Tomorrow is The Dark Night for The Dark Knight

To commemorate the release of The Dark Knight tomorrow my wife, brother, and sister-in-law were going to dress up as different Batman characters.  As we were unable to do that we decided to make cheap t-shirts with villains on them.  The writing reads "Who's Next?" As in what villain will be in the next film.  

The images look grainy when enlarged because my camera flash keeps catching light off of the paint and Lindsey's shirt, (Harley Quinn) was the test shirt.  This was before I realized the stencil needs to be removed within 10 minutes of painting the shirt otherwise bits of the stencil will adhere to the paint.  I'm going to try washing it to see if the stencil will wash out.

 

This is Lindsey's, she likes Harley Quinn

This is for The Britt

This is Brett's.  It's supposed to be the 

Mad Hatter, I think it looks okay.

Here's mine, The Riddler.  All of these images will take on a more matte finish once I heat set them for a few minutes, I just need to be sure the images are dry enough not to bleed.  I'll probably heat set them tomorrow morning.  Happy Dark Knight everybody!

In the vein of Joe

This is a re-tooled design of Judas, yes the one from the Bible, 

for Kelly Loosli's redhead documentary.  Kelly is using character

designs done by the master of clean lines, Joe Olson (a link  to 

his blog is in my links section). So, after seeing the inconsistency

of my design to Joe's I re-did the character to look like something

he would have done.  Hopefully I didn't fall too flat on my face.

Confirmation of a long-held belief

Those who read this blog, and here I assume readers to be my wife, Lindsey, or the occasional passer-by looking for information on the Brandon, Iowa hockey team, may think I consider my wife to be insane.  I have, on multiple occasions, referenced her tendencies towards physical abuse, to gloat at the misfortune of others, and an inability to remain coherent for more than an hour at any given time.  I can no longer merely consider my wife insane for the evidences of this fact are now too blatant to continue to ignore.  Observe.

During the first year of our marriage while dead asleep, not a usual occurrence for me, I found myself being bodily shaken by Lindsey.  Assuming she needed some sort of assistance I woke up and sincerely asked "What is it?  What's the matter?"  To which she replied, "Scottish fashions."  I paused. "Scottish fashions?" I asked her.  "Scottish fashions?"  she mimicked, and then began to laugh like a hyena before falling back to sleep.  I, on the other hand, could not force myself to close my eyes for fear that sleeping would bring on another bout of her nocturnal lunacy.

While in the second year of our marriage I, now used to the frequent nighttime mutterings of my beloved, found myself awake as a loud thunder crash took place.  I thought nothing of it but Lindsey sat bolt upright.  I again inquired after her well-being to which she turned her head towards me and, eyes still closed, butted me with her near titanium strength forehead.  I believe I said something like "Ow! What the heck?" and pushed her away from me, sure another attack was soon to follow.  The next morning, my eye barely able to open from the force of her blow, she turned to me and asked "What's this goose egg on my forehead?"  I glared at her as best I could with only one usable eye and, though I felt myself fierce at that moment, I probably only looked drunk.

Then tonight, this very night, while trying to fall asleep she turned to me, eyes still closed, then elbowed my in the ribs and spoke, "I keep seeing your head and your face keeps saying 'Thanks, a lot' because I bought the wrong kind of soap."  I assured her I was perfectly fine with the soap she bought, she hasn't actually bought any but find it's safer to play along with her more rational nighttime hallucinations, and she went back to sleep.  I am now stuck awake and faced with the prospect that my face now apparently speaks independently of my head, a feat I've not yet managed in my waking hours.  

There you have it.  I consider the above to be my most glaring evidences, examples that stand beyond reproof, of my wife's mental instability.  These are offered in the hope that you not think unkindly on me for exposing the stress under which I live and, more importantly, take pity on my poor mostly incoherent wife.  She's really crazy.

Besides the Ghost of Cat Stevens, What Terrifies You?

Those who know me know that I have many, what have been termed, "irrational fears."  I cannot use the restroom, anywhere, unless the shower curtain is open or at least has been peeked behind first.  Needles or seeing needles go into someone, I actually broke out in a cold sweat once when I had to get an IV.  I cannot stand the sight, feel, or sound of metal on teeth.  I once bit a quarter because I saw a man bite a gold coin in an old movie and thought he did so because coins taste good.  They do not.  They taste like mineralized terror. 

What few realize is that my fears are not irrational.  There is a legitimate explanation for why I am afraid or averse to certain actions or objects.  For example: 

The most prominent of my "irrational fears" is my utter disgust with "dangly" things, or things that dangle.  This stems from doing yard work and other outdoor chores alongside my father when I was younger.  He would often, at random times and especially in autumn, shout either "Polish handkerchief!" or "Snot rocket!" and proceed to jam a finger or thumb up one of nostrils and expel the contents of his nose at me.  This usually led to the discovery of some sort of mucusy nastiness dangling from some part of my body accompanied by dry heaves and occasionally an emptying of my stomach.

Lindsey does not comprehend this fear and has tried to correct what she sees as a simple, albeit strange, aversion not realizing it is a byproduct of youthful torture.  Many times she has tried to show me the used portion of a Kleenex and, generally, when she sneezes she aims her face in my direction.  I have since developed a compulsive need to wipe clean every part of my body after she sneezes at me, regardless of whether or not the foulness in her sinuses has made contact with me. 

There remains one fear, which I admit is irrational, or at least improbable, that prior to now I have not exposed.  Reflections when it is dark.  Having a mother convinced that she is a) in the Matrix, b) has driven through a forcefield, and c) has legitimately lived in a haunted house, it is understandable that when the X-Files first began airing in 1993 she fell in love almost immediately.  It became a Sunday night tradition to watch the X-Files as a family together, Brett usually hid somewhere, Alex was a baby, through her social derangement may stem from early exposure to the show, and I watched, enthralled. 

One particular episode when I was 12 managed to do what no other episode to that time had done, terrify me.  There was a cult in the show and a substitute teacher who used dark magic, holding someone's personal item over a brightly burning flame chanting, muttering, to murder the person.  I had an early morning paper route that my father graciously performed over half of the work for and allowed me to take credit for as well.  I was convinced, for some reason, that if I were to look into the windows or glass doors on my route that I would see reflected behind me that substitute teacher, holding one of my papers over the candle, chanting and muttering at me.  

This complex was strengthened when, for some reason beyond comprehension, I twice saw the re-release of The Exorcist in the theater, late at night, coming home when the house was completely dark, quiet, and I had to walk by a full-length mirror to get to my room. 

Logically I know there will be no newspaper wielding occultist substitute or demonically possessed girl in the reflection but I cannot help but keep my eyes glued to the floor when passing a mirror when it is dark. It has reached a point that I cannot look into a mirror at night, early or morning, or during an eclipse without first turning on a light.  Though my electricity bill is high my deaths by dark magic or possession is low.  I consider it a win and will gladly continue to pay extra each month to preserve my life.

Figure Drawings

These are the figure drawings I submitted in my animation portfolio. I hope only to continue to improve.

My Life in Magnets

Back in 2005, the second Thanksgiving my wife and I shared though first on our own, I made a picture of a Turkey shooting a Pilgrim with a musket, blood spurting from his chest.  I thought it rather comical and taped it up on the inside of our apartment door.  I rather enjoyed our visitor's reactions to the cutout and so when Pioneer's Day came around I made an entire scene out of construction paper depicting Indians involved in a massacre/battle with the White Man.  I also made a construction paper cut out of Uncle Sam fighting a hooded Captain Canada character of my own design for the 4th of July.

The process has evolved over time.  I have discovered, to the loss of my previous creations, that construction paper is too flimsy and will quickly disintegrate in rain.  Also, doors become too cold for tape in the winter months so I've switched to posterboard and magnetic strip tape. Armed with these tools I have continued to provide holiday depictions, now magnetized and placed on the outside of our apartment door, to the enjoyment of some and chagrin of most. Following are my surviving decorations from Halloween 2006 through Christmas of 2007, I hope you enjoy.

This is the entire scene. There used to be another witch but 

she was lost in our move from Rexburg, Idaho to Provo, Utah.

This is my take on medusa, more sea creature and less

mythological Greek creature.  I like how the hair is coming

off of the guy's head on the furthest left.

Wolfman!  Thank you Ben Caldwell.

This is the entire Halloween 2007 scene.  The gravestones

actually have the names of my brother, close friends, and,

of course, my beloved wife.  Though only the men have a listing

of how they perished.

Cindi and Britt.  My friend Jordan's wife and my brother

Brett's wife.  I thought it was funny to have Britt's zombie

eating a torso as she has so many gut problems herself.

Jordan and Brett's gravestones.

Even while our corpses are being devoured by zombies, 

Lindsey and I stick together, through and through.

This is my favorite entry from the entire Halloween 2007 scene.

You have no idea how long it took to orchestrate this.

This what greeted my neighbors and their out of

town guests this past Thanksgiving. 

I don't know why but the concept of Turkeys eating

a bowl of mashed human eyeballs instead of potatoes

really makes me laugh.

Ah, the center piece. 

I don't know why turkeys would eat the insides (gizzards)

of a human when we do not eat theirs but I was running low on 

side-dishes for my human thanksgiving so, they're eating innards.

My wife, who is not deranged, usually makes these

type of holiday decorations.  They're really cool though

a little lacking in the gore department.

The theme I chose for this Christmas was "A Twisted

Christmas Carol."  This is Ebeneezer Scrooge.

Bob Crachitt and his son, Tiny Tim.  I had thought

about making his crutch a ukulele.  I seriously doubt

anyone born in the last 20 years will get that.

I included this close-up so you can see that, yes,

those are his leg bones sticking out.

Jacob Marley, though he looks more like an extra

from the Thriller video.

The ghost of Christmas Past.  If you don't know why

her hand is on fire or why she's holding a candle

extinguisher, read the story.

The ghost of Christmas present.  This dude was may favorite

of all the different characters I made for Christmas.  The pre-cut

out designs looked much better than what you see here but he's 

still my favorite.  The shine from the glue makes me mad though.

The ghost of Christmas yet to come.  I totally phoned this one

in but I love his fingernail.  If this pic enlarges when you click on it

check it out.

Rivers Cuomo and the Mysterious Devolution of Weezer

At one time I would have been proud to proclaim myself a Weezer fan.  In fact up until 2001, which saw the release of Weezer's green album, the musical landscape had seen only positive contributions from Weezer, specifically Rivers Cuomo who is frontman and songwriter for the group.  As the release of the group's six album, dubbed the red album due to its cover art, approaches this listener felt a sense of nostalgia and a desire to listen to the Weezer's past catalogue overcame me.  As I turned my ear to the hours of released music a curious thought struck me.  Weezer is devolving.

The blue album, first in the lineup, is a classic record.  I love every song and can listen through the album in its entirety without once feeling the need to skip over a track.  The lyrics, though not overly deep or profound, have a quaint and reassuring consistency to them.  At times Cuomo seems to poke fun at the over lyricism some groups are given to.  The guitars and drums set great pop rhythms and are not overbearing nor do they fade into obscurity.

Pinkerton, Weezer's second release, is a completely different record but at least shows growth.  The lyrics keep to the same simplistic form from the blue album but are overly specific, referring to girlfriends by name and are very literal.  There is no room for interpretation as Cuomo is telling you what is happening.  The guitars have a much grittier lo-fi feel to them but given the dark nature of the songs fit well with the lyrics.  Many proclaim the album shows growth but as you go back through and listen to Weezer's catalogue this is clearly identifiable as the cracking up stage.  It is not a record that one can listen to straight through.  The dark tone doesn't vary, the first four songs are essentially the same, and by the time the listener is half way through its about time for a break. 

Their third release, the green album, is an attempt to return to the pop ballads that created such a diehard fanbase with the blue album.  It falls flat on its face.  It is the first album that Cuomo openly acknowledges his use of marijuana in his songwriting process, a fact that will continue to be loudly proclaimed and seen as detrimental on later releases.  The album has only three unforgettable songs, regrettably Hash Pipe, Photograph, and Island in the Sun.  The rest can be disposed of as, similar to Pinkerton, all other songs on the album are essentially the same tune just timed differently.

Maladroit is even more deplorable.  The guitars are all overbearing, fast paced, and the guitar solos, so unique and beautiful on the blue album, all unimaginatively follow the vocal line on each song.  Its as though Cuomo wanted to add another verse but decided to play the guitar instead of sing.  There is only one truly great song on the entire album, Keep Fishin', and the music video featuring the Muppets is more memorable than the song itself.  

To even mention Make Believe as a Weezer release hurts.  I would still have called Weezer a great group, despite their inability to remain consistently good, had this record never been released.  There is not one redeemable song on the entire album.  The lyrics have devolved into childish rhymes such as "When you're out with your friends/in your new Mercedes Benz/ and you're/on drugs."  Are you kidding me?  That is the LAMEST line in almost all of musicdom.   I would rather listen to Biz Markee warbling "You, you got what I need" than subject myself to the idiocy expressed on this album.  It is quite obvious Weezer, or at least Cuomo, wanted merely to cash in on their once good name for something.  Gee, is now a good time to bring up Hash Pipe from the GREEN album?  Seriously, that can't be a coincidence.

With Weezer's latest single, Pork and Beans, from their upcoming sixth album the group seems to have, musically, gone back to the Maladroit era.  Cuomo, though, still displays his wretched inability to write coherent or meaningful lyrics (lay off the ganj man).  I now cringe when asked if I like Weezer and must qualify my answer by excluding most of the green album and Maladroit and all of Make Believe.  I had to ask several acquaintances to stop bringing up the group around me as I realized that when they did I began to grind my teeth.  

So we come to the conclusion.  While the sixth album may show an evening out of sorts for Weezer, fans may be better off tracking down Single b-sides and listening to those.  There are about 17 studio b-sides the group released on their export Singles and if Pork and Beans is any indicator they should be better than the upcoming album. In other words, don't waste your time on what was once a good group and, in the name of good dental hygiene, don't talk about them around me.