Sorry

This blog is not getting updated very much, because what I write in it tends towards the irascible. That's not how things should be, in life I'm a happy man. I think that, much like the real-life shut-in basement-dwellers who turn loud and demonstrative on message boards, somehow the internet is inverting my true personality through its crystal prism.

Its crystal prism of EVIL.

I'm working on something new for the blog, something that will bring joy to the small ones. I apologise for the irascibility.

San Diego 2005

Several people have asked me if I'll be exhibiting at San Diego Comic-con this year, as I have for the last four years. The answer is, no, I will not be there. This is partly because of boring human reasons, like having to pay my tax bill and car insurance, and partly because the Dumbrella booth has become some kind of tshirt-selling mission from God that reminds me a little bit too closely of my days working at Woolworths. When you're on holiday, yet you're working harder than you did for minimum wage in 1994, something is wrong.

Or put more simply, when you've flown halfway round the world at (as we say here in England) "massive expense", you shouldn't have a reason to be furious.

The other men of Dumbrella will be there this year, so of course get down there and see them if you're in the area. I will probably return in 2006, but I may reform in another form that allows me to actually enjoy the experience again.

Back to basics

I think humanity could be helped (as a whole) by people ceasing to ask each other "are you all right" or "how are you doing" as a greeting. Nobody wants to know how another human being is doing if the answer consists of more than three words. So when asked those questions, make sure you answer it properly.

EXAMPLE
Q. All right, Dave?
A. Well, I'm not sure. I've got two or three pimples on my bottom and I'm worried it might affect my chances of becoming a thong model. Plus, you know, I've always worried that my arms are a bit long. For general use.

EXCEPTION
A good time to ask if someone is all right is if they have fallen into a ditch, or are crying. Or crying blood. Or crying blood in a ditch.

Here are some alternative greetings to help the human race live better:

"Good morning"
"Good afternoon"
"Good evening"

NME Chart Mediawatch

Sometimes I like to watch the NME Chart Show, a kind of viewer-voted list of records that is on MTV2. Obviously, I agree with some songs and disagree with others. Whenever I start wondering how anyone could raise their dander for a third generation copy of Interpol*, I stab myself in the arm with a pencil, because not everyone is as OLD and JADED as me.

ROCK FACT: Jack White's new and fancy ginger wife Karen Elson went to school in Chadderton, mere streets away from my house.
ROCK LIE: Jack and Karen are always round my house eating my pies.

* All the rage I feel about the existence of Interpol is dispersed because the Interpol $$$ keep Matador Records in pies.

Exchanging

I have been back on comic duty for a week now and it feels good. There is a white hot flame shooting through my body and the skeleton keeps saying "win!" This is a good sign.

The only bad thing that keeps happening is when I read those Scott Pilgrim books by Bryan Lee O'malley and realise that I "must try harder" where "trying harder" is not equal to "copying".

One of the most difficult things about running an international super-web-shop is keeping an eye on the exchange rate. When I appear to be jacking up prices willy-nilly, I'm not - I'm keeping them the same. Please try to remember this as I ruin your pocket-money dreams.

My body is very weak today because I painted the stairway and landing. there were some awkward corners. Awkward like you would not believe with your eyes and senses. I reckon it's going to take three coats because I'm painting on top of the most hideous Laura Ashley wallpaper. I realise that this is a dog rough thing to do but the plaster underneath is ancient.

So if I suddenly disappear from the internet world, don't worry, I've fallen off my ladder down the stairs and am dead. Don't weep for me.

You can help prevent my death by buying a copy of Skellington, my handsome book. Or as I like to fondly think of it, "the financial black hole of Calcutta".

A treatise on diseases

Invariably, when I stop working for any reason (such as Christmas, summer holiday, the Elk Parade), within a few days of relaxing, I get ill. I don't mean that in an old school rap sense, I mean that in a shivering, nose-blowing sense. A week of nebulous illness, characterised by malaise and my own repeated claims that I am going to die.

So when I took two weeks off the comic (two weeks ago), I, like Mr T in Rocky 3, predicted pain. But as the two weeks were filled with nothing but high-octane, high stress business tasks, pestilence never arrived.

Now my two weeks are over, wasted under a pile of shipping materials and tax returns, I have to return to work. Unfortunately though, since I made the classic mistake of relaxing on Thursday and Friday, I am now sick as a dog.

Except of course, now I have to work while ill. I can't really write when I'm sick, so next week's comics are probably going to be pictures of microbes and extrapolations of some of the confusing fever dreams I have experienced in between waking up and feeling hot ten-millionty times a night. It's going to be awful.

Back once again with the renegade master

I have emerged from my eye-topped tax pyramid. It's a good feeling, a feeling that says "success". Unfortunately the feeling of success only lasted about five minutes as I managed to make myself ill by playing GTA: San Andreas too much yesterday. Last night I had fever dreams where I was running around all over the city, and I woke up feeling like a broken clock. Now that ain't right.

For those who want to know (or just miss my stylings), my return to SGR is scheduled for some time during week commencing 13th June. But there is a big treat on Monday and Tuesday, Vera Brosgol has delivered the magic: twice!

Woe is me

I am doing my taxes. Normal service will be resumed when I stop doing my taxes.

In addition to 04/05 taxes, my return for 03/04 was so weird that HM tax inspector wants me to break down last year's expenses. Despite the fact that I did so on my tax return anyway. So I am having to deal with two years' taxes. It's a non-stop tax-a-thon.

TAXES.