Welcome to Romania!

Hey all!

It's an important day in Wayfarer's Moon: We have our first foreign translation!

Some time ago, we were contacted by a Romanian group who wanted to start the first Romanian language webcomics portal and wanted to feature Wayfarer's Moon as one of their first titles.

Well, today the site went live. You can now go to WEBCOMICS.ro to read WM in Romanian.

So, a big hello to all our new fans in Romania!

To celebrate, we have a completely unrelated video featuring a motorized unicycle:


Frankly, I just thought it was cool.

Cheers,
-Jason

Disaster!

No, I didn't forget to put on pants this morning before going to work. I've only done that once. In Washington. This month. Honestly.

The disaster I'm referring to is the fact that Wayfarer's Moon has slipped to #58 on Top Web Comics! So, please, vote! When you're through reading the comic or a blog, just hit the vote button before navigating away.

The more votes we get, the lower our standing. The lower our standing, the more likely we are to be noticed by a big-time comics publisher who will offer us butt-loads of money to publish Wayfarer's Moon. This, in turn, will allow me to get that harem full of super-models I've always wanted.

So, obviously, voting is incredibly important!

As incentive, if you happen to meet me at a con or in public and tell me you vote regularly, I will not only write you a sentence, I will DRAW A PICTURE TO GO ALONG WITH IT!

Think of it! When I'm a famous writer and appearing on talk shows around the world, you can turn to a friend and say 'See that guy? He wrote a sentence just for me once. And he drew a . . . thing . . . next to it. I'm not really sure what it is. It could be a horse. Or a squid. Maybe a velocirator. I dunno, but he drew it just for me.'

You will be the envy of . . . someone. Maybe.

Anyhow, please vote. It will make us happy.

Cheers,
-Jason

Eat This: Part 2

I mean, take acorns. If my memories of 5th Grade Biology serve me correctly, acorns are pretty toxic. Yet Native Americans figured out how to leach the toxins out, a long and involved process that went like this:

1. Gather acorns
2. Tie acorns up in a sack and then beat the sack with a stick
3. When tired or the stick breaks, get another stick
4. Scratch between your shoulder blades with the second stick and then discard it
5. Put the smashed acorns in a pot
6. Give the pot to a mime and have him pretend to stir it over a fire for an hour
7. Kill the mime
8. Bury the pot for seventeen days
9. Unearth the pot and then set it at the top of the tallest tree you can find
10. Wait for lightning to strike the pot
11. Retrieve the pot
12. Remove the acorn pulp from the pot and then put it into a different pot
13. Bury the first pot with full military honors
14. Cook the acorns overnight
15. Serve with crackers and a hearty Zinfandel

Actually, in all honesty, the Native Americans just rinsed the acorns repeatedly until the water didn’t turn brown. This is because they actually wanted to eat the acorns, as opposed to writing a humor blog about the process.

Another question: why would anyone take the time to figure out which bits were edible and which weren’t? Well, I imagine it’s because they were starving and ‘potential death’ versus ‘inescapable death’ seemed like a pretty good bet. If survival shows have taught me anything, it’s that your definition of ‘edible’ changes radically when you haven’t eaten in a couple days.

So, back to the fugu. In all probability, some Japanese fishermen were having a bad season and decided to give the funny looking fish a try. A couple of them died, but the rest were okay. Some judicious trial and error, also probably during a slow season, probably taught them which bits were good and which should be reserved for your mother-in-law. All the weird stuff we eat probably springs from that sort of situation.

I mean, beer is water and yeast that gets heated the right way (yes, that’s a massive oversimplification), but to my knowledge, every civilization we know came up with it at one time or another.

Ancient Egyptian Woman: Thutmos, what happened to that mix of grain and water I left on the window sill?

Thutmos: I was really thirsty, so I drank it!

Ancient Egyptian Woman: But, I was going to use that to clean out the privy!

Thutmos: Y’know, you’re gorgeous when you’re angry! C’mere.

Ancient Egyptian Woman: Hmmmm, I seem to have stumbled onto a magic formula that makes men stupid! And pliable! I’ll rule the world! (maniacal laughter).

Or something like that.

Cheers,
-Jason

Eat This: Part 1

Some of my coworkers were talking about going out to sushi the other day. I don’t care much for sushi, seeing as I don’t like fish. This pretty much leaves me with maybe three options at the sushi place and one of them involves eyeballs.

NOTE: Yes, I know there are more than three non-fish options. Also, to my knowledge, there are no eyeballs involved in sushi. Granted, there may very well be some sort of eyeball sushi, but I probably wouldn’t eat that either. Well, maybe I would. It would depend. I have eaten escargot. It would probably come down to whether or not there were attractive women present who might be impressed if I ate an eyeball (a definite ‘maybe’).

Anyway, one coworker, whom I’ll call Viknar the Ravager (because it’s more interesting than ‘Phil’), mentioned a desire to try fugu fish. This prompted a lively debate between Viknar, Martok, and Wortan as to whether or not this was a good idea (and yes, I changed the other names too).

This got me thinking.

How, exactly, did they figure out which parts of the fugu were safe to eat? And to broaden the scope of the article, how did anyone ever figure out which parts of the plant/animal/fish/rock/alien were safe to eat?

Tomorrow: Part 2

Date My Avatar

I ran across this the other day and thought it was quite amusing.

Felicia Day and the cast of The Guild in: Do You Want to Date My Avatar



I was impressed, Felicia can really sing. I first saw her in Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog and yeah, obviously she can sing, but she boots this one out of the park.

I've heard of The Guild, but haven't watched any episodes yet. After this, I think I need to tune in . . .

Cheers,
-Jason

Wayfarer’s Moon: Behind the Magic: Part 2

I already have a commercial already written, narrated by Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs, who’s now the go-to-guy for reality show narration.

Deep in the northwest, two men, nay, two nerds, create a fair-to-middlin’ webcomic. It’s called: Wayfarer’s Moon.

Watch them work!

Shot of Leigh and Jason in a living room
Jason: So, baboon guys?
Leigh: Definitely.

Watch them live!

Shot of Leigh rolling a die, as Jason watches from behind a DM’s screen.
Leigh: A 10! With my bonuses, that makes a 14!
Jason: You miss.
Leigh: Wait! I forgot to add in the +2 from my Hip-Waders of Ultimate Angling! That makes a 16!
Jason: Fine. You hit. Congratulations, the goldfish is dead.
Leigh: Whoooot!
Jason: You do realize it was a regular, ordinary goldfish. In a bowl.
Leigh: Who cares? I loot the corpse!

Watch them go to cons!

Shot of Leigh and Jason at their booth. Leigh is sitting there, sketching. Jason is standing, his arms folded. Jason shifts position. Leigh coughs. Nothing else happens.

Watch them FIGHT!

Leigh: For the last time! Stop putting holes in the walls!
Jason: But there might be ninjas in there!
Leigh: Doing what? Stealing our insulation?
Jason: Maybe.

Join us every Tuesday at 8:00 and see the magic that is . . . Wayfarer’s Moon!
Music swells.

I would totally watch this.

Cheers,
-Jason

Wayfarer’s Moon: Behind the Magic: Part 1

The other day I noticed there was yet another new fishing reality show on. It’s called Swords: Live the Life or something (possibly: Swords: Damn, They’re Huge or Swords: Fish of Doom or Swords: Our Next Stab At a Profitable Reality Show).

Now, don’t get me wrong: I totally respect the people that go out there and do these amazingly dangerous jobs. My dad was a contractor and I grew up on construction sites and dug a LOT of trenches over the years. I know exactly what hard, manual labor is like. I just don’t think we necessarily need a new reality show about fish.

Then I had a marvelous idea: They should do a reality show about Wayfarer’s Moon! Cameras would follow us around, recording our every move, our every argument, our every passing reference to bodily functions.

It would, I most humbly assert, rock.

Possible titles could include:

Wayfarer’s Moon: Behind the Magic, Such As It Is
Wayfarer’s Moon: What’s That Smell?
Wayfarer’s Moon: Scraping the Bottom of the Barrel for Possible Reality Show Hooks
Wayfarer’s Moon: The Clash of Titans! (I particularly like this one)
Wayfarer’s Moon: Bows, Boobs, and Blood
Wayfarer’s Moon: Two Nerds. One Comic. Zero Calories.
Wayfarer’s Moon: Wow, I Have No Idea What the Execs Were Smoking
Wayfarer’s Moon: More Fun Than Dental Torture!

Tomorrow: Part 2

1st Annual St. Fructus' Day

Unfortunately, the 1st St. Fructus' Day was not quite the hit I imagined it would be. I shouted 'Happy St. Fructus' Day' at several co-workers, but they all appeared more startled and scared than joyous. This may have been do to the fact that I leapt out of a closet at them whilst waving a sword, but I digress.

The good news is that many people in my office are now at least aware of the holiday, though some will always equate it with wetting themselves (see the sword incident above).

I was not given any candy, though I was offered a tortilla chip. I take that as a win.

So, for next year, I'm going to plant the seed at least a week earlier to give people more time to warm up. I've already mocked up a few greeting cards, which I will share next year.

In a slight segue, I've posted the photos from the San Diego Comic Con up on our Facebook page. Actually, I posted them last week, but because I'm not very bright, I completely neglected to tell anyone.

Look for a new installment of Art the Wanderer on Monday!

Cheers,
-Jason

Tomorrow Is St. Fructus’ Day!

First off, if you’re a long-time reader of the blog, let me apologize for, well, the blog. Secondly, if you’re a long-time reader you might remember that way back in February, I proposed St. Fructus’ Day as a singles’ alternative to St. Valentine’s Day.

I declared that next August 13th (tomorrow) would be the first celebration of St. Fructus’ Day. And a grand St. Fructus’ Day we shall have!

This begs the question: What does one do on St. Fructus’ Day?

Well, here is the list of traditions that I just made up:
1. Say ‘Happy St. Fructus’ Day’ to people.
2. Explain what St. Fructus’ Day is to the aforementioned people.
3. If you’re single, tell your married friends (or those in a relationship) that they have to give you candy as part of the traditional St. Fructus’ Day Celebration.
a. Eat said candy
4. Watch a St. Fructus’ Day Parade on television.
a. If you manage to locate a parade, please let me know.
5. Wear something . . . I dunno . . .blue, as blue is now the official color of St. Fructus’ Day.
6. Punch a ninja.
7. Vote for Wayfarer’s Moon, as Wayfarer’s Moon is the official comic of St. Fructus’ Day.
a. If you’ve already voted today, spend some time in the archives or in the forum
8. Pet an animal.
a. Preferably, one that is tame
b. Bonus points if you happen to punch a ninja at the same time as you pet an animal
c. Double bonus points if you get the animal to bite the ninja

Okay, I’m out of traditions. If you can think of one that you think should be added to the body of lore concerning St. Fructus’ Day, please let me know. Triple bonus points if it concerns harming a ninja.

And have a fantastic St. Fructus’ Day!

Cheers,
-Jason

Parking

A long time ago, I wrote a blog about people insisting on parking their huge trucks backwards in stalls. This trend, oddly enough, has become more common and I often see soccer moms, little old ladies, men in suits, and the homeless backing their vehicles into parking stalls (the homeless just tend to walk backwards into the stall while making ‘beep beep’ noises).

Honestly, I could care less. Park frontwards, backwards, sideways, upside down, I really don’t care. If it makes you happy, then by all means.

However, I would like to suggest that you practice a bit first. It’s kind of sad watching someone trying to back into a stall and completely missing, then pulling out and going back in. Out and in, in and out, over and over, faster and faster, until finally, they make it in and come to a halt with a shudder. And then they have a cigarette.

NOTE: Yeah, it’s been a while.

And now, the true story that inspired this blog:

Last Sunday, I was running errands and was trying to exit a small strip mall. The entrance to the parking area was a long, narrow, two-way road with parking stalls along one side. The street was narrow enough that anyone pulling in or out of a stall needed both lanes clear. I was parked at the far end, furthest into the mall, and having finished my business, got into my car and started out.

Now, a large black SUV had just entered the parking lot and the driver, a middle-aged man, decided to back into the only available stall in the middle of the strip. This stall happened to already have two, large black SUVs on either side, so it was a tight fit. The driver proceeded to spend an entire song (Great Northern’s Houses), about four minutes, attempting to get his gigantic vehicle into the tiny little space.

By the time he actually got it in, a line had formed on both sides with cars trying to get both in and out. A few people had begun beeping at him.

NOTE: This is Redmond, Washington. We have some of the most courteous drivers in the world. Things that would get you shot and/or stabbed by Amish people in carriages merely warrant a few polite beeps here.

So, with the SUV finally in the stall, traffic began to move again. Being the first car exiting, I passed by and glanced over at the driver.

And here’s the punch line: There was not enough actual room for him to open his door. I am not kidding. His parking gymnastics were for naught as he couldn’t actually exit his vehicle.

I laughed and said to myself: “There’s Wednesday’s blog.”

Once again: If you must back your car into the stall, please,please please, practice first. Any maybe, measure your car.

Cheers,
-Jason

Nothing

Normally, I would post a YouTube video of something fun and/or interesting. However, today, I have nothing.

Zip. Zilch. Nada. Rien.

I'm not sure why. Usually, something gets sent out at work that's amusing (and clean enough to post), but not lately. I don't know why not.

Anyway, I had a thought (yes, I was surprised as well). To prevent days like this, go ahead and send me links to anything you think would be amusing to post, just as long as it's on YouTube and is PG-13-ish.

You can send suggestions to mail@wayfarersmoon.com.

Oh, and before I forget: Please Vote! Everyday! It Will Make Us Happy! And Then I Can Stop Capitalizing Every Word In These Sentences! Seriously! It's A Pain! And I'm a Horrible Typist! In College, I Once Typed An Entire Page With My Nose, Just To See If I Could Do It! It Was Almost As Fast As My Normal Typing! My Hands Are Starting To Hurt! Please, Make It Stop!

Cheers,
-Jason

I Am Pleased

Last week, I asked you all to vote for Wayfarer's Moon on Top Web Comics. We were at #82.

One week later, we are now at . . .


#49!


This was a jump of 33! Huzzah! Thanks to everyone who voted. You've made a simple writer very happy. However, our work is not yet done. We need to crack the Top 10, so please, vote as many days as you can.

If you happen to be browsing the web, stop by and vote. If you happen to be working on your Mom's computer, please vote. If you happen to be the head of a large military industrial complex, order your workers to vote for us as well. If you happen to be a Super Model with a penchant for simple writers, please, send me your phone number (and vote).

Thanks again and remember: vote!

Cheers,
-Jason

Pink Eye

I woke up this morning and discovered that my right eye had been welded shut. I initially suspected ninjas, but then realized they were all still on vacation (Australia, some sort of ‘poison tour’). I eventually figured out that my eyelid was not welded, but merely encrusted by a good ½ inch of goop (which may or may not be better).

So, after prying my eye open, I discovered that the actual eyeball resembled . . . err . . . something really red. Honestly, I can’t think of an appropriately funny metaphor.

Thinking, thinking, thinking . . .

Wait! The Eye of Sauron! Yes. I discovered my eyeball resembled the Eye of Sauron, as it was all flame-y and I had a weird desire to kill hobbits (more so than usual, at least) and could control orcs. Yeah.

Anyway, I ended up going to work. I realize this was bad, but I honestly didn’t clue in that it might be Pink Eye ‘till about noon, at which point it was a bit too late. You see, my brain doesn’t really start to function until about 11:30, wherein ‘function’ is defined as ‘firing on at least half the available cylinders.’ This is why I avoid actual human contact until about that time, as I end up agreeing to help people move, buying insurance, and clicking on pop-ups.

I do wonder where it came from though. I mean, I always wash my hands after handling eyeballs and I haven’t had any direct eyeball-to-eyeball contact in a while. Granted, it could be some vast conspiracy consisting of the California DMV, the League of Left-Handed Elvis Impersonators, that guy at the bus stop, the elephants at the zoo, and some sand, whose sole goal was mildly inconveniencing me, but I kind of doubt it.

Then again, maybe that’s what they want me to think . . .

Cheers,
-Jason

Think of the Australians

I watched yet another Discovery Channel show that cemented my plan of never, ever, ever actually going to Australia. This is because (and this is a direct quote from the show) Australia is the most poisonous place on Earth.

Now, I’m not saying that everything is poisonous, that would be ludicrous. I’m just saying that every other thing is poisonous. Frankly, there are spiders there that, if they ever got organized, could wipe out humanity.

These shows are full of stories like: “I was walking along, minding my own business, when a spider bit me and then my leg fell off. And then, as I was lying there, unable to call for help because my tongue had swollen to the size of a grungaloo and my ears were melting off, the spider stole my wallet.”

NOTE: A ‘grungaloo’ is a kind of squash native to Australia.

NOTE: Actually, I just made ‘grungaloo’ up.

So, you can see how I would be reluctant to visit, even if they let me stay in a tank the whole time.

Anyway, I can’t help but feel badly for the Australians. Their world is a nightmare wasteland of venom, where even everyday activities are fraught with danger. Every shoe, every garbage can, every box of pre-moistened towelettes is potentially a home for a dangerous, vicious insect who’s only desire is to sting you on the nose.

Australians have only once choice: they need to become venomous themselves. Fight fire with fire, I always say. Give the little buggers a taste of their own medicine. Once a few spiders start dying horribly after a random bite, they’ll start to mind their own business.

I don’t know how to do it. I don’t even know if it’s possible. However, I do know that if the Australian government gives me a lot of money, I’ll work on it with the same passion and zeal with which I level a character in WoW.

Well, maybe not with quite that much passion (or zeal). I mean, this is WoW we’re talking about.

Cheers,
-Jason

Building Does Not Fall Down

Ordinarily, it's a good then when buildings don't fall down. However, in the video I found the other day, it wasn't so fortuitous.

Check it out:


I can't imagine what the engineer who did this was thinking at the time. Actually, I would bet it was a variations of 'please stop' and 'please don't hit the other building!' mixed in with 'aaaaaaaaaaaagh!'

Look for a post tomorrow about Australians.

Cheers,
-Jason