Friday, December 12, 2003

The Music that we Choose

Craptacular Music!

So this week winds down the Boy Band series, and we've got an entire weeks's worth of denoumont to work through. But don't worry--it's all fun, and we're still making fun of boy bands, and maybe a couple of other genres while we're at it.

I've really enjoyed these comics, though. There's something about having an archangel who's in a boy band that amuses me. In hindsight, there were a couple of comics I wanted to do but didn't come up with until after the fact; that is, until after I'd already posted the comic it would have to come before for it to make any sense. Now the die is irrevocably cast, and the end of this storyarc is at hand, and there is nothing more I can do. *sigh* Ah well, so it goes.

We're also getting dangerously close to the end of Chapter One in Troubled Times. There's maybe three or four pages left before we take a break (and by "take a break," I mean we'll do a little omake outtake thing for a few weeks, then Adam'll careen full-tilt into Chapter Two), which is less than a page of the actual typed script (yes, there is a script! We're not just making it up as we go along!...okay, we are, but that's not the point).

Adam actually made an interesting point about Troubled Times the other day. He said that drawing it was a lot like acting, and I think I know what he means. I've provided him with a script which details dialogue, general action (as in "Earl slices evil demon thing in half with sword in a really cool way"), and some background information about the characters or their opinions of certain things. I haven't done much--if any--of the "blocking" for him, nor have I really told him how everything should look. So he's like an actor (or a whole bunch of actors) taking the script and interpreting it. Which means that when each new page of Troubled Times comes out every Saturday, I'm just as surprised by it as you all are. I have no idea what he's going to do with the script, even though I know in general terms what needs to happen. It's kinda fun that way, and I've really been enjoying the collaboration. I can't wait to see how he's going to do some of the stuff in Chapter Two, where things really heat up and the actual plot gets underway. That's been the one regret I have about Chapter One--the way I wrote it, perhaps the way I had to write it, it came out real exposition-heavy. It almost had to be; there's a lot of backstory to go through, so that we can get to a place where things are actually happening but seem to have a reason. I've tried to keep it interesting--even slipping in the page with the Devil and Azaroth to kind of break the monotony of having Earl and Evan bicker back and forth (at Adam's request, I should note--the interlude was his idea, and it also gave me a great chance to set up an antagonist with a face). But I'm never sure if folks actually like this stuff, because neither Adam nor myself receives all that much feedback on most of this (hint hint).

Anyway, there is more Dim Bulb goodness to come. There'll also be a December Support Gift, too, as has become our monthly habit/ritual. More on that as we figure out what it is.

Sunday, November 30, 2003

Crooked Halo 2: This Time, It's Personal

So, long time no see. I've been what you might term "busy." Really I haven't been doing anything more than I usually do, but it's felt like a lot more. And I've been too damn lazy to update anything here, though I tend to update the ol' blog at least daily, sometimes more. Dunno why.

Anyway, wanted to say a few things about the current Crooked Halo storyline. First, I think it's fairly obvious that I despise boy bands with a burning passion (on a related note, an athlete the other day referred to the Beatles as "a boy band." The authorities will never find the body). Anyway, the whole storyline was concocted because I wanted two things: to express my distaste for boy bands, and to change Earl the Archangel's hairstyle. Only a few things have remained constant throughout all the iterations of my comic. One is clothing--Simon has always worn the shirt with the exclamation mark, Earl has always had the shirt with the wide rings around the neck, arms, and waist, and Jerome has always had the shirt with the diagonal stripes. Earl and Jerome's names have also stayed the same throughout (Simon is the third name for that character). For a while, Earl and Simon's haircuts were also always the same. Then I decided to make Simon's hair look like real hair. Or closer, anyway. Anyway, folks still complained that Earl's hair didn't look like hair.

Then Adam started drawing Troubled Times, and took a radically different approach to the character. I liked his take on a character I'd been drawing since high school, and wanted to adapt part of it to my own interpretation. So I decided to change it up. But how to actually explain the new hairstlye? The thing about the new hairstyle is that it makes Earl look like a pretty boy. I find this fact amusing. I find making fun of boy bands amusing. Thus, a concept is born: give Earl a new haircut, put him in a boy band. Hilarity ensues.

To make things even more fun, there are a couple of cameos in the strip, too, though nothing on par with the number Adam's been throwing in Vapor Lock lately. C.T.--a.k.a. Clyde--is also a member of the boy band Earl joins. Clif, upon whom Clyde is indelibly modeled, actually went by C.T. for a while when he was younger. And did you ever notice that most boy bands have a guy whose name is just initials? Well, it amused me to make my brother (the one other person who possibly hates boy bands as much as I do) a member of the band as well. I also hope it pisses him off.

The other cameo is one only a few people will catch, but which amuses me in ways I cannot even begin to describe. What's the name of the "bad boy" character in the band? That's right, Brent. Guess who he's modeled after, Ozarks folks.


Supposedly,, the site that hosts a few Cross-Eyed Yeti tunes, is closing down because it was bought out by some other company. The site was supposed to close its doors last Friday, but as of the last time I checked (late Thursday afternoon), the site was still up. So, um, download 'em while you can. There's a link to them up above.

On a related note, I've been thinking about selling copies of the debut Yeti album, Delusions of Grandeur, here at Dim Bulb. The cost would be about $5-7, I'm not sure exactly yet because it depends on the price of supplies. The CDs themselves would just be regular CDRs, but I'd make up a label for them, put them in a jewel case, and include a jewel case insert with some spiffy artwork by the Noise Monkey. Those who are interested should drop me a line.

"Merchandising, Merchandising, Merchandising!"

On yet another semi-related front, I'm trying to come up with some other Dim Bulb merchandise. I got an idea from the forum and from the amazing artist over at College Roomies From Hell: why not put together a CD of old Dim Bulb comics? I was thinking all the pre-Keenspace stuff, which consists of at least a good hundred or so Crooked Halo strips and who knows how much Mac 410 (Vapor Lock). The cost would be cheap, of course, because i can't imagine folks would want to pay a large sum of money for these things. They'd include the old comics, organized by storylines or whatever, some commentary, and maybe some extras of some sort. If anyone's interested, let us know. We're also still looking for t-shirt ideas, so if you have any, drop us a line in the forum.

Tuesday, November 11, 2003


Sketchy at best

You may have noticed that the Crooked Halo style has been a bit different the past few comics. Well, that's because I'm experimenting with it. I like the sketchier style, and think it's fun to draw and looks quite nifty, so I may keep it for a while and see if I want to use it permanently. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.


If you want free Dim Bulb stuff, including extra comics, desktop backgrounds, and who knows what else, go check out this forum thread. It'll give you all the necessary details to join the madness. Note that you'll have to be registered to use the forum for this to work. It's all part of our evil plan to get more people to participate in stuff around here.


There were several things I wanted to talk about here, and I can't remember any of them. Everything in my head's been supplanted with news that an aquaintance of mine from Ozarks, Linda Carcamo, died on Friday. According to the email I saw from Ozarks, she drowned in the ocean with her fiance. It just annoys me that good, caring people like Linda die in such horrible, pointless ways, and mean, evil people get to continue living. Where's the justice? It reminds me of Terry Pratchett's Soul Music, when Death's granddaughter, Susan, takes over his position for a while. She complains bitterly of the sloppiness of the whole system. "There's no justice!" she cries. "NO," Death replies. "THERE'S JUST ME."

I always hated that.

So I guess this is just my way of saying God rest you, Linda.

Monday, October 27, 2003


"Danger. For Hire."

Just wanted to bring everyone's attention to one of the niftiest comics out there. It's by a young lady named Ping, and it's called The Jaded.

Apparently, Crooked Halo is her current Featured Link, and I must say that I'm rather flattered by this. Ping is an amazing artist with a good idea for shading, depth, and characterization. The storytelling is far above my meager abilities (for evidence of that, see Troubled Times), and on top of all that, she's just an all-around nice, helpful person. She's given me advice not only on some drawing techniques (most notably on how to draw arms and hands), but also has provided us with a possible way to set up separate archives for each of the three Dim Bulb Comics. So anyway, do yourself a favor, and go check out her comic. It gets the Dim Bulb seal of approval (not that we have a seal, per se. But if we did, we'd put it in this comic. In hot wax, 'cause that's what you do with seals. How we'd manage to put hot wax on a webcomic is something that will require some thought and planning. I'll get back to you on it).

Snuggly Soft

Monday's comic is a direct result of pestering from my youngest brother, Scott, and something my middle sibling, Clif, actually did. Yes, Clif did indeed wash clothes in only fabric softener. Several times this summer, actually, until we pointed out that he needed to use the detergent, too. It's amazing--Cottrells are generally fairly intelligent, but for some reason, we completely lack common sense. To be honest, each of the three of us (Clif, Scott, and myself) need someone to take care of us and keep track of the mundane, basic stuff that is nonetheless very important (remembering to use detergent in the wash, paying bills, eating real meals, etc.). We need level-headed women, because we are far from level-headed ourselves, and will most likely fall apart without someone to take care of us.


So I decided to start one of those Blogs the other day. You can find it here. Mostly, it's just a brain dump for me, a place to talk about random stuff that really doesn't apply to the comics (not that much of anything I say or do here applies to the comics...nevermind). Check it out if you want. Or not. Whatever. It's like a journal on the web, only I promise I'll never accidentally start out an entry, "Dear Diary, you'll never guess what happened to me today!", mostly because I'm not a Catholic school girl.

Holy Shirt!

This was mentioned in the forum, but since I know virtually no one goes there (hethens), I figured I'd mention it here. Really, I'm just wondering if there's any interest in Dim Bulb merchandise. T-shirts and such. If so, either sound off in the aforelinked Forum thread, or fire off an email to the Monkey or yours truly. We'd be curious to hear if there's any demand, and if so, for which characters or whatever. I have a design in mind for a random "Slacker Nirvana" shirt, but we'll see what becomes of it.

Saturday, October 18, 2003

Pluggage and Meetings

hout Out

Want to start off by giving "mad props" (I believe they are called) to my buddy Dav, who pimped the site in his Live Journal. His pimpage was given in good faith and completely without solicitation. No, there were absolutely no large sacks of money in the deal anywhere. Seriously. If I had large sacks of money, I would not be giving them away. Well, perhaps to OU, but only because they currently own my soul. Cursed grad school.

Meet Me in St. Louis

It's time for yet another of Chuck's Real Life Misadventures! So sit back and listen to a tale of...well, not exactly woe, but of random chance and circumstances. It has a happy ending, thankfully. Read on.

So I made a trip to St. Louis this weekend to visit one of the potential colleges for my PhD. The trip seemed almost doomed from the beginning: the three friends who were originally going to join me were unable to go at the last minute (through no fault of their own--work and last-minute group projects are a bitch). So my mother kindly offered to join me instead, for which I was very thankful (it meant I got to sleep in the car some instead of driving the entire time).

Anyway, things sorta went downhill from the get-go. It took me longer than anticipated Thursday night to leave Norman to get home, which didn't put me in a great mood. Friday amazingly went off without a hitch, which I guess I should have taken to be the calm before the real storm. The only bump on the proverbial road (aside from the ridiculous road construction we encountered just outside of St. Louis) was that Mom didn't want to listen to most of the CDs I brought with me. I made her listen to Bruce Springsteen anyway.

Then came Saturday, the day of reckoning...or something. We wandered around the St. Louis History Museum for a few hours around midday (they had some rather nifty exhibits there, too), then we drove to the Washington University campus. We arrived around 2:15, puttered around the gorgeous campus for an hour or so (the place looks like Cambridge, and with good reason--it was consciously modeled after Cambridge and Oxford), and then settled in the pre-appointed meeting place to wait for Dr. Hirst, the Chair of the Graduate Program in History and the guy I'd be working with. He was supposed to arrive at 4:00. At 4:30, there was still no sign of him, so I called his home. I got an answering machine, and left a message. Five o'clock rolled around, and still no sign of the man. At this point, I'm understandably frustrated--not only had my friends not been able to join me for a road trip, but the whole reason for coming out here (meeting with the professor) was turning out to be a wash, too. I call his house again, and again get the answering machine. I inform him that I waited as long as I could, but we had to leave (we had hotel reservations in Cuba, a little town an hour down the road and that much closer to home). We left, got to the hotel, had dinner, and were sitting in the room relaxing. I was also feeling rather sorry for myself, but that's secondary. Dad called on my cell, and I was sitting there chatting briefly with him about the day's events when the call waiting beeped. I looked, and it was the professor. So I quickly switched over, and the man started apologizing profusely. To make a long story short, he actually drove out all the way to Cuba, MO to visit with me for an hour at 9:30 at night. Needless to say, I think he and I both made an impression upon one another.

"The Test Begins...Now!"

A piece of musical advice that I could not merely consign to a quiet existence in the Music Thread of the Forum. You all need to go out and pick up the album "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" by the Flaming Lips. If nothing else, you need to download their tune "Fight Test." These guys are--if you'll pardon the overused, cliched term--pure genius. They write warm, tuneful pop songs very much in the tradition of the Beatles and Pink Floyd. Think Sgt. Pepper's era Lennon or Roger Waters without the exceptionally dark tone. If I had to try and place their style more specifically, I'd say they sound like a latter-day Electric Light Orchestra. Strummed, full-bodied acoustic guitars, gently whispering strings in the background, strong bass lines and drumming, and a plethora of tape loops and electronic effects make their work sound like "Time"-era ELO. Which is a good thing, since the Flaming Lips do it even better than Jeff Lynne and Co. did.

"Fight Test" is the album opener and one of the most emotive songs I've heard since George Harrison's swansong "Brainwashed" album. "Fight Test" features the aforementioned instrumentation and evocative vocals that sound like a young, melodic Neil Young (in the same way that Donovan sounded like a melodic, slightly more in-key Bob Dylan). The song is uplifting and emotional. It makes you want to smile and cry and shout and dance and just hold someone close. All at once. It's a song about a man losing his woman, and realizing that he had lost her and should have fought for her. Thematically, I place it as a sort of sequel to the Sting song "Seven Days," which is a tune about deciding whether or not to commit to his girlfriend. "Fight Test" is essentially what happened to the type of character in Sting's song if he didn't choose at all, but rather decided not to choose.

So do yourself a favor--get their album, or download some of their tunes. Don't let the trippy album title (or band name) throw you off or make you think they're weird. These guys are great, and you'll be glad you took my advice. C'mon, have I ever led any of you astray? In music, that is?

"The test is"

Monday, October 13, 2003


Missing comic

Hey everyone. Just letting you know there was a comic for Wednesday. See, I didn't get the comic uploaded to the server until after midnight (which is when the site auto-updates). So that meant I had to go to the Keenspace site, get into our site admin page, and tell it to manually update the comic. Well, to make a long story short, I'm still unable to access the site admin page. Monkey can't, either. But the comic will automatically be added to the archives by the time you read this, because it's on the server and where it needs to be. So the auto-update thingie will work. Just go into the Archives to see Wednesday's comic.


A reminder that Friday is the 50th Crooked Halo comic, and Saturday marks the 100th Dim Bulb comic! Celebrate these milestones by reading back through the archives, or by signing up for the forums?


So Friday I'm taking a quick little trip to visit Washington University in St. Louis. It's one of the schools I'm considering for my PhD program, and it's also the only one that's within feasible driving distance for the three day weekend we have due to the OU-Texas football game. Originally a few of my friends were going to join me, but alas, extenuating circumstances (such as work and professors who think a three day weekend means they can give you enormous group projects that are due the Monday classes start back up), it's now me and my mom. Which some of you are probably laughing at, but think of it this way--now I don't have to pay for anything on the trip. Take that! Anyway, there'll probably be some sort of summary of my trip up here Monday...not that going to meet with a professor and discussing the possibility of me attending his school is anyhting too exciting, but I have to write about something.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003



Heyo folks. This Friday marks the 50th Crooked Halo strip on this website. That means that, if my math is correct (I make no promises that it is), Saturday marks Dim Bulb strip #100. So I'll take this opportunity to thank everyone who has stuck with us so far. We've got lots more planned, including Support Gifts (see Monkey's post for how October's gift works), a Literature Page where we'll post short stories and the like, and eventually there will be something on the Gallery Page. Honest.

Anyway, there are lots of ways you can celebrate our milestones this week. You can cruise through the archives, or check out the comics we enjoy reading in the Links Section, or join the Forum and chime in on a range of topics, including music, books, comics, and probably as much social commentary as can be gleaned from a conversation about Love Biscuits.


So I was talking with my mom on the phone Friday evening. She was telling me how a friend of hers at Shawnee High School was telling her about her two kids, who both happen to attend "zealots," and how football is less a game here than a "religion" or "cult."

I'm thinking of suing him for intellectual property infringement or something like that.

OU Daily

So I somehow managed to get myself published in the OU Daily, the school's primary newspaper (this place has like three of them...but I would never put anything in the Fountainhead, which is the arch-conservative, evil, narrow-minded newspaper that has no reason to exist except to antagonize people with any common sense or decency, but I digress). Anyway, I'm getting a couple of comics published in the Daily every week, and I'm using that as Step One in my evil plan to take over the world: see, I'm putting the Dim Bulb web address on all the comics now, hoping that some folks will see the comics and want more. When we've got a wide enough readership, that's when spring Step Two: that is, get people to give us money for making the comics. When we've got that, we'll move on to Step Three...but I can't tell you about that one yet, because it gives away the whole plan. Suffice to say, I will have ultimate power by the end of Step Six.

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

Blockage (But Thankfully Not of the Colon)


Quick update type thing. Go to Cinderblock. Art style look familiar? Why, I do believe it does! That'd be a guest comic by yours truly! Anyway, go check out Cinderblock, an amusing and warped look at college life...nomially speaking, anyway. It also has aliens, shapeshifting green blobs, and a smoking monkey. The last one ought to be enough in and of itself to get you to visit.

Miss Useless

As a historian, I can vouch that Miss America has never actually contributed anything of worth, value, or substance to American society. Except the swimsuit competition. In fact, if you look back through history, women such as those who would participate in the Miss America pageant have caused nothing but trouble. Helen of Troy, the prototypical Miss America (or Miss Pan-Hellen, as the case may be), actually caused war rather than prevented it. I mean, being the face that launched a thousand ships is all well and good, but was there any actual good that came of it? No. Achilles, one of Greece's greatest heroes, died because of it. Sure, it provided Homer with material for the Illiad and Odyssey, but that's about it.

On a completely unrelated note, the Monkey is the Devil, but he can't help it--if you had his job, dealing with stupid people most of the day, you'd have the urge to yell at them, make snide remarks, and flick pennies down Heather's shirt, too.

"So I cut off my hair/And I rode straight away"

Well, it finally happened--I went and got a haircut. Yeah, I know, I was enjoying the scruffy hippie look, mostly because it annoyed the mom figure, but it was starting to get on my nerves. When I would run and get sweaty, the hair would get pointy and poke me in the eye. Three miles of this every single day was getting old fast. Also, I had this bit that would stick out over the left ear (only the left ear, never the right), and it looked like I had some sort of wing thing going on. So I broke down and got it cut. I think it actually looks decent.

Yes, that was quite possibly the most boring thing you've ever read, wasn't it?

"Smoke Smoke, Faye Faye! Puff puff, Faye Faye!"

So I was at the corner store the other day getting something to drink, and I saw something disturbing at the counter--Skoal makes a Vanilla Smokeless Tobacco. Vanilla? What the hell?! I mean, I'm all for people's breath not stinking like ass after they've been chewing tobacco, but if I really had my way, they wouldn't be chewing it in the first place. I mean, do people think that crap is cool or something? They look like freakin' chipmunks with a wad of that crap in their cheeks.

Guess it could be worse, though I fear to wonder how.

Dim Bulb Wonderbra! (Wonderbra. Support. Get it?)

Remember folks, you can show your support for Dim Bulb AND get access to nifty stuff! All you have to do is email me and the Monkey and then check out the forum thread we've got set up over in the forum thingies (I'm too lazy to link all this's all just to the left of this post in the Monkey's post). At the end of the month, we'll send you the link to a very special page of Dim Bulb that will feature...well, I'm not sure what all, but extra comics, alternate takes, possibly some random art or short stories or the like. Please, show us some love, we're lonely people...well, I am. The Monkey has his fiance (whose name I feel compeled to remind all is Andria, not to be confused with Andrea, the archtypal female character featured in my comic). But you get the idea.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003


University "Education"

So I learned a very important lesson Wednesday night around midnight--don't lock yourself out of your apartment, because it's an expensive endeavor getting back in.

See, I was walking my friend Beth to her car, and I was also going to move my car to its traditional end spot (which her vehicle was currently occupying). Anyway, she leaves, I move my car, I get back up to the apartment, and I realize I've pulled the door to. What's more, I realize I forgot to grab my apartment keys so I could actually get back into the apartment. So I drive over to the main office, call up the emergency number, and get someone to come let me in. I drive back to the apartment, and I wait for half an hour. The guy shows up, lets me back into the apartment, and charges me $50 to get back in. It's ludicrous, I say! It's freakin' extortion, really. I mean, I could understand a five or even a ten dollar fee. But FIFTY?! It's sad the day you truly realize that the university cares more about your money than about your education. I mean, here I am, a poor graduate student. They already get $450 a month from me, and another about $1000 per semester. How much freakin' money do they think I have?!

On top of that, I lost my parking spot. But I've got it back now, thankfully.

Are You Insured?

So this afternoon I was awakened by a phone call from my mother (yes, I said this afternoon--I only got 2 1/2 hours of sleep Tuesday night, then woke up early and worked for almost 12 hours Wednesday, and was awake for a total of 22 hours that day. I was tired, I slept. End of story). Anyway, turns out my insurance company had dropped me from my plan at the end of August because we hadn't provided them with proof of enrollment. Mind you, they never told us when they needed proof of enrollment, or even that they needed it in the first place. They just dropped me, and let us know almost two weeks after the fact. Stupid insurance company.

Anyway, thank God it's the weekend now. I need some time to sit here and relax...oh, what's that you say? It's game day Saturday? And it's a home game? Well, slap my ass and call me Charlie, I get to deal with rabid football fans all day Saturday? That does it; I'm going to sit outside the apartment with a sign that reads:

For $5, I'll watch your car.
For $10, I'll make sure nothing happens to it.

Turnabout Redux

Dammit Monkey, you did it again! Thankfully, I still had the above rant. Seems like your plans were foiled this time. Take that, Askins!

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

The Heat is On

Hot Hot Hot!

There's just something appealing about setting people on fire. I can't really explain it. Stupid people especially need to be incinerated, preferably with a flamethrower and by me. I think I'd probably laugh gleefully while doing so, too. That being said, does anyone know where I might purchase such a thing?

I really have nothing else to talk about, so I'm going to give you some music choices for the week. Go check out Bob Dylan's album Time Out of Mind. It's a great album full of his trademark wry humor and insights into the inner workings of man's mind. Favorite songs include "Love Sick," "Dirt Road Blues," "Till I Fell in Love with You," and "Cold Irons Bound," though really the whole album is worthwhile. So yeah, go check it out if you can and really like deep, meaningful songs (so completely unlike the rest of contemporary pop-rock). Whether or not you'll be able to understand what the hell Bob's saying is another story entirely, but I never claimed his lyrics were understandable.

We now return you to your regularly-scheduled life, already in progress or something.



I like Hot Pockets. They’re cheap and easy, just like me. And all I have to do is nuke ‘em for two minutes (unlike Adam’s microwave, mine seems to be a functioning piece of machinery that does its job correctly…usually). The only time Hot Pockets aren’t a delectable delicacy is when they don’t get cooked right, which happens occasionally. Y’know, like when they’re kinda still cold and semi-frozen in the middle. Yuck.

Don’t get me wrong, I still eat them.


So yeah, Adam is, as he says, a good portion Hispanic. I guess it does explain all the frozen burritos he has at his house. Seriously, when I stayed over at his place while doing research one Christmas Break, that’s like all he had to eat. Granted, I’m really one to talk—I usually only have Hot Pockets. Perhaps the necessary ingredients for quesadillas. But I digress.

I probably have the most boring ethnic background you could ask for. I think I have a bit of Native American in me and I think some Dutch, but I’m mostly just English (explains why I’m an Anglophile, at any rate). That’s right—I’m your typical white Anglo-Saxon Protestant. Middle class white boy who grew up in the Midwest United States. I am the American Everyman. If I were any more basic or plain, I’d probably be in some sort of advertisement for American tourism or something.

That didn’t make a damn bit of sense, did it? Anyway…

I guess what I’m saying is that I am The Man. Yet somehow I don’t seem to be benefiting from this fact. How does that work? Isn’t there some vast right wing conspiracy to make sure that all white protestant males are ruling this nation for all perpetuity, ensuring our British-descended hegemony? Where’s my cut of this, hmm?

Please forward all hate mail to the email address below, or sound off in the forum.

On an unrelated note, Van Morrison still rocks my socks, as do Moxy Früvous. If you know not of these amazing musical types, you are leading a sad, sad life, and ought to download some of their music.

Thursday, September 04, 2003

Who'll Stop the Rain?

Down in the Flood

It does not often rain in Oklahoma in August/early September. It's rare. So the fact that it's spent the past two or three days doing virtually nothing but rain is rather amusing and, to an extent, kind of annoying. It makes running difficult, it cranks the humidity way up, and it makes me real disinclined towards leaving the apartment. It also makes running something of a soggy affair. And it also sets you to wondering--what really causes rain? I mean, water's heavier than air, right? So how does it get up in the air in the first place? Are we even really sure it's water and not, as the comic suggests, something else? It makes you wonder...

And as for the comic, I get the feeling it's one of those that people are either going to love, or are going to hate and think I'm some sort of blasphemer. If you fall into the latter category, just remember that God has a sense of humor, too. At least, I hope He does. It's my only chance, really.

Almost Cut My Hair

So I really, really need a haircut. At least, if you listen to my mother, you'd get that impression. I guess I must look different through her eyes than through anyone else's. I think she sees me as some sort of scraggly hippie with unkempt, unwashed hair hanging down to my waist in nasty braids or dredlocks or something, I dunno. Don't even get me started on what she thinks of my facial hair...though admittedly, that does look kinda funny. The goatee thing is starting to come in rather well, though the mustache still looks as though I've just forgotten to shave for a couple of days, or maybe I got some dirt on my upper lip and forgot to wash it off or something. So yeah, I look a little odd, but I kinda like the chin fuzz. It feels neat, and I think the chicks dig it...though they may just be saying that to make me feel better, and are all secretly laughing behind my back. Who knows.

On an unrelated note, I've been listening to a heckuva mess of Van Morrison lately, and I think the chorus to his "Wonderful Remark" is quite possibly one of the greatest choruses I've ever heard. That man is simply a brilliant songwriter, though he sometimes has issues with the chorus. Half the time, he comes up with something brilliant. The rest of the time, he doot-doot-doots it. So yeah, go listen to some of Van the Man's stuff. You'll like it, honest.

Saturday, August 30, 2003

SIlence and Insomnia

Hymn to the Silence

Hey folks. Sorry about my silence and Wednesday's lack of a real comic. Things've been hectic the past week or so, getting ready for classes to start up again, working, and visiting my grandparents for the weekend (which was fun). But yeah, I'm back now, and should be on top of things for Friday and from there on out. I hope. If not,'ll post more filler. Soon, this'll be like Megatokyo, only the art won't be as pretty.

Up All Night

Lately, I've suffered from some mild, annoying insomnia. Operating on three or four hours of sleep a night is something I can do, but usually I wait until the END Of the semester to start that sort of behavior, not the beginning.

Anyway, not really a whole lot worth talking about right now. Lots of important things going on, just none that need to be talked about or discussed. On a sad note, I do wish to say goodbye to Nicholas, Wendy's cat. He had to be put to sleep Wednesday because he suffered from FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis). I had the pleasure to meet this kitten last August when I visited Wen, and even I (who am not an animal person in general) couldn't help but love the rascal. I'll try to find a couple of pictures to post of him this weekend. My heart goes out to Wen. Nicholas will be sorely missed.

Now that I've thoroughly depressed everyone...eesh.

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

View from the Halfway Point (I Didn't Make it to the Top)

The Force is Strong with this one

For the record, Adam, I have three lightsabers. Just so you know.

Peak Performance

I'm not sure what happened to it, but I'd posted a rant about my trip to Pikes Peak last weekend on Wednesday...I think Adam accidentally erased it when he uploaded his post. Oh well. I'll give you the short version--I didn't make it to the top because of altitude sickness (not because I was out of shape, oddly enough). A word to the wise: when you're preparing to do a hike that's 13 miles long, starts at 7,000 feet and goes up to 14,000, and you're from a flat state like Oklahoma, do some preparatory hiking first. Do a few short hikes in the area, then go hike the Peak. You'll throw up less, I promise. But aside from that, the whirlwind trip to Colorado last weekend was fun, and I'm now more determined than ever to get to the top of the Peak next time. But first, we're going to the Grand Canyon (next summer...wooo!).


Anyone who really knows me and my obsessions knows I am a huge Beatles fan. They have been, are, and will always be my favorite band. Their music and their sense of style and composition are amazing, and really nothing I could say here hasn't been said before by people much more eloquent than I. Thing is, I was watching the Beatles Anthology DVD last night (on loan from Uncle Randy, aka Gert [short for Gertrude]...I believe the nickname was my grandfather's way of telling him he needed a haircut). Now, as stated, I love the Beatles. Their music is the consistantly the best there is. I can sing along to virtually every single song they ever released, I can name any song of theirs that you can play, and nine times out of ten I can tell you which Beatle wrote it. The word "obsession" very accurately describes my passion for this band.

But what I've never understood was the phenomenon known as Beatlemania. Don't get me wrong, I love their music, I cheer at the 1964 Tribute shows, and I sing along with every song (a woman behind me at the show this past February actually commented on that fact). But what always gets me is seeing the old footage of the Beatles' live performances, and watching all these girls screaming constantly throughout the songs, sobbing, fainting, etc. There's always the old rumor/myth/possible fact about the girls even experiencing sexual gratification just by listening to the band. Now, I've said I think they're the greatest band ever. I don't think I've ever needed to change my shorts after hearing a Beatles song, though. And I've always wondered about the screaming. I mean, how could they hear the music? Cheering is all well and good, but what's the bloody point of going to a concert if you can't actually hear the music? Really, I want to know how four men could have such power over a good percentage of the world's population like they did. I want to know how they did this, and then I want to bend that power to my own nefarious schemes...that is, make people fall in love with Cross-Eyed Yeti. C'mon, tell me "Yetimania" doesn't have a nice ring to it.

Proudest Monkey

Adam is, in fact, in love with himself, and just doesn't want anyone to know it. The thing also is, he's also the laziest person I know, in a special, sad sort of way. This is the man, after all, who was too lazy to take a hand out of his pocket to scratch his nose once. He's the guy who created Slacker Nirvana. He also must clean really freakin' slowly, because it really shouldn't take all week to clean your house, I don't care how messy it is. It's the sort of job that takes maybe fifteen minutes, tops, not including the bathroom. And from the sound of it, he's already done that. Anything lying on the floor that's not something you want to keep goes in a large trash bag. Everything you want to keep is put in stacks and shoved into a corner of the closet for organizing at a later date. C'mon, Monkey, you are but one man--how much of a mess could you possibly have made? I mean, it's not like you're Vander Leest.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

Anatomy 101

Hot Legs

Brief background--I work at the Athletic Department here at the Univeristy of Oklahoma. My title is Writing Consultant; my job is to help the athletes with their papers, because 90% of them write as though English were not their first language (or one they'd even bothered to learn as a second or third langauge). In fact, it's rather amusing that the atheltes for whom English is a second language generally speak it better than those for whom it is their first and only langauge (unless you count athlete, which is a sub-dialect of English and very difficult to understand unless you've had a lobotomy).

Right, where was I? Oh, yes.

See, I was leaving work this afternoon. As I was walking out, I noticed that the Girls' Volleyball Team was in uniform for team pictures. Let me paint you the picture--over a dozen athletic, tanned and toned young ladies (most of them blonde), all wearing very skimpy shorts and shirts that seemed to be a size too small. I think the walk through that room was the happiest minute of my week. Granted, none of them had the proverbial "legs right up to [their] neck," but the legs were certainly long enough for my cares. I've always kinda wondered about that, anyway. I mean, who'd want legs that go all the way to the neck? I'm thinking that Rod Stewart (or his lyricist or whoever) had two things: (1) an odd fixation on legs, and (2) a very poor understanding of basic human anatomy.

All of which is really irrelevant, because those girls were hot.

"These Aren't the Droids You're Looking For"

Like the Monkey, I recently had the (all too brief) opportunity to play a little Knights of the Old Republic, and that game alone was almost enough to make me buy an X-Box (if I had the disposable income for that sort of purchase, I would have. But I don't, so I didn't). While my lust for RPGs is perhaps not as strong as Adam's, my affinity--dare I say my unbridled wild passionate monkey love for all things Star Wars--probably far exceeds his. Hell, I'm currently sitting in a Star Wars-themed room. So the game grabbed me by the throat, kicked me in places best not mentioned, and left me a gibbering idiot...which is only different from my normal state of being in that I was now laughing like Yoda...okay, even that's not really all that different. But the point is, that game was fun, and now I really wish I had a real lightsaber and the Force. Though it's probably good that I don't, because I would so use the Dark Side:
Me: Want to go out?
Hot Volleyball Chick: No, I don't.
Me: You do want to go out with me.
Hot Volleyball Chick: No, I don't, and stop waving your hand in the air like that, you freak.

Desolate Country

I believe I have come up with a term that will describe so-called country "music" accurately and without abusing our sensibilites by referring to it as "music." Ladies and Gentlemen and Monkeys, I give you "country noise." It's like real music, only crappy and twangy and with too much fiddle and pedal steel guitar. And stuff. Best of all, it can be used as a gauge to judge how crappy other forms of music are. For instance, on a scale of country noise to classic rock, rap would rate lower than even country noise. Hip-hop, if it's decent, might rate a point or two higher than country noise (though the Gorillaz, with their bizzare fusion of hip-hop and rock, would rate honorary classic rock). Sure, there might be some bugs in the system to work out, but I think the idea is sound.

Monday, August 04, 2003

Post for August 4, 2003


Crooked Halo is the featured comic for Monday over at Stripper's Corner (no, not that sort of stripper, you dirty person, you), so I'd like to welcome everyone to Dim Bulb Comics. We hope you enjoy your stay. Browse the archives. Join the forums, tell your friends. We actually have three comics here for your viewing pleasure. There's Crooked Halo on Monday/Wednesday/Friday, which I draw, and Vapor Lock on Tuesday/Thursday, which Adam Askins (the Noise Monkey ranting to my left) pens, and on Saturdays we have the post-apocalyptic epic Troubled Times, which Adam draws and I write.

Anyway, we hope you enjoy what you see here, and that you'll return six days a week to be entertained and all that jazz. And now for something completely different.

Old Man

So my father turns 50 today. This really has no relevance on anything, I just want to wish him a happy birthday in a place where about a half dozen people who don't even know him will see it. So yeah, happy 50th, old man--here's to 50 more.

King of the Mountain

So this weekend, my brother, father, and I are going to climb to the top of Pike's Peak. I am excited, to say the least. After spending an entire summer in Yellowstone National Park last year, then spending the subsequent year in Oklahoma, I'm rather tired of flat, boring, hot places, and could do with a change of scenery...and elevation, both of which I'll get at Pike's Peak. Woo! I'll be heading out Saturday and getting back sometime late Monday, but don't worry--I've already got comics uploaded through that Monday, so there won't be a pause in updates...unless the Monkey drops the ball. Naughty monkey.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

Curse of the Stupid People

I like to think I'm a fairly easy-going, tolerant person. I like to believe that I can deal with lots of crap before I finally snap and chew someone's head off, or go into a blind rage and only come back to my senses when the ground is soaked in blood and so are my clothes. But even I have my limits, and I'm getting really tired of dealing with the overwhelming number of stupid people I seem to encounter on a daily basis.

For instance: the other day, I was out taking my daily jog. Some kids--couldn't have been more than 15 or so--are riding around on their bikes. This one kid is riding without using his hands. That in and of itself does not bother me. When I was young, I not only rode without using my hands, I rode without pads or helmets of any of that other crap that parents think makes children safe (back when I was young, you made the kids safe by actually teaching them how to ride the damn things well. If you fell off, it was your own damn fault--you ought to be able to ride better. My elbows and knees possess the scar tissue that attest to this method of learning). No, what annoyed me about this kid was that he was riding without use of his hands because one hand was busy holding a cell phone up to his ear. Now, I understand that cell phones are pretty much here to stay. Much like computers, television, and radios before them, cell phones have taken their place in American culture. Everyone seems to have them. But I don't think children really need them. Honestly, when you're still young enough that you have to ride a bike to get everywhere you're going, do you need a cell phone? Are you that important? I doubt it. To make matters worse, the moron was crossing the street across oncoming traffic. The saddest part of this whole debacle was that the moron wasn't run over, which would have insured that his stupidity was not carried on to the next generation. Not that it would've mattered much--there are still plenty of stupid people out there that his ceasing to be would not have had any sort of statistical significance.

About Friday's Comic

Just so I don't receive an angry email about this or anything: I know it's a stereotype to portray women as wanting to go clothes shopping or whatever. Yes, it is unfair to say that all women just love to go out and spend money on clothes and other such frivolous things. But bear this in mind--most of my close friends are female. With but a few exceptions, I think I have been out clothes shopping with almost every single one of them. Remember--stereotypes exist for a reason, and if you look far enough back, there's probably a basis in reality for them...sometimes.

Demographics Check

So I was thinking yesterday about our readership (I mean our readership beyond Adam's mom). If what I am led to believe is correct, we actually have readers across the country, coast to sunny coast. I know there are people in Virginia, Washington, DC, California, Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma, and even New Jersey who at least tell me they're reading the comic. Granted, I only have their word for it, and in the past folks have often only told me things to keep from hurting my feelings (granted, people've told me things specifically to hurt my feelings before, too. Which just goes to show that people can be dicks, regardless of gender and whether or not they happen to have that particular part of the human anatomy. Dickness knows no gender lines). So perhaps we do have a stake in this Arnold for Governor thing. As the voice of such a diverse group of people, we here at Dim Bulb owe it to our readership, limited as it may be, to bring to you the latest and most entertaining BS we can possibly craft.

Note I said nothing about accuracy. If you want accuracy, watch CNN...wait, no, don't, you probably won't find it there, either.

Thursday, July 31, 2003

"Dookaak Eat Monkey!"

Hey all. Had a wonderful time in Arkansas this weekend, getting to see many of my close friends for what may be the last in a very long, long time. Like many many moons. Or months. Whatever.

Anyway, yeah, that was a bittersweet gathering, but such is life. Partings may not be easy, but we have to deal with them. And when all else fails, maybe large amounts of alcohol will dull the pain...okay, probably not, and it's not like I've got the money for large amounts of alcohol, so I'll probably just watch anime instead and remember the old times or something.

Delusions Redux

As I've said many times, Clif and I have completed recording of Cross-Eyed Yeti's debut album, Delusions of Grandeur. Anyway, as soon as I get cover art and stuff together (the Monkey's working on that), we'll be making that available through this website. Yes, you, too, can own the album guaranteed to make you wonder what the hell you did with the earplugs. While you won't be the envy of your neighbors, you will be their aural bane, and they'll probably give you money to turn it off if you're playing the record loud enough. Anyway, we'll probably charge something like $5 per CD plus a small shipping & handling fee, but we think it'll be well-worth it...perhaps.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Post for July 23, 2003

Big Ten Inch...Record

The Delusion is now reality. That's right--Clif and I have finished recording Cross-Eyed Yeti's debute album, Delusions of Grandeur. Fourteen tracks, just over 40 minutes of music guaranteed to sound absolutely nothing like a boy band record. It's equal parts wry humor, roots rock, and what Clif calls his "flamengo lead guitar" (I asked him if he meant "flamenco guitar," but he was positive that he meant "flamengo." The boy has issues, that's all I can say). That being said, we are very proud of what we accomplished with these songs, and we think they're actually quite good. At some point, we may try to sell the CD through the Dim Bulb (note spacing) site. Should be easy, since I've got all the songs on MP3 on my computer. Granted, what you'll get is a burned copy of it, and the sound quality isn't as high on all of the songs as we wanted, but we were working under rather primative conditions, and think it all turned out good nonetheless. I'll probably see about getting a nice CD label making kit to fancy up the CDs. They'll feature art from our very own Noise Monkey, who was kind enough to some art of a Yeti nature for us. Very spiffy stuff.

Last Train to Clarksville

So I'm going to Arkansas this weekend...not technically to Clarksville, and technically in a car rather than by train, but try to work with me here. But yeah, we're having a going away party for Chris and Jennifer Vander Leest, my roommates of three years and all-around entertaining people (I hesitate to call them "good people" because Chris is mentioned in there). Anyway, they're moving up to Seattle (as in Washington state) so Chris can attend a fancy art school up there. They will be sorely missed, and trips to Clarksville just won't be the same anymore.

Really, it does sort of feel like a chapter of life is coming to an end. I mean, one sorta ended last May when I graduated and started Graduate school, but my situation at OU has always felt...temporary. Like I was just off on a sort of intellectual vacation and would return to the "real World" (yes, I'm actually referring to life in Clarksville with all of my friends as "the real world." Deal with it) soon. The change never really sunk in, I guess. I'd go back for a weekend, and it was like I never left. Folks were like, "oh, it's Chuck," and it didn't seem like anything unusual. On the contrary, it seemed perfectly ordinary, almost right, one could say. But, according to what I've been told, we all have to move on, and we can't remain fixed in one place and one time forever (currently, evidence seems to weigh quiet heavily in favor of those who say this. What with all the people I know who're getting married or moving off or at least on, it seems like I'm the only one sometimes who wants to cling to the past...and now you know the real reason I'm a history major. This is a character trait, let me tell you). But yeah, long story short, I'm going to Arkansas this weekend for one of the last chances for the gang to all be together in place and all of us act like children before "reality" and "adulthood" and "responsibility" all catch up with us.

The Monkey

So there's a theory going around that perhaps the Monkey is a bit too caustic and cruel to people. I dunno, I've met worse. Admittedly, his sense of humor is generally more evil than mine (well, according to who you're talking to), but I don't think he's as bad as, say, Clif, who gets pleasure out of torturing blind people and yelling out of car windows at idiots who are about to stick their hands in hot springs in national parks (admittedly, I found that particular incident funny as hell, but I can't really relate it in full here without offending some people's sensibilities). Eh. I don't see the big deal. Sure, he's made fun of me for not being able to space things correctly or to count, but my math skills are widely recognized as being non-existant, and I figure I can probably dish it out as well as I can take it if it comes to that (I mean, after all, he admitted he's got girly arms. I could take him). Oh well. Go read the comics. I'll be back Monday with something witty and verbose, with any luck.

Oh, and Monkey, as for a way of telling her that you're mean? I think the post might've taken care of your problem...which isn't to say it won't generate a whole host of new problems, but hey--we take issues as they come up, right?

Monday, July 21, 2003

Post for July 21, 2003

Jammin' Me

Celebrated my paternal uncle's birthday this weekend, which was more fun than it sounds. The evening included plenty of food (always a plus), a swimming pool, and a jam session. Now, I don't play any instruments. Some would even say I don't really sing. That sort of debate I leave to the gods, though. At any rate, about a half dozen men sitting around with guitars, a couple of people who are sitting around listening and remember all the words, and you've got several hours of entertainment on your hands. And no one cringed when I sang, so I must've been doing something right.

Delusions of Grandeur

Clif and I almost have Cross-Eyed Yeti's debute album recorded. We only lack recording three songs and a couple of additional tracks on already-recorded songs. The short story is that we'll have it done by the end of the week. And then...well, who knows what'll happen then. I'll probably find some way to torture my friends with the album. Which reminds me--Monkey, have you had a chance to draw that stuff for us yet?

Friday, July 18, 2003

Post for July 18, 2003

Declining Standards

Well, the Latin language owns my soul. I took the third of five tests for my Latin correspondence course yesterday. I have a difficult time with foreign languages (there are some who might say I have difficulty with English, too, but I digress). I do think I've narrowed down my problem, though. See, Latin is one of those languages that relies on conjugation of verbs and declension of nouns/pronouns/adjectives to convey certain meaning. It also features gender. Woo. But instead of just having one set of endings for conjugating all verbs and one set of endings for declining all nouns/pronouns/adjectives, you end up with five different conjugations and four different declensions. And then you have different endings depending on the gender of the word. And then you have the different tenses for verbs. So far, I have present, imperfect (past), and future, but they're going to add two or three new tenses in the next few chapters. What all this means is that you have to memorize a lot of different endings for different words. I really think that this is just shoddy work. I mean, when they were designing Latin, why couldn't they have made it real simple. You only need three, maybe four tenses: present, past, future, and maybe future imperfect (like "he will have done this" or something like that. I'm not real clear on this sort of thing). Each verb should thus have three, possibly four potential conjugations. It wouldn't matter if the word was masculine, feminine, or neuter--same ending for all of them. One set of declension endings for allnouns, pronouns, and adjectives. It'd be simple. I tell ya, the ancients really just didn't have their act together when they set up their language.

Granted, English is ten times worse, but thankfully I speak that already and don't have to worry about trying to learn it as a second (or, as the case is for me with Latin, fifth) language.

G.L.O.C.H. (Gorgeous Ladies of Crooked Halo)

Today's comic again features the ladies Andrea and Tammy. Someday I hope to elaborate more on their characters. We'll just have to see what I can manage. They will play fairly prominent roles in the lives of Simon and Jerome, if only because we need ye ol' woman's touch to keep the comic and me honest.

They Say it's Your Birthday

Today marks the one month anniversary of the new Dim Bulb Comics site. Come celebrate with us by taking a trip through the archives or joining us in the forum. There's a nice forum thread about how underground and "indie" we are (which has diverged into a discussion of my inability to correctly-space the words "Dim" and "Bulb" when writing Dimbulb...or, as Adam insists it's supposed to be, Dim Bulb). Thanks for reading, and make sure to check out page three of Troubled Times tomorrow. I know I'm looking forward to it (because I haven't seen it yet, either).


On a related note, I may not put a space between "Dim" and "Bulb" regularly, but at least I know how to spell "cabesa." I can also spell "ambidexterous," which has no actually bearing on the current debate, but I felt obligated to point out my versatility in matters concerning writing stuff. Yeah. And I figured out that you have to have a space between "Bulb" and "Comics" because if you put it anywhere else, it chafes.

Thursday, July 17, 2003

GLOCH (Gorgeous Ladies of Crooked Halo)

Foxy Lady

Today's comic is the first of a pair about the lovely ladies of Crooked Halo, Andrea (not to be confused with Andria, the real-life fiance of the Monkey) and Tammy, the Succubus. How the two ended up becoming roommates is something of an unusual story, and I may someday see about adding the series I did about it from back when I just emailed out the comics to the archives at some point. I dunno.

Anyway, the girls will be regular characters, but probably won't be featured as often or as prominently as the guys. There are two reasons for this: first, I have a tough time writing for the women without it coming out sounding cliched or sexist or just plain dumb...which is funny, when you consider that most of my friends are female. Weird. The second reason is that I can't draw them, either. I have a tough time drawing women, and I don't know why. I think part of it is the idea that I'm drawing the female form. I feel almost...naughty. Sorta like, "heh, I'm drawing boobies," or something like that. I dunno. It's just something I've been trying to work at. Trust me, I'm much better than I was even a month or two ago, and miles beyond how I drew women a year ago. If I'm feeling really evil, I may post some of the older character designs for female characters sometime. We'll see.

Pissed Off

Coincidentally, Clif fixed the toilet in my apartment the other day, just as Adam's favorite urinal at Ozarks was repaired. Now you don't have to try some fancy trick to get the toilet to flush right (before, if you didn't flush it just right, the toilet kept running until you took the top off the tank and fiddled with stuff. I, for one, don't enjoy sticking my hand in the toilet). Anyway, everyone can now pee freely...just please, not in the pool. Or the floor. That's just gross.


Adam has issues when it comes to his layouts, let's just say that. I mean, he goes to great lengths to distance himself from Mac Hall, then starts doing all sorts of things to create new and exciting similarities. I fully expect him to start drawing a kitten on Cal's head anytime. I also suspect this is secretly a way to make me feel like a slacker. I mean, he's doing large color comics now, and I'm sticking to the ol' three-panel black and white. He's also doing three (edit: not four, as previously stated. I think it's a well-known fact that I cannot count. ~Cricket) strips a week, compared to my three. It's a conspiracy, I tell ya, a conspiracy Yeah.

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

Drive My Car

A car sat in the parking lot of my apartment complex since November with a flat tire. It might have even been there since I moved in back in October, but I know it had the flat by November for sure. Anyway, that car sat in the same spot, with the flat tire, and a bunch of crap in the back seat until this past Saturday. That's eight months.Now, what I'm wondering is, did the person who owned it just not have to go anywhere? Have they been sitting in their apartment, unable to move and afraid to leave bed, Brian Wilson style, for the past eight months? Who knows. Interestingly enough, the car hasn't been back since it abruptly disappeared sometime early Saturday.On a thematically-related point, apparently my grandfather bought a new car the other day on something of a whim. And supposedly my parents came to Norman Friday to look at a car. From what Clif tells me, they liked the car and were ready to buy it, but the salesman kept screwing around on the price, and my folks got fed up with the man's crap and left. So, just a warning to all you car salesmen out there: when my parents come around to buy a car, they've done their research, they know what they want, they know how much it should cost, and they won't be jerked around by small-minded simpletons out to try and increase their commission profit. Just a head's up.

Goin' to the Chapel

It would seem that I am quickly becoming part of a minority (bet that sounds funny coming from a white middle class Protestant male, eh?). The number of people I know who are single is dwindling rapidly. The score goes something like this: my roommate and his girlfriend got married back at the end of May. Then another friend of mine got married two weeks later. Prior to this, several people I already knew were married, and many more engaged or in some sort of long-term relationship. Now, of course, we also have the Monkey and Andria engaged. Also, a couple of friends of mine here at OU, Jess and Dom, are going to be getting married next summer. And yesterday I discovered that my friend Amanda E. (to differentiate between the two or three people I know with that name) got engaged and will be getting married early next year. I can also think of another couple of people who've gotten engaged or married recently.Truth be told, it doesn't bother me being single much anymore. I just find it increasingly odd to be single amongst so many people who are in long-term relationships. Not to mention the fact that I'm really entering a discipline that's all about isolation. Reading, research, and writing papers are all rather solitary activities. I mean, I have a tough enough time just typing this newspost with Clif sitting next to me right now...granted, he's playing his ukelele, which is enough to distract most anyone.I'm sure there was a point to all of this. I think it's that, while I don't mind being single, I sometimes get this feeling that I'm being left behind, like I need to catch up with everyone else or something. Feh. This is why I don't let myself think too much.

Something Completely Different

Despite his desires to the contrary, I don't think I'm going to let Clif throw a "Free-Form Ukelele" onto the Cross-Eyed Yeti album (entitled, appropriately, "Delusions of Grandeur"). He's developed something he calls "Kooky Uke," but I don't think it's gonna make the cut...for which you should probably praise whatever superior power you might believe in. Beyond that, we're going to try and lay down a couple of tracks this week, see if we can't get the album recorded by the end of next week. More on that as it develops.

Monday, July 07, 2003

The Yeti are Recording

You might've seen the reference to the band Cross-Eyed Yeti in Vapor Lock on the 26th of June. Who are Cross-Eyed Yeti, you ask? Go on, ask, or I'll feel silly for the rest of this newspost. Thanks. Anyway, since you're so curious, I will tell you about Cross-Eyed Yeti, that you may know and fear. They are, in fact, a real band. Currently, the band consists of my brother Clif on guitar, Noise Monkey on bass (okay, he owns a bass), and myself doing vocals (I use that term loosely).

Recently, Clif purchased a sound effects pedal for his guitar. The thing is like a tiny god. You can hook it up to a computer, and then you can record things through it onto the computer...things like guitar and vocal tracks. Then you can do all sorts of fun stuff to the separate audio tracks, like adding effects and adjusting individual tracks' volume, or doing fade outs, or whatever. Supposedly you can add some pre-programmed drums along with it all, but we've yet to figure that part out.

The long and the short of it is, Clif and I have started recording our songs with this stuff and a borrowed microphone from our church. We're currently in the studio (read: the back bedroom of my apartment) laying down the guitar and vocals for a dozen of our favorite original tunes. We hope to have final versions ready by the end of the month, when he leaves. Then we'll convert it all to MP3s and .wav files (to put on CDs) and then I'll assault your auditory senses with our music. We take a rather ballistic approach to music--Clif likes to play loud and fast, and I have to try and be heard above him. Lots o' fun.

So I leave you with this thought: fear the Yeti.