A Suggestion

Now, I'm not going to name any names, but just because you can make a commercial with CG mice wearing jackets and singing the praises of a particular car, doesn't mean you should make a commercial with CG mice wearing jackets and singing.

Also, why were the boy mice wearing jackets and no pants, but the girl mice were topless and wearing skirts?

Remember, with CG comes great responsibility.

Anyway, it's a three day weekend! Which I'm going to spend working on the trade! By myself! In my cold, dingy apartment!

Well, it's not that bad. Leigh and I have been working very hard to finish up our trade paperback. We've relettered all six books, Leigh's touched up a number of panels, I've added a few things, and Leigh's created a bunch of new illustrations just for the trade. We're in the home stretch and we can see first base at the end of the field goal. Or something.

I suck at sports analogies.

Also, happy birthday to my nephew James, who's turning 4 this weekend. His favorite Superhero is Captain America, so I'm gonna see if I can find him something age appropriate.

Everyone have a fun and safe weekend.

Cheers,
-Jason

Simon Says: Part 1

There was a discussion about professional sports going on the other day at work. Since I’m smack dab in the middle of a cube farm, I pretty much hear everything that goes on around me.

NOTE: Yes, George, I can hear you picking your nose.

NOTE: NOTE: I was going to use ‘Steve,’ but there is an actual Steve that sits by me and I didn’t want to accidently imply that he picks his nose. I mean, I don’t honestly know. He might. However, he is a man of taste and intelligence, so I would imagine that if he did, he would do so privately.

NOTE: NOTE: NOTE: And his wife makes AMAZING scones.

Anyway, apparently there was a baseball game where the home team won by a touchdown in the last frame. Since the visiting team failed to pick up the spare, they had to ‘plink the mushroom’ in order to get the ‘funny bone’ out of the patient in time to shout ‘Uno!’

Yes, I have no idea what I’m talking about (though ‘plinking the mushroom’ sounds like fun). Anyway, the guys were talking about this baseball game and using all sorts of strange and intimidating jargon. I was half-listening, as I’m nosy that way, and realized that professional sports would be more approachable if the rules were simpler.

For example: Baseball, on the surface, is pretty simple. I get that a guy tries to hit the ball and run around the bases. If he makes it all the way, his team scores a point (or run or something). Once you take it beyond that, it gets rather complicated. The 1st baseman has to catch the ball and touch the bag to get the runner out. The second baseman has to tag the runner. The third baseman has to tackle the runner and wrest the Sacred Chalice of Northumbria from him, lest the Dragon of Upper-Cheddar appear and let fly with his macaroni breath.

Or something.

It then occurred to me that what we need are professional sports where the rules can be stated in one sentence.

Such as, oh, Simon Says.

Sports: Part II

Home runs did happen, but only when I was in the bathroom. I am not kidding. Apparently, I would go to the bathroom and unicorns would appear on the field. Dragons would do fly-bys and aliens would land and give out free death rays. I missed all of this. It is possible that the baseball gods, knowing I would someday need to rant about this in a blog, arranged for this to happen. But I digress.

I have a couple of friends at work who are seriously into baseball. They are always talking about stats and RBIs and Earned Run Averages, and Seven Toed Rhinos, and whatnot. I have no idea what they are talking about.

I asked them once what a Designated Hitter was. They were incredulous that I did not know. Apparently it is the guy who only bats. I thought it was somebody who hit the players when the made Errors. I still like my interpretation better.

With my newly found knowledge of Designated Hitters, I sat down to watch a Mariners game. I managed about fifteen minutes. There were no homeruns, no fights, and no cheerleaders. I admit that pitching looked difficult. Throwing a ball at roughly 1000 mph (1.2 kilometers) with precision has to be tough. So props to the pitchers. I guess I am not a baseball kind-of-guy.

Cheers,

-Jason

Sports

I do not watch sports. I guess I am missing that particular gene or something, as I have never been interested enough in a sport to actually spend time watching it. I will play sports (badly) if opportunity arises, but watching other people play them is sheer boredom. If I have to choose between watching sports and going to the dentist, the dentist wins. Granted I cry when I go to the dentist and therefore get candy, but there you go.

However, in a spirit of fairness and desperately needing something to blog about, I decided to give sports a try. Obviously, some of them are not on right now, but do not worry, I will make it up anyway.

First up: Baseball

When I was but a wee lad of eight or nine, my dad had a friend who had season tickets to the Giants. This friend, may his name forever be cursed, gave my dad a bunch of tickets for double headers. Therefore, on several sunny summer Saturdays, I was driven two hours to San Francisco to watch about four hours of baseball, and then be driven two hours back.

I was initially excited, as baseball had been described as something wonderful, sort of like if Santa were a hot blonde in a bikini. I sat down in my hard, plastic seat, clutching my mitt, and wondering what the smell was. And waited. Nothing happened. Ever. In the six pro baseball games I watched, I never saw a home-run. I am not kidding.

Next: More Baseball