My Radially Symmetric Trip to the Pizza Joint

About an hour ago, I left my house to get some pizza. It was delicious. Greasy as all hell, but still really good. I'm getting ahead of myself already, though.

On the walk there, I was cut off by this girl in her car as she turned left. I was walking across the intersection, and I heard her come to a halt behind me, saw the mass of her car out of the corner of my eye. Then she changed her mind, apparently, as the car lurched forward and turned a foot in front of me. I leaned over and gave her a wave and a smile, but her head was tilted such that I couldn't possibly exist in her field of vision, and the muscles of her jaw were nothing if not resolute. I laughed uneasily, and turned to watch her drive off. She was looking left now, if only to avoid seeing me in the rear view mirror.

Then I had some pizza. Did I mention it was delicious? A couple at the table next to me was speaking animatedly in Japanese, which was exciting, but I couldn't make out a word of it.

On the way back, I heard someone shouting in a sing-song voice, although it took me a moment to locate the source. A wild-haired old man was sitting against a convenience store in the shade. He spotted me, or perhaps he saw someone else I couldn't, and had this to sing:

"Hey, fucker... get the fuck out my street, now. Seeing is believing!...Hey, now..."

I came to a stop at an intersection, on the opposite corner from where I was cut off earlier. A SUV pulled up, and stopped well into the crosswalk. Both the men inside watched me, as I stepped into the crosswalk to walk around their car. They continued to look over at me as they turned right, cutting off my progress abruptly. Somebody in the next lane over shook his head sadly at the scene, and I cheerily informed him it was my second time today.

I made it home without further incident.

A-sop says, "Whether you're turning right or left, you need to ignore what's going on around you if there is going to be Progress."

The Legend of T-Town

I responded to an ad for a cheap scanner/copier today. "Eight bucks," said the ad. It said plenty of other things, too: in great condition, comes with all the necessary cables, software, and etceratia. So into my car I hopped, and off I went to the region of Tierrasanta, aka T-Town, in eastern San Diego, to pick up this scanner.

Tierrasanta, although difficult to translate from the ancient Spaniard tongue, can be translated loosely as "Earth-Santa." Earth-Santa was one of the five Elemental Santas, a race of powerful, jolly beings that constantly fought each other for power, and the right to give out the most presents. These "presents" were actually talismans of power themselves, which granted the bearers limited amounts of ability from their Elemental Santa of choice. In return, the mortals who received these gifts fought as pawns of the Santas, though many were fooled into believing that if they received enough gifts, they would be strong enough to overthrow their Santa and take the Throne of Power.

For all the destruction wrought by the Elemental Santas in the name of conquest, it was actually a weak outsider, Coca-Cola Santa, that won the Santa Wars by playing on the greed of the mortals. But that is another story for another time. Only two of the Elemental Santas, Void-Santa and Earth-Santa, survived the Wars, but they disappeared into obscurity, and it is unknown whether they live on today. T-Town legend has it that Earth-Santa still broods on his Throne of Power, which is buried just under the playground of Tierrasanta Elementary, waiting for his chance to regain power and the city of San Diego.

Anyway, I managed to use the scanner twice before it broke.

A vs. The Comic-Con! Issue One Out Now!

Greetings, citizens!

As you may (not) know, I spent a couple days at San Diego's annual Comic-Con,
to witness firsthand the comics, art, geeks, cosplayers, soccer moms, gamers,
models, superheroes, villains, and nerds such as myself that frequent this amazing
event.  This was my first time.  And what better way to present my experience,
then in the form of a comic?  Also, I plan on using some of these for my growing
portfolio.  For the most part, though, it was a labor of love and photoshoppery. 
I hope you like it.

Update: I've made small improvements to six or so of the panels,
and made others more comic-like, where I skimped on the effects
before.

Edit 2:  There are 18 images!  Some people are only seeing
two, I think.  Please let me know in a comment/message if
they aren't displaying in the scrollbox right.

THE END!

"Growing Consumer"

A SPAM Poem from My Inbox to You

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I have to admit, I was pretty close to crying
in the part where they jailed King Kong.

The Church of Nothing Doin'

A late-night conversation with Schrodinger's Cat:

SC: Okay. Help me design a new business card.
A: have it say: this is not a t-shirt
A: just so people are sure
SC: What if someone pins it to their t-shirt?
A: hmm, tricky
A: I hadn't foreseen that possibility
A: that would probably negate the t-shirts existence, causing surprise toplessness

SC: You really ought to consider all possible possibilities.
A: I start by believing nothing is possible
A: then, everything I do is incredible
SC: Well, I expect you'd often find yourself surprised. But how would you motivate yourself to do things?
A: I just sort of wait until they happen, and take it from there.
A: and yeah, everything is a lot more amazing this way
SC: Hrmph. I'm sure there're some problems with your outlook we haven't yet considered.
A: probably...but until I've discovered otherwise, the existence of those problems is impossible
SC: Right, because...oh. Well, that's a little circular and self-fulfilling, but it works!
A: it does, I guess. I just came up with it right now, but I think I could adopt it. and maybe a Cambodian child, if I'm feeling saucy.
SC: Or rich and in need of a quick fix for your Jewish Princess syndrome.
A: hehehehehe
A: or that.

SC: Guilt always leaves you with children.
A: I'm convinced children are actually made of pure guilt.
A: except the ones you adopt from Cambodia
SC: But they still smell of conflic diamonds.
SC: Conflict.
A: that's true... another unimpossibility uncovered
SC: That's too confusing to say. Let's call it a "doctrine."
A: sounds good to me
SC: We'll call it the Church of Nothing Doin'
A: that is an excellent name
A: where do I sign up
SC: I'm pretty smart, you see.
SC: Sign up? You're the founder!
A: oh, yeah

A: I need to think up some mandates
SC: Except that mandates are against doctrine.
SC: ...until they happen.
A: right.
SC: It's gonna take a while to work the kinks out.
A: definitely... we should just assume the kinks aren't possible until we find them
SC: Well, it's good to know everything is finally running smoothly!
A: if possible, I think this conversation needs to be recorded for posterity
A: the founding of the Church of Nothing Doin'
SC: Is that even possible?
A: probably not.
SC: Crap.
SC: I guess it never happened, then.
A: Well, it's worth a shot.
SC: Careful, you're sounding optimistic...and that smacks of possibility.

Doppler-Shifting Horn-Bags

Is it really worth the effort?

No, no it isn't, and I'm officially taking away your horn-abusing privileges at this intersection, until such time as your blood pressure and mine drop down to acceptable levels. Cheeseburger intake and party affiliation will be accounted for.

For those who disregard this mandate, justice will be served with the cooling power of water balloons, from the vantage of my balcony.

In memory of...

This is in memory of my Gillette Series Ultra-Comfort* Shaving Gel, which saw me through shaving for its last time today.

You've been with me through beards thick and beards thin, through razors sharp and razors dull, and every variation thereof inbetween. You've been there for me through the worst of goatees, the height of absurdity in mustaches, and all my other facial experiments, and have even humored me for a few rabid dog impressions. For this you shall be remembered. Whether in the comfort of my own home, or in a stranger's apartment, your beard-softening jojoba oil** brought me out of the most terrible trials of stubble, and left me with a clean, jojoba-smelling face.

Though your product life has reached its unexpected end, I and my face will always remember you as the best of foam-based shaving gel. You may be discarded when I can bring myself to do it, but you will never be forgotten.


*ultra-confort
**huile de jojoba adoucissante pour la barbe

Quick Notes on Mexico

AM-PM: Doesn't really have too much good stuff, as claimed. Plus, they ripped us off on gas.

The Pig-Shrimp: Until now, I didn't believe in its existence. Tasty critter.

Abuelo's Tequila: Holy hell. I didn't know such good tequila was possible. If you're looking for it, ask for Blue (Azul).

The Hot Fox: I was dragged into my virginal strip-club visit, on my virginal trip to Mexico (okay, break my leg). Not so sure about the virginal status of anything else in the place. A certain someone tries to buy me a lap dance, but I refuse on principle, saying "it's not my kind of thing." Ensuing look of disbelief.

Border Patrol: Destitute people walk between the cars, trying to sell churros, cheap icons, unsolicited car washes, and bits of America's crap back to it, in the form of Cinderella and Spiderman-themed benches and porcelain dolls. You might find it funny, until you think about how sad it actually is, and you see old women and children selling things too.