Friday Robots: Inspirational Poster Edition

For those of you who thought my last post was too morbid, here are some happy forest robots to cheer you up.

And for those of you who think happy forest robots are too "Self-Help-y," here is a drawing of a man about to be eaten by dinosaurs.

We at Falling Rock aim to please. Have a great weekend, everybody.

famous last words

When Warren Zevon began work on The Wind, he knew it would be his last album. Zevon was diagnosed with cancer early; unfortunately, nothing could be done. Fortunately, he used his remaining time on earth to give us a great album. Knowing it was his last chance to say something made each line more poignant.

Most of us don't have advance notice of impending death. We know it will happen someday, but the day, month, even year are uncertain at best. Most of us don't get the chance to craft our last words. Or do we?

The sad fact is, every artist will have a parting shot. As I have said before, I hope Bob Dylan outlives us all, but there will come a day when he's booked his last recording session. What will come of that music? Will it be especially meaningful? Will it be a continuation of whatever aspect he was exploring up to that point? Or will it be a sharp departure?

Buddy Holly didn't have a head's up from the Reaper. 50 years ago the world was left with what he hadn't yet finished. The Apartment Tapes stand as the only glimpse we'll ever get into Holly's future recording plans. They are excellent, but they are finite.

George Herriman, cartoonist extraordinaire, died with a week's worth of Krazy Kat dailies sitting at his desk. Some are nearly complete, some merely pencil sketches. I wonder if he was having a good week up until he died. If given the choice, would he have wanted to finish off that batch? Or would he have preferred to let another week stand in as his last words to the public?

This is all very morbid. I'm sorry. Allow me one final thought.

According to one website, my death will occur in exactly 47 years, 10 months, 23 days. (I was surprised at how soon I'm expected to go. Maybe I should move away from this nuclear waste storage facility.) I know the exact number of days because it's on my Google homepage (right above the weather and NASA's Image of the Day).

When I get Falling Rock syndicated, I'm going to begin work on the final week's worth right away. That way I can tinker with it for a long time. Crafting my final message will be difficult, epecially if I'm in my 20's when I start. Hopefully by the time I'm 77 I'll have it all worked out.

Of course I'll have to make changes as technology evolves. I expect to incorporate a few hover cars and a Mars colony in my final comics. Stay tooned! Who knows what wacky hijinks those desert critters will get up to in the future.

why i don't like glasses

My eyes have been shot since the fourth grade. That, and the braces I had to wear for five years, and my allergies, make me amazed I wasn't devoured by wolves before I reached 15.

I wear contacts now, but not for cosmetic reasons. I've always disliked wearing glasses. They continually slip down my face. They are uncomfortable. You can never see anything out of your peripheral vision. You can't wear sunglasses. But the real reason for my dislike of glasses is this:

I've always had the completely rational fear that one day, when I'm peeing at a ballpark or an airport, my glasses will slip off my face and into the urinal. I'll squint, barely able to make out my glasses half-submerged in liquid, resting beside the urinal cake.

Then, I will have to make a choice.

It's a classic lose/lose situation. Retrieve the glasses, try your best to wash them off, but live the rest of your life knowing you put a urine-soaked object on your face every day. Not just your urine, either. Stranger's urine. On the other hand, you can leave a pair of expensive glasses in the toilet. You won't be able to see for days afterward. You might not even make it home; you'll crash the car on the way.

Fortunately I've never been faced with this situation. I pray to god I never will. And for this very reason I put my contacts on every morning, relieved that they will never fall into some cesspool, abandoning and blinding me.

Thank you, contact lenses.

penguins, in honor of a new zealand wedding

The gentlemen of the sea, penguins are all dressed up with places to go. As I blogged previously, Morgan Freeman has a fascination with penguins. Others who feel the penguin love include Lyle Lovett, some French filmmakers, and Gary Larson.

Penguins were never mistaken by sailors to be mermaids (that was the manatee). Penguins did not send a delegation to meet Ernest Shackleton's ship upon his arrival to Antarctica. Penguins do not have a seat at the UN. Penguins do not live at the North Pole.

Penguins do travel to New Zealand. There they frolic in the (relatively) warm waters, dine on local fish, and enjoy weddings on the beach.
Two good friends (of mine, and of each other) recently got married on a New Zealand beach, and in honor of this momentous occasion I dug up some pictures of the only time I had the pleasure of meeting penguins in the wild. It was a different New Zealand beach, on the south island near Dunedin.

A homemade zoom lens: put the camera up to binoculors, blindly aim, hope for the best.The closest I got to a real live penguin was when the group of us were leaving the beach. We took a path through the bushes and rocks. A tiny penguin popped out from behind a rock. Before I could get my camera back out, he was scurrying away.

Oscar 2009

As I mentioned before, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences treats my opinion with less respect than Bush did Colin Powell. This, however, does not stop me from making my Oscar picks every year.

This year I can't weigh in on every race. I have only seen two of the Best Picture nominees (Slumdog Millionaire and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). I've only seen three of the nominees for Best Actor and Actress. Instead of a complete list, here are a few of the nominees most deserving of their awards:

SHORT FILM, ANIMATED
Presto ran in theaters as a companion to Wall-E, though they have nothing in common but the studio that made them. Presto is beautifully animated, hilarious, and quick. It makes me wish animated shorts still ran before every movie.

ACTRESS, SUPPORTING
Penelope Cruz should be the biggest star in Hollywood. She can do drama and comedy without it seeming like a stunt for awards like these. And yes, she's totally hot. Woody Allen has been on a roll lately, from Match Point to Cassandra's Dream to Vicky Christina Barcelona. I'm an unabashed Woody Allen fan, so I'm going to watch whatever he does, but lately he's been making some really interesting moral stories. Cruz in Vicky Christina Barcelona reminded me of Dianne Keaton in Allen's 70's movies - Allen has found a woman who isn't lost in his text-dense scripts. She created a true character and not just a Woody Allen surrogate.

ANIMATED FEATURE
Wall-E is not only the best animated film this year, it is the best film. Eat it, Academy.

ART DIRECTION and CINEMATOGRAPHY
At first I thought Slumdog Millionaire should get it for Cinematography, but forget it. I'm going with The Dark Knight. That movie looked so darn good. It's the closest thing we'll ever see to Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" on the big screen.

SOUND EDITING and SOUND MIXING
Wall-E's got these. It doesn't even have dialogue in the first act; it is completely driven by sound.

VISUAL EFFECTS
This was tough. Should I go with the creepy old man/baby with Brad Pitt's head, or the shiny, shiny flying metallic man, or a guy who's face was half burned off? Such different goals with each of these movies. In the end, I chose Iron Man because of that scene in which Pepper Potts has to reach inside Tony Stark's chest to retrieve an errant wire. That's when effects and acting work together to create something purely enjoyable.

ORIGINAL SONG
Springsteen was robbed.

These are not predictions. I expect to be wrong on many, if not all of these picks. However, for what it's worth, this is my two cents. Happy watching!

easter island robots

In high school, I had an (in my opinion) entirely healthy fascination with Easter Island heads. This led to me making many, many drawings of Easter Island heads in art class.

I can only imagine the resignation those unfortunate souls who had to share a table with me felt at the beginning of each class. "Here we go again," they'd think, as the redhead hunched over his paper, moving his colored pencils and watercolor brushes by instinct alone.

Apparently I'm not the only one who likes to draw Easter Island heads!
That's right: I'm in good company. In solidarity, Friday Robots have traveled all the way to the southern Pacific to be with those towering stone monuments.

Happy Friday, everybody.

new illustration portfolio

Congratulations, me. I just put up a brand new portfolio of my illustrations. You can access it right here, or you can see it by clicking on the Illustration link on my brand new homepage.

This is all a way of saying: if you need some drawings done, you've been reading the right blog.

slashy spooky

According to Yahoo, the top 10 searches for paranormal phenomenon were: Ghosts, Bigfoot, Dragons, Chupacabra, Aliens, Mermaids, Fairies, Vampires, Loch Ness Monster, and Shape Shifter. I wonder: is that an accurate portrayal of what most interested people last year? I'd have to say ghosts are the scariest member of that elite group. I was an insomniac kid, and one night I came to the realization that ghosts are dead people. They wouldn't look like Casper; they would look like old, decomposing corpses. The image of a glowing, floating corpse with tattered clothes floating in the doorway to my bedroom kept me up the remainder of the night.

I wouldn't say I have a dark personality. Perhaps it is my undying optimism that permits me to enjoy scary stories. They spook me, but I keep returning to them. Curiosity killed the cat, and I want to know why.

February has brought us not one but two excellent scary movies. The first is the remake of Friday the 13th. In 2009, it isn't enough to have a bunch of camp counselors hunted down, one by one. The makers of this "reboot" have given us a stew comprised of some of the best moments from the first few Friday the 13th films. For those of you yet to see the film, just know that the end of the original movie is now the beginning of this one. That's right: the climax in 1980 is now merely a prologue. You know it's going to be good when the first kill happens before the title credit appears.

Happily, they got the tone right. Jason Voorhees rarely runs, doesn't speak, and pops up behind his victims no matter how far or how fast they flee. The teenagers are now twentysomethings, but they're just as stupid as their predecessors. Smoking pot, having sex, speaking the Lord's name in vain: they're asking for trouble. Jason is the Morality Police, and he wields a large Blade of Justice to mow down the sinners.

My only complaint about Friday the 13th is the same one I have for most horror and action movies today. The filmmakers won't allow any shot to last for longer than 2 seconds. At the risk of sounding like a geezer, I can't stand to look at a series of images flashing in my face for 90 minutes. It's fatiguing. Why not let the suspense build a little before the payoff? Think of the scene in The Shining, when Dick Hallorann arrives at the Overlook in hopes of saving Wendy and Danny. He walks down a long corridor, yelling into the cavernous, empty hotel. Just as he reaches the end, Jack jumps out from behind a pillar and hacks him to death with an ax. Think about this: Jack must have been waiting there for a long, long time. Waiting for just the right moment to make his move. We are allowed to ponder this horrifying thought. Now, with hyper-editing, we cannot ponder the intricacies of horror. We're forced to keep up, barely registering one kill before we see the next one.

Not all scary movies are filled with death. Some have no body count at all. Coraline is one of those movies.
Coraline is a work of art. There is no better way to describe it. I found myself not following the story so much as simply watching the images on the screen. The stop-motion animation is more refined than Nightmare Before Christmas. The sets are more elaborate, the characters fuller. This is not in any way disparaging Nightmare; Henry Selick directed both movies and this just shows his progression.

If I was reticent about giving away too much plot of Friday the 13th, I'm completely against talking about Coraline. It's best to see it for yourself.

Coraline, like the best scary movies, doesn't hit you over the head with it. It presents situations that aren't overtly horrific, but after you leave the theater you think to yourself, "that was really creepy." That's how it got a PG rating: it's what it doesn't show that spooks you. Oh, and there are ghosts. Friday the 13th doesn't have ghosts.

Who knew that February, the month that brings us Valentine's Day and Abraham Lincoln's birthday, could also bring two of the best scary movies I've seen in a long time?

happy president's day, mr. lincoln

Abraham Lincoln may be my favorite President. He was known for his eloquent speaking style, he wore a hat and a beard, he was unusually tall and during his time many people remarked at what a strange walk he had. Oh, and he freed the slaves and kept the Union together.

I've had the good fortune to visit Lincoln's home in Springfield, Illinois. It has been preserved by the Park Service, along with a block of its neighbors. Lincoln lived within walking distance of his law practice and the state legislature building. I can imagine his friends and neighbors watching him walk to work every morning; they would have had time to get to know the intricacies of the man's style.

In honor of President's Day, I've written a weeklong story about Dee meeting the Lincoln Squirrel. She needs the help of a speechwriter, and since the man himself is not able to oblige, the squirrel steps in. You can read the entire story by clicking on the link above, or read today's strip here.

Happy belated birthday, Mr. Lincoln, and happy President's Day.

friday robots

Not posting for Abe Lincoln's 200th birthday was inexcusable. Do not fear: I've got a big surprise for next week. It includes a weeklong Lincoln-themed storyline in Falling Rock National Park.

Lincoln was yesterday. Today's big event is the release of Friday the 13th. Will the slick, revamped design of Jason Voorhees capture my imagination like the low-budget slasher films did? You can be sure I'll blog you all in as soon as I see it.

In the meantime, the Friday Robots loom lightly over the New Mexico desert...

fun facts about hawai'i

Something amazing happened on Inauguration Day. I learned that President Obama graduated from his Hawaiian high school the same year I was born in Hawaii. More impressive still, I was born in the hospital right down the street from his high school. Does this mean our entire lives have been, and continue to be, inextricably connected? Yes.

In light of this new knowledge, and in support of a much talked about but little known state, I present to you a few interesting facts about the great state of Hawaii (or Hawai'i, if you don't love imperialism). From a couple of Native Hawaiians, President Obama and myself, here is Hawaii:

The islands of Hawaii, when superimposed on a map of the continent and rearranged, will cover up most of the red states.
Many of Hawaii's exotic native creatures have been killed off to make room for rabbits. Something similar happened in New Zealand. The moa, a large flightless bird, was forced to march into "Reservations" in the nonessential portions of the county. Those "Reservations" were also known as the Pacific Ocean. Moas, unable to evolve quickly enough to breathe underwater, died. Richard Owen, who studied the moa, also had nothing to do with Hawaii.
Isla Nublar is actually Hawaii. Steven Spielberg did location shooting for the Greatest Film of All Time, Jurassic Park, there. Not many people know that Spielberg originally wanted to use Muppets to play the dinosaur roles in Jurassic Park. Calamity ensued when Big Bird refused to eat the lawyer and Bert, Ernie and Kermit did not make realistic velociraptors. ("Hiyo, I'm Kermit the Velociraptor!") Production was shut down until Spielberg figured out machines could do the jobs of Muppets. This led to Jurassic Park's pioneering use of computer generated dinosaurs and also to The Great Muppet Depression.

Pictures of Hawaii account for 95% of all computer wallpapers.President Obama and I encourage all of you to explore the island nation/island state. Hawaii offers much to history buffs, famous movie directors, and people who like rabbits. It may never be Vacationland (that's Maine), but Hawaii has a special place in the history of the United States, and a very special place in my personal history.

His Name Was Jason

It has been said that only five people bought the first Velvet Underground album, but every one of them started their own band. Listening to it, you can understand the impulse. The album sounds satisfyingly homemade, like you could just pull four or five of your drug-addled, artistic friends together one weekend to make your own. Then five more people would buy it, and create bands of their own, and on and on until everyone's done it.

It took me a while to figure out why I was so addicted to the Friday the 13th movies. Sure, they're satisfying in the set-up/pay-off formula of "teenagers fool around, get brutally murdered in the woods." Who wouldn't want to watch movie after movie of sex punctuated by intense violence? But I knew there was a deeper reason for my attachment. Was it in the characters? No. Let's be honest; Jason is not a sympathetic character. Yes, he caught a bad break when we drowned in a lake due to neglect, and another when he watched helplessly as his mother was killed on the shore of the same lake. But his actions since that time have been anything but forgivable.

The Friday the 13th movies appeal to me in the same way the Velvet Underground appealed to aspiring musicians. They have that homemade quality. When I watch, say, Friday the 13th Part IV: The Final Chapter, I feel the overwhelming urge to make a Jason movie of my own. It would be easy! All the elements are within my reach: woods and water, friends to play the parts, an axe or similar weapon, a hockey mask. I would, of course, want to explore Jason's psychology a bit. Is he a wild animal? A manic depressive man-child? A inter-dimensional demon? Don't get me wrong; I'm no Joseph Campbell. Jason, like Richard Nixon, is endlessly intriguing, but you don't want to get too close.

His Name Was Jason is a new documentary on the Friday the 13th series. I watched in awe, riveted by every utterance. Many of the major players were interviewed. Sean Cunningham, Producer/Director of the first film, serves as Jason Guru to this day. He seems like an affable old hippie. Back in 1980, he needed to make a cheap movie that would make some money, but what he came up with was an icon. The three girls (women now) who survived Jason's wrath all spoke about their desire to reprise their characters in a team-up film. For the record, I think that would be unspeakably awesome. Tom Savini, the special effects wizard who brought the gore to cinematic life, hosted the documentary.

If you have a deep and abiding love of the lore of Jason Voorhees, I strongly suggest you check out His Name Was Jason. Never fear; if you haven't seen all the Jason movies, or if you can't recall certain details, they summarize all eleven of them at the beginning of the doc.

And don't forget: Friday, February 13th brings the much-anticipated reboot of the series to theaters. Although I am quietly optimistic about the new movie, it won't inspire in me the same feelings the original did. They took a low-budget labor of love and turned it into a multimillion dollar extravaganza (made by Michael Bay's production company, no less). Mr. Voorhees survived Freddy Krueger; will he survive this?

oscar snub 2009

As an internationally renowned cartoonist, I'm often asked to weigh in on current events. My opinion is then completely ignored. I'm kind of like Colin Powell in the Bush II Administration. But that doesn't stop me from putting my opinions out there just in case I need to say "told you so" later.

In that spirit, my beef with the 2009 Oscars:

No Bruce Springsteen?!? Seriously, Academy members, have you guys seen The Wrestler? Did you see the last scene, and then when it cut to black that familiar voice cut through the darkness to pierce your very soul? We're not talking "shoehorn the title of the movie into a crappy rhyme" here. We're talking a summation of the character's journey in poetic verse, put to music. That, Academy members, is what the Best Song category is all about.

Springsteen did win a Golden Globe, which is just one more indication that the Golden Globes are the real indication of achievement in film.

I'll just add this to my growing list of gripes with the Oscars. They refuse to honor some of the most enduring films, they continually shut out deserving comedies and animated films for Best Picture, and now they snub Springsteen. If I wasn't such a fan of watching celebrities wear fancy dresses, I would probably skip Oscar altogether. What can I say? I'm a slave to fashion.

Friday Robots Are Alive!

Fun with stickers.

the way love works

In our household, love flows from me to my wife and from me to my cat. Love also flows from my wife to me and possibly from my cat to me. I've drawn up a chart to show how the first part of this process works:
This is all very scientific.

Lately, the natural order of things has been perverted. The wily cat has been stealing the love intended for my wife and redirecting it to herself. The flow of love interrupted looks like this:

No good can come of this. The cat will drive a wedge between me and my wife, resulting in divorce. I cannot let this happen so early in our marriage. Ten years down the road, sure. By then we'll definitely hate each other. But the cat is trying to expedite the dissolution of our partnership. I can't sit by and let this happen.

Dealing with cats is a tricky business. Were I pitted against a human adversary, like Alan Rickman in Die Hard, I'd know exactly what to do. I'd do exactly what Bruce Willis did in Die Hard. But a cat is not a human, and therefore the usual tricks won't work.

Wish me luck, dear readers. The future of our household is at stake.

he doesn't stand a chance

He's got gumption, I'll give him that.

the specter of racism

In 1963, William Zantzinger caused the death of Hattie Carroll. He spent six months in jail, perhaps not an overly harsh term for such a crime. However, Bob Dylan made sure the world knew of this foul, fat little man by writing the beautiful song "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll."

Zantzinger died on January 3, 2009. The reports of this death are not greatly exaggerated. This post is not a mourning of the man, nor is this a celebration of his death. However, it is somewhat comforting to note that a man who once remarked about segregation, "Hell, you wouldn't want to go to school with Negroes any more than you would with French people," was alive to see the first African American elected President of this country. It's a shame Mr. Obama didn't have any French relatives.

I suggest you to have a listen to Bob's song, and if you know the song already, do like me and listen once more. I always come away a little bit sadder; Zantzinger's tale is one of life's many little atrocities. Bob was good enough to make us listen and to make us care for a woman who didn't have enough care for her while she was alive.

you auto buckle up

This post can now be seen on my website.