I got a new toy robot that I have named Jeeves.
He comes from space not to conquer or enslave, but to serve.
"Beep boop. Very good, sir."

I got a new toy robot that I have named Jeeves.

He comes from space not to conquer or enslave, but to serve.

"Beep boop. Very good, sir."

Throwback Thursday pt. 2: “At Peace with My Nerdery” Edition

Holy shitsnacks! I totally loved this Batcave playset I had when I was a kid!
I vaguley remember seeing the ginormous Wayne Foundation set in a Sears Christmas Catalog a couple years afterwards (the Sears Christmas Catalog being, of course, absolute toy-porn for young boys at the time), but by the time it came out I was over the whole Batman thing (for the moment) and on to new heights of Star Wars nerdery. Because Batman was for little kids, you see, and a cool eight year old couldn’t be seen playing with that sort of thing.
Sigh. Good times, good times.
[ side note: yes, my hair at the time looked pretty much like that of the kid on the box. *shudder* ]

Throwback Thursday pt. 2: “At Peace with My Nerdery” Edition

Holy shitsnacks! I totally loved this Batcave playset I had when I was a kid!

I vaguley remember seeing the ginormous Wayne Foundation set in a Sears Christmas Catalog a couple years afterwards (the Sears Christmas Catalog being, of course, absolute toy-porn for young boys at the time), but by the time it came out I was over the whole Batman thing (for the moment) and on to new heights of Star Wars nerdery. Because Batman was for little kids, you see, and a cool eight year old couldn’t be seen playing with that sort of thing.

Sigh. Good times, good times.

[ side note: yes, my hair at the time looked pretty much like that of the kid on the box. *shudder* ]

I was digging through a box of stuff from my youth the other day, and among some bits of junk, lo and behold, I found the first issue of Moon Knight. Wow.
I found it to be in surprisingly good shape. I say surprisingly because I had tons of comics when I was a boy, but I wasn’t one of the kids who kept their issues in nice mylar sleeves. No, I read them and folded them and stuffed them in my bag when I went to grandma’s and dog-eared the pages and lent them to friends and kept them in untidy stacks in my drawers and closet. The box or two of comics that still survive from that time are yellowed and worn and torn. ”Heresy!” I hear the comic snobs cry. And don’t even get me started on what kind of shape my Star Wars toys are in; there’s not a single figure or vehicle still in an original box. I’d scorch and paint X-Wings to make them look battle-worn. Armies of stormtroopers would be caked with the dirt and detritus of wars fought on some godforsaken swamp planet (i.e. my backyard).
And all things considered, I like rediscovering things that way. They may have been abused, but they were used. They were the fuel of my imagination, and when I come across them again after so many years, they help remind me why I do what I do, and how I became the creative person I am. I don’t want to be reunited with an old comic of mine in a sleeve – I’d much rather see it bent and softened and remember the family camping trip that it accompanied me on. I don’t want my old toys in a pristine box on a shelf, untouched – I want to find a carton of defeated plastic Imperial villains, worn and dirty from some epic battle fought with all the action figures of all the kids on my block, out in the big field behind the school.

I was digging through a box of stuff from my youth the other day, and among some bits of junk, lo and behold, I found the first issue of Moon Knight. Wow.

I found it to be in surprisingly good shape. I say surprisingly because I had tons of comics when I was a boy, but I wasn’t one of the kids who kept their issues in nice mylar sleeves. No, I read them and folded them and stuffed them in my bag when I went to grandma’s and dog-eared the pages and lent them to friends and kept them in untidy stacks in my drawers and closet. The box or two of comics that still survive from that time are yellowed and worn and torn. ”Heresy!” I hear the comic snobs cry. And don’t even get me started on what kind of shape my Star Wars toys are in; there’s not a single figure or vehicle still in an original box. I’d scorch and paint X-Wings to make them look battle-worn. Armies of stormtroopers would be caked with the dirt and detritus of wars fought on some godforsaken swamp planet (i.e. my backyard).

And all things considered, I like rediscovering things that way. They may have been abused, but they were used. They were the fuel of my imagination, and when I come across them again after so many years, they help remind me why I do what I do, and how I became the creative person I am. I don’t want to be reunited with an old comic of mine in a sleeve – I’d much rather see it bent and softened and remember the family camping trip that it accompanied me on. I don’t want my old toys in a pristine box on a shelf, untouched – I want to find a carton of defeated plastic Imperial villains, worn and dirty from some epic battle fought with all the action figures of all the kids on my block, out in the big field behind the school.

Dear Santa:

I did not get a sonic screwdriver for Christmas this year. And I even left a whole bottle of Maker’s to go with your cookies. WTF, man? I thought we were tight.

R.I.P. “Floppy Cow”
Floppy Cow, beloved by dog and man alike, suffered a massive loss of polyester stuffing and succumbed to her injuries late this morning.
She is survived by her siblings Blue Bear, Crinklynoise Pineapple, Anatomically Incorrect Monkey, and Squeaky Piece of Cake.

R.I.P. “Floppy Cow”

Floppy Cow, beloved by dog and man alike, suffered a massive loss of polyester stuffing and succumbed to her injuries late this morning.

She is survived by her siblings Blue Bear, Crinklynoise Pineapple, Anatomically Incorrect Monkey, and Squeaky Piece of Cake.

Let’s hug it out, man.
(Taken with Instagram at Delgrossocorp HQ)

Let’s hug it out, man.

(Taken with Instagram at Delgrossocorp HQ)