to register to get back into school, time enough to start exercising again, time enough to play with my kids and pay attention to me wife. Lots of good time. Now, I know that it will not always be like this, so I'm going to soak it up while I can. Been cooking like a mofo, which one would think should have pack another winter layer on this badass grizzly, however, my daily rituals of "perfect pushups" and dumbbell squats have staved off the bodacious effects of my lethal Hom Bao and refried beans combo.

Another good side effect as of late has been my reacquaintance with my television. I love it dearly. Having just finished watching "Real Genius" while cooking beans and blogging at the same time, I will not defend my actions that are highly indicative of my A.D.D., suffice to say that as the movie just ended, I search the channels for other viewing pleasures and come across Thunderheart on AMC. Nice! A further search reveals Die Hard with a vengeance on TBS. Holy Shit! Are Val Kilmer and Graham Greene out to manipulate my day?!?! Am I going to have to run out and rent Top Secret and Dances With Wolves? Fantastic. Who can argue the colossal inspiration behind the performances of these two powerhouses?

Knowing me, I do have a favorite channel at this time, and that channel is G4. This last friday, I was enraptured as I looked at their lineup for the first friday I've had off in over 3 months. There was a Tron and Batman sandwich. How can I handle all of this on a friday? I'm so used to needing my tough-guy act and cussing out underage girls who try to get into the bar, I never have a chance to get this nerdy! Jack Nicholson versus the MCP goddammit! Holy Jesus...Inspired! I pull out my sketchbook and hop on the net planning to write a sequel to Tron...What the hell, ya know? If any movie needs a sequel right now, it's Tron. The Batman franchise has had it's chances, but really? 25 plus years and no new Tron?! utter sacrelig. Hokayyy... IMDB...a little prelim sketch... Bridges and Boxleitner...mm hmm... this is gonna be awesome...all right... wait a min, WHAT THE FUCK?? SON OF A BITCH!!! Amongst my reveling, as my mind flies freely and oozes ideas of new rolds, it hits a very hard wall much like a sparrow whacks a picture window before curling up it's little legs and sputtering forth the dying breath. TR2N. A sequel in the makes. Even a pirated preview recorded by some bastard fanboy at ComiCon. Yes, there's the lightcycle sequence and then...oh no...uproarious applause from the gaggle of nerds as we see the aged face of Jeff Bridges overlooking a computer screen. I rewind it a bit...ahhh yes, the sound of dorks creaming their twinkies. Crushed hopes, yes. But undeniably, excited to know that there will be a sequel to this very worthy film, in an age that can technologically interpret this story beautifully. Once again inspired, I head to my room to pull out the Namco Museum plug n' play, for I have enemies waiting to be destroyed via my lightning thumb in Galaxian. Alas, a new pair of underwear as well, for in all the excitement, my pants hath become a jizz target for my inner nerd. There ain't no word in Sioux for goodbye.- D.S.