I just saw somebody blogging about how they hate Halloween. Everybody is entitled to their opinion. Me, I like Halloween. Always have. Even when it was miserable. I remember dragging my tired self along miles of unlit roads in icy cold rain until my hands were numb and my nose was leaking like a faucet. The only costume that could provide any comfort was the arctic explorer or the Eskimo, and George Riley always took both of those by putting on his winter coat and ski goggles. That usually left me as a ghost or a vampire or something else that could get really really cold.
I didn't complain though. Getting cold and exhausted was the price of free candy. It was an active demonstration that the things you value most have to be earned. Like hot soup or chilli after the cold. Like all of that wonderful candy. And of course, there are the priceless stories of hardship I now get to flog my own children with whenever they feel that they have it tough.
But I hate Thanksgiving. It's a miserable excuse for a holiday. Not that I'm ungrateful. Or at least, not peculiarly ungrateful. I just don't really enjoy food and really hate the work that goes into preparing it and getting ready to share it with others. See, it's not that I'm ungrateful--just that I'm horribly selfish.
The whole idea of celebrating the plenty that the universe has bestowed on us seems like a good idea to me. It's not that part I object to. Shouldn't you do that every day anyway? But I hate the foods. Turkey? Uhg. Well, I guess I like Turkey Bacon. Dressing? Yuk. Sweet Potatoes? I hate them. Cranberry sauce? No thanks.
And the pilgrims? Screw the pilgrims.
Anyway, I like Halloween and I hate Thanksgiving. That's just me. You go ahead and like or dislike whatever you want.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Half Way to Death, My Kinda Lover and The Helm
Well,
Just turned 45 today, which I think means that I am half way to death... if I am lucky. Fortunately, I have always been incredibly lucky. What is the average lifespan up to these days for a male? Last time I read about it, the indication was that average lifespan was decreasing for the first time in decades. Maybe even in a century. Something to do with junk food. Or pesticides. Or those chemicals they use to soften plastic. Or something else. There are just too many things to worry about.
Buy why worry? That's no fun. Instead, I like to play loud music. I was playing "My Kinda Lover" by the inimitable Billy Squier for my daughters from my iPod while they were having a bath the other day. My eight-year-old seemed to be enjoying the tune quite a bit, but after the second chorus she asked me, "Is he just singing Blah blah blah-blah blah, Blah blah blah-blah blah for the chorus?" It does sound like that if you are not paying close attention and I was glad she was not paying close attention because it might have been slightly awkward to explain what he was actually singing about.
I wonder if Billy Squier is making a comeback of sorts. He recently played a music venue near my house and he had a song pretty prominently placed in that movie "Couples Retreat". I saw Billy live in concert the summer of the year I turned eighteen. He opened for Queen I think. It was a good show, and from the vast distance I sat from the stage, I couldn't even detect his excessive eyeliner. Or maybe he just has preternaturally thick eyelashes.
Eyelashes. That word got me wondering the other day. Why aren't any other hairs called lashes except the ones on your eyes? Why don't you have noselashes, or earlashes? And what about backlashes? Oh. I guess I see why on that one. But what about buttlashes? Anyway, just curious why eyes get the special treatment. Probably something to do with that whole "window to the soul" thing. Probably makes the other openings in the head feel jealous. If I were the mouth, I'd be mad. It does all the talking, so how come it doesn't get called the window to the soul? Or at least the door to the soul? Ah, just another one of those unfairnesses.
Not much news on The Helm lately. I was kicking around the idea of doing an iPhone version of it with my Editor over at Dark Horse. This was prompted by the fact that I'm currently writing a different comic for the iPhone. All top secret at the moment unfortunately, but I hope to reveal a website soon. Although, if it has the startlingly vast success of the current Helm website, I don't know how I will manage to keep up with all of my other duties in life. I may have to spend some of the staggeringly large fortune that The Helm has earned me. Yes, writing comics is an incredibly lucrative pastime.
Anyway, I need to rush home now and have my fabulous birthday dinner. I have requested Pizza Hut and spice cake. Not, you know, at the same time. It's a multi-course affair.
Just turned 45 today, which I think means that I am half way to death... if I am lucky. Fortunately, I have always been incredibly lucky. What is the average lifespan up to these days for a male? Last time I read about it, the indication was that average lifespan was decreasing for the first time in decades. Maybe even in a century. Something to do with junk food. Or pesticides. Or those chemicals they use to soften plastic. Or something else. There are just too many things to worry about.
Buy why worry? That's no fun. Instead, I like to play loud music. I was playing "My Kinda Lover" by the inimitable Billy Squier for my daughters from my iPod while they were having a bath the other day. My eight-year-old seemed to be enjoying the tune quite a bit, but after the second chorus she asked me, "Is he just singing Blah blah blah-blah blah, Blah blah blah-blah blah for the chorus?" It does sound like that if you are not paying close attention and I was glad she was not paying close attention because it might have been slightly awkward to explain what he was actually singing about.
I wonder if Billy Squier is making a comeback of sorts. He recently played a music venue near my house and he had a song pretty prominently placed in that movie "Couples Retreat". I saw Billy live in concert the summer of the year I turned eighteen. He opened for Queen I think. It was a good show, and from the vast distance I sat from the stage, I couldn't even detect his excessive eyeliner. Or maybe he just has preternaturally thick eyelashes.
Eyelashes. That word got me wondering the other day. Why aren't any other hairs called lashes except the ones on your eyes? Why don't you have noselashes, or earlashes? And what about backlashes? Oh. I guess I see why on that one. But what about buttlashes? Anyway, just curious why eyes get the special treatment. Probably something to do with that whole "window to the soul" thing. Probably makes the other openings in the head feel jealous. If I were the mouth, I'd be mad. It does all the talking, so how come it doesn't get called the window to the soul? Or at least the door to the soul? Ah, just another one of those unfairnesses.
Not much news on The Helm lately. I was kicking around the idea of doing an iPhone version of it with my Editor over at Dark Horse. This was prompted by the fact that I'm currently writing a different comic for the iPhone. All top secret at the moment unfortunately, but I hope to reveal a website soon. Although, if it has the startlingly vast success of the current Helm website, I don't know how I will manage to keep up with all of my other duties in life. I may have to spend some of the staggeringly large fortune that The Helm has earned me. Yes, writing comics is an incredibly lucrative pastime.
Anyway, I need to rush home now and have my fabulous birthday dinner. I have requested Pizza Hut and spice cake. Not, you know, at the same time. It's a multi-course affair.
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