Monday, December 18, 2006

Comic for December 18 2006

Skyclad. Birthday suit. In the buff. Bare. Nude. Starkers. Stripped. In the altogether. Unclothed. Nekkid. Naked.

Naaaaaaked.

Don't mind me, I just like watching myself type. It started with "skyclad" and sort of went south of the border, but skyclad reminds me of Wiccans, which reminds me of the time my wife went to a wascally wiccan wedding (heheheheheh, it's wabbit season...) and was asked, as part of the ceremony, to represent the spirit of the North. Her part of the ceremony involved eating a radish or some such thing (I kid you not, but you can feel free to ask her the next time you see her), which has always left me with a little giggly feeling inside every time I meet an overly dramatic Wiccan who has made a lifelong career of embracing their inner radish, or embracing the North radish or whatever silly thing.

The fact is that, unlike that particularly splendid example of goofyness, most of the wacky wiccans I know aren't really all that wacky. Quite the let-down, really. Ok, my friend the thunder-god "demonologist" who was unfortunately not allowed to marry us is a bit eccentric, but that's not nearly as radishy as all that. It's the dabblers that tend to go over the edge, the Craft-kiddies who watched one too many rentals of...well...The Craft. or Witches of Eastwick. Or maybe that first scene with where you get to see madonna's breasts in Four Rooms.

I'm not certain as to where this is going, but I'd better stop here. Anything that starts off with synonyms of naked, with radishes in the middle, and ending in Madonna's breasts can't be leading in a good direction.

Then again, I've another exam behind me, the Daycare Plagues I caught (two variants in two weeks!) finally broke today, and I get to sleep in tomorrow!

Those of you urbanites who still want to know more about embracing radishes, why not check out this book instead? Those of you hooked on the boobies of Our Lady of Material Girlness... just remember that those boobies turned turned 48 this year, which is only two weeks older than some of Michael Jackson's underlying deep bone structure.

Ok, for sure I'm stopping now. That last sentence had "Michael Jackson" and "deep bone" in the same sentence.

Type at ya later...

Friday, December 15, 2006

Comic for December 15 2006

Blarg. Sick as a dog and I'm writing my first exam in 2 hours. It's worth 100%. Yuck.

I don't understand why people say "sick as a dog". All the dogs I see are annoyingly healthy, energetic, enthusiastic, moronic drool-machines. Right now I'm feeling slow, lazy, whiney, and vaguely pathetic, which in my mind puts me in the "lazy as a cat" category.

Don't get me wrong, I love cats and dogs, but etymologically? Sick as a dog just doesn't do it for me...Maybe one of those overly inbred poodle-type dogs that catches a fever at the drop of a hat (yes, there's another saying that bothers me. No one drops hats as often as the implication there).

Double Blarg. I need coffee, some supercharged generic variant of DayQuil, and food. Pretty much in that order.

Wish me luck... and just the good stuff. You can wish the bad stuff over to your neighbour or some cat or dog you dislike, or maybe one of those hat-droppers you just want to see slip in a puddle of moronic drool.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Comic for December 13 2006

My wife and I were married by a unitarian, so I thought I'd throw in something autobiographical into today's strip. Since we're both spiritual but not religious *and* since we both wanted a wedding, the unitarians more or less sprang to mind.

Ok, technically they were the second choice. Our first choice was an old friend of mine who's a card-carrying priest of Thor (I'm not joking) but once my then-future-to-be father-in-law got wind of that, his reaction was "I will not allow a demonologist to marry my daughter!", and that's a quote.

That alone would have made it worth getting married like that, but my sense of humour was trumped by some hind-brain survival mechanism and we opted for the better part of valour at the time, which was a unitarian priest named Evelyn (or Evil Lynn as I liked to refer to her... not because she was even vaguely mean-spirited in any way, it just gave me the giggles at the time).

The one thing that struck me about getting married by a unitarian was that you got to write the script for the marriage ceremony, vows, and her speech and everything. The only part that was mandatory are the bits of form and circumstance that are required by law, i.e. getting the consent signatures and so on. Aside from that, since it was our dime, it was our show.

This made for a very fun, incredibly romantic, and more than a little geeky ceremony. We didn't do anything retrospectively humiliating like getting married in full Klingon battle gear but our wedding march was the song from the last few minutes of the first Star Wars movie where Luke and friends get their medals.

Yeah, go listen to it again and tell me you don't get it. It's a moving, uplifting, stately marching piece that fits right in with weddings. Better so, in my mind, than the usual Mendelssohn piece. Mendelssohn's march wasn't even a wedding march until royalty got a hold of it in the 1850's.

This makes me wonder what was used for wedding marches before 1847 (the first time it was used as such) but no one's got relatives that old and I'm too lazy to go look it up. Seeing as Mendelssohn's march was part of a score for "A Midsummer's Night's Dream", I imagine that whatever was trendy, upscale and popular as far as music went back then would do.

Scaling this into the future, Mendelssohn's march will no doubt fall out of favour in time and be replaced by some Beyoncé tune or other, knowing the way people are.

And hey, since theatre was responsible for the original piece, maybe showtunes will be the next big thing... I dunno. Getting married to a Star Wars march is one thing but I'm not sure if I could do it again with anything from "Meet Me In St-Louis"...

Monday, December 11, 2006

Comic for December 11, 2006

Exam study week. Four finals, each worth 100% of the grade. I've one already behind me (the take-home) and the rest happen at roughly two-day intervals starting this Friday and ending next Friday. There'll be strips for this week and next, but I'll be off from the 22nd until the new year so unless I can figure out how to pre-post strips there'll be a blank week after next Friday. Short of setting up a real site and stopping this blogger business I'm not sure if there's a way to do it, but I'm open to suggestions and too lazy to look it up myself...

Friday, December 08, 2006

Comic for December 9 2006

So as of today's episode, I've committed myself to purchasing the Playmobil Devil Gnome.

Yes, that's a rather kid-friendly name for a toy, isn't it? Bound to have been popular with the conservative European Catholic crowd, I imagine, which is why it was discontinued half a dozen years ago, making it a bit of a rare piece, even on Ebay (I've only seen one in the last six months, and I missed getting that one at the time, darnit).

On note related in that "Hell and back" kind of way, our little family went to get our passport pictures done up all at once a couple of weeks back. It was all very last minute because of our usual procrastinatory planning skills, and we showed up at the photographer's at quarter-to-closing. The only thing that got us a shot at getting our shots taken was our sweet little girl, smiling in her freshly done up pigtails, burbling happily and fresh out of daycare for the day.

This was the last happy moment for a little while, as you realize there's a genetic marker embedded deep within the human program that says "love the camera when Daddy points it at you" and "freak out if it's not a family member pointing a camea at you". It must be some kind of anti-paparazzi (or maybe an anti-stalker?) gene, because it was a real chore to get a proper passport photo taken of her.

Not that the passport office makes it easy. Your picture has to be neutral expression, eyes open, mouth closed, head facing forward, don't move aaaaand...... (*BOOMF*) okay, you're set for the next five years. It's ridiculous how difficult it is to get a small kid to adopt all of these options at once. Especially when she's crying, wriggling, shaking her head and reaching for Cheerios. (that would be a zero out of five situation).

At this point, it becomes something of a video-game puzzle to get the picture, where giving cheerios stops the crying, but the mouth is opening and closing and the hands a moving back and forth, and removing cheerios sets you back about three loud and tearful variables.

Long story short, we all got our pictures taken, but mommy's got sent back a few days ago because it was "not good". So we had it re-done, and went back to the passport office, where they told us the second one was probably going to be also not good because they were both "off" in terms of contrast.

So now it's likely she'll have to sit dow for a third time (fortunately the other pix were ok) but we'll try a different place entirely and the folks at the 'office said that they can just insert the photo (if it's good) into the passport within 20 minutes with the on-site process they have there.

But it's been a pain in the ass, for the record.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Comic for December 7 2006

Despite the (nearly buried) plot arch of our necromancer trying to bring out the destuction of the kingdom through the extraction and distillation of a rather unhealthy amount of Phineas T. Bagmeat's various bodily fluids, if I keep blogging about malady and plague you folks are going to think I'm coming down with a bad case of hypochondria.

Nevertheless, after struggling to shake off the nasty gastro my sweet daughter infected me since last Friday, I'm really glad to be up and about again and complaining about the world like my usual self (and not nearly as whiningly and pathetically, my wife would like me to add at this point).

Personnally I prefer to think that I had a bit of punk in me but as it was pointed out that I really have nothing to complain about and my soapbox is this nice, solid teak thing with brass fixings and brightly stenciled letters that I keep lovingly sealed in lucite behind red velvet curtains for special occasions.... yeah well my credibility's all shot for the punk angle at this point, even if I do point out that my favorite flavour of beer is "free" and I own a leather jacket with a Crass symbol on it (yes, it's hers too... sigh).

Right, well since today's entry appears to be about lack of credibility, have you noticed that this is something from which a number of people in the strip suffer? It must either be me transposing onto my creations or an unwitting realization that competence isn't particularly funny. Or at least, if you have competence, you need some stark and laughably awful contrast right next to it so that there's something funny after all.

It's a bit like waving the right hand while the left hand does something else.

Do you suppose that's why countries have presidents and prime ministers?

I'll leave you on that thoughtful note today. Enjoy the strip and I'll try to keep my stomach in line for Monday...

Friday, December 01, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 01/12/2006

This has to be the funniest thing I have seen in months. It's an "ex" knife holder (sorry guys, it only seems to come in ex-boyfriend flavours... is that saying something about your fear of committment? I dunno...). It comes in black and silver too, but I think the bright red is at the same time most Xmassy and appropriate. Knives are even included, doesn't that just beat the living daylights out of the tired old standby Voodoo Kit?

I think it's great that society can laugh at this kind of thing, even as it engages in the sublimation of basic post-relationship hostilities with petty vengeance. Gotta love the human species that way... or else we'll buy little plastic effigies of you and stabbity-stab-stab them.

Hey, on the topic of ex's, I've got exactly two entries for our Merry Widow, both of them puns. I just want to say how much I love my friends, because I really do love puns. I refuse to subscribe to the hoary old belief that has been systematically foisted on us for generations now, that puns are the lowest form of humour.

In fact, I want to set the record straight on this since it's one of those things that gets my goat: people using half quotes. It's like using statistics without knowing what they mean, or taking a news item completely out of context and using it to emphasize the inverse of its original intention.

Here's the thing. Everyone, but I mean everyone has heard "The pun is the lowest form of humour" before. I've been punning all my life and I'm just as guilty of quoting it this way. Just now, I looked it up to see which humourless bastard in history had the poor grace to make such an awful review of my favorite mode of comedy.

Boy was I surprised to find it was only half a quote. "The pun is the lowest form of humour... unless you thought of it yourself". There are variations on the theme, but attribution appears to go equally to either Doug Larson or Oscar Levant. I'll leave it as an exercise to the reader to go and hunt down who has paronomasiac precedence on this one.

I think one of my favorite classic authors said it best:
"The goodness of the true pun is in the direct ratio of its intolerability." — Edgar Allan Poe, Marginalia, 1849

All of this being said, the two entries for our latest female lead are : "Mary" Widow and "Poison Pen"elope.

I'm still open to other suggestions, but if I don't hear from anyone by end of next week, keep an eye out for her new name in a near-future strip.

Back in a couple...

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

The NecRomantics - Comic for 29/11/2006

I think it's plague season again. I mean, it never really stopped being plague season, but as the days wear on, I feel like I'm in 1665 London wishing someone would set fire to some rats just for variety's sake.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sick yet, but the daycare bug (see my archived post regarding plagues) has gone through every member of the family, including in-laws and babysitters. Over the last few weeks as I watched people fall to it one by one, I felt like the perky young cheerleader in the screamer flick.

Scratch that. Horrible image. I'd look terrible in a skimpy outfit with pompoms.

Anyway, you get the idea. It's that scene in the movie where you realize that the dramatic music stopped a while ago and there's just creacking footsteps on old rotting floorboards. There's that electric feeling in the air of impending doom and you know that any minute the knife is going to come out of the shadows.

So of course, there I was this morning in the desolate part of nowhere that my daughter's pediatrician calls his office when he's not in the downtown clinic, with 11 other drooling infected toddling baterial death carriers and their moms in the room feeling every bit like Sigourney Weaver plaing ten little indians with her marine pals, or like every zombie movie you've ever seen where the heroes board up the old rickety house only to realize they've cut off their escape route and someone forgot to lock the one exit into which zombies are pouring like inexorable rotting molasses...

It felt like personally being in every Jhonen Vasquez scene that demonstrates human yuck. Ever. At once.

All of which to say is that she has an ear infection. At least that's not contagious, and it's better than the nasty puking gastro she had over the weekend. Except... she has to take antibiotics... and the label on *those* damn things says that the side effects may include nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting, etc..etc....

By all that it good and holy! (And I mean that in the Ron Herzfedlt "My Anus is Bleeding" kind of way) Why bother taking antibiotics at all if you're liable to suffer like that?

Signing off now... I need to go hug my giant microbe to sleep. I used to think it's funny, but it's snot...

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Feed should be updating now - An Interlude -and the "Name That Necromancer!" Contest


Yes, I feel silly now. Thanks again Aliza. Something *was* wrong: Blogspot moved their link and Feedburner couldn't cope. Those who were subscribing through the Atom link on the site were getting the site as per normal, m'self included.

No big. Think of it as delayed gratification. Now you get to read three weeks of... Oh. Right. Haven't posted in three weeks. ok, you get to re-read Sunday's "Monday comic" post again if you like.

Or you can read today's special NecRomantics Interlude. :)

And hey, in case you haven't noticed, I haven't come up with a name yet for either the Necromancer or the charming young lady with the ghostly ex-husband in Monday's strip. It's funny, but practically every last one of the other characters immediately stood up in my mind and named themselves, from the Baron von Poopenscoop and Peedles to Sailor Moon, Cap'n Pike and Sister Bluebird.

And to give credit where credit is due, I let my lovely and talented wife (my muse, natch) choose the name for Gwendy. She also came up with the nickname "Kazoo" for our currently cute and fuzzy dreadlord "K'Zuhl'A'Thoth" and with the aptly and very Lovecraftianly titled neighbourhood of Yag-Fthagn. This strip would not be half as niftily named if it weren't for her very own classy pizazz.

(And in case you're wondering, the husband already has a name, and he's one of the ones who stood up and named himself too. It's a little weird, but the characters really must percolate in my backbrain for a while sometimes because I get the feeling that they have fully developed little personalities right from the get-go...)

All this to say that if she doesn't name the Necromancer or our merry widow soon, you folks will get the chance. I don't have any prizes to give out, but the winner will get full and very obvious credit for the privilege of adding to what I'm sure will rapidly become a legend in my own mind.

(Now how's that for a sneaky way to get the comments flowing?)

Anyway, enjoy the interlude. And stay tuned tomorrow for the second part of our new arc.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 27/11/2006

Yes, three weeks or so is rather a long time to not update, I agree. Thanks for Aliza for kicking my ass into gear and letting me know that 25% of my readership has a bone to pick with me.

Hey, when you've only got 4 readers and you know them all by name, criticism takes on a new and very personal form.

So, on an unrelated note, the thin veneer of family-friendliness of the strip gets another nasty shock as we start off a new story arc and introduce some new characters. Stick around and you'll soon see what I mean. I'm sorry to anyone who tunes in at a later date somehow thinking I might have been able to maintain a G rating for this strip, it's just not in my nature.

Candidly, I'm not entirely sure what's in my nature, but that's a question best answered by proxy, i.e. ask my friends (I'm almost positively certain that no good can come of this and yet I point you in that direction anyway).

This weekend has included some spectacularly memorable highlights, of which only a few, to white:

- getting sickeninly little sleep on Friday due to my 2 year-old sweetheart of a daughter getting a nasty gastro.
- steam cleaning the carpet three times this weekend (with a fourth one tomorrow due to said gastro)
- dressing up in a Tom Baker-era Doctor Who getup (complete with nerdy self-knitted-when-I-was-sixteen-Tom-Baker-Scarf and dry humping a Dalek Pinata screaming "take it like a pepperpopt, you bitch" and "Shove off, Eccleston, I've been waiting since 1976 for this"
- birthday pints with my Brit-mate Ella, who's possibly the only person in the world who gets all my oblique references to Goon Show episodes and is the only person I know (other than my lovely wife) who's heard of either Frankie Howerd -or- the "Carry On" gang.

Finally, a little teeny rant: I'm no fan of constitutional law, but I think my professor in the course is trying to convince me that the Supreme Court is nothing but a pack of self-serving politically motivated power-mongers who can do whatever they want pretty much whenever they way.

If you think about it a bit, you'll have to agree that the concept isn't as far fetched as all that. They are, after all, the ultimate court of appeal in Canada. So, if the federals and the provincials can't agree to something, they send it up to the Supreme Court, and that lot cuts the difference one way or another and makes the decision, even if the decision means creating a new constitutional set of rules.

See, technically, we're supposed to have a neat little system to deal with changes to the constitution, and that's called Section V of the 1982 Constutional Act. But on a heandful of occasions since 1982, and a bunch before that the S.C. has flexed its juridicial muscles on things that really weren't any of their business. And the real kicker is that most of the meddling was justified on some reallllly thin ice. Their strongest arguments were based on the "unwritten principles" contained in the preamble to our constitution (which by the by has no legitimate legal force in the strict sense), and their fallback position for justifying and of their actions is that the preamble refers to the fact that we wanted a constitution that was "similar in nature to the constitution of Great Britain" (or words to that effect).

For those not in that know: the constitution of Great Britain is largely not written down, so you can use that convenient piece of text to pretty much say whatever you want it to say if you slant it right.

ASIDE: Oh yeah, the 1982 document is the same document that talks out of one mouth and espouses "freedom of conscience and religion" (part 1, article 2a...which includes the right to NOT have a religion) and out of the other claims that this "recognizes the supremacy of God" (part I, preamble). END ASIDE.

And the worst part is that this Supreme Court of ours is supposed to answer questions put to it, and only those questions put to it. Thing is, sometimes they decide to interpret the question in a certain way, lengthily explain why they want to interpret it in a way that isn't letter-for-letter the question they received, and sometimes they'll go further and (as a 23 page aside) answer a completely different question as well which doesn't have a specific bearing on the original question but they feel needs clarifying. The scary thing is that their interpretationg on questions that weren't put to them will go on the record, and it's pretty much taken as gospel that no other court in Canada will go against that opinion once it has been put down on paper, even if it wasn't part of what was being asked.

I swear, if 5 out of those 9 judges so much as fart simultaneously, the entire country will swing away from the stink in a display of mindless synchronization.

It's a scary case of "who watches the watchmen?", but what do you do when you disagree with the way the supreme court of appeal is run? To whom do you appeal? It's one of those mind-bogglingly simple things to ask that doesn't have an easy answer.

Oh, and just in case you thought that the system was in any vague way, shape, or form fair... at any point in time 3 of those 9 judges are from Quebec, and that's been written into the Constitution as well. Ten provinces, three territories, 9 judges, and three of them are from Quebec.

That means that it only take two non-Quebec-but-still-simultaneous farts to swing the country down that mindlessly stinky path.

I dunno, between that, the language compromise, and the whole Quebec secession thing, I'm really starting to get peeved by Constitutional Law. I'm starting to think that this isn't law at all, just politics and compromise. There's no rightness, justness or fairness in any of this, just self-serving self-interested politicking.

And we haven't even started studying the Mulroney years... it's going to be a fun-fun-fun year, boyz and girlz...

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

The Necromantics - Episode for 08/11/2006

Darn it, you're off the hook again. Too much catching up from missing classes last week while I attended the conference to get another really good torrential rant editorial.

But don't give up your front seat or you'll miss the Belgians...

Monday, November 06, 2006

The Necromantics - Episode for 06/11/2006

I'm back from the convention. Get back on the hook, you. Quit twitching, and make yourself comfortable or I'll set you spinning.

So. Responsibility and Accountability in Law and Government... Let me tell you, this reinforced my belief that if you like hot dogs and if you like law, you should never ever watch either being made.

There was a real all-star lineup of panelists, ranging from litigation lawyers to academicians to former premiers to current politicians. The only consensus I could find was that there was no consensus as to the definition of responsibility and accountability across domains.

This is going to make it difficult to determine who is crossing what line when it comes to the C-2 Accountability Act, which is currently under development. Opinions ranged from the "blinders-on, stay in your discipline" approach that accountability equals "sue-ability" (is it obvious that the litigation lawyer came up with this one?) to all-natural-justice approaches that included opinions like "why do we need a law to state the blindingly obvious, shouldn't we just raise our children with the proper values to begin with?".

Some speakers took us on guided tours of legal philosophers, dragging us through the dust of ages and slogging through Hart, Austin, Hobbes, Kelsen and a variety of others. It's nice to get some background, but I don't think anyone was really there for that angle.

People turned into a variety of caricatures as they took the stage and fed off the CPAC-camera-limelight. In one corner, we had hopelessly bitter academicians, declaiming everyone's motives as criminal and criticizing from the safety of their tenured ivory armchairs. Next to them, there were the younger members of parliament, making every attempt to justify the chapter and verse of the Act in question and making the point by applying juridicial bandaids to gaping endemic policy wounds one exception case at a time. When politicians took the stage, there ensued the prerequisite and invariable spouting of amusing anecdotes filled with paternalistic, evenly-paced, heavily-laden metaphoric speech; you know that they were speaking to their constituents and this was just another opportunity to appear on television in order to pander to the people who are already going to vote for them.

All in all, it was a fascinating experience. People dragged old constitutional issues out of the closet, took the opportunity to blast the RCMP, current as well as previous governments, and everyone took a few potshots at the upper and lower houses, just to keep the rhythm of the day going. I wish I could say there was more concentrated mudslinging, but I might have missed out on subtle and pointed comments here and there.

By and large, I found that panelists only scratched the surface of the topic at times and very adroitly deflected a number of very interesting questions presented to them that would have only led to embarrassing answers.

The francophone opinion had to diverge from the main herd. The very first franco speaker to take the stage immediately decided that he didn't agree with anyone at the entire conference and decided that instead of speaking about responsbility and accountability, he would speak to the topic of "imputabilite", which roughly translates to "where you assign the blame".
Nice of them to put a positive, non-finger-pointing non-scapegoatist spin on things, isn't it?

That's enough for today. I've been asked to write an opinion piece on my experience there and submit it to our school paper. Somehow I have to distill my thoughts and experiences into 250 words...

...and I don't want to lose any of the above genuine flavour.

Well, it'll be an exercise in minimalism, that's for sure.

In the meantime, enjoy today's offering.

Friday, November 03, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 03/11/2006

I'm still at the conference. You're still off the hook. Enjoy the comic sans editorial today. Back to your regularly scheduled logorrhea next Monday...

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

The Necromantics - Episode for 01/11/2006

Heading to a law conference today. Here's the comic, and I'm mercifully letting you all off the editorial hook for this week...

For those of you who have no idea what Vecna is, you can read up on it here.

Monday, October 30, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 30/10/2006

And now we return to your regularly scheduled reality.

I'm a little miffed today. Two of my webcomics have ended (Doobl and Mac Hall). They might come back, they might not, but it's always a little sad when a series ends, whatever the reason.

I'm lamenting my personal fix of someone else's creativity, though. It's like I'm in slight withdrawal.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

The NecRomantics - Hallowe'en Party Special

I have accomplished exactly two things today:

1. Cleaning up after yesterday's Hallowe'en Party.
2. This post.

We'll be back to the more usual format on Monday. See you in a couple...

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 25/10/2006

It's still reading week, and I'm still being lazy. No editorial today.

I do however, want to point out that Jess Hanley's web comic is rapidly running out of characters. I'll be sad if it goes away, since I appreciate the humour there even if other don't. Jess: if you ever get redirected here: keep writing!

Monday, October 23, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 23/10/2006

Hi folks, it's Reading Week, so to balance out the fact that I have huge metric (don't get me started on that again) buttloads of reading to do, I figured I'd give you less reading material in exchange.

There's some vague thermodynamic principle at work here, but I'll forego the explanation until next week. Meanwhile, enjoy today's strip in the 7 minutes today has left.

Or just look at it in 8 minutes on Tuesday why don'cha...

Friday, October 20, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 20/10/2006

So you think you know your way around the universe?

Don't make me laugh, you don't know distance from doughnuts.

And hey, I found out today I don't either. The point came crashing home for me when for some reason in our philosophical foundations of Law class the teacher decided to explain what a meter is.

I mean, thats just, um... a hundred centimeters or so, right? Or ten decimeters, or a thousand millmeters. Yeah, and a thousand of those thousand gets us a kilometer... but the basic idea of a meter is really still self-referential.

So, let's go look it up in the books, shall we?

And so we see that an early definition is "the length of a pendulum with a period of one half-second".

Hm. So. Well, given that measuring a second is another major headache entirely (not to mention gravity varies at different points on the planet slightly), let's see if we can't quantify it some other way. How about: "one ten-millionth of the length of the Earth's meridian along a quadrant, that is the distance from the equator to the north pole".

Wait. How did they get that measurement in the first place if they couldn't quantify a meter to begin with? A really really REALLY long piece of string?

And...one ten-millionth? How random is that? Not to mention that it was figured out quite a while back that this measurement falls short about a fifth of a millimeter due to miscalculation of the flatness of the earth.

So about a century and a bit ago,in 1889, some bright soul decided to measure out an alloy block of platinum/iridium at the temperature where ice melts. But how did they measure it in the first place? And if you wanted to have your own measure would you have had to keep an alloy at freezing temperature and then let it get to the melting point so you could measure it?

Gah... so in the 1960's, someone really bright decided to measure distance as a function of wavelengths of light. And this is...um... because we know that light is measured in...nanometers. And this measurement of a meter came out to equal 1,650,763.73 wavelengths of the orange-red emission line in the electromagnetic spectrum of the krypton-86 atom in a vacuum.

Yeah, I'm sure we've all got something at home to duplicate this experiment.

And in 1983, we redefined distance as a function of light and time: "The metre is the length of the path travelled by light in vacuum during a time interval of 1/299 792 458 of a second".

But this takes us back a few hundred years where we were trying to figure out what a second was. Is... You know what I mean.

Yuck.

And under the International System of Units, the second is currently defined as the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium-133 atom. This definition refers to a caesium atom at rest at a temperature of 0 K.

You know, I think I would have preferred it if someone... say, oh, a King or something, had just decided that the length of a meter was something like the length between his fingertip and the end of his thumb.

It's just as goddamn arbitrary and you avoid all those wasted years and billions of wasted effort.

Oh yeah, and you'd have to call it a "yard" and the Brits would get all insufferable about it because they'd be like "yeah, we thought of that first while you were swinging from pendulums in the stone age, you bloody colonists. See how much more sensible our system is? We can't keep all these milli- centi- deca- kilo- things straight. It's all Greek to us. Why can't you see how much easier it is to think it spans, cubits, fathoms, half-yards, fingers, nails and... I forget that last one... um... hardly ever use it... oh yes, INCHES."

And whoever thought up a decimal system anyway? It's unnatural. Twelve and Sixteen have way more factors and make for easier calculations anyday... blah-blah-God Bless the Queen - blah-blah... Fawlty Towers had it right... etc...etc...

Sorry.

I have an exam in 47 minutes and it's my fifth one in a week, with still one more to go. This was my brain taking a few minutes of holiday.

Thank you for your patience, we now return you to your regularly schedule reality in just a meter. Second. Whatever.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 18/10/2006

Blerg.

1 mid-term today.
1 mid-term Thursday.
1 mid-term Friday.
1 take home mid-term due later.

This week is an ugly week.

But, it could be worse.

I could have a goat.

Monday, October 16, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 16/10/2006

Yes, it's that wonderful time of the year again.

Flu season in full swing.

As if fading daylight, allergies, midterms, and the start of the holiday retail season weren't enough...

Before you know it not only will you be deathly ill but it will hit you mid-season and you'll be knee-deep in TV reruns too.

It amazes me, the way we set up our urban environment to encourage rapid propagation of sickness. I worked in phone support, once upon a time in the not too distant past. Three hundred of us, switching stations daily, with no less than 2 other people using your station in a day. No open windows, no air circulation, squeezed in next to each other in little 5x5 foot cubicles.

To get to this bacterial breeding haven, you have to ride on the public transit system. As usual, the drivers are setting up for strike negotiations, which means fewer buses, and that means riding around in plague-infested sardine cans.

School's not much better, what with the overfilled classrooms. We're pretty much elbow to elbow here, and the only convenient thing is that when someone to my right sneezes on me I can reach to my left for a tissue and someone from behind me passes me the antibacterial handwash.

Yes, let's kill 99.99% of those germs so that those 0.001% that survive learn to like eating antibacterial handwash and come back for us later when we're trying to learn while covered in phlegm.

And speaking of phlegm-coverage: Daycare.

Daycare isn't about teaching children, it's a government subsidized virus mutation facility under direct control of the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. Why test out biological weapons on the enemy when you can just jot down notes while a pack of croupy preschoolers belt out the lyrics to "You Are My Sunshine" while spraying each other with spit more effectively than a riot cop with a hose cannon?

What hits me in the irony bone is that we greet each other with handshakes, and your hand is basically the filthiest external part of your body.

Every time you say "hello", you're inviting someone to share their own special hand-tailored version of yuck with you. You've no one to blame but yourself.

Historically speaking, you'd show your empty hand to someone to indicate to them that you weren't holding a weapon or some other stabbity thing and didn't mean them any harm. This worked fine until mankind developed clothing. I mean, naked hand-waving was fine and all as far as peacfeul intentions go, but that was a Golden Age thing and couldn't last forever.

Handshakes started happening around the time early man developed the long sleeve. Handshakes strike me as more of a basic primitive security shake-down rather than any display of amicability. You know, just in case something gets dislodged from inside your tunic and a polearm or morningstar falls onto the ground (hey, talk about embarrassing...)

Of course now that it's flu season, here we are displaying our peaceful intentions by transferring our arsenal of microscopic minions over to each person whose hand we shake. And it's mutual too, so the bacteria get to have a veritable family reunion. Forget daggers, every handclasp is an act of WAR!

It's enough to get you thinking that maybe the obsessive-compulsives are onto something with all that hand-washing.

Excuse me, I think I need to find somewhere very isolated and scrub myself down now...

Friday, October 13, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 13/10/2006

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone.

To maximize your chances of surviving the day unscathed, my advice you would be to be avoiding:

- walking under ladders
- black cats you see hanging around with devilish old grannies
- spilling any salt
- looking at the new moon over your left shoulder
- picking/finding any five-leaf clovers
- putting your shirt on inside out
- stepping out of your bed left-foot-first
- breaking a glass while proposing a toast or putting a hat on your bed
- cutting your nails today
- breaking mirrors, making pictures fall, opening umbrellas indoors
- singing before breakfast, crossing your knives, stepping on cracks in sidewalks
- breaking a plate, upsetting your pepper, spilling ink
- giving a friend a pair of gloves or a knife (unless you get something back in exchange)
- fastening a button on the wrong buttonhole, making a candle fall over, throwing stones into the sea
- starting a cruise today, sitting on a table (unless one foot is touching the ground)
- passing anyone on a staircase, leaving your new shoes on a table, or putting the left shoe on before the right
- putting the right shoe on the left foot

Yes folks, today sucks hard. I know this because I'm about to walk into my first law midterm exam.

And if today sucks hard for me, imagine if this were your birthday...

For today's Birthday Boys and Girls Friday the 13th is an especially ominous omen of ill omening!

This is due to the trinary nature of the alignments of some of the major planets. We are now in the very thickest of the last Saturn triseptile Mars. We have Mars square Pluto, Saturn opposition Neptune, and some great planetary aspects, especially Mercury Sextile Jupiter, Jupiter trine Uranus, Neptune trine Uranus and Saturn trine Uranus.

Actually, it looks like just about everybody is trine Uranus today.

Since there's some especially large gaseous bodies trine Uranus today, if today's your birthday, you might want to stay at home or risk a complete as-trological prolapse.

Just don't go upsetting any peppers or you'll really be in for it.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 11/10/2006

I've just been placed in a gallery. Isn't that a hoot?

A very nice fellow named Mark Pearon over at plasq (the creators of the Comic Life software on which this strip is published) found Crunchy Milk through a technorati tag search and emailed me a while back about this, and today we're on the gallery.

And we're one of two strips to bear the "Explicit" label shown over our picture. The other "explicit" comic is a highly freaky and surreal example of how creative you can get with "The Sims". I recommend you check it out.

So. Explicit.

I guess this blows my thin veneer of "family appeal" all to Hell. Blast. My cover's been blown. Now I'll never make syndication.

On the plus side, it's no NC-17 rating. And then again, Team America: World Police got that rating and they use puppets.

So if I ever start taking stop-motion videos of Crunchy Milk cast members in compromising positions, that's the rating I'd get.

Assuming that PLAYMOBIL® lawyers didn't hunt me down first.

Monday, October 09, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 09/10/2006

Happy Post Canadian-Thanksgiving everyone...

I think I'm quitting cold turkey. And warm turkey. In fact, I'm quitting turkey altogether. Especially eating turkey in the altogether (a frightening midnight snack image for my neighbours).

This could be a problem, with twelve pounds of leftovers threatening to become my lunch for the next few weeks. That's a lot of late-night snacking, and I really have to hope my neighbours don't invest in a webcam or I'm ruined, RUINED I tell you!

Yurgl...the L-tryptophan coma is making it difficult to stay coherent, but that could be the studying for my law mid-terms later this week. Possibly both.

And to top it all off, I'm looking at what can only be described as a potential disaster as my own creations begin to lose faith in me and turn against me. I hope it doesn't come to a strike...

Friday, October 06, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 06/10/2006


Do you remember weebles?

I remember weebles. If you were a child of the 70's (and probably the 60s and 80s, yes) you couldn't help but have had at least one at some point in time, even if you were past the age where they were really that much fun to play with.

Weebles are the kind of toy your parents put away in a box and you find years later. It's the kind of toy you'd put on a desk and occasionally tap in that kind of office pendulum kind of way that lets you fidget thoughtfully while chewing on a pencil.

It's funny how they change over time. I remember them like this:



...which is not at all the way they look on the Hasbro site right now:



I think I prefer the transparent look, although I imagine that more than one little kid probably thought that they could just hit one with a hammer hard enough and get the little person out. Sucks for today's kids, but that's what auction sites and local collectibles classfieds are for. If I want to get my daughter Weebles, I'll get the pirates above (those were from an eBay auction, but you'll have to fight me for them).

I wonder if they ever did a weeble astronaut or deep-sea diver? Those would have made more sense than pirates, but I'm sure that isn't the point. It might have been equally cool if the inside of the weeble had a reverse impression of the picture on the outside and was filled with silly putty or some other kind of memetic material, but that didn't happen either.

Anyway, today's little topically-related link goes to Weebl and Bob.

If you have no idea what that is, please check it out. It's cute.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 04/10/2006

I have to reinstall Photoshop on my computer at some point.

In my mind, Mr. Fluffy should have demonic red glowy-eyes, but the best I could do with Comic Life (which isn't meant to do that sort of thing) was red dots, which were size 48 Times New Roman periods with a red fill.

Not very demonic if you ask me. "Oooo, look at my scary eyes! Kerning of the damned! They're not sans-serif but how can you tell? They're just periods!"

So I have foregone the evil eyes for now. I'll Lucasize it later and re-release a series of remastered comics once my software is installed. Then later I'll add unlikeable characters wandering in the background. Maybe an At-At...

Incidentally, there's no connection between Mr. Fluffy and Mr. Wiggles. Here at Crunchy Milk we could never hope to reach those depths of perversion.

But we're slowly learning...

Monday, October 02, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 02/10/2006

It occurs to me that if you're not one of the 4 people who read this strip locally, the whole "One Red Paper Clip" phenomenon might have passed you by.

Since we here at Crunchy Milk do give a rat's ass about what our readership thinks, please send us a self-addressed stamped envelope and we will send you some background material on the One Red Paper Clip story.

And we will include, free of charge, one rat's ass.

Or you can read about it here.

On a separate topic, I'm not happy about the focus on panel 2 for today's strip. FYI, the Necromancer is holding a bag. I'm still shoppng around for a nice camera that will let me play about with depth of field. Ideally, I wanted a crisp background with a slightly out of focus foreground, but it worked out a bit fuzzy for both as a result. On the other hand, ever since I started taking pictures with the handycam instead of the Canon, the pictures have been easier to set up and take because the handycam has a remote control.

Friday, September 29, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 29/09/2006

*Shudder*

I saw an ad for the Tickle Me Elmo TMX today. (The "X" is for "EXTREME")

Only I read it: "Tickle me Emo".

A quick search revealed that I'm not the first one to make this particular brilliant humourous connection. It's not a very funny link, but then again, it's Emo. If you're not sure what Emo is, I think this sums it up best.

I'm still in awe of the sheer evil that is the Tyco marketing department when it comes to this product. It's basically the same toy that goes through a preset number of motions when you tickle it.

The difference being that instead of just putting in the same kind of motor that makes a cellphone vibrate to simulate the tickling, they added some structure to the insides so that it could slap its leg while laughing, fall to the floor laughing, kick its heels against the ground while laughing, flip over onto its face laughing, pound its fist on the ground because it's laughing so hard, and then eventually pull itself up to a standing position, wheezing and begging you to stop.

Maybe I'm being too cynical, you be the judge.

Elmo was the last nail in the Sesame Street coffin for me. I wish I could blame it on Jim Henson's death, but Elmo's been around on and off since the 70's. I can blame it on Kevin Clash who has been the current voice of Elmo since 1984.

That's a damn long time to be speaking in a grating high-pitched third-person saccharine whine.

I can't believe that Jim Henson thought this was a good idea. It places my fanatical and childlike belief in his infallibility into question.

See, when the creator dies, you can at least blame the committee or department that takes over. You know where I'm going with this if you've looked at the science fiction industry since Gene Roddenberry died. Once his creative department finished going through his desk, we got Sexually Ambiguous Alien Space Friends. Once they finished going through his wastepaper basket, we got Hercules In Space and then they decided to throw continuity straight to heck and we got a healthy dose of Quantum Trek. There must have been a gravy stain on the part of the napkin where Gene had written "no time travel wars".

Yeah. Oh Boy. After that series did you notice we didn't have anything new happening? It's because they've run out of places to look for Gene's napkin scribbles for not-quite-fleshed-out concepts.

Thank goodness for series like the new Battlestar Galactica. They've got a good thing going, and it's not science-fiction so much as gritty military-sociopolitical drama. With Robots. In Space.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 27/09/2006

Health Canada decided about six years ago that anyone who has spent more than 3 months in France or six months anywhere in Western Europe, from about 1986 onwards, is at risk of being a mad cow disease carrier and is therefore ineligible to give blood.

This, of course, got pointed out to me when I tried to do my civic duty a couple of days ago and give blood.

So. Mad cows at it again. This time, it's personal.

And there's currently no test to tell for sure, so the medical community has spawned a theory that the Creutzfeldt-Jacob Disease new variant has some idiotically long incubation period like 30-50 years because a cannibal tribe in Papua New Guinea appears to be having an epidemic , and the scientific community have linked this to their brain-eating habits, which were discontinued in the 1950's (Way to wreck it for the rest of us... you brain-munching cannibals).

It gets better. The theory is based on the fact that this is an epidemic of a disease called "kuru", which is "similar" to CJD.

I think the medical community has some work to do before I'm sold on the upcoming mad cow epidemic of 2020. Maybe a documentary seminar based on the movie 28 Days Later...

Monday, September 25, 2006

New feed...

I have a new feedburner feed.

See the lovely orange RSS button at the top left hand side of the Blogspot CrunchyMilk page?

It links to feed://feeds.feedburner.com/CrunchyMilk.

Please click it and make that your new feed for the site. This is meant to accomplish two things:

1. Occasional commentary that the Beta Blogger Atom feed doesn't work for various browsers.
2. The feeding of the frenzied and pathetic need my ego has for self-validation through even the most meager of statistics.

The NecRomantics - Episode for 25/09/2006

I'm convinced that the reason most beggars aren't more entertaining is that they're really undercover sociologists.

Think about it, they're probably judging your reactions and noting them down via bluetooth recorder. You can't tell, after all it looks like they're just madmen in the street talking to themselves. In reality, they're muttering "Subject #347523, Thursday, gave me $5, confirming alpha paycheck-generosity correlation hypothesis to within 0.05%, 19 times out of 20."

The real professional beggars out there are cheerful, brash, entertaining, imaginative, inventive (while being no less smelly or filthy looking because they have an image to maintain) and know EXACTLY what they're doing. They realize they've tapped into a Jungian gold mine.

These clever entrepreneurs manage to make more money every hour of the day than the average electrical engineer, all because they know that some people have troubled social consciences. Those people think they passing the geld along to someone down on their luck will alleviate some of the guilt so they can go home to their HDTV and watch satellite EuroPorn without feeling guilty.

Don't worry too much about the professionals; they collect welfare and go home to watch their own satellite EuroPorn. The reason sociologists are such unpleasant beggars is because they don't get enough grant money to afford satellite EuroPorn.

Fortunately for me, I had all the guilt receptors in my social conscience surgically removed years ago, but remember folks, if you give to one of those unfortunate "street sociologists", please remember to ask them to forward you a copy of their dissertation and to request an update on their results to date. You may learn something and it might even validate their meager and unfortunate existence.

Just don't mention EuroPorn, that'd be like kicking someone when they're down and it just isn't nice.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 22/09/2006 (yes, it's early)

I'm posting this up tonight, because tomorrow is my final exam for a crazy two-credit accelerated Introduction to Law class. I've just finished digesting a week-long class that consisted of 30 hours of lecture time, 300 pages of cases and doctrine, and nearly 40 pages of single-space typewritten notes into three pages of Things I Need to Figure Out By 1pm Friday.

Today's strip completes yesterday's to some extent, possibly making the pair funny if you read them together. I was experimenting with smaller strips as a lazy man's way of making sure I got something out, but I'm not certain I like the scripting since it's not a typical 3-panel gag. Something in my backbrain seems to want to tell an extended story, which means I may need to get back to a full-page layout after all, which means more setup time because it means more shots, and I'm starting to get frustrated at my old Canon Elph 2.0 megapixel camera.

Even with a tripod, zoom and macro in various combinations I still get lots of blur and too much reflected glare from the caracters and wind up discarding some really nice shots and having to reshoot them.

It's all part of the learning process, I suppose, and at least I don't have to tell my subjects to sit still and stop fidgeting. I mean, I do tell them but I don't think they listen (no ears... I just noticed that too...). Offhand, I think I would be miserable as photographer or a hairdresserif I had the misfortune to specialize with small children as my customers.

Unless of course I billed myself as an "artiste" and got away with making a "statement" out of the blurred photos and mangled bowl cuts...

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 20/09/2006

Do you remember your first favorite childhood toy?

That little stuffed something or other that was your constant companion? I imagine that for most people it's teddy bears, although these days there's such a staggering variety of stuffed animals out there that it could be almost anything.

Mine was a stuffed lamb with a wind-up music box inside it. Apparently I was a harsh music critic as a child because I took every opportunity to playfully beat the living daylights out of my lamb against any available hard surface when the music was playing, so the mechanism very shortly stopped playing, after which my toy and I were inseparable.

And boy did I knock the stuffing out of that thing. Repeatedly. I loved it to death and carried it everywhere on every trip as a little kid.

Funny thing though...

I remember being told that the music box had been removed at some point, which didn't make an impact on me at the time, but it did mean that somewhere along the line surgery had taken place. Presumably someone with a good eye and tolerable sewing skills made sure that I never noticed the stiches.

Not that scars mattered much to my lamb. I remember now that the outer skin was getting pretty thin and not so soft at one point, so one of the handy ladies in my family went out, bought some fabric in the same basic colour...and maybe a bit softer and fuzzier, cut a pattern and gave my lamb a new brand new skin, and I remember being very happy for it...

And we'd sewn on a new mouth with red string because the old one had been printed onto the material and had worn off...

And of course the stuffing started getting pretty squished, so one year we 'operated' on it, took the old stuffing out and put the new stuffing in (I seem to recall that the new material was rolled up beige nylons, isn't that strange?) and made it huggable again...

Then the eyes eventually came loose and we made new ones and sewed them on, and even made them out of a beautiful blue-black velvety material.

We had the technlogy. We could make him better, faster, more...huggable.

It appears that in retrospect my favorite childhood toy went through the human equivalent of a complete plastic-surgery makeover, complete with facelift, liposuction, tattooed on makeup, and laser eye surgery among other things.

But don't worry, it's still the same doll inside... I mean, it isn't... not really... not inside itself, since it's now stuffed chock-a-block with girly socks (and yes, I'm fairly certain my mom washed the nylons beforehand, because my lamb never smelled of feet). And, if you think about it for a second, there's not a single original part of that lamb left, inside or out.

But inside me it was (and still is) the same doll. And isn't that where it counts? I'd like to think so.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The NecRomantics - Episode for 18/09/2006

Hi folks!

In a lighter and less "potty-humour-oriented" vein, today I would like to introduce you to the first strip in the second element of our PLAYMOBIL® universe, "The NecRomantics", in which we discover that raising the living is a lot harder than raising the dead.

It's all so problematic... being an evil necromancer bent on destroying the kingdom and eventually reworking the world in your own dreadful image... and having to cope with all sorts of interruptions like a loving family, circle of friends, social occasions, PTA (Peasant/Tyrant Association) meetings, neighbours and employees (well, do-gooder boyscout apprentices, anyway).

And this isn't autobiographical in any way at all of course. Nope-nope-nope, not at all...

Here at Crunchy Milk, we wouldn't dare poke fun at family values, especially our own. Especially not with my dear, sweet, loving wife reading this comic within easy reaching distance of a genuine, 25-pound, red-bladed 1930's style fireman's axe and my 21 month old daughter busily and precociously learning how to fireball me repeatedly with her cinnamon-stick wand.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 8 (Conclusion)

So it occurs to me on the..um...tail of the last posting that there is one person who has a nose in this entire debacle, and he's not complaining (which in itself is odd, given the nature of his real-life counterpart, who is very vocal on the same topic).

So I'm with the hapless apprentice on this one. No nose means good news.

For those of you who don't know what Bangalore Phal (panel 6) is, please do give it a try if you like Indian food. It's a delightfully mild and pleasant dish, yum-yum-yum, shovel it down by the forkful, you'll never eat enough. There's beef, lamb, and vegetable versions which are guaranteed please even the discerning and epicurean gastronome. Order it with your favorite perfumed rice dish and let your nostrils take you on a journ...

...

Ok. Fine, I may be underselling this dish slightly. When I use the term "mild", I'm using it from the perspective of a PLAYMOBIL® figurine, whose taste buds are made of space-age nonreactive polymer.

Bangalore is mild in the same way that one says "flaying is a mild skin irritant" or that "Joseph Carey Merrick had a mild skin condition".

"Oh that... he probably contracted it after eating Bangalore..."

This flavourful dish will induce near-toxic levels of profuse sweating and may induce hysterical giggling in the unprepared. Bring a towel and be prepared to burn it when you're finished wiping down. And stand upwind, for pity's sake.

"What's that Mango Lassie? Timmy fell down the Tandoori oven?"

Mango Lassie is the only one who can save you. You will come to understand this when you hear the tortured cries of your neighbours: "The raita... it does NOTHING...why does it HURT?"

This food comes with its own disclaimer and federal investigation procedure. I order it locally and get put through a third degree interrogation:

"...and one order of Beef Bangalore Phal, please."
"It's very hot, sir"
"Yes, I know"
"It's veryvery hot." (subtext: "and you sound veryvery white..."
"Yes, I still want to eat it."
"Have you ordered it before?"
"Yes."
"Have you ordered it from HERE before?"
"YES, already."
(resigned sigh) "verygood sir, one order of Beef Bangalore..."

Bangalore, incidentally, is the delightful little culinary tastebud tickler that started my wife's contractions when nothing else would.

It's that powerful. Do not ignore the power of its uterus-bursting magic. Yes, now you too must live with that haunting image.

John Hurt ate Bangalore just the once, but he desn't have a uterus, and look where it got him.

This is starting to sound too much like a chain letter. If you mail this out to ten of your closest suicide-wing-fan friends, at least do me the favour of inviting them all out to take the Bangalore Challenge.

10 people, 10 dollars, 10 minutes for one lucky guy to eat the entire Bowl of Bangalore.

- No liquids and no consuming anything that is non-bangalore until you're done, challenger.
- Regular, consistent bites. Up utensil, down utensil. Chew, chew, chew.
- No tricky swallowing without tasting, allowed. Enjoy the flavour.
- No pausing, just keep eating. No stopping for even a few seconds to catch your breath.
- Yum-yum-yum, shovel it down by the forkful.

It's that simple.

Because the only way to cure the dreadful heat of Bangalore is (you guessed it) more Bangalore...

Bring a video camera. Send me a film of the happy event.

So see you next week for the first installment of a new arc, and on September 21st, next Thursday, to celebrate the end of summer, take some friends out for the first day of Phal...

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 7

I've always been a fan of self-referential humour, especially in comic books. In theatre it has the naturally more effete title of "breaking the fourth wall", a concept which our man Shakespeare used and overused by having characters make situational/editorial remarks to the audience.

You see it in television semi-regularly, but overuse can lead to silliness, so most do not opt in on this concept more than occasionally to avoid losing either credibility or viewership.

Here at Crunchy Milk, we have no such limitations (in part because we have neither viewership nor credibility to lose).

"Muhahaha" and other evil-type laughters. Freedom! Freedom!

See you on Friday for part 8 of 8, folks!

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 6

Greetings and Salutations, to my six loyal readers, and thanks for not giving up hope on the Baron and his Tardis-like felinoid, whose insides are verily (yea!) much larger than his outsides as we have found.

As the first week of Law School comes to a complete screeching halt, I find that I can in fact do some work on the comic on the weekends. Wish me good fortune and I will make every attempt to build up a suitably large pile of strips so that I can update with regularity. For now, I can promise at least one update a week (and here is this week's installment above!) and as soon as I can, I will add more strips and try to tone it down to something more easily...um...digestible in a one-shot format rather than the inadvertent epic 8-parter through which I am currently making you slog.

On the topic of epic series, I would like to point your attention to another fine comic that uses photography and toys (although this comic uses Lego and the author's writing is a good deal more...um... lively than my own at present). Reading through it gives me some idea of the linguistic limits involved, and since Lego hasn't shut it down (no little plastic Lego lawyers to serve papers?) it's helping me rethink my own currently timid approach to B&P's scripting.

Oh, we're not going straight into filth and obscenity yet, folks, but stay tuned and I hope you'll find things interesting even if this kind of comic isn't your bag of poop...

Friday, August 25, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 5

So law school starts on Monday, and I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'll give it my best shot to keep this strip as regular an occurrence for the half-dozen or so folks I know tune in at least occasionally (when I drag them over to a computer monitor and force them to type in the URL). I do promise to wrap up this little story arc.

Hey, just today I received a list of the top ten weirdest PLAYMOBIL® offerings available out there from a fellow PLAYMOBIL® fan so it looks like I'll be adding a few items to my wish list (or trolling more ebay auctions...yum!).

Heh, well really most of the items on the list won't fit in with the Baron and Peedles, but this item definitely would, and so would this item!

You know, with all the guns, swords, devils, aliens, and executioners and safe-crackers out there in PLAYMOBIL® land, I'm wondering even more now what constitutes inappropriate content for your average 5 year old...

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 4

On the topic of self-censorship, I want to speak to today's panel 5. PLAYMOBIL® has a policy that non-commercial fan sites are allowed as long as they don't depict "any violence that is inappropriate for children under 5".

Just so we're clear: Yes Bob Hazmat (and no his partner's name isn't Mat HazBob, it's Gene (Eugene) Hazmat and they're brothers) is currently "tussling" with Edgar but there will be no comic renditions of Bob running around in tight circles afterwards covered in ketchup and bemoaning lost orbits.

PLAYMOBIL®'s policy for non-commercial fan sites (and yes, that means I'll never make a dime off this strip, and rightly so since it's they creations that are allowing me to express my own creativity...or avoid therapy bills or what have you) can be found here.

I'm not sure exactly what qualifies as "inappropriate" levels of violence for a child under 5, given the state of today's television programming, but all it takes is one complaint these days (and not even about violence!) for people to get downright silly about censorship.

Anyway, this is just in case you were wondering. The one person in the "under 5" category who reads this strips is finding it colourful and fascinating so far and gets very excited every time I show it to her. Then again, she gets that way when I hand her a banana, so at this point it's not a rousing endorsement of my comedic talent or anything...

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 3


Sorry for the slightly late update today, my wife just started a lovely new job working in a dungeon just yesterday and we went out to celebrate last night!

No, no, seriously, it's practically a dungeon. It's the sub-level of a dark and dusty gallery where she works her evil magic framing people (well, their paintings anyway). Best job in the world. She lets herself in, works for hours alone without any pesky people to disturb her, then goes home.

It's paradise, considering one of her previous jobs was "internet tech support agent". She still has issues with ringing phones and people. No, that's not quite right. This sums it up better:

Some folks have "issues", my wife has an entire subscription...

Monday, August 21, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 2



Of all our senses, that of smell creates the most basic and powerful memories. This is the reason why scents like vanilla remind people on a basic level of home, baking, mom and apple pie (assuming your mom puts vanilla in apple pie. Mine never did, but that's because she would freeze the pie so I couldn't smell it coming, then fling it at me great velocity when I wasn't expecting it. The vanilla might have given it away ahead of time, I suppose.

My childhood memories of apple pie include nothing but pure terror, really. Therapists don't even have a term for this (crustumalophobia?)...

I was toying with the idea of a familiar smell you've smelled before, and came up with 'deja-poo' for today's installment. 'Deja-smell' just didn't seem right, and 'deja-pew' just seemed too...ecclesiastical...

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 1



Being buried alive (well, for now anyway) in cat poop might be a fate worse than death for some, but remember, the one doing the scooping and dumping is a necromancer, so death isn't really much of a lousy fate in his book. More of an occupational hazard.

I'm not sure what that says about the life expectancy of our little (currently quite fragrant) light blue apprentice figure, but let's not dwell on the more morbid elements of potential futures, shall we?

On the lighter side of things, "Scoop - Dump" is a game my little 19-month-old daughter likes to play with coffee beans. Ever since I let her smell coffee beans she insists on smelling them in the morning when I make coffee, and she helps me grind them up by scooping them out of one bowl and into another.

I usually wind up hunting around for coffee beans a lot, she's currently more of a "well-meaning chaos engine" than dextrous, exactly.

And our livingroom looks like it has a small rabbit-poop problem.

Coffee beans really do look like droppings.

Yes, thank you, I do write about poop alot. She's not out of diapers yet, so my life is a currently-never-ending series of poop jokes and references.

Baron and Peedles: Episode #3



Don't you wish you could set up a magic spell that would whoosh away (I prefer the term teleport, natch) the cat poop right out of the litterbox?

I tried getting a LitterMaid once. You've never seen a litterbox so clean in a house with two cats.

Of course, this was because they were so terrified of the darn thing they pooped everywhere but that self-cleaning monstrosity.

If I could only have convinced my cats to take up little tiny tools to treat their litter like a miniature zen rock garden, things might have gone differently.

We wound up passing that beastly thing onwards at a garage sale.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Baron and Peedles: Episode #2


Although it doesn't show (Ah Playmobil!, where even the venerable and aged retain their frozen plastic youthfulness...much like botox fashion victims), Peedles is an old cat with a grating voice, Mexican accent, and massive issues with incontinence.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Welcome to Crunchy Milk! - Baron and Peedles: Episode #1


Hi folks and welcome to Crunchy Milk (Dairy Gone Funny!) - an archive of thoughts and ideas that have been tossing around in the sewage pit I call my erstwhile excuse for a brain.

The first installment is a series of comics I have been wanting to draw for about a year but, bereft as I am of the talent required for actual doodles, I kept sabotaging my own efforts.

As my birthday is coming up, I have been Motivated by my lovely wife's gentle GothBoot (tm) slams to my head and several days worth of eBay sniping for choice PLAYMOBIL® pieces.

I have thus begun to chronicle the Adventures of the Baron von Poopenscoop and his cat "Peedles". Stay tuned for more B&P in hopefully regular installments!

As to the punchline, I was informed recently that such cats doo exist...

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