In Honor of Mr. Salinger

A Note: As an homage to "The Catcher in the Rye," I will be using a gratuitous amount of italics in this post. And it will be a little rambling.

So, Yeah. J.D. Salinger, author of one of my favorite books, died a few days ago. I'm not a fan of his short stories, but "The Catcher in the Rye" was my favorite book for years and is still in the top two. And Holden Caulfield is still my favorite literary character (I've drawn him countless times and even made a little figurine of him). Which is an impressive feat, considering that Holden should be an unlikeable little snot-nosed shit. I mean, think about it: Holden is an upper-middle class kid who goes to an expensive boarding school that could get him into any college he wants. He's not an idiot, either. So, if he just tried, even just a little bit, he would be able to go so far in life. He has so much just handed to him and all he does is bitch about it. You want to hate him so much while you're reading it, but Salinger worked some kind of magic, because Holden is one of the most lovable characters in literary history. There's just something so... genuine about him.
I don't know if it's because I read it at a time in my life when I was feeling pretty much what Holden was feeling or what. But I do know that I will probably never stop loving it. And loving Holden. It's pretty much a part of my life now. And it's the book that gave me an enthusiasm for reading that I hadn't experienced since I was reading books with pictures in them.
"Catcher" is really a wonderful book. It doesn't have that kind of stuffy stuck-up feeling that a lot of classic literature does. It's not pretentious. It's just a tongue-in-cheek story about a kid who's overwhelmed by life and doesn't know what to do about it. Or, actually, knows what to do about it, but lacks the motivation to actually do it. That's something a lot if, if not most, people that age can relate to. As stupid as this sounds, (well, the whole post sounds stupid)I think it should be required reading for all adolescents.
So, anyways, here's a page from a graphic novel adaptation I've been working on for forever. Maybe I'll post more soon.

DISNEY OBESITY

Yes. I'm recycling a post from my old blog. Why? Because fuck you, that's why. Anyway, enjoy!

Also, if anybody can think of anything for Mulan to say, leave it in the comments.

:(

Oh, Hey. I Didn't See You There.

I will be merging my other blog with this one in the very near future. I'll post (almost) all of my posts from my other blog here. So get ready for a shit-ton of "new" posts.

Good Riddance to a Bad Decade

Wow, you guys, this was a really shitty decade. It started off with the worst terror attack in U.S. history. (Followed by two unwinnable wars, a whole bunch of awful terrorist attacks around the world, and 9 years of almost crapping our pants every time a plane flew a little low. ) Then came the worst natural disaster in U.S. history. Not to mention the the 2004 tsunami, the earthquake in China, etc... And to top off the shit sundae, the world economy nearly collapsed and now a lot of people are homeless and/or unemployed. Oh, and let's not forget that 2009 was the year that just about every actor, musician, politician, and pitchman died.

And on a personal note, the last half of this decade was pretty rough for me.

Here's to hoping that the next ten years is much better. For all of us.

So, thanks for the memories, '00's. Now fuck off.

"What Christmas Means to Me" by D-bo: age 19

Holy shit, you guys! Christmas is almost here! In case you couldn't tell by my gratuitous use of exclamation points, I'm pretty excited. Seriously, Christmas is my second-favorite holiday. I don't think I know one person who wouldn't agree with this statement:
Christmas is awesome!

I know a lot of you cynical types are sitting in a Starbucks reading this on your Macbook, sipping your fancy coffee thinking "Bah Humbug! (I might've stolen that part.) Christmas is so commercialized!" Oh gee! Thanks for opening my eyes to the consumerist bullshit, Che Guevara! I'm no longer one of the sheeple!

I'm not talking about that Christmas. I'm talking about the warm, fuzzy Christmas. The Christmas that, for a few weeks a year, brings out the best in people and restores your faith in humanity. (Something I've been lacking lately.) I know it's schmaltzy, but when I see a Salvation Army volunteer out there in the freezing cold, ringing that sad, little bell in hopes of collecting some spare change for charity, it brings a tear to my cold, cynical eye. (Shut up!) I think I might volunteer to do something like that this year.

Anyway, warm and fuzzy. That's what I was talking about. I love that feeling. See, I'm pretty much an athiest, so Christmas for me isn't a religious holiday. To me, it's more of a celebration of the good in humanity and a chance to show those you care about that, well, you care about them.

I love Christmas traditions. I love shopping for the people I love. I love seeing all the decorations. And for that little period, I don't even mind if it snows. I also love watching almost every Christmas special that comes on. (Except "Rudolf." I find it incredibly boring. Also, it sounds suspiciously like Adolf. More like "Rudolf the Red Nosed Nazi!") It fills me with that happy feeling I used to get when I was a kid. Not the "Yay! Presents!" feeling, but the it's- Christmas!-everything-is-great! feeling. And for some reason, as many times as I've seen it, "The Grinch" still makes my heart grow three sizes every time I watch it.

But, there are a couple of bone(r)s (sorry, I couldn't resist) that I have to pick with Christmas:

1.) It starts way to freaking early. This year, I saw the first Christmas commercial of the year weeks, yes weeks before Halloween. Hey Christmas, it's not enough that you're the most popular holiday in the Western World? Now you have to encroach on Halloween's territory? It was a bad enough when you were doing it to poor Thanksgiving* Now you're just getting desperate. And there's no need to be. As I said before, you're awesome. Just be yourself. Over-exposure is a bad thing. By the time you finally arrive, I feel like puking mistletoe and tiny, stringed lights.

2.) The closer you get to Christmas, the more you dread it. The more you realize that you have to spend too much time with your family, the more you wish Christmas would never come. (I know it sounds whiney, but I geniunely don't enjoy spending time with my family.) I'm sure other annoyances will come to me but right now, that's the only one I can think of. (because it's still two months until Christmas.)

But, Christmas is so cool, that every year, even though I sort of hate it and I know I sort of hate it and I remember sort of hating it last year, it gives me hope that this time will be different. That this will be the best Christmas ever.

*Speaking of Thanksgiving, the Christmas Season shouldn't start until Santa makes his at the Macy's Day Parade.

**Also speaking of thanksgiving, this is also my Thanksgiving post. it's such a sad little "holiday," nestled in between the two most kickass holidays. Nobody really notices it. It doesn't even get a whole day. By the time Thanksgivng evening rolls around, noone's even thinking about Thanksgiving anymore. As soon as Santa comes on, it's Christmas. Even it's own parade isn't named after it. If you pay attention, most people call it Macy's Day Parade. They're not even considerate enough to call it Macy's Thankgiving Day Parade. Sorry Thankgiving, but you do kinda suck.

Spooooky Story with an Anti-Climactic Ending

It's 7:00 at night on Friday, DEcember 28th. Alexis types on her keyboard in her cubicle. She'd always given everything she could to even the most miniscule of tasks. Since her report isn't done, she'll stay until it's finished.
it's dark. No moon, no stars. The floresant lights flicker on and off, making a monotonous buzzing. The wind kicks up and blows a bare tree branch aginst the large window next to Alexis's head. It makes a sudden, loud, scraping noise and she jumps in her seat.
Lightning. A large streak lights up the parking lot. She types faster. Her computer freezes.
"Son of a bitch!" She hits the side of her computer in a vein attempt to unfreeze it.
A bolt of lightning hits the power lines. Everything goes dark. She turns around to face the opening of her cubicle.
The sound of wind blowing through the 100-year-old building like the sighs of thousands of lost souls.
Lightning flashes. A dark figure runs across the opening of the cubicle. Alexis gasps.
A loud bang. She runs out into the twisted corridor, wondeing with every step, what lies behind the flimsy walls. Footsteps. Getting louder. Alexis, always somewhat of an athiest, begins to pray. To whom she doesn't know. Why, she is araid to imagine. Footsteps. Getting louder, still. Her legs go numb. She falls. Can't speak. Can't cry. Can't scream. She closes her eyes tight and wishes it all away.
Hot beath on her neck. She can hear it breathing. She whimpers.
"Excuse me," It's talking. An ancient, cracking voice. "You dropped you pen." It places it in Alexis's hand. The lights come back on.
On Monday, she quits.