I don’t know why people are sad about the Great Deathwave of 2016. It’s a remarkable opportunity to make a stranger’s life all about yourself.
Muhammad Ali, The Greatest, 1942-2016. A multifarious and complex personality that’s tough to categorize (especially for a pugilist), not a prop for your opinions.
When a celebrity dies, you now own them. You can take the life’s work of someone you never encountered and reduce it to a personal inspiration. You can interpret their efforts as empowerment for your own agendas. Oh, and you can cherry-pick the qualities of their persona that you agree with, and ignore everything else. A corpse will never call your bluff. Continue reading →
Thanks to the generous social programs in my fair city, I recently got my teeth fixed, ending over a decade of busted-molar jokes and references in my work. In essence, I no longer feel like I have a mouthful of bloody razors. Once everything healed up, I couldn’t believe how much better I felt overall. Not that I consider myself a lion, but I couldn’t keep from thinking of that old fable with the thorn in the paw. Now I can chew food with my entire mouth, instead of just a small section, gingerly. It’s the little things in life.
If your teeth don’t hurt, or you have easy access to a dentist, thank your lucky stars. I’ll let you in on a little secret; us artists are merely holding on to whatever choppers we can before we croak. There is no “insurance” or “healthcare” for us; it does not exist. These are the breaks. If you want security, you go into insurance. Not drawing cartoons.