A slightly crunchy, lineart version of Saturday's Templar, Arizona page is currently up. I'm not thrilled with updating with a page in this kinda half-finished state, but I figure you guys would rather just get on with the story than wait for me to find the time to tone it Sunday night.
I'm busy busy busy this weekend; the blurb at the bottom of the update page should bring you guys up to speed as to why.
Thanks again for supporting/reading/linking the comic, guys. Your positive response is like 99% of the reason it's gone twice-weekly. SEE HOW I FLOURISH UNDER YOUR PRAISE.
That's because I wanna try and get two pages done this week, too.
SO AMBITIOUS. Read it here. The musical references just keep pilin' on up, don't they?
And I'm down with Reagan on this one. I'd be makin' sure I kept my hair off the floor in a place like that, too.
By the way, y'might wanna pop over to Girlamatic and check out Lucas and Odessa, too. Just sayin'.
Attention to all you fellow "comics professionals" out there: Y'got until March 3rd to get your Harvey Award nominations in! You can download an official ballot from the site.
Notable addition this year: A "Best Webcomic" category. The times, they are a-changin'.
And, uh... while we're on the subject of nominations... far be it from me to reach over any shoulders and scribble on any ballots what ain't mine, but Shaenon Garrity recently pointed out that Keith Knight's The K Chronicles, a truly excellent weekly strip with a ten-year history published in tons of alternative papers all around the country, has never won a Harvey. Which just sort of seems incredible.
Just saying, is all.
Special Saturday update for youse guyz. My way of sayin' thanks for your patience, y'know?
Workin' on stuff for my GAM comics, too, so don't worry about that, either.
Not one, but two musical references on this page. One's a misheard lyric, but I guess the other means Ray's a bit of a Mojo Nixon fan. Not that that should surprise anybody.
Also, when I finally go insane like that cat guy and end up painting the days away in an asylum somewhere, I'm just gonna be doing page after page of endless swirls of unfeasibly long, dark hair. This is obvious to me, now.
Looks like my goofy little comic with the Jimmy Carter statue n' stuff just got picked up for tooncast by Beep!, the Daily Herald's site for folks in the Chicago suburbs. You can see it here. Pretty wild!
Better keep updating, huh?
It will update TODAY.
HA. GOTCHA. I GOTCHA.
And is it me, or does Reagan looks great in the third panel?
In other news, my husband got me lilies for Valentine's, and I had no idea that their scent was so strong and pleasant. One little bouquet's completely filled the apartment. I think I have a new favorite flower.
Because you care, don't you?
DJ BC, previously responsible for the impeccably done "The Beastles," is back with another Beatles/Beastie Boys mash-up album. This ones' called "Let is Beast." I've only listened to the first couple of tracks, "Ladies Do Love Me" and "Belly Movin,'" and I'm already ready to recommend it.
You can find it here.
It's nice to see the site's still up. I guess the Beastie Boys and The Beatles have less dirtbaggy lawyers than Green Day.
My online stuff will start updating again this week.
While you wait, contemplate my additions to the Templar, Arizona cast page. It's doubled in size. Fancy that!
Also, y'know that guy? The closet case who shot up a Massachusetts gay bar before being shot down in Arkansas himself, after killing two other people? He's in your extended network.
Very few people in your life will ever need to know absolutely everything about you.
I blog, but I don't post much in the way of personal information. I appreciate that everyone who visits takes the time to read what I write, but no matter how often you guys visit, some things just aren't any of your business, and I don't see why they should be. No malice involved, there. That's just a personal preference.
Amusingly, a lot of other people don't really feel the same way. Hence, MySpace.
Crappier than mid-90s GeoCities, more self-absorbed than a Livejournal, and ten times the eye-scorching incompetence of your average community college Web Design major. Oh, and it's full of teenagers. Functionally illiterate ones. Who type in AOL-speak and all-caps, completely devoid of irony.
Remember when the Internet was for smart people? Because I don't. Not anymore.
One of the "attractions" of registering a MySpace account seems to be the ability to stream music videos or MP3s the instant your pages loads on a visitor's browser, cheerfully resurrecting the most aggravating sin of web design ever conceived. Some overachievers like to stream both at once. You know, to bring the ruckus, as it were. Since most of these people are 16 or so, their tastes tend to run a little mainstream, and the site happily obliges them.
My Chemical Romance has a MySpace, for example. So do System of a Down, Fall Out Boy, Nelly, and a bunch of other spazzers I don't care about, but who's names function as street cred currency in the right circles. But I'm not even going to link you, because we're not talking about them.
We're talking about their families.
Not their families, specifically, but the families of the famous in general. Because they're just so much more entertaining.
I can't see her profile, but my personal favorite is probably Bobbi Kristina, daughter of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston. She calls herself "nimpho babby," claims she's 14 years old (NNMB says she's 12), and wears blue contacts. The prosti-tots are just getting better and better-adjusted, aren't they? She's gonna be some real fun to watch when puberty kicks in.
Bobby's various bastard children have MySpaces, too, but they're boring. Yawn.
You need a little palate-cleanser after someone like Bobbi K. I prefer Chyna, the daughter of Faith Evans. (Faith, if you'll remember, is the widow of The Notorious B.I.G., although I don't know if this is his kid. I don't think it is. Or maybe I just don't like to picture Biggie having sex with anyone. Hurfle.) She's clearly stupid, but in that charming, adorable way most kids her age are. And adorable is definitely the right word for this kid. Like a fluffy little bunny. "bunita chica," indeed. Study hard, dear. Mind your mother.
There's yet more hip-hop spawn to be had, of course. Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Sean Combs/etc. has two sons, Justin and Quincy, both of which have profiles. Justin claims to be 9 feet tall and make a quarter-million dollars a year. Quincy finds books to be "retarded/Stupid."
Bright, bright futures. Yes indeed.
There's also Nayrok Udab, sister of Erykah Badu. I thought Kool-Aid red weaves were over, but eh, what do I know. Erykah has "baduism," so Nayrok, in a stunning display of originality, has "hoodrok." I don't care enough about her to figure out what that is, though.
I don't consider LaToya Jackson to be famous, just associated with fame. You can find her here, carefully posed at the best possible angle to hide her mutilated nose. I remember seeing her first Playboy spread as a child. My mother looked at the Playboy she was in in a bookstore, and I peeked over her shoulder. LaToya looked like a blow-up doll.
And that is my LaToya Jackson story.
Britney Spears has a little sister named Jamie-Lynn (YEE HAW!), but she's decided to be stupid and boring and make her MySpace private. Jesus Christ, you people have ONE JOB: entertain me. And you CAN'T EVEN DO THAT. God DAMN.
But fortunately, Kevin Federline, Britney's husband, has more sense than to try and hide. Warning: K-Fed thinks he can sing. Kill your speakers.
Let me know if I've missed any, folks.