Remember me?

I've been doing my best impersonation of Pat Gleason the last chunk of days, quietly not updating my blog. You almost couldn't tell the difference between the two of us, except that Pat's inimitable sideburns are actually more talented than all of me is.

While I was busy imitating (but never duplicating) Pat, I forgot to mention that I had another Scooby Doo story arrive in stores last week, the oh-so-cleverly titled "Chupacabra-cadabra," which finds the gang travelling like a band o' gypsies, this time south of the border where wacky hijinx then ensue.

Also, this week sees the release of the second issue of Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters. I don't know if it makes me an asshole to admit this out loud but when I proofread the issue before it went to the printers, I actually made myself laugh out loud twice. In my defense, it had been a while since writing the script and proofreading the comic and I forgot most of what was in there but found it perfectly tailored to my own sense of humor. Plus, we pick up with our first of the original four Hamsters, Jackie. Plusplus, the actual beginnings of an overall plot begin to form before your very eyes like magic.

Plusplusplus, Tom Nguyen and Moose Baumann did another great job. If you can find it, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Over and out.

Born Standing Up

If your sense of humor has anything in common with mine, then you also believe that Steve Martin is a genius. I'm not talking about Cheaper By The Dozen 2: Electric Boogaloo Steve Martin or even Parenthood Steve Martin, although I love that movie. No, my Internet friends, I'm talking about Banjo playing, King Tut singing, cultural phenomenon stand up comedian Steve Martin.

Which is my way of leading into saying that I really enjoyed Steve Martin's memoir of his early life and development as a stand up comedian, BORN STANDING UP. It's a quick read, interesting, funny and ultimately poignant and if you think Steve Martin is a genius, just like I do, I'm betting you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

As an aside, my personal favorite Steve Martin film is LA Story. What's yours?

Joe Kubert inks

Going through some files on my old laptop, I uncovered this, a panel from a sample page I pencilled in my third year at the Kubert School.

I remember Joe Kubert was bored towards the tail end of class one day. While critiquing my page, he started to ink over it on a sheet of vellum.

That's right, I've been inked by Joe Kubert!

It was worth the price of tuition all by itself.

Iron Man no more...

I have half a page of Countdown #4 left to ink which, after I finish it in the morning, will mean I've worked seventeen days in a row.

I'm tired.

And I got to thinking how SOFT I've gotten over the years. When I first broke into the business in my early twenties, I would take a day off maybe once every six months and odds are, one of those days was Christmas. And those days would be LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG, twelve to fifteen hours every single day. And then I'd walk to school in two feet of snow without any shoes uphill, because that's what we did way back in the nineties.

But the thing is, I never remember feeling worn out by that schedule. It was just life at the time.

Granted, I have more responsibility now, a family and the such, but I'm definitely not made of iron any more. I think I'm starting to rust. Luckily, I've learned to work smarter over the years and that can make all the difference.

Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

It's hard to believe that you turned 60 today. Where does the time go? I remember Kenny, Kyle, and I singing happy birthday to you on your 30th, then digging in to a cake that I'm pretty sure you baked yourself, just to make sure your boys had some delicious cake that night more than making it to celebrate your own birthday, I'm sure.

That's the way you've always been, Mom, always putting the three of us first. So today, on your big day (which per your wishes we're celebrating in the most low key, no fuss, no muss way as possible), I want to tell you something important.

Thank you.

For everything.

From the dinners you now make for us every Tuesday night to the way you taught me to draw when I was little. For buying me comic books when they were still a quarter a piece. For calling me every third day while I lived in New Jersey to make sure I never needed anything. For posting on my blog last week that you liked my Joker drawing. You're always right there, making me smile, letting me know in a thousand subtle ways how loved I am.

You never ask for anything for yourself but you're always the first to give. A pitbull of love for your three sons, if I ever got mugged in a dark alley, I'd want you at my back, kicking ass and taking names.

Seriously.

Thank you for being my role model, an example of unselfish, unconditional love. I try to follow that example every day with Jack. You make me a better parent just through the fact that you've always been such a great parent yourself.

I'm lucky to have you.

Happy birthday, mom. I love you.

Keith