NOTE: Because of the nature of this blog's contents, it is best viewed on the highest resolution your monitor will offer.

You want to know the easiest, cheapest way to get cool, Photoshop-like effects on pictures (in particular, cool black & white effects)?

If you said, "cheap immigrant labor," you're close, but still wrong!

It..s Microsoft Word! (Now, I haven't been able to install any Adobe programs on my computer yet, so this is what I'm stuck with, but soon and very soon, we are going to see the king [of photo editing].) Now, I'm sure most of you know how this works, but for those that don't, here's the process:
1. Open a New Document on Word
2. Choose Insert>>>Picture>>>From File, and then choose whatever picture you want.
3. Resize the image to your heart's content.
4. Click on the image so the image toolbar comes up.
5. Click on the "Color" icon (second from the left), and choose "Black & White."
6. Adjust brightness (and to a lesser extent, contrast) until you get the "perfect" look for that picture.
7. Once you decide what you like best, copy the picture.
8. Paste it into Microsoft Paint or some other related program.
9. Save and voila! You got it.

Now, I wouldn..t be telling you this unless I had some examples to show off, so let's get started!

I'll begin with some of my friends and coworkers from Berkeley. Why did I choose them? Well, let's just say that I had pictures of them on my computer from previous albums, and decided to give them new life.

First, we'll start with the ever-attractive Carlos, who was once my suitemate and RA, but is now my coworker. What an odd relationship. In any event, here's the original pic:



And here he is in all his monochromatic glory.



Almost angelic, no? This fellow is Chris Lee (I swear to God, I know too many people names Chris/Kris/Khrisse). He decided to take a picture of himself using my camera.



So, of course, I decide to use it to my own advantage. Here's how it turned out.



For some reason, that looks like it would make an awesome Pumpkin carving.



And here's me ol' roomie, Kris (see what I mean?) He's the one who hasn't given me my Adobe programs, so it's his fault that I'm using Word to do Photo editing (though, as you..ll come to realize, it is an artform in and of itself). And here's the final product.



I personally like how his head simply disappears in back. Now, keep in mind, I could have easily gone darker. There are plenty of variations you can do on any one picture. But, really, I think there's only one true version. It's just like how Michelangelo said that the statues were already in the marble, waiting to be released. The perfect B&W shot is in each picture, just waiting to be edited.

And after that parade of other people, we come to the main event: me! Now, if you don't recognize this picture, you don..t know me at all.



Yes, it's my infamous "Hot" picture. The one that makes people on MySpace rank me as a 7.1. And you may also remember this alteration from a few years back:



Yes, it's an old one. Why did I include it? Well, it was my inspiration for doing this, so I felt fit to give it an honorary spot.



Hoo, boy, this takes some explanation. You see, at one of my staff meetings, we were trying to think of a name of a large social event we were having (a talent show). While other people were thinking of "Showtime!" (the eventual winner) and "Bright Nights, Big City" and the like, I wanted to incorporate the name of Clark Kerr Campus into it some how. Then, suddenly and without warning, I just blurted out "Clarrecrefun." The idea was that it was a tightly condensed combination of "Clark Kerr Recreation and Fun." Well, everyone was completely stupefied. It ended up getting a couple votes, but no one took it seriously. But then, it started catching on. Nowadays, it is the catchphrase of my staff. Just goes to show how I'm still a trendsetter. :D

...In any event, at one point, I decided to create a virtual advertisement for the nonexistent event. And, of course, I decided to put myself on as the ringleader. I donned "The Coat" in a way that gave it none of its intimidation powers, took a plastic top hat that I had for some reason, and swiped some of my suitemate's birthday balloons. The result was this shot, which eventually became the final advertisement pose. Understand? Yes, good, on we go! So, here's the black and white version.



(Oh, and in case you were wondering, here's the virtual flyer for the Clarrecrefun [the full version actually has carnival music in the background].)



(I personally like the rocket-lion, myself.)

Back to business. Now, I'm sure you..ve all read my Halloween blog (if you haven't, take a break from this one and go read it; it's good stuff). And so you..ll remember my donning a mask in my role as "The Future."



I felt it was creepy enough to merit the transition to B&W. Here's the result.



It's not as great as I would have liked, but still pretty damn creepy. When I get Image-Ready, I think I'll try to make it look as though a flashlight is moving across the screen, illuminating the mask for but a second. We'll see.



Ah, and here was my "mercenary" look, without the mask. How did it turn out?



I like it. The knife seems especially cool. However, it almost looks like I have 70s hair, and am wearing pants made out of tin foil.



Here's my classic eyebrow face. Now, you may notice that I look very weird and/or German in this picture. That's because I was trying out a new hairstyle (it was a Sunday, and I had nowhere to go, so nobody cool or famous saw me with it).



Now that looks pretty awesome. In fact, we're heading into a den of awesomeness. As a matter of coincidence, all the next pictures happen to be face shots, so I guess the only logical explanation is that my face is simply awesome.



Whenever I see this picture, I just think (in a really high-pitched voice), "Oh, my! Oh, my!" And in B&W...



It looks just as insane! Hooray!



Here's my...I don't know, depressed shot? I may have been depressed because my left eye was pretty red. :'(



And in B&W, it looks like I'm in Sin City. My character: Ricky G., the lovable chimney sweep. Clean as a whistle, sharp as a thistle, best in all Westminster...I mean Sin City.

Now, if you want to know how I made my best pictures, I can assure you: it's was completely unintentional. You see, there..s a fairly well-known process to make a picture soft and red. It..s called "putting a finger over the flash." The bright light penetrates through your finger, bathing the room in a fleshy red light.



But what really surprised me is how it affected the transition to B&W. You can see on some of the previous pictures that there are some definite hard lines. Any spots and speckles are fairly sizable, as well. But with the soft-red shots, the B&W pictures took on a new dimension.



As you can see, there's shading (that's the best term I could think of). And, as good as the others look, these just have a certain specialness to them. The only problem with this one is that it kind of looks like someone..s last known photograph (taken in the 60s, obviously).

And now we come to the coup de gras. I..m sure I completely ruined the element of surprise by using the final picture as my new profile picture, but I thought it deserved a special place on the list.

Now, I didn't think much of the original soft-red photo. In fact, had I been strapped for computer space, it probably would have gone. But no, I kept it, and this is what it was like.



And it's a damn good thing I did keep it, because with it, I was able to do something I never thought possible: I made myself beautiful.



Now, that "make myself beautiful" was not a pity line. As you can see with my "hot" picture, there..s plenty of times when I can make myself look charming, handsome, and sometimes even attractive. But beautiful? That's something else entirely. Beauty .. to me at least .. is when something, whether it be a cloud in the sky, a waterfall, a stained glass window, a statue, or .. sometimes .. a person, is art in and of itself. When it comes out and punches you in the gut (in a good way). This is the first picture of me, edited or not, to ever do this to me.

This is art.

This is beauty.

And this is now my favorite picture of myself, ever.

I actually printed it out (on the highest quality settings possible) and posted it on my wall. Whenever I look at it, it brings me peace and comfort, longing and loneliness, a myriad of emotions that make me wonder: what if I had never seen this? What if I had deleted that photo? It's funny, the way things work out.

I'm considering printing a few of these out at Walgreen's on their little picture booths. It's a very cheap and effective process for making what could be postcard-like things. Obsession, you say? Perhaps, but it's not like I spend every waking day looking at it. But even if this could qualify as an obsession, it's been a while since I've had one. ;)

...

And, with that long digression, I hereby end this little experiment. I encourage you all to try out this process, even if you do have Photoshop. Sometimes a simple program can open your eyes to the strangest things. It sure has for me.

Take care!

Omnipotently,
Andrew

Okay, okay, okay! People have been clamoring for Halloween pictures, so here they are! Now, before you start, I must explain that I was not based on any franchise whatsoever. This was not a store-bought costume, it was a bunch of little things bought from a bunch of different places, brought together only through my own sense of imagination.

Also, keep in mind that these are *not* the only pictures of me. There are actually dozens of others. Unfortunately, all of these others were not taken by my camera, and thus I don..t have direct access to them. So, think of these as a sample. If I scrounge up any more, I..ll be sure to add them in the comments.

And, without further ado, this is what I looked like:



Hah! You thought I was going to be a mime again! Nay, after being a mime for the past three years in a row, I decided to switch things up. Hence, I went as...this. Now, I could have worn the gas mask by itself, but I didn't for two reasons. First, my hair would stick out from the straps in the back of the gas mask. This looked goofy, not menacing. Secondly, you could totally see my eyes. Part of the idea of this costume was the complete anonymity. Hence, nobody should be able to know who I am. In order to have a slick head and unseeable eyes, I bought one of those faceless masks. Because breathing in a gas mask is difficult enough, I cut a little mouth-hole in the faceless mask.

By the way, I have no idea in Hell was the "II" on the forehead stands for, but it is absolutely awesome. In any event, here are a couple side-views.




I was considering messing the thing up a bit, to give it a bit more of a weathered, embattled look, but decided against it, seeing as it would probably end up looking pretty lame and/or ruined. Now, for the rest of the costume!



This is me in costume, sans mask. I probably could have just gone as some random mercenary if I wanted to (and, if I added some kneepads and a beret, I could be Krauser, which would have been pretty cool in and of itself. Before you ask, no, that's not a real knife. It..s a cheap $2 rubber one. I tried to flip it, but it was actually more difficult than flipping a real knife, since it has poor balance. Still, it's the only one I could use the thing without getting arrested. But still, there's something you can't see in this picture...



Ah, The Boots. Yes, there just called "The Boots." These are frickin' serious boots. They..re so serious, in fact, that you need to get a close-up.



Can you still not see how serious these boots are? They're frickin' serious, I tell ya! I mean, if I kick you with these boots, you will die. They're leather, weigh several pounds apiece, have steel toes, and laces the length of a football field. Hell, they have zippers! They..re frickin' serious! I was very particular about what kind of boot would work with this outfit. In the end, I ended up getting "Goth" boots, luckily for a fraction of the price they usually cost, so that was nice. But yeah, these boots really "made" the costume, and they announced my presence wherever I went.



Full body shot, baby! I'm looking pretty stoic here.



...I honestly don't know if this looks noble or just silly. Since this is my photo-blog, however, I'll opt for the former. ;)

But wait, when am I going to put the two aspects of my costume together? What do I look like fully encased in my post-apocalyptic garb? Well, something like this:



Well, something like this. Notice that now I have a bat in addition to my knife. Originally, my plan was to have a sledgehammer as my primary weapon. However, sledges are fairly heavy and illegal in the res halls, so I has to settle for a baseball ball, which is quite a lethal weapon, yet is strangely legal. And that's a genuine Louisville Slugger there, so you know I mean business.



This was my most common pose in the outfit. Keep in mind I went to school like this. Yes, with the mask and bat and everything. Not many people dress up on Halloween day in Berkeley, but I do, for one reason: Halloween is a holi-*day*, not just a holi-couple-of-hours. If you're not willing to dress up all day, you're not really celebrating the holiday. Besides, I didn't care what anyone thought about me walking onto campus (the only possible exception being the police force). Yet, as is normal at UC Berkeley, people are to PC to say anything. I only got one statement from a random person, which was, "Awesome costume!" And that made it all worthwhile.



Like I said, there are a lot of pictures that I don't have that were taken with different cameras. However, there was a common theme you can keep in mind: in almost any picture where I was interacting with another person, I was generally positioned in a very aggressive pose.



See what I mean? Interesting note: the lady in pink (she was the tooth fairy) is Tera, one of the Resident Directors of Clark Kerr. So, technically, I'm holding a knife to the throat of my boss. The other girl in the picture is Josemine, one of my co-workers, dressed as a non-slutty schoolgirl, to which I applaud her, as anyone who has heard my "Slutless Halloween" argument can attest to.

In other news, that tooth with the huge pupils is the coolest tooth ever.



Now, one my other coworkers, Christine, dressed up as Lara Croft (ya know, the Tomb Raider). Now, everyone figured that there needed to be a picture of the two of us fighting. It's the battle betwixt good and evil, betwixt form fitting suits and baggy camo pants with suspenders. Now, I think I have the upper hand in this battle. Yes, she may have guns, but if you look closely, you'll see that those guns are fake. They couldn't shoot a real bullet if they spent 72 hours at the OK Corral. My bat, on the other hand, is quite real, and could deal quite the beats should the need arise. Heheheh.



I have no idea why my stance is like it is, but I think it's hi-larious for some reason. On a completely unrelated note, my camera..s flash is very, very bright. How can you tell? Well, the room we were in was DARK. Very, very dark. Seeing as I was wearing a gas-mask with a black mesh underneath, my vision was almost completely negated. I could see forms in the room, but I could not make out one person from another without hearing their voice. Still, I consider Halloween costumes an artwork, and one must suffer for their art (which I actually did with those boots [the frickin' serious ones]. I didn..t walk around in them correctly the first time I used them, and ended up with a hole in my heel. I was more careful in my subsequent wearings, and I ended up wearing a pad over the hole to protect it. My heel thanked me).



Another Lara Croft-Me picture. This time, we're "kicking" each other. Notice how absolutely pathetic my kick looks. That's because we weren't kicking at all; no, that would have produced a blurry shot. So instead, we just had to hold our legs up, so that it *looked* like we were kicking. Now, that would have been all fine and good if they just took the pictures immediately. But noooo, they had go slowly, as if only to torture us.

We each had a different method of dealing with this. Ms. Croft chose to put down her leg and then lift it back up to the same height. I on the other hand, didn't want to miss the shot, and so left my leg up as high as it could go. However, that height was rapidly decreasing with each passing second, thanks to my frickin' serious boots, which, as I mention earlier, weigh several pounds apiece. And once my leg was at its shameful 45-degree angle, *then* they took the picture. Hence, that's why she looks like she's kicking while I look like I'm doing a merry jig.

Now, one thing I neglected to mention is that, while I'm wearing my mask, my vocal stylings are limited to, essentially, audible breaths. Yes, it began when I was a mime, and continues into this costume .. I don..t speak. But how was anyone supposed to know what I was? The answer is simple, and it was everyone's favorite part of the costume:



Yes, that is blurry, but it's the best shot I could get. In any event, it reads:

I AM THE FUTURE.
Have a nice day.

And it was my business card. Whenever anyone would ask what I was, I'd give them one. They'd get a kick out of it and tell all their friends to ask me. It was what turned my costume from "creepy and marginally psychotic" to "awesome and very psychotic."

I have plenty remaining. I should use them as my *real* business cards. I'm sure they'd go great at interviews.



Here's a picture of me holding up my business card. Now, you can see the words very clearly, but the second line is drowned out .. consumed, if you will .. by the light. However, I found the effect to be very surrealistic and awesome. Hence, I cropped the picture and used it as my current desktop wallpaper.



This is what it looks like (though the real thing's big enough to fit a 1366x768 monitor). It's also my current MySpace profile picture (unless it's not anymore, in which case I'm lying) until I decide to change it back.

And that's all my camera got of me. As I said, I'll post more if I find any. I hope your Halloween's were all great, and I look forward to seeing any pictures of your costumes.

I have two upcoming photoblogs for you to look forward to:
1. My (Long-Overdue) Pictures of my Sophomore Living Accommodations
2. My Experience of Camping Out for the Nintendo Wii early on Launch Day (Which I'm doing mainly for the experience)

...Ah, what the heck, I have one more picture to share, from a completely different album, though it still has a Halloween feel to it. Question: What happens when you mix a fake rubber knife and marinara sauce?

Actually, let me rephrase that: What happens when I mix a fake rubber knife and marinara sauce?

Answer: This!



Goodnight, everybody!

Omnipotently,
Andrew

From July 19th to the 23rd, I went to the 2006 International Comic-Con, the worlds largest pop culture convention. Comics, games, movies, anime, overpriced pretzels, and a bunch of Storm Troopers: Comic-Con had it all.

I went there with a couple of friends, a composition book, and a head full of expectations. Well, I can tell you now, my friends, that those expectations were met and then some. I had a wonderful, wonderful time.

There's 100+ pictures in this blog, so I would recommend that you go make a sandwich or something while it all loads. Or you could just read my little preamble which talks about some of the stuff my pictures dont.

Anyway, we were very lucky when going to this event; I have a cousin who lives in Chula Vista, a city about 25 minutes from San Diego. She let us stay in her house. It was a little closer than the closest open motel, and that closest motel would have cost us at least $500 for the full stay. The only price we paid at my cousins house was that her little German Schnauzer, Otto von Bisbark (I added the surname for reasons obvious), who would lick our faces every single morning as the sun came up.

There were only two real obstacles we had in San Diego: the traffic and the parking. There were about 125,000 people attending this convention, and so you can figure that there were cars aplenty. If we were lucky (and we were lucky, twice), we could park right next to the convention center. If we were a bit less than lucky, we had to park about six or seven blocks away from the convention center. If we were really unlucky (as we were once, since one of my companions took a 45-minute shower [I didn't realize guys could take that long]) we had to park about 1.5 to 2 miles away. And then walk in 99-degree heat.

One of the main reasons I was going to this was to meet up with a guy named Brooke Burgess, who I've known for a while but have never actually met. Make sense? Well, he created the animated online series Broken Saints, which I'll freely admit to being a follower of, and I wanted to finally meet him in the flesh. Additionally, there was a lot of other people I was excited to meet and things I wanted to see.

A small apology upfront. The camera I was using...well, let's just say it wasn't of the highest caliber. Hence, some of the pictures are going to look a little blurrier than one might enjoy. Just pretend you got lemon juice in your eyes or something.

Well, I think we should get started. Are all the pictures loaded yet? Good. Let's begin...



Best to start at the beginning, no? This is the first Comic-Con-related thing as I stepped up to the convention center. So, I decided to take a picture as a special intro to my time there. Unfortunately, some guy stepped right in front of the all-seeing eye of the comic. So that special moment was ruined. ...*Cough*...



And so the cosplaying begins!!! Trust me, a good portion of this blog is going to be spent with me standing next to a bunch of sweaty comic book nerds dressed up as characters about 2000 times cooler than they are. And who better than to start with than my main man, the one, the only: a Storm Trooper.

...I mean Vader. Darth Vader. How embarrassing. Seriously, though, the Star Wars cosplayers were there in full force (pun not intended, but still pretty damn good). Between Jedi, Storm Troopers, Imperial Pilots and Officers, and Boba Fett, it was hard to turn in any one direction and not see at least one person dressed in décor from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...



Okay, I'll come out and admit it right here: I'm a full-fledged Full Metal Alchemist fan. Hence, youre going to see a lot of stuff relating to that. I just got so excited whenever I saw something, so I took a picture. And based on this picture, it looks like that Ed is so small, I could take him on without breaking a sweat. Seriously. I actually punched him in the face after this picture was shot. Security had to use three tasers to take me down.



Some random suit of armor at the Square Enix booth. I will give props to Square Enix here: they had one hell of a booth. It was huge, had demos, miniatures, hot Asian chicks, and they had this enormous TV which kept on looping trailers of games and such. And unlike other game trailers which looped after about 3 minutes, this one looped only once every hour and fifteen minutes. Excessive? Yes. However, it was quite convenient when I was waiting in line outside the Activision booth (directly across from the TV) in order to try out to be a voice actor for an upcoming video game.

Whats that? You want to hear more about this video game? Okay, I'll be nice. The game is "Marvel Ultimate Alliance." I was trying out, along with a bunch of nerds with lisps and severe cases of stuttering, to be the voice of Namor (whose alternate name of "Imperious Rex" is the most awesome ever). If I had more time to prepare for the lines, I probably would have done a better job than I did. However, considering my competition, I probably have a better chance at winning than I deserve.



No, this is not a picture of King Kong. A zookeeper had brought in several different types of primates in order to promote a new series about a bunch of monkeys that develop super powers. However, against all warning, a fat man took a flash photo of the gorilla. Tragedy followed, except for me, who left the flash off.



Sadly, this is the best picture I have of this sign, but there it is in all it's glory: the sign atop the Broken Saints booth. It asks the mighty question of "What would you give to know the truth?" Since there wasnt a message box or anything, it may have been a rhetorical question.



And here's the creator of Broken Saints, and one of the principal reasons I was at Comic-Con: Brooke Burgess. As you might be able to tell by looking in his arms, I was being a little bit of a shill when I gave him a complimentary copy of my book. In any event, this man is so nice, it's almost funny. On the Sunday, when I was telling him that I was leaving, he took a framed, signed, poster originally slated as a prize for a raffle and flat out gave it to me. I would have had a picture, but it's too wrapped up to fully appreciate and I dont want to take it out of its protection until I'm up at Berkeley. Still, a really awesome guy.



This is the booth for the independent video game company "The Behemoth", who created the very fun game "Alien Hominid" and were debuting a new 4-Player beat-em-up call "Castle Crashers." I played it, and it was very fun.



And here's the guy who created The Behemoth, Tom Fulp. He's also the creator of Newgrounds. If you've never heard of that (I can't imagine), it's a huge collection of Flash movies and games. One of the most entertaining websites out there, I'd say. If you've never seen a Flash movie on there, this one is a particularly interesting example (wink wink, nudge nudge).

Anyway, I must have been the first person to take a picture with Tom, because he said, "Uh, oh. The barrage of smiling begins. You know, I should start taking frowning pictures." Keep that in mind...



Snakes on a Plane! Snakes on a mutha%*!@in Plane!



This was a giant picture of a Serra Angel, the most iconic creature in all of Magic: The Gathering. I have two points to make about Magic.

First, I tried out in the Magic Amateur Championship, which was conveniently held at Comic-Con. Don't let the name fool you, the people playing at this thing were not bad players (well, one of my opponents was, but he was pretty new to the game, so it was a hollow victory [for me]). There were going to be about seven rounds, plus a separate competition for the top 8 players (out of 150 or so). They would play until well past 1am. I would like to say that I was among that prestigious group, but alas, I fell victim to my most cruel of mistresses, Lady Fate. She was not on my side, and I ended up dropping after the third round, simply because I was not getting nearly enough lands (for those not familiar with Magic, thats about the most frustrating thing that can happen to you).

Second thing: one of my travel companions became completely obsessed with Magic thanks to a demo at Wizards of the Coast. I mean obsessed. He started reading the manual in his free time, played the demo over and over again. And he asked me question after question after question. I had to keep reminding him to refrain from using Yu-Gi-Oh talk (I hate it when creatures are called "Monsters"), and then there were the questions during the tournament:

"So, howd you do?"
"...I lost."
"Oh. Did your opponent have a stronger deck than you."
"Not really; I mainly just had mana problems."
"Oh. Was he playing a deck youve never seen before?"
"No, this is the Amateur Championship, which cost $20 to enter. Most players (sans that newbie I played) are using tried-and-true archetypes."
"Oh. See any ultra rare cards?"
"...Ultra...rare...?"
"Yeah, cards youve never seen before."
"Ive probably seen all these cards a thousand times before."
"Oh. Does Magic have rare cards?"
"...Yes. This deck (which I was borrowing) is about three-fourths rare cards. Its worth about $250."
"Oh."
"Yeah."

Okay, one more thing. I asked a lot of the players there (particularly those with 4-day passes) how much of the convention theyve seen. "None, really. Ive mainly been playing Magic." My mouth dropped. You can play Magic any time and anywhere! You can only be at Comic-Con once a year! Some people have odd priorities. At least I was told by one of my opponents that I was the most pleasant person hes ever played against.



A really nice, large Hot Wheels hot rod. I think this somewhat-blurry photo speaks for itself (i.e. I have nothing much to say about it).



Whats this? More Full Metal Alchemist. Believe it, my friends. There was a lot of hype over the new movie thats coming out later this year. I was actually able to watch some clips from the movie. As far as I can tell, its about the Alchemists vs. the Physicists? Or something like that. Maybe they fight a Homunculus version of Albert Einstein. Now I'd pay to see that!



Yeah, this was the Sci-Fi Channel booth. They had a couple TVs, and a little area to sit down in, but thats about it. The rest was this...blob-like thing. From the very moment I saw it to the moment I look at it now, I wondered, "What the hell is that supposed to be?"



Boba Fett, baby! This giant spinning bust had to be one of the most intimidating things at the con. It just...stares at you. You get the feeling that it's just going to lower it's arm and start blasting some of the conventioneers. (Not like that would be such a loss, but still.)



Whoops, I think she caught me staring. She don't look none too happy about it, either. Still, I was a perfect gentleman to all of the manufactured people. However, there was this one guy who was taking upskirt pictures...of dolls. No, I'm not making that up. He was going to the cases that were holding some anime figurines and took upskirt pictures of them. I know that comic book nerds are desperate, but yeesh!



There's the all-seeing eye in all its glory. Huzzah!



Yes, yes, "who you gonna call?" etc, etc. Seriously, though, these guys had these homemade backpacks that looked better than the movie. Thats what makes this thing so fun: the amount of effort put into all the fan stuff. You can't tell by the picture, but we were being scolded by some bastard in an "Elite" shirt (people who manage the place) for standing still in an aisle. I hated all those people. They couldnt give you directions worth a grain of sand, but boy oh boy could they scold you.



Okay, perhaps a little explanation is necessary here. This is Rebecca Guay. She is an artist (I know her most through Magic: The Gathering). She is known as the "Goddess of Magic Art" mainly due to her unique watercolor style. A lot of the people in my play group would die if they knew I met her in person. And I did. And here's the proof. I think some cardiac arrests are in order.



This blurry monstrosity is me and the Alien Hominid. They were giving away these little antennae and though I got one, it wasn't until later, so no "twin" picture for you. It may seem as though I look a little angry. I was hoping for a shot where we were shooting at each other (he with his ray gun, I with my index finger), but I don't think the guy inside the suit figured that out.



Snakes on a Plane! Snakes on a muthoh, wait. This is Optimus Prime. Carry on.



You can't go to a comic book convention without taking a picture with Spiderman. However, I was almost disappointed. I was looking forward to taking a picture with a grossly overweight guy dressed as Spiderman.

Speaking of overweight, lets talk about the people here! I wont go into too much detail (Lord, no!), but some of the people here, you wonder if this is the only exercise they get all year. Now, I'm no Tiny Tim myself, but at least I only take up one seat on the bus (to be fair, my backpack takes up the other). And it always seems to be the fat people who are the angriest. There's no jolly fat men around here. There was this one guy on a bus who kept yelling at the driver to go somewhere else. The driver just told him, "I'm sorry, sir, but you got on the wrong bus." And then he just started going off. In all honesty, there weren't that many obese people (it wasn't a Weight Watchers expo or anything), but you couldn't miss those that were there.

...Okay, I'll stop being mean now. (I think I'm just bitter because this one big guy bumped into me and then started telling me to get out of his way.)



This blurry picture is of a Batman created completely out of Legos.



Here's another, from a different angle. There was also a Spongebob Squarepants made out of Legos, but I have certain standards of what I take pictures of, and so I refrained.



Okay, forget what I said about standards. Still, I may take pictures of a King Kong figurine fighting a T-Rex figurine, but at least it's not an upskirt picture of a King Kong figurine fighting a T-Rex figurine. I thought this particular pose was funny. It almost seems as though Kong is going to say, "Oh, yeah, take this!" and then shove Naomi Watts down the T-Rex's throat. Huh? Huh? ...Okay, I'll move on.



Star Trek? Star Wars? Star Gate? Who the hell cares! As you can tell by my face, I wasn't paying very much attention to the camera. I was wondering if this crazy alien warrior chick had some sort of deadly body grasp technique. :P



If you've ever wondered what a publishing company executive looks like, here's your chance! Ha ha!

("Boo!" "Hiss!")

Hey, what do you expect; this is free entertainment. Bah, ingrates.



I honestly don't know what the politically correct term for this guy is. "Sand Person?" "Tuskan Raider?" In any event, I just called him a "Savage." He got angry and started whooping while raising his pike. I used that opportunity to rip off its filtration mask, revealing a sweaty, acne-covered teen. I quickly put the filtration mask back on him and then punched him, grabbing his pike and stabbing him with it. I was heralded as a hero that day.



Ah, yes, good old Halloweentown, filled to the brim with "Nightmare Before Christmas" paraphernalia. And whose excessively-long arm is that? Well...



It's a statue of Jack Skellington which looks like it belongs on an "Alien Autopsy" video.



You know, I'm just going to come out and say it now: Robin completely cramps Batman's style. With his colors, boyish good looks, and really, really short shorts, he looks more akin to a partner to...I don't know...Siegfried and Roy or something. I personally wouldn't want some scrawny little kid watching my back...



I'd much rather have Wonder Woman as my partner! (Double entendre intended, of course.)



This guy was standing completely still. Like, Buckingham Palace Guard still. We didn't know if it was a statue or a real person. So I took a picture with him, and noticed his chest moving ever so slightly. I whispered to him, "Your secrets safe with me!" But still he stood. A real trooper, that one! (Or pilot, at least.)



Aw, SNAP! Batman's watching you! Actually, I was quite disappointed with this statue, as that clock...yeah, it wasnt accurate. It was just like a broken VCR, showing 12:00 all the time.



This is a purple elf from the World of Warcraft booth. They were giving away free demos of WOW to people. Considering the fact that the game often steals many a person's free time, and has even been known to be responsible for several addict's death, isn't giving out the demos the video game equivalent of: "Hey, kids, try this free sample pack of heroin!"



I have no idea in Hell who these people were supposed to be. Still, if I put on a red wig, I would want to have my picture taken. ...Wait, no I wouldn't...would I? (By the way, that chick's arm [the one you cant see] was a bit south of the equator, if you know what I mean.)



Okay, get ready for a string of FMA pictures, this being the first.



Interesting note: I once took one of those surveys, and apparently, the FMA character I'm most like is Roy Mustang (the one with the black hair). I had never thought of it before, but it works, wouldn't you say?



Okay, I was going a little FMA-crazy at this point. I have nothing interesting to say here, so I'll say that I just found a new addition to my favorite cartoon characters list: the Racoon Girl. (Go here to find out what I mean. (Click the O at the end.) Plus, I have a new great line: "Ohhhh, shoplifting?"



And here we have definitive proof that Edward Elric has no nipples. Being an alchemist has its price, I suppose.



A front-on and non-blurry view of that hot rod. I don't know much about cars, much less hot rods, but that thing looked nice. Not sure how you'd drive with those engine things in the way, though.



This was a Toyota Yaris that was at the G4 booth. I saw the black guy from G4's "Attack of the Show" there. I went up to meet him. However, I didn't know his name, so I just said, "Hey, youre that guy from 'Attack of the Show.' It's a pleasure to meet you." Yeah, I'm sure I made his day with that one.



The side of that car. Apparently, these markings are not the original paint job, but a special ad for some comic. I got a free copy of the comic just by filling out a small survey. It wasn't really worth it. Still, I may be able to return the comic to Borders or something for $10 in store credit. :D



This is one of the last remaining photographs of Frogger. An hour after it was taken, he tried to get lunch at a restaurant across the street, and was run over by a speeding truck.

R.I.P. Frogger, 1981-2006
Jumping Onto Logs in the Hereafter.



You know, I never noticed it before, but Frankenstein is a damn spiffy dresser!



This could easily be a Broken Saints promo shot (of sorts). We're all wearing shirts that have to do with the series, and the freakin' name is behind us! What? Who are they? Oh, well, the one on your left is Andrew West, the artist of the series, and the one on your right is Ian Kirby, the technical supervisor of the series. As for that handsome devil in the center? Well, he's just a troublemaker, that one.



This is me with Susan, the "Fallen Angel," the biggest fan of the Broken Saints series. She was dressed as one of the characters and was helping at the booth. That is, when she wasn't taking pictures with me (which I believe happened once).



Pretend this is one of those documentaries from the thirties, and I'm that annoying-voiced narrator:

Walking around the convention is hard work. Look at this young lad, for example. But theres much more to be seen. Get up, sonny, you still need to shake hands with Dick Tracy!

(On a side note, I never did shake hands with Dick Tracy.)



Yep, Im still at the Comic-Con...good to know.



You can't have a convention with superheroes and not mention The Tick. That show has the distinction of having the best villain: a giant loaf of bread that would consume people. Once the people were inside it, they would fall asleep because it was so soft and warm. Ah, the memories...



Aw, snap! Jack is trying to steal my phone! I actually could have bought this, were I willing to shell out $3200 for it. (I wasn't.)



If there's any picture that you can call me a moron because of, it's this one. Still, I think it's pretty damn funny. I mean, it's Boba Fett and Han Solo, living together in perfect harmony! How can that not be cool!



The bike they're using for the upcoming "Ghost Rider" movie ("Rider," not "Writer"). They chose Nicholas Cage for the role of Ghost Rider. Why? I don't know. In fact, I don't know how that man gets any of the roles he does. "Wind Talkers" my foot. He must have the world's best agent.



The back of the bike. I'll use this time to discuss another Ghost Rider moment. I was in the bathroom (what a promising start) washing my hands when this kid, who was either mentally challenged or just really weird, shouted at me, out of the blue, "My mom's...my mom's gonna see Nicholas Cage, from the movie." I was about to say, "Nicholas Cage is a hack," but I thought better of it. After all, Cages agent/bodyguard could have been in one of the stalls.



Congratulations! You have made it to the halfway picture! And what a memorable picture it is! ...Yeah! ...Trust me, one month from now, this will be the only picture you remember. Mark the date on your calendar; you'll see.



Don't be fooled by his light-colored face! It turns out that Link is not of Hylean descent! You can't tell by this picture you can only tell by his fingertips but Link is actually Mexican, or Guatemalan, or...Mayan, maybe?



This picture may look like all fun and games, but I was actually being mugged. That...thing grabbed me from behind and said, "Give me you wallet. If you tell anyone, I'll come after your family. Grrrowl!"

Actually, that reminds me. When we were walking back to our parking spot (this is when we were parked far, far away), we saw some lady running after this big smiling guy, screaming, "Somebody, call the f--king police! He stole my purse!" I pointed and said to my companions, "Look, kids: street crime!" Actually, I pulled out my phone to call the police (I would have chased him and strangled him with my attendance badge lanyard, but I was on the opposite side of a busy street and I kind of enjoy life) as a cop car rolls by, I wave him down and point out the situation. I'm not sure if he actually caught Mr. Smiles, though.



Sigh, well, where there is good, there must also be evil...



This picture makes me want to do a cheesy 80s sitcom. I can just imagine the jingle:
I was going into my apartment,
And who did I see?
A giant water-shooting Pokemon.
It's Blastoise and Me!
One's a turtle with cannons,
The other likes to drink tea.
We're the original odd couple.
It's Blastoise and Me!

I can just smell the Emmy's now.



This picture makes me want to do a cheesy 80s sitcom. I can just imagine...oh, wait, I've already used up that one. How about a heart-wrenching romance?

NARRATOR: "They were lovers who could never be..."
MYSTIQUE: "Andrew, its not possible. Youre a dashing young billionaire, and Im an evil shape-shifting supervillain. I just dont think this can work out."
ANDREW: "Let me do the thinking for both of us."
MYSTIQUE: "Oh, Andrew..."



This alien was made completely out of tools and motorcycle parts. Quite the piece of work. I was still able to defeat it in combat, though. The face-hugger, on the other hand...



...Yep, we're still at Comic-Con...

...Now that I think about it, this should probably be at the beginning of the blog...

...*Cough*...



Remember, no strictures, the ninth of the pictures,
Of Tom Fulp's request that you heard,
I must attest that Tom Fulp's request
Was ever so absurd.

(In case you can't tell, thats a reference to V for Vendetta. In any event, remember what I said about Tom Fulp saying that he wanted to take a frowning picture. Well, I later gave him the opportunity, and here it is. Though, to be honest, he looks more sneering than frowning. By the way, I'm wearing an awesome shirt, wouldn't you say?



Look, it's a blurry picture with Captain Jack Sparrow and some other pirate-related guy. Of all the people dressed up as Captain Jack, this guy was probably tied for first (youll see the other one later). He even walked around correctly and spoke exactly like the character. Plus, they were both using real swords. I think this is one of the few conventions where you can get away with walking around with honest-to-goodness weapons. And no, I'm not talking about those fake lightsabers (some real lightsabers would be awesome, though!).



CAPTAIN JACK: "Either this fella is growing a strange new set of ears, or I've had a bit too much rum."
ANDREW: "Help! He's violating my personal space!"
OTHER PIRATE-RELATED GUY: "Damn, I look sexy!"


Okay, stop for a minute. I need to set up these next couple of pictures. You see, I believe it was on Friday. I was walking by the Marvel booth, when I saw a sign that said, "Autographs: Stan Lee, 3pm to 4pm." 3pm, I thought. Why, it's 2:20 right now. I'll just go do something really quickly and come back to get Stan Lees autograph (by the way, if you don't know who Stan Lee is, go away right now. ...Wait, come back! Okay, you can stay, but read this and then come back. Understand his importance yet? Basically, without Stan Lee, there might not have been a Comic-Con to go to. Getting his autograph is a pretty damn big deal). Well, as I'm walking back from whatever it is I'm doing, I see this group of security guards walking along, saying, "Move it, out of the way." Then some people start gasping. "It's Stan Lee!" "It's Stan Lee!"

What? Oh, SNAP! I took too long. I had to chase after the group. I knew the line there had probably already formed, and I needed to make sure I got into it. However, the attendees of Comic-Con have to difficulties: 1.They aren't very small. 2.They aren't very mobile. Hence, I had to do a lot of maneuvering and even a little bit of shoving my way through the place before I got to the line for the autographs. I confirmed that I was in the correct line and thanked my lucky stars. People started filing behind me pretty quickly. However, the guy with the "END OF LINE" sign stepped in only 12 people behind me. 12! Had I not been as hasty, I would have missed it. (Quick aside: Haste makes waste, but those who hesitate are lost. So which way should you go? In this case, it was better to be a little wasteful [of what?] and in the right place.) I then waited patiently for about 40 minutes before I even got a glimpse of Stan Lee.

Now here's something you may not know about Stan Lee. For all those who went to SAHS, imagine, if you will, Mr. Logan writing comic books. That's exactly what Stan Lee was like in person. His sense of humor, his voice inflection, and his mannerisms were all like Mr. Logan's. I was even waiting for him to say, "Ha cha cha cha cha!" In any event, once I finally got to stand in front of him, I handed him my composition book. Now, the man has just signed nothing but comic books for the past 135+ people, and here I am handing him this normal old composition book. He looks shocked and says to me, "You must be from anotha' planet!" (I took that as a compliment. :D) He then saw that my description for him in the book was "God of Comics." "Aw, thats cute," he said to me, "I'll sign it all big for you." And he did (youll see that later).

Before I even reached him, though, I tried to get a picture of the man. Now, I was using my moms camera, and that camera does not enjoy movement. At all. And Stan Lee was moving around like a box of donuts at a police station. The following are my...attempts to get a clear shot. I'd recommend playing the "Tetris" music while looking at these. You get an idea of how tricky it was to take them. Enjoy:










As you can see, it seems like Stan Lee is trapped in a dream world of sorts. ...Hmm, that's not a bad idea. Ill send it to him. Anyhoo, that was a really cool experience, meeting him.



When I came up to this guys booth, he was complaining about how hot it was in that armor. I asked if it would make him fell better if I took a picture of him. "...Yeah, sure." So I did. As it turns out, this guy's company made all the swords for the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies, as well as some other stuff. Remember what I said about being able to carry swords around? Well, I was almost tempted to buy a couple. The price was a bit too steep for me, unfortunately. I was also considering, though, to buy a couple wooden practice swords. However, if I really can't bring them up to Berkeley, would it really be worth it? (Im actually going to question that rule, though. If they allow baseball bats, which have been the documented weapons in many more cases than practice swords, why won't they allow my swords? They're made of wood, for crisakes! Seriously, I am going to see about that.



Yep, here's the other Captain Jack Sparrow, who I called "Sequel Sparrow." I swear, the effort that goes into some of these costumes, it's just remarkable.



This guy was buff! I'm sure he would work great playing Wolverine in the Universal Studios "X-Men: Live" show (God forbid such a thing actually exist). You may have wondered why I didn't edit out the red in my eyes. Well, I...um...I wanted to be...Gambit! Yeah, that's it, hehe...



WHAT? NO! No, you did not just see that!! It doesn't exist! It never existed! You can't prove it exists!!!1! *Eats hard drive.* See, no proof!



You wanna know something? I'm a PIMP! Just look at me! With my homeboys Mario and Link, we ride through the suburbs in our low-rider, and that makes all the little chicas swoon. Though you know all the swooning's for me. After all, Mario is an Italian stereotype, and Link wears a skirt. Me, on the other hand, you betta recognize!

(We interrupt this program to bring you "Exploitation Theatre," featuring Blackula, Blackenstein, and The Blunch-Black of Blotre Blame.)



No, this wasn't "Free Lightsabers Day" (dear God, I wish it was), but I was able to spar with this Sith-in-training. Now, it may look as though he had me on the ropes, but right after this picture was taken, I cut off his hand.



Okay, I've never played a Final Fantasy game before, but apparently, in FFVII (OMG, SPOLIERSSSS), the villain, Sephiroth (the dude with the long white hair), stabs this chick named Aerith...Aeris...whatever, in the back with a really long sword while she's praying. This was an ironic twist on that. Can't you just see the irony there? Can't you? In any event, there were a bunch of nerds cheering when they saw this. "Hooray!" "That was the way it should have been!" And so on, and so forth.



O_o Nipple shot! ...Oh, wait, never mind. That's just gross.



Okay, so I asked the Sephiroth dude to borrow his sword for a second. Now, everyone expected I was going to do pose attacking Sephiroth with his own sword. But no! I go for the chick. All of a sudden, all of the nerds start booing me. I snapped back at them, "Quiet, or Ill take your scientific calculators!" That shut 'em up. And with that, we left the convention center on the final day, never to return.



And here's a shot of the convention center from our parking space. Say goodbye to San Diego, and hello to a 4-hour stop-and-go drive home!


And that was it for the 37th Annual International Comic-Con. I saw my share of faces, shook my share of hands, and basically had a wonderful time. I highly recommend it to anyone who has the chance to go!

Of course, one of my most brilliant decisions (other than wearing calf-protecting undershorts to protect against crippling chafing) was my composition book. Inside that thing is the collected signatures and sketches of anyone who was anyone (to me, at least). All of these people are related to something that has some significance to me, so you can imagine how great it feels to have it.

Now, things are going to get a little "ghetto" as all I did was takes pictures of the pages. Sorry for not doing some fancy-pants scan, but what you see is what you get. Enjoy!






















Now, there were a few more, but they weren't has noteworthy or interesting as these were.

Now, for my final act, I'll be showing of some of the pieces of artwork that I purchased while I was there.




This is a print of the "Angelic Blessing," by Rebecca Guay.



This is a print of the "Exalted Angel," by Mike Sutfin.



This is a print of the "Archangel," by rk post. Hmm, have you noticed a pattern with these so far?



Ooo, gotcha! Pattern broken! This is a picture of "Circu, Dimir Lobotomist." It's a creepy picture, but something about it always jumped out at me as kind of funny. Maybe some taglines: "The doctor is in." Or my favorite: "*Sniff*...Next."

My mom doesn't like this one much. I can't imagine why.



Tee hee. Well, you have to admit, that's artwork in itself. :D

......

............

....................

..........................What the hell?

It's over?

You're kidding me!

Wow. I guess it is over. Well, then, that's that. That's my trip to Comic-Con in one (very large) nutshell. Thanks for looking! I hope my multitude of pictures hasn't melted your computer (or my rambling your brain, for that matter).

Now, in case you weren't able to tell, this took me a loooooong time and a hell of a lot of work. A few comments would make me feel like I didn't just throw all my nights away.

Thanks, everybody, and take care!

Omnipotently,
Andrew

Time for pictures!!!

On May 27, I was a chaperone for the St. Anthony High School Prom. After surviving Mr. Elliot's opening barbs ("Andrew, are you someones date, or were you just wandering around the hotel?"), I was able to have an enjoyable time being a member of the teachers table. However, I don't have a single picture of that. It wasnt my Prom, after all. (Thats right here.)

What I am going to show here is the time after I became very stylishly dressed, but before I left. My mom and I decided to see what kind of pictures we could take in exactly 2 minutes. Unfortunately, this didn't leave much time for counting down to the snapshot, so I was sometimes in the middle of moving when the flash went off, which led to some rather cool pictures in their own right.

You'll also notice I have a cigar in some pictures. Dont worry, I havent taken up any ol' nasty habits. Its actually a fake cigar made out of chocolate. It's delicious, but its even better when used for posing. It made a perfect complement to my beautiful suit, methinks.

So, without further ado, the two-minute pre-Prom photo shoot! z0mg!



Remember what I said about me moving in the middle of pictures. Well, as it turns out, thats what happened to the very first picture. Hence, it's all blurred. Why didn't I delete such a monstrosity? Well...it looks pretty frikkin' awesome! In a surreal way, at least.



This is the perfect shot for a billionaire movie villain, wouldn't you say? All I need is some actual smoke coming out of the fake cigar.

Actually, it also looks as though I could be passing out. I guess I took too big a puff...



Blurry, but I think that's part of the charm. Now, heres a question for everyone: If I were a powerful, powerful man one day, do you think I would be a police chief, or a crime lord? I dunno, I think my appearance dictates my future...



Okay, the cigar's gone for a little while. Now, this is almost the "Classic Andrew" pose, but not quite. You see, the eyebrow has to be arched up a little bit more, like...like...



...Like that! Now, this is my favorite facial pose of all time. Here's a fun little trick: take a look at the two halves of my face separately. Cover up on side with you hand as you look at the other, then switch. Then, look at it together again. I dont know about you, but it's a little trippy to me.



Nice close-up. Now, here you can see something interesting. You see, my goatee is half dark brown and half light brown (although in this particular picture, it looks to only be 1/3 light brown). You can't see it as well in real life as you can in the pictures, but still I ask: can your goatee do that?



C'mon, I can't do a photo shoot without looking up. Dont give me that look. You know what, screw you guys! I hate you all! I'm outta here! Dont bother looking for me. I'll be in some gutter with cut wrists, with my iPod set on some flamboyant punk band. Have a good life, you phonies!!!!! 'Cause were all gonna die anyway. Out...



...Hey, I'm back! Dont worry; I'm still alive and very much uncut. If anyone fell for the last paragraph...well, that's just sad.

Anyhoo, this next picture is one in a series (of two) where I show the sides of my head. Now, on this side, I look totally badass. I look like I could be in a Rush Hour movie. Maybe put a scar on my cheek, give me some code name ("Tatsu"), and add a nunchaku with a gun attached to it - it's amazing I haven't made it big in Hollywood yet.



And then you have the softer, gentler side of Andrew. I don't about you, but this picture cracks me up every time I see it.



Okay, now this picture is going to haunt me for years and years to come. You see, every few years, I take what eventually becomes a "cute picture." This means that in the future, someone is going to look at an old album, see one of these pictures, and say, "Aww, you were so cure back then. What happened?" When I was a child about yay-high, every picture was a cute picture. Nowadays, they're a bit more exclusive. However, this picture has the perfect setup for a cute picture. In the future, I will dislike it. However, for the next little while, it'll actually be good, because it proves I can still be cute...sometimes.



This picture made me realize something. A while back, I was looking through pictures of Keira Knightly (tee-hee) and I saw one which I believe was a candid. Anyhoo, her mouth was just open in the picture in a very odd way. I thought to myself, that's a terrible picture. What could she be doing to get a mouth pose like that? Then this picture was taken while I was in the middle of saying something to my mom. Mystery solved.



Yet another picture of me looking to the side. Nothing interesting to say here. Actually, there is. Have you noticed my hair in any of these pictures? I thought it looked pretty damn good that night.



The cigar returns! This is my favorite picture in the gallery. If you can't tell why, then you need to learn a thing or two about me...



And here's the happy/psychotic look. Seriously. I could see this with the "You Gonna Get Raped" caption. But dont worry, ladies, you gonna get nothing of the sort.



I have a new favorite gesture. It's called "The Shameless", and its just me giving a big thumbs-up while smiling (sincerely or insincerely; it doesnt matter much). This is the cigar version, I suppose.



Now you get a much better look at my outfit. Aren't I a snappy dresser? Don't dark colors look great on me? Don't I look clueless in this picture?



Oh, the cigar's back again. Now, if this were a real cigar, this would probably be the expression I would have if anyone I knew walked into the room and saw me smoking it. Reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.



This is the smiling cigar face, part deux. This time, with 92% less psychotic tendencies and 100% more wholesomeness! Awww....



And we end with a simple, I'm-out-of-ideas look.

And thus ended the two minutes. I was able to get 19 pictures, which averaged about 6 seconds a shot. Not bad for a digital camera, I think. And now, you get a better idea of what I do with my two minutes, what I look like when I'm cute, and how I'll pose when I'm an international gang lord. (Oh, and who my "celebrity girlfriend" is.) Hope it's been as enjoyable for you as its been as tedious for me. Be sure to leave comments to tell me just how lame my life is, 'cause teh AnDrEw <3 joo!

Take care, everyone!

Omnipotently,
Andrew

It was the Winter of aught-six; I was going to Los Angeles to buy a corsage for my date. The important thing is that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. I wanted to get one of those carnation corsages, because everyone else was getting the roses and the orchids. So, I wanted to take the train to Los Angeles, which at the time, was known as Mortarville, named after Thomas P. Mortarville. He invented the first way to clean phonograph needles cheaply and practically, with a kind of specialized silk. Before that, all you could do was take a piece of steel wool and rub the needle vigourously. It ruined many a record, and so steel wool purchases went down. The major steel wool producer at the time, Wedworth's, had to lay off half of its employees. One of the employees ended up as a gardener for my grandmother. She would work him like an Alaskan sled dog, and gave him two-bit and twenty as his pay. But that was a good wage; with that, he could buy a movie ticket, a pair of slacks, an ice cream cone, a glass of Uncle Sherman's Malt Liquor, and still have enough left over for a ride on Ms. Palmer's custom Merry-Go-Round. Anyway, in order to get on the train to Mortarville, I had to pay a nickel. And in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on them. "Give me five bees for a quarter!" you'd say. I was able to get off on third street. Now, the important thing is that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have red onions at the time, because of the war. All you could get were those little yellow ones, which grew hairs if you left them in the sun too long. Well, the store wasn't on third street, it was on twelfth. I had to walk nine blocks just to get my corsage. As I was going I fell down a manhole, which was known as a corpse-hole at the time. I fell eighty-six feet onto a mass of gnarled pipes. Of course, folks was tougher in those days. I was jitterbuggin' that very night. Of course, the adults didn't care to much for the jitterbug; they said it promoted promiscuity. They didn't use the word "promiscuity," though. It was too taboo for them. They said "ungodly naughtiness." I had to walk up a ladder to get up to the surface. When I finally got back to the surface, I saw ol' Charlie Freedle. Charlie was an school buddy of mine who'd bought me a box of cookies. The cookies were called "Chocolate Wafers." They were always in great competition with "Vanilla Wafers" and, from what I've heard, lost the battle. In any event, Charlie said hello to me, and told me that I had to go to Boston one day. There's a lot of Irish Catholics in Boston. Most of them came in during the great potato famine, and the rest came in during several lesser potato famines. They didn't realize that Boston doesn't have many potatoes in it. You don't see very many Irish Catholics in Idaho. In fact, there's only one Catholic church in all of Idaho, from what I hear. The rest are Protestants. I don't know what they're protesting anymore. Anyway, I make it to the flower shop, and I realize that I lost the onion on my belt (onions on your belt was the style at the time). I asked the shop owner if he had seen it. He said no, even though he was Mexican. In Spanish, the word for "no" is, in fact "no," but the word for "yes" isn't "yes." Some people said they try to trick us, so we don't know what they're saying. I knew that he was saying "no," though. I had to go back to find my onion. Then I saw a hobo eating an onion. Politically correct people don't want you to say "hobo." They want you to say "habitacion-deficient people." I say "hobo." The word came from John Hobonionio, who was the very first hobo. Way back when, everyone worked. No one got anything for free. Not John Hobonionio. He was a slacker of the greatest sorts. He would lie down on the streets drinking wine. Nowadays, I see young punks drinking "whiskey" and "hard lemonade." Hogwash juice! They'll never know the greatness of a good wine, like Phillip Yortman's Red Wine, which he made in his cellar. It was illegal to sell intoxicating liquors at the time, so Phil had to give it away free at charity event, and then steal the jar of charity money. Well, this one hobo was eating my onion. I snatched it away from in, and hung it on my belt, which was the style at the time. I went back to the flower shop. He asked me what color I wanted: white, blue, or pink. I didn't want pink, because it reminded me too much of bubble-gum, or, as it was more commonly known, "devil-gum." Little punks would always be blowing bubbles and throughing them at authority figures. We figured that the next thing they'd do is conjure the devil. I didn't want white, because it reminded me of my old army days, when I had to take a white flag to the Kaiser. He invited me inside his mansion. He had a large great dane. I've always liked great danes. No shaggy hair on them; they're not hippie dogs. The Kaiser offered us tea in exchange for our surrender. We told him that we weren't British, and demanded coffee instead. And not just any coffee, but Buck Hueler's Authentic Coffee-flavored beverege. He declined, but we surrendered anyway. That meant the only carnation left was blue. I didn't want blue, but I took it anyway. I didn't have any cash at the time, so I gave the man my half eaten onion, and he clipped it to his belt, which was the style at the time. I then went home by foot. It never snowed in Mortarville before that day, and hasn't snowed there since, but it snowed that day, and I had to walk uphill the entire time. Once I raced home, I read a telegram which said that they renamed Mortarville "Los Angeles" and that there was a group going to hold pickets signs opposing the changes. We had picket signs for everything in those days. You needed them; we didn't have your fancy-pants blogs and message boards. The signs would say anything from "Save the Whales" to "Kill the Whales." I knew I couldn’t protest anything, though; I had a prom to get to. However, I recived a wire which said that my date was sick. We all knew the code, though. When your date said she was sick, she really meant she couldn't stand the sight of your face and would die of repulsion if she saw you again. That left me without a date. It was good, though, because I didn't have to worry about getting a tux to match her dress. I ended up going to the prom with an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time...

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, stay out of my arthritis medicine!

    I am notorious for having disturbing dreams. By “disturbing,” I mean dreams which, if you were part of them, you’d think I was some kind of psychopath. However some of my dreams make for good short stories (and some of them make for good longer ones, just like that one in which I literally saw Hell). Anyhoo, I had this dream about a couple weeks ago. In a kind of a first, I was actually not the protagonist. In fact, I was nowhere even in this one. It’s pretty creepy; I hope you enjoy it.
    If you’d like to comment on it, do so here. It is long, so you may want to print it out and read it in the dark. Just make sure you read it in the dark. And as a final warning:

[NOTE: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF ADULT SITUATIONS. IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH IN ANY WAY, DO NOT READ.]

    €10,000. No, that was not nearly enough. How could they insult her with such a measly price tag? €10,000? That wasn’t even worth the eyelash which I could see fall upon her cheek. Nay, she was worth more, much more. I knew when I saw her – satin skin, chocolate hair, delicate fingers laced amongst themselves – I knew that she was to be mine, at any price. She would be mine.
    None else at the auction saw her as I did. They came with a prize already in their mind. The lantern which lit the writings of some lunatic poet, or the throne in which some warlord sat as he sentenced his own people to death; this is what the others hungered. Not her. Her arrival was unexpected. Pleasant, but unexpected nonetheless. As she was escorted in by a team of gruff guards, her content expression never waned. She knew, as she entered into this auction, that she would never see her home again. And yet, her demeanor never changed. She was calm, serene…beautiful. Her determination not to cry inspired me, inspired my affection, my love. She and I were destined to be together.
    As the flock of thieves and bargain hunters milled around, I followed her. I pushed past the buyers and sellers, following the guards until they reached their destination. I looked at the room number. Room 601. I had never given any thought to the number before, but after seeing her going in there, I realized how beautiful the number 601 was. I took out my auction paddle, a small paper-stock instrument with 9863 printed on it. I sat behind some loud, pompous woman and to the left of a rather odious man. I unbuttoned my jacket as they were preparing to start the auction. I saw her in the corner of the room. Eventually, she turned enough that I caught her eye. I made a quick gesture with my hand as a way to greet her. Still, she kept her composure.
    The first dozen items up for bid were an eclectic mix of rubbish: coffers and tables and other such nonsense. The fools around me piddled away their hard-earned or (more likely) inherited money away on the trash, not realizing how the true treasure was yet to come. Rubbing the inside of my left palm with my right thumb, I waited patiently. Finally, she was brought up. She was propped up against a small stool. In the lights which bathed the stage, she appeared even more beautiful than before. I readied my hand, gripping my paddle so hard that it began to crumple.
    “Next up we have a lovely 6-by-10 foot portrait by that great unknown, Alfonso Mentíz,” The auctioneer announced in a haughty voice, “The painting is entitled The Summer’s Sapphire. He painted this in 1879 in Barcelona, three years before his death. It is oil on canvas, and this is the first time that this piece has been put up for auction. Bidding starts at €10,000.”
    “€10,000?” I asked aloud, “What travesty is that?” The loathsome man to my right cast a sinister eye at me. I was too much appalled to care. How could they allow such a beauty to be sold at such a pauper’s wage? In reflection, I almost missed the fact that another man, a bohemian of sorts, wearing a backwards baseball cap, had silently raised his paddle. I choked upon my own disbelief that such a simpleton would try to steal my love away from me. Without hesitation, and with little regard for the rules, I whipped up my paddle, nearly striking the hateful man next to me, shouting, “€50,000!”
    The din that arose inside that room was like out of a motion picture. Not so much for my wager, but for my exuberance. The bohemian did not let his worry show, however. He raised his paddle and mouthed, “Sixty-thousand."
    “Seventy-Five!” I shouted, not to be outdone.
    “One hundred.”
    “One-Twenty-Five!”
    “One-Fifty.”
    “Two-Fifty!” That was all I needed. Amongst the murmurs and the auctioneers’ pleas for order like some drunken judge, the bohemian seemed to become very annoyed by my persistence (as I was with his). After whimpering to himself like a wounded dog, he looked at me and said, “Very well, mate, she’s all yours.” The auctioneers gavel struck his podium, and within the corners of my mind, I heard the word SOLD!
    Yes, I thought to myself, she’s all mine. All mine…


    I took her to my manor that very evening. I warned the men who carried her not to touch her inappropriately. They placed her on a stand in my gallery – my lonely gallery. What a beautiful, masterful room. The chandelier which hung from above was once owned by the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. The center panel of the wooden floor actually came out of the home of the late Princess Charlotte of Prussia. And the walls which lined the room were filled with original manuscripts of some of the greatest minds of Europe and America. The large bay window on the south side of the room opened into a grand balcony overlooking the Rhine. Indeed, there was no better place for my sweet Sapphire.
    As the brutes that brought her in walked off, I shut the doors and locked them. Not even my servants would be able to enter the room without my permission. It was just my Sapphire and I. I looked at her, studied her. She was perfect. Her chestnut eyes stared back at me, with a sort of come-hither expression. Her soft, thin lips were curled into a slight grin. Her deep blue dress flowed gracefully to the floor. Never had I seen a more perfect being. And she was mine, all mine.
    I paced around the room, contemplating my situation. I shuffled through my desk, deliberating. She was mine, yet should I simply take her? Should I protect her innocence, or should I be the first to taste her purity. I walked back over to the large frame and stared once more. She was life-size, as she should be, and she was staring back at me…staring…imploring…pleading!
    I could not take the feeling in my gut any longer. I forced my way onto and began to kiss her smiling lips. I could feel her kissing back, moaning softly. I stroked my hand through her blissfully smooth hair. I felt her hand slide upon my neck and onto the back of my head. She was the one. I had known it from the start. She was made for me, and I for her. We were made for this moment. Removing my lips from hers, I began to lick the sweet curves of her face. Her face tastes of bitter oils, but they were more delicious than any confectionary.
    For a moment, I stood back, breathing heavily. My hair was mussed, as was hers. I could feel a trickle of saliva running down my chin. I spat at the ground, and yet I continued to salivate. I wanted more. And, judging by the knowing grin on her face, she wanted more, too.
    I slowly strolled up to her this time, and began to scratch away at the collar of her azure dress. It wouldn’t come off. Try as I did, the dress was plastered by some ungodly source to her beautiful skin.
    “My sweet Sapphire. Oh, God…how I long to remove these garments, that I may make love to you.”
    I continued to tug at the dress but it would not give. I dug with my nails, but the adhesive held fast. I went to tear at it with my teeth, but as my head touched her breast, I could hear, and feel, her heartbeat. It was warm, soft, comforting. I felt like I was but an infant again, being coddled within my mother’s arms. I listened to the heartbeat; I could hear the warm blood flowing through her veins, going to her skin, making her complexion rosier. I nearly fell asleep from the soft sound. As my mind relaxed, I could feel my hand move toward her breast, touching it, caressing it. The dried oils had a lumpy feeling to them. Still, the touch was perfect. I was in rapture, and I could tell by her heartbeat that my Sapphire was at peace.
    She never anticipated the strike.
    Almost instinctively, I hopped back, and eyed the image before me. The stiletto stuck out from her chest, its grip pointing back at me. She had never noticed. She had never seen it coming. She did not pay attention when I was fumbling through my desk. She did not see me take the blade from the drawer and conceal it in my coat. She was unaware. And now, as the stiletto protruded from her sternum, her lifeblood began to gush out like an exploding dam.
    It sprayed all over: on her dress, on my suit, on the floor. All the life-giving liquid, spilling out around me. It was red; it was as red as an angry sun, and it was leaving her body. Her rosy complexion became less like the flower and more akin to alabaster. All the sanguinary smells excited my senses. The blood…it was spilling out…spilling all over…everywhere…
    I dropped to the ground and ran my tongue along the inlaid wooden floor. I had to consume the stuff before the cracks in the floor stole it from me. Like a ravenous dog, I licked up the lifeblood from the floor. My methods we futile, though. There was too much coming out. In haste, I tore off my coat and began to soak up the blood with it. The floor could steal the liquid from me, but I could suck any residue in the coat later.
    As I scrubbed the gory floor, I chanced to look up and realized that my Sapphire was still there, the blood coming out as fresh as ever. I stood and look my tongue to her breast. The bitter taste of the oils was the perfect complement to the coppery taste of the blood. As my tongue caressed the area around the stiletto, the blade was able to catch my skin and inflict a rather deep wound. Before I realized anything, my blood was added to this mad cocktail of flavors. I continued to lap up the stuff. I spoke to the lady, my voice garbled as the liquid bubbled in my throat.
    “We shall be together, my sweet Sapphire. With out bloods as one, we shall be together always.”
    As the stream began to reduce into more of a trickle, I found that her hands, once laced together so tightly by the fingers, were hanging to her sides. Taking one final stroke with my tongue, I looked to her face. Her chocolate hair was stained red, and her chestnut eyes closed. I swallowed a mouthful of her life, thinking that there was no more to her. How wrong I was! From her closed right eye, I saw a buildup of water form in the corner, until it fell, slowly, silently, down her cheek. I straightened myself and gazed at this tear…then two…then more. Her cheeks became damp with her weeping. I did not want to see my sweet cry.
    I pounced upon her face and began to lick her cheeks. The saline tears added finality to the love that she had given me.


    Her eyes were open again. As I awoke, several days later, I could see them: her beautiful chestnut eyes. Her skin was still pale, her head stooped, and her dress stained with blood, but her eyes were as wide as if she still lived and breathed. How they reopened, I shall never know; it was as if some ethereal cherub had come down and separated her lids once more. It vexed me to no end.
    I had not left my gallery in two days, and I had not allowed my servants in. Seeing my reflection in a glass decanter, I could see my face was covered with a sloppy splash of facial hair. There was blood still matting my patrician hairstyle. My shirt and coat were disheveled, and I was simply a shadow of my former self. What was worse, my sweet Sapphire could see me, even in death, in my foul state.
    A knock at the door; how often had I heard this bothersome rhythm? It was one of my servants, trying to gain access to the room, trying to impede on my wake for my love. I would not let them in, of course. They had no place with me. Still, the pangs of hunger gnawed away at me like leeches, draining me of my energy. I had already drunk all the wine in the room, and eaten all the wafers. I will admit that I was almost so mad with hunger that I even tried to eat the plastic fruit on the table. There was nothing left for me to eat. What was I to do? Die of starvation, so that I may join my love, or live, so that I may avenge her death? Perhaps I only thought with my stomach, but I decided that I should eat.
    When the knocking began again, about an hour later, I slinked to the door and unlocked the deadbolt. I then unfastened all other locks, opened the door a crack, and looked down the slit. It was indeed a servant of mine.
    “I am hungry. Do you bring food?”
    “Sir, I believe I should come in,” the rude boy said as he pushed open the door. I stumbled back from his brash action. He walked in with an air of arrogance, as if he was free to enter any place he deemed fit. I slammed the door shut when he had come in, and locked it back up. The loud noise made him turn back to me. “Sir, you are a frightful mess. There is a filthy wound on your brow. We should have it cleaned.”
    “I did not ask for you. Unless you bring food, you are not to be here.”
    “But, sir, the staff was worried for you.” I ignored the brazen young man and stormed to my desk. I sat in my chair, brooding. The boy followed, but before he spoke again, she caught his attention. I did not like the way he was gazing at my Sapphire, with such a look of…of…repulsion! “What happened to this?”
    “This?”
    “Yes. Some of this painting is smeared with blood; I think it’s yours.” He pointed to the collar of her dress, saying, “And this part here; the oil seems to be scratched away. And it looks as though a hole was torn right here.” As I watched, he performed a heinous act: he dug two of his fingers into the wound on her chest, squirming them around, as though he were trying to fondle her heart.
    “Don’t.”
    “This thing is messed up, sir. You should be rid of it.”
    “Don’t talk about her like that.”
    “Sir?”
    “Don’t…talk…about her…like…she’s…an object!”
    “Sir, what are you-” his speech was cut short, however, when I jumped over my desk and grabbed him by the throat. While he had turned away, I was able to take my stiletto out of the desk drawer yet again. I let fly the knife into his shoulder. The impudent twit screamed and pulled away, falling to the wooden floor. Blood came from his wound, but I did not want to sour my tastes with his foul-smelling liquid. I rearranged the stiletto in my hand until it was in a striking position. I stepped toward the felled servant, my feet making imprints in his putrid lifeblood. As I raised my arm for the blow, however, I saw her. Her eyes…her open eyes…staring at me…watching my every move. I nearly dropped the blade in shame.
    “Oh, God! My sweet…my sweet Sapphire…I don’t…I don’t want you to see the sinful action which I am about to perform…no…you shall not see it!”
    Swinging my arm deftly, I swept across her eyes, directly between her soft brow and her small nose. What blood she had left flew to the side. Her vitreous humor splattered on my already-soiled coat. My tongue snatched up any stray droplets which landed on my face. Even several days dead, she still tasted like bliss. Looking once more at her, I could see empty spaces where her eyes once were. I was happy…for her sake. Now she would not see my action. She would not see what I would do to the brash, impudent manservant. And so I went about my deed.


    I awoke God-knows-how-many days later. I had not found any food on the servants body; only a bottle of aspirin. It was edible, and so I ate the whole contents of the bottle. For several hours, the world became a blur of colors, of sounds, of nothingness. I could not walk straight, see straight, talk straight, think straight. I had never taken such medicine before, but I realized how it worked: it made the consumer so mad that they wouldn’t even feel their body, much less any pain. I frolicked around in this hallucinated state before collapsing into a long slumber.
    When I awoke, there was a great odor in the room: the odor of fetor and decay. I was slow to arise; my malnourished body was failing me. I stood, eventually as it may have been, and looked around my gallery. The door was still closed – none had entered. Nor had any left. I saw the servant’s body lying on the floor, motionless. His marbling skin had gnats hopping to and fro place to place. His may have been the stench. Looking further upward, I saw that my Sapphire, too, was rotting away to naught. Something had to be done…I had to do something.
    The servant demanded no pomp or ritual. I laboriously dragged his body to the balcony, and flipped it over the rail into the Rhine. The sky was dark, as was the river; after the splash, I saw not a speck of him.
    “Good riddance.”
    That left my Sapphire. I could not bear to see her be buried in the dirt - the cold, malevolent dirt – where she would be but a feast for worms and maggots. Nay, she shan’t leave me that way. She should leave in way fitting of her existence: bright, beautiful, and fleeting. I took her from her stand and, with great effort, dragged her to the balcony. I propped her against the rail and sighed in wonder. Even in death, she still maintained her beauty. I then rushed back into the gallery, and grabbed an oil lantern. It was a Seventeenth-Century Portuguese lantern, but it had done nothing but collect dust for the past hundred years. It would finally earn its keep. I shook it, and heard the light splashing. Yes, it still had the original whale oil. I took a lighter from my desk drawer and lit the damp rope wick. It burned steadily and appealingly. I did not savor the look very long, though, for I bolted back out and hurled the lantern at my Sapphire. It shattered and lit her on fire, frame and all. Her oils burned especially quickly, and for a passing moment, I saw but a blank, burning canvas.
    As she burned, I tore off my blood-stained clothing. Spilled with her blood. I could not allow any of her immaculateness to remain in this mortal hellhole. I sat naked on the cold granite balcony floor, watching the tongues of flame lick the night sky. It kept me warm, and I knew that she had truly gone to a better place, and I would one day join her again.


    The fire died just as the dawn broke. It was just as well. I decided it was time to get out of the house. I walked through the gallery – the lonely gallery – and unlocked the door. I strolled naked down the hallway of my manor until I reached the washroom. I bathed, shaved, and generally made myself look more presentable. I checked the ebony box above the laundry hamper. It contained a fresh set of clothing, just as it always did. I dressed, being sure to make sure my tie was straight.
    I sneaked open the door, and glanced outside. No one was there. I was sure that no one had seen me. I went into the hall and tried to make my way to the front door.
    “Sir!” I turned around. It was one of my maids. “I have not seen you in some time, sir. Are you well?”
    “What day is it?”
    “Today? It’s Saturday, sir. Saturday the 23rd.” I could tell by her quivering voice that she was worried about something…or someone. It mattered little, though. It was the date which piqued my interest.
    “The 23rd? There is an exhibition at the classical art museum today. Drive me there.”
    A short drive later, we arrived at the museum. Being a regular patron, I was greeted with a smile by all of the other guests. I saw some masterful pieces by all the greats: still-lives by van Gogh, royal families by Velázquez, landscapes by Lorrain…and then…and then…
    And then I saw her…

One of my goals in life is to lead a shameless, guilt-free life. Wherever I go, I see guilt and shame keeping people shackled to their misery. I have simply decided, "No more." This probably makes me a pretty lame Irish Catholic boy, but whatever. I think it's foolish to dwell upon things you've done in the past. It only makes life a depressing train wreck.  Hence, I've decided to give it all up.

However, I also recognize the importance that shame and guilt play in our world. Instead of simply jumping hastily and head-first into a pool of poor decisions, I've decided to look at the situation from every angle. Thus, I've come up with this poem, which showcases the kind of person I would not want to become when I give up a life of shame, guilt, and regret...

My Opprobrium