I can’t describe it; there is just nothing that can compare to the election of Barack Obama to the presidency of the United States of America. I wept today for joy at the birth of an America I never dared to imagine. This is truly a watershed moment in American history.

It saddens me deeply that it took eight years of George W. Bush to come to this moment, and that even now this was (popularly) a narrow election. I hope that I am seeing the end of the darkest years of the 21st century. This has been a hard, painful and despiriting time.

But this is a new era.  Not just for America, but for the world.

For the first time in history, the most powerful man in the world is a Black man, the son of an African. This is important, and this is transformative. This is a great day.

To paraphrase Shakespeare, they shall count themselves accursed that did not vote today.

It’s time for me to rest.  I’ll see you all in the morning, in a new, better world.

So, to catch up, I’m giving you a pair of recent comics pages, which I drew for my friend Joe Lambert’s birthday. He’s kind of a genius, so I felt a little dumb giving this to him; but what was I gonna do, spend money? Anyway, I don’t think it’s too bad for drawing it in one night.

A little explanation: during the summer, we play a lot of four-square up here at James Sturm’s School for Cartoonists in Butt-Fuck Nowhere. “Dodgeball” is one of the rules variants, wherein if one catches the ball before the bounce and yells “Dodgeball!” one can throw the ball at an opponent and knock them “out.” Joe is a particularly competitive player.

One other thing occurs to me about this story that I’d like to throw out there: I’m curious about the relationship between style and content. I’ve recently begun taking a more conventional animation/action-cartoon style in my work, and because I have literary pretensions and aspirations, this makes me nervous. I’ve never seen solid literary work pulled off in a conventional visual style; I worry about whether it’s even possible. Part of it, I suppose, is that “style” is to cartooning as “voice” is to writing, and that no literary “voice” characterized by cliché or formal conventionalism has ever been recognized as particularly worthy of critical attention. At the same time, though, I’ve read a lot of strongly literary books - masterpieces, I think - which aren’t deeply experimental in their approach to form, so I’m not convinced that the successful use of convention is a failing.

Anyway, I welcome your thoughts on the subject, or on the piece that prompted it. And I promise, more soon, including that pic of Penina!

So, I was digging through these boxes the other day, looking for a missing page on my Ota Benga project, when I came across a bunch of old comics that I’ve never published, like the silent one I posted last week. I figure, “Heck, they’re shamefully bad, but folks can see my good stuff easily enough. It might be fun to put these up.”

I drew the comic below almost two years ago, during my first year at CCS. The class took a trip to the Montshire Museum, and the point was to use what one found there as the subject of a comic in which one would experiment with scale, making the protagonist either very large or very small. I chose the latter.

I chose not to color this comic for two reasons: 1) During the assignment, I was experimenting with black and white composition, and I think color would distract from that; and 2) it really isn’t good enough to merit the extra effort. So, with that said, here it is!

Enjoy!

Anyhoo.

A few years back, I did this for The Danger Room, a comic book store in Olympia, Washington, owned & operated by my dear friend Patrick Mapp. Every year, they circulate a secret ballot among their customers (who generally have excellent taste) to choose the best comics of the year; usually, they have a few fun questions as well. In 2005, I drew this strip so their customers could write the dialogue between then-manager Frank Hussey (on the left) and Pat. It went over well enough, though not so well that they’ve asked me to do another. I colored it just for you all.

What? You want something new? Like I’ve nothing better to do all day than make funny pictures of marine life hybrids for you? Whatever. I’m not your sea monkey. Well, maybe I am, but I don’t have anything like that today. Talk to me later.

Even worse: the mimic octopus, which can disguise itself as other fish, and the shapeshifting octopus, which can change not only its color (an ability of all octopuses) but its texture as well, to do a damned fine impression of a coral reef, rock or other inanimate object.

The main thing is that, in addition to all of these horrible things - and rumors of worse yet, such as the electrical octopus - they are really smart. They can crack combination locks, recognize and distinguish between 2-dimensional shapes (the foundational behavior of reading), and have demonstrated the ability to learn by observing others.

And when they rise up against us, we will be helpless. We cannot simply brain them, as we would the zombies - two thirds of their neurons are in their arms. And unlike the robots, we will not simply disable them by presenting them with a logical paradox. And there will be no mercy; they do not nurture their young and are not gregarious with other adults of their species, and thus have no concept of mercy.

They are horrible fleshy sacs of hate. So, of course, I had to draw a man with an octopus for a head.

The pace at which I work has become a terrible embarrassment to me: the first 13 pages of this story have taken me more than a year, and I still have 19 pages to go in the first chapter! The next bits are set in the jungle, though, which means fewer perspective drawings, which hopefully means I’ll be able to draw them a bit faster. Also, I get to draw an elephant getting in a fight. I like drawing elephants.

Next time: Cephalopodalocephalism!

Anyway, Gabby seemed to love the game. While normally a taciturn and reticent fellow, he was excited, laughing and carrying on like I’ve rarely seen. So, when it came time for Gabby’s going away party (the first of three spread out over a week), I presented him with this:

He got the original art, which wasn’t as colorful but did have the marvelous texture that only comes from a combination of a firm nib and thick, goopy ink.

Over the next few months, to encourage folks around here to participate in the next game, I’ll be posting sketches of several players, portraying them with their signature weapon/technique of assassination. Next up: Penina Gal, Master Assassin 2007.