You want a smile? I’ll give you a smile, pal!

It’s sad to watch a friend rapidly descend into perma-grinning insanity.

But it sure as heck is fun to draw them on their way down.

Advertisement

Surly Curmudgeons

Curmudgeons…hate to be around ’em….but I LOVE to doodle ’em.

That can actually be said for a lot of the things I doodle. Possums? They stink to high heaven, but add a certain comic element to a doodle that a plain old cat or dog would be hard pressed to provide. The same goes for dragons and gremlins.

The comic element part, not the stinky part.

However, I’ve never actually sniffed a dragon OR a gremlin. And now that I think of it, I imagine they’re both probably pretty pungent aroma-wise, too.

Then again, a dragon could exude the soft, sweet scent of peach blossoms, and a gremlin could smell like hot buttered bread. Mmmmmm…hot buttered bread. Makes you want to go out and bite a gremlin, don’t it?

The enlarged detail pics are there because I love the texture that colored pencils create, and that can only be fully appreciated when you zoom in. And also, if you stare a long time into the eyes of the curmudgeon on the left, you’ll be overcome by the irresistible urge to send me vast quantities of cash (small denominations, unmarked bills only, please).

Woot like ya mean it, dangit!

Woot…

It’s a little known word derived from the Norse wüt , which means “Hey, Dagmar…come get your stinky goat outta my cabbage patch before I have to go and get all viking on you!”*

It also just struck me as the appropriate sound for a guy with no bones to make as he’s straining with every fiber of his being to point at something.

*getting “viking” on someone is not really as scary as it sounds, depending on who’s doing the viking-ing. It can range from burning and pillaging all the way down to simply forcing someone to listen as you recite a 13-hour long epic poem about a man and a bucket of curdled milk. Or, if the person dealing out the vikingness happens to be a woman of rather zaftig proportions, she may choose to mete out her Nordic vengeance by singing opera.

This latter form, of course, has been banned by the UN and the Geneva Convention as cruel and unusual punishment. 

Ten Thousand??? Hoodathunkit?

I don’t write about politics, sports, technology, religion or celebrities (the biggies, if blog stats are to be believed), yet in just eight months people have chosen to voluntarily expose their brains to my doodlefied view of reality more than ten thousand times.

I know…I know…ten thousand is nothing to the heavy hitters of blogdom. That’s just a regular day’s worth of traffic for them. Or even a slow day. But, hey, it’s still pretty cool considering my blog has the intellectual nutritional value of cardboard.

So, for all my readers, I’d like to say thanks. Unless all the visits have really just been a single chimp in a lab cage somewhere smacking away at a computer keyboard in the hopes of being rewarded with a banana. Or Fig Newtons™.

I’d do it ten thousand times for Fig Newtons.

I LOVE those things!

Ah, the old Pholidota Flim-flam, eh?

He had tried raccoons, chinchillas, and even twin guinea pigs bonded together with a hot glue gun, but Stan found that no other animal worked better than a pangolin to draw attention away from his copious eyebrows.