Settling Sam

Charlie Barker

When Charlie Barker was but a wee pup, his master used to tell him no. 

But Charlie Barker's such a creative spirit, the universe forces him to blow.

A Righteous Man

Backed again,

To where I am,

Still fighting the good fight.

What choice is there?

As i am always right.

A righteous man is all i am.

And All i’ll ever be.

But a righteous man

In an unjust world,

Is ever far from free.

Doing-His-Part Dave

David felt good about performing his civic duty, even if he was only voting for the most Jewish-sounding candidates.

Tiptoe Tom

Right there and then -- perhaps because it was his birthday and he was now old enough to be President -- Tom decided he would no longer care what anyone else thought of him. From now on, he would just use the goddamned kiddie urinal instead of standing on his tiptoes, trying to look like an actual man.

Real Men Drink

Boundary Binky

Todd knew it was wrong to let Binky sit on his lap at a time like this. But he also recognized that Binky was the only other creature in the world he could share such a moment with. 

Tied-Up Tim

Before going on his afternoon walk, Tim spent the better part of five minutes trying to remember if he'd gotten high yet. He finally decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

More

"I'm not sure if there's much difference between worrying and praying."

"Praying is positive. Worry isn’t."

"It can be."

"Nope."

"What do you know?"

"That there’s more."

"Must be nice."

"It is."

"Would you mind praying for me to stop worrying?" 

wet

I was the ocean

Full and wet.

I rose and fell.

I sustained life,
Took it away.

Made weather rollick,

Honeymooners undress,

Full and wet.

I'm dry now

Arid and putrid,

A bone picked clean.

But my eyes still close and open,

Squeeze tears from tired lids

To wet my waking world once more.

But Forever...

Us versus them,

the universal dialectic.

You and me,

the impartial magnetic.

Turn down the fun.

Hedonism can’t bring

Socialism.

Don’t trust lust.

But in the end,

we must.

In the end...

If there's really such a thing.

If the earth stops spinning,

The universe won't.

What else would we want to be?

But forever...

Attentive AdPock

That was the moment AdPock knew it was over.

Alchy AdPock?

AdPock was fairly certain that both he and his wife could live without wine. But he was 100% positive they couldn't live together without it.

What If Love Doesn’t Win?

What if love doesn’t win?

If penance has nothing to do with sin?

If we’re destined to go backwards, within?

Walls we build up keep us down.

Danger, fear, hatred, rage,

What weight do they add to this tremulous age?

Should I go back to tuning it out?

It used to work, I swear it did,

Could go on with my life,

Assuming mine were all safely hid.

Now we're overexposed

Even in all this darkness.

How can I begin to shed light?

When all I am is noise?

Or worse yet, so far gone,

To believe my words more important than yours.

Does love make less noise than hate?

Or more?

Group Therapy Terry

St. Francis With Boobies

This is "St. Francis with Boobies". It's a blown-out photo of a painting I'm nearly finished with, which I'm giving to my pops on the occasion of his 75th, which has already passed. I'm therefore late. Which is better than forgotten completely, as he knows all too well.

Aside from being paternal, in the patron saint sense, St Francis also has another relationship to my father. He used to collect St. Francis statues carved by a New Mexican artist named Ben Ortega. It may be odd for a Jewish guy to be collecting carvings of the Patron Saint of animals and Italians (I believe in that order) but Ortega carved beautiful ones, which my mom sold at the Southwestern art gallery she owned for my 10 most formative years. (Which is why I was raised by HBO.) Many a statue ended up in my parent's collection, seeing as Dad was Mom's best customer.

I guess this painting is my way of thanking Pops (and Ma!) for introducing me to Ortega's art. Not just Ben, but all of his kids, who all carved St. Francises, too. And little birdies to put on the Saints' shoulders. And not just the Ortegas. All the other artists who filled my home too, some quite literally during my Mom's semi-regular artist showings. 

Little did I know how much Southwestern folk art would affect my style today. It's the art I love. It's the art I love to make, though I'm lacking the proper credentials, other than exposure. Hopefully that at least counts on an instinctual level, though.

Indeed, the art of my youth left a mark. I'm more Technicolored for it. More resplendent. More open to magic. And more importantly, more open to other people's magic. Inspired as such, I hope Dad will appreciate his first painted St. Francis. And that you all do, as well.

word

word

Bless You Bill

Bill hated it when people said, "Bless you" to him. Couldn't the whole world go ahead and forget that germs just rocketed out of his insides and festered the air we all tentatively share? How is that a bless-able action? And what about when it's Bill's turn to say the words? Who is he to bless someone? The Pope? No, he's just Bill.  

The Dolphin's Savior

60 seconds, motherfuckers. Just hang on for 60-fucking ticks. Christ, this is dick-sandwich time.

Stop it. No bad thoughts. No bad juju, not now. Now is when the Fish need you most. It's now time. Hold the line.

"Hold it. Right here, baby! We hold them here and it's ball game! Sweet Jesus who art in heaven, please let them hold it right here!"

"Does baby Jesus root for the Dolphins too, Daddy?" asks Charlene, the yelling guy's precocious 6-year-old daughter.

"Ask your mother, Char, Daddy's focusing...”

The Dolphins don't hold.

"Fuck!"

Not-So-Dreamy Matt

Matt used to be a great sleeper, until he took a philosophy class and learned he might easily be dreaming his entire existence.

Has-Been Hank

Some 20 years later, that was the moment Hank realized he’d never been better at anything in his whole life than Sega Hockey '94.

Relaxing Roger

Breast-Man Bob

Tough Luck Toby

Toby liked to start his day with a game of solitaire. It got the mind moving while his bowels did the same. And what else was there to do once he'd finished scanning five self-allotted minutes of Facebook?

Unfortunately, Toby also allotted himself exactly one solitaire victory. How else could he move on with the day if the game didn't finish to its proper completion?

Unfortunately, this day, Toby never won that game.

So he never left the toilet. 

Wide-Awake Will

Afraid Ed

Ed was afraid of his own shadow. And Hitler's.

Tuckered Tucker

Dental Chicken Chuck

Diet-Breaking Dan

Broadway Sherm

So Close Seth

Jumpy Joshua

Grateful George

Like he did most Mondays, George spent the better part of an hour washing nearly every knife in the house. Granted, most of these knives were used by his wife to cook his lucky-ass dinner, but still, it was a lot of knives. It never used to be this many knives when George and Melinda were just living together. But now they had wedding-knives. And wedding-steak-knives. And that meant washing by hand. Every Monday. Hundreds of them.

Alcoholic Rick

Daring Don

Don had promised his wife he wouldn't eat the whole pint, but the Chocolate Fudge Brownie had almost reached that perfect consistency – no longer frozen, not quite soupy, little chunks of brownie beginning to soften. And if Don didn't know whether his cholesterol would allow him to see the bottom of another pint anyway, why shouldn't he take a stab at perfection? 

Evil Laugh Matt

Self-Help Harry

Harry understood that he was the only one getting in the way of his own happiness, but he was a big scary guy with a black belt and a temper.

Fully Baked, Medium Rare Ray

Luddite Lou

Lou was getting awfully tired of advertisers making him want more stuff he didn't need and wouldn't be able to figure out how to use.

Whiskey Pete

How

How #1

How #2

How #3

How #4

How #5

How #6

How #7