We'll Miss You, George...

When I heard yesterday that a personal hero of mine - George Carlin - died, it really crushed me.

Most people that know me personally know that I am a deep fan of Stand-Up Comics. Among my favorites have been Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Lenny Bruce, Marc Maron, Dennis Miller (before he went all "Right-Wingy" on us), Bill Hicks, David Cross, Dave Attell and on and on and on...

George was the first comic that I remember that was saying what I thought about the world, from Religion and Politics to the little and/or big crap we all experience. To me, the world is lessened by his absence, and I don't know how to truly express how I feel about a man that showed great personal strength of character and stuck to the truth of his convictions when it came to what he believed.

I have six albums and four CD's that he produced, and every one of them is a work of modern comic genius... even if some of them were produced in the years before and slightly after my birth.

From the people that I've known that have met George, they have all told me about what a gentle, caring and considerate person he was, and how his public face was merely a reaction to the bullshit in American society.

So I hope that this short post does you justice, George...

An entire nation of Americans mourns for you, as does the rest of the world. Hopefully, we'll help to make this world a better one due to your observations and opinions, and how they deeply affected us.

We hope to see you again soon, George... because we'll need you.

Todd

"Atheism"

Atheism is a very interesting subject to many people, most of which have very little comprehension of it in general.

I am an Atheist, and I have been since I was a child. I was an "Acolyte" (an "Altarboy" for Catholicism, but I was raised as an Episcople), and all of the things that I heard from a variety of adult "Founts of Knowledge" struck me as utter bullshit.

The "Virgin Birth" sung to me as the most ridiculous of the claims of the faithful, being that the only organism that I was aware of that benefited from this kind of procreation was the Amoeba; a single-celled organism that reproduced through through Mitosis, the direct replication of cells in an asexual manner.

Being that we are beings that reproduce through the meeting of our genitals, this whole idea is ludicrous to me.

If this whole idea of the "Virgin Birth" were true, why not have it be a Gay man? Granted, the birth would be horrific beyond the wild imaginings of even Tom of Finland, this woud grant more credence than the idea of a married couple that had never done the dirty deed producing a child without sexual intercourse.

If Joseph and Mary had been Joseph (the angry top) and Harry (his submissive bottom) by magic producing a child that would somehow deliver us from the darkness that lies at the heart of all men, I could buy that.

After all, it would explain why Jesus was so non-judgemental and accepting, since most Orthodox believers are the exact opposite... it would also explain his amazing fashion sense and his killer decorating skills as well.

I think the biggest weakness for those that belive in an invisible Leather Daddy in the sky is that they are incapable of accepting that life may be random (as it is in the wild) and that there is no one being that is guiding us, and that we are, all of us, alone.

Such a notion disturbs them more than a Conservative Christian attending a Fisting symposium without his own pump-action keg of lube... they feel hollow at even the prospect that we all may just be an accident of evolution and barbarism.

But here's an idea: Just think about it for a little while.

"The Project II"

Here's another two characters in our series:


First up, "The Clicker":

The Clicker's job is similar to the job of a Bugler in the Civil War; he relays troop movements over a long distance to other regiments in order to orchestrate attacks. He has no lower jaw with a massive tongue that slaps against the roof of his mouth at high speed, producing incredibly loud clicks, much like Morse Code.

And now for our next contestant:

Certain characters can channel a certain Animal, or "Totem" to aid them in situations of extreme duress. Some can channel Wolves, others can channel Mountain Lions... this guy can channel Monkeys. Monkeys may seem like a pussy animal to some people, but in truth, Monkey are some of the most dangerous creatures on this planet. They adapt, they use the environment to their advantage and they like to throw crap at their opponents.

Our character doesn't do that last thing, but who would want to be bit by him... I mean, honestly?!

Remember, that this last one is only a concept drawing, and has a few modifications left in it...

I hope you guys like 'em!

Todd

"The Project"

Hey everybody!

I know it's been a while since I wrote anything on this Blog, but I figured that I'd let you know what I've been up to lately.

I've been working on a comic book idea with a buddy of mine that we've titled, "The Project".

The reason for that is that putting a title to the ideas that we're working on will only serve to pigeon-hole the whole concept of the subject matter.

"So Todd," I imagine some of you are thinking, "What can you tell us, if you're being so secretive?"

I can tell you one thing: It's a Horror-Fantasy storyline that is bound to be a unique stroll through a new world.

I can also show you one thing: A "Rhino Demon"...

It's one of the species in the story, and I thought you guys would like it... enjoy!

"Todd's Thanksgiving"

I went over to my parent's house today for Thanksgiving Day Dinner, and within seconds of getting into the kitchen, my Mother tells me that I look like Rasputin; eyes all bugged out with my hair getting long and my beard unkempt.

Basically, I looked like the Jesus that most of us were lead to believe looked like through the filter of the White churches.

After bantering back and forth with my Mom for a couple of minutes, my niece Kalen comes into the kitchen and asks me if I have a Birthday present for her, and I look at her with a goofy face and tell her, "No."

She sulks off back to her room and I'm left to think to myself, "Am I a prick or something?!"

My Mom casts a judgemental eye my way and I say, "What?! I never got any gifts from my Uncles... with the exception of Neal, and that was a cool Wolverine Graphic Novel. Do you think she would like a Graphic Novel?! I've got plenty, but I think that the subject matter would be a bit over her head..."

My Mom turns back to preparing the stuffing, gravy and ToFurkey and I seath in my own self-doubt for the moment.

Was I an asshole, or were the kids too expectant of gifts that they already got? I was thinking that I was an asshole, personally... but I feel that gifts are something to be earned, not expected.

Thirty minutes later, dinner is ready, and we all go to the Dining Room to suckle at the teats of my Mom's fine cooking, and we all get to answer the question, "So, what are you thankful for?" I say, "I'm glad that I'm no longer working for Calspan... and that's all I've got to say on that."

Everyone else does the standards of non-specificity for Thanksgiving and we all start to eat quitely.

My niece - who at first refused to eat, has now changed her mind - wants some of the Cornish Game Hen that my sister Jen went out of her way to purchase and cook. I'm glad to see my niece not taking the passive-aggresive way out and being somewhat mature in her way.

I don't understand children, honestly... I love them, but I don't get them.

When a kid squeals at a high pitch, I don't feel the urge to protect them, I feel the need to scold them to behave like humans... maybe it's my upbringing.

It was fun eating Thankgiving with my family, but then again, it always is, only now we have two pint-sized new members. I love my nieces, and with time, they'll come to understand Uncle Todd, and why he's so weird.

I look forward to that day, much like my Uncle Neal looked forward to that day with us.

Have a great Thanksgiving, everybody.

"A Journey To The Center Of The Dumb"

I started to write this in August, so take this in context...

A couple of weeks ago, I got up at 3 AM, grabbed my suitcase and my backpack and got into my car.

I was scheduled to leave LAX on a non-stop flight from Los Angeles to Cleveland at 7 AM. Now, notice that I said scheduled... because the true fun is yet to come!

I got to the hotel on the West Side of Lancaster fifteen minutes later, and walked in the front door to ask the clerk behind the counter where the long-term parking is located for the LAX shuttle, and a quizzical look crept over her face."Long-term parking? There's no long-term parking here... if you try to, the police will have your car impounded..." she replied."But this is the place that the shuttle picks people up, right?" I asked.

"Yeah..." she said.

"So why can't I park my car in the parking lot of the business that sponsors the shuttle? That seems a bit obtuse to me... urrgh... is there another location where I can park?" I wondered aloud.

"Sure, there's a station in Palmdale off of Avenue S on the right side that provides free long-term parking. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Since she was genuinely pleasant to me, I just thanked her for the information and walked back out the lobby to my still-running 1993 Buick Regal and closed the door.

Upon getting onto the South-bound on-ramp to the 14 on Avenue K, a swirl of thoughts washed across my mind. Two days earlier, I had turned in my two-week notice. I thought of all the negative things that had happened because I took that job. Kristi breaking up with me because of how miserable I was with my job, and how I refused to quit despite the fact that I needed to; my ailing health due to a sedintary office position that required me to spend more time sitting and looking at a computer screen that had recently started to cause my vision to get worse and my feeling of hopelessness due to the fact that I hadn't been able to find another job to replace the one that I loathed.

I thought back to two years ago, when my friend Corey had been mentioning to me that Trader Joe's was hiring, and they could pay me pretty well, and I could customize my schedule so that I could finish my education. He mentioned it all the time, it seemed, and I finally reached the point that I decided to take him up on his offer, much as I had with my friend Troy, who kept telling me since 1998 that I should just move into a trailer to conserve my funds and actually own something other than the things that would merely fill an apartment that I'll never own.

Here I was, at a point in my life where little was certain, but I felt more hopeful then I had in over three years. I didn't care about petty shit, and I didn't mind if things fell apart in front of my eyes, because I knew that change had extended a hand when I so desperately needed it.

I thought of something that my Mother had said to me weeks earlier, "If you came from now to see me when you were only 18 and said that you would be nearing 30 and working a dead-end office job, I'd say that you were fucking crazy..."

My Mother is a blunt woman, but she has always been good at never sugar-coating shit for me... I've always thought that was my Mom's coolest aspect. I often wonder how other people's parents are... oh well.

I pull into the parking lot to the bus station and turn off my car. I look at my CD player and wonder if I should take it with me, but decide against it, thinking, "I'll get to LAX and be on the plane so quick that I won't have time to listen to music, so what's the point? Besides, I've got a stack of comics that I bought to the other day to keep me occupied and two different drawing pads!"

I grab my backpack and suitcase and sit on the bench in front of the locked lobby area, looking at the traffic rushing past on the 14 heading to L.A. Quickly bored by that, I whip out my pack of cigarettes and the most recent issue of the "World War Hulk" series and start to read.

After about fifteen minutes, people start to arrive to catch the shuttle, fifteen minutes after that, the shuttle shows up... ten minutes late.

Looking around me, I see about twelve possible people that will be riding the shuttle, and this asshole shows up with a van that can - at the most - hold ten people... and there are nice older ladies already inside."Shit..." I mutter to myself.

The guy next to me at the curb turns to me and makes a "What?" gesture with his arms and shoulders, but I tell him "Never mind..." and sit back on the bench.

The driver is especially swishy in a way that annoys even me, since I'm sure that I'm going to miss my flight thanks to his friendliness. He motions for me to come over, and I give him my bags, telling him, "Todd Tobin... you're going to need one of the bigger vehicles, man."

He looks at me like I have a glow-in-the-dark double-ended dildo in my hand while wearing an eyepatch and a fake Parrot on my shoulder.

I motion to the amount of people on the curb with bags and say, "We've got over a dozen people in total here waiting to go to LAX... are we all going to be sitting on each other's laps or something?!"

He scoffs.

I give him the fee for the trip to LAX and walk back to the bench... with my stack of comics that I'm now too irritated to enjoy and start chain-smoking to calm myself down... it doesn't help.

Ten minutes later, he finally asks the two ladies in the van to wait at the curb while he gets one of the smaller busses for the trip down to L.A.

It takes him another ten minutes to check the oil, transmission and gas levels before he even starts the damn thing, and I'm contantly thinking, "If this fuck makes me late... his testicles are going with me to Cleveland..."The driver pulls around to the curb and we all pile in quickly, the driver smiling at us individually as we pass. As I head to the back of the bus, I think to myself, "... and I'm taking that damned smile with me as well."

An hour passes, and to his credit, the driver made admirable time, but we still got there late. I was one of the last drops, so I got there last. He quickly get out of the bus to get my bags, and as I grabbed my bags, he asked me, "So, when's your flight?"

I looked at him and said, "In thirty minutes..."He apologetically looked and me and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. Maybe if you go straight to the counter you can still catch it in time..."As I walk away, I forgive the driver in my mind, as he's just doing his job. Sure, he was inept, but at least he was friendly.

I walk up to the counter and stand across from an Asian woman that spends five minutes clicking away at her 1980's-era Windows 1.0 monochrome computer screen before she even notices that I'm there.

Looking up, her face takes on the plastic sheen of every office-drone receptionist that's ever told you, "I'm sorry sir, but your Birth Certificate was lost in a recent fire that only affected one file cabinet drawer... thankfully it only affected people named Todd Tobin over the last thirty years, and I believe that you were number 21 of 36. You'll have to pay twenty dollars and wait six to fifty-two weeks for your new one to be mailed to you."

I hand her my Flight Ticket, and she spends another two minutes typing at the keyboard before telling me, "I'm sorry, but you can't get get on your flight... you're too late."Looking over my shoulder at the clock on the wall, I stammer, "But I still have eighteen or so minutes before my plane even takes off!"

She then points at the long line to my right against the wall and says, "You have to get through that first... and it'll take a while."

My hand now balled into fists, I ask, "So, what the hell do I do now?!"

She clicks away at the computer again and says, "There's only one guarantee... a flight this evening at eleven.""Are you kidding me?!" I respond. "There are no other flights to Cleveland between now and eleven?!"

"Yes," she replies, "They're at nine A.M. and two P.M. but those two aren't guaranteed... I'm sorry. But I'll put you at the head of the line for any spare seats that open up..."I grit my teeth and tell her, "Do it, please... my sister is waiting on me."

She does it... albeit begrudgingly, and hands me my Flight Pass.

I thank her and walk over to the long line of my fellow miscreants and wait for some low-rent security douche-bag to ask me the canned questions about whether I consorted with Osama bin Laden at 1970's-era Studio 54's coke-laden parties with Liza Minelli, and if Dame Edna packed my bags.

Of course none of that stuff has ever happened to me, so I advance quickly.

I then walk to the line where I then have all my possessions flooded with X-Rays and have to take off my shoes for another rent-a-cop, this time under the illusion that they're protecting me in some way.

After I walk through, I find out that I have to surrender my incredibly intimidating and menacing Bic lighter... because it supports the terrorists. Funny, I thought my lighter was a Libertarian... but who was I to know?

The sad thing? The next day they lifted the ban on lighters... just my luck.

After I give up my miniature "Quest for Fire" cast member, I'm asked to step off to the side so they can search all of my personal shit.

"Why?" Do you ask? Good question...Apparently, I had a half-empty Liter of Mountain Dew in my bag, and I can't bring that into the airport with me. I had an empty bottle of water, but that wasn't a big deal to them... it was the High-Fructose-Corn-Syrup-laden beverage that was the big deal.

Now I know that Corn Syrup kils more Americans in the long term than cigarettes, but unless I beat someone to death with the bottle, what the fuck?!

The guy searching my backpack full of art supplies compliments me on my Punisher-logoed T-Shirt, and I tell him that I'm a Defense Contractor, and how I don't see what the big deal is, since I likely have a higher National Security Clearance than he does.

He chuckles... not knowing that I'm right... fuckin' idiot.

He tells me that everything is okay, but I can't keep my soda... I just let it go.I amble further into LAX... but that's part of a later story.

"New Post!"

As you guys can see, there's a new post of mine about my trip to Ohio.

I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'm sorry for slacking on my posting duties.

New posts are in the works explaining why.

Oh, and Eryc and GW: my personal e-mail is demonsmile_2000@yahoo.com and if you two could, send me your numbers, and if you can't, I can send you mine. I'd like to have personal, one-on-one over the phone conversations with you two about a future post.

Peace!