It's Not My Problem

Does anyone recall how Tina Fey went in front of cameras on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno in late 2007, immediately after I erased my blogger account, and confessed her 'ugly' problem to the whole world? She's insecure about her looks. And she made it my problem because I wrote humorous poems and scripts that featured beautiful women. I like good looking women. I can't help it, the same way a woman can't help liking a wealthy man. I don't hold it against the women and I don't think they should hold my bias against me. I'm at the public library to return my oversize picture book Space Places, which I used for all of my backgrounds in all of the Heavenly Escapade illustrations except the planet Sonorus, which I got from looking at a well groomed golf course. This is the same book I borrowed in 2007 for the same purpose, so that my drawings must look pretty close now to how they did then. I heard about this character who wants to prance around with my Archangelo drawing and call himself an angel. Someone break his legs for me. I don't know what he looks like. I have new illustrations to do. My faces are all tidied up in my figures now - for the fussy ones. I capture the overall figure first before I zoom in on the face. You can keep abreast of my image posts through this developing page: Illustration Footnotes.
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Remember This Drawing?

Time to anchor down my scripts with another statement. I'm repeating my editing process here. How do you like my new old sketch? I took another photo of myself in a tighter shirt and shaved for Aurora. I figured I'd need to beautify her boyfriend now that she's looking so good with her makeover. For some reason, when I draw myself my face comes out like Michael Landon or Randolf Mantooth. I guess it's because I need to make the eyes a little bigger in small drawings or you can't see them. I guess I look okay from a distance with my broad shoulders and long legs. But those bitches who've been screwing with my artwork all these years want everyone to be repulsed by me. Do you have them incarcerated? Hard to believe you let people like that run around loose when they cause so much destruction with their malice. And they really must think people are stupid to think that anyone but them would want to hold up my picture with an improvement on it as though to claim the improvement for themselves. People who like to draw like to do their own work. They don't care about my work. They wouldn't want to waste the effort on such a hateful exercise. But what do these pricks know about effort? They think hard work's for losers. I'll replace my Chapter One illustration for the Heavenly Escapade poem with the above character when it's finished. But you can see how I draw my cartoons. I always start with a pencil. I know about the last three scripts being stolen by the TV. I'm tired of backdating my copyright, so I'm just leaving them as current posts. [Dec 2016: Added 2007's date to copyright notices for these sketches.]
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Meet Me in the Middle Class

I grew up in the lower middle class. My father had a good job but not much education. Nonetheless, as middle class members it was our duty to rise at least one step in society, if not two steps, all the way to the upper middle class. This was drilled into us from an early age. The basic rules of the middle class are twofold: you must have a good job or be in school and you must worry about money. The middle class is the only one that worries about money. The upper have money and the lower just get the government to pay for everything. I find the middle class amusing in that they are so proud of their mediocrity. If they get a promotion at work, they want to make a national holiday out if it. And middle class threats are funny: you'll never work in catering in this town again! Their whole universe consists of work, family, and friends, and stadiums are generally filled with large numbers of their suburban cliques. They all pursue the middle class paradise of a bungalo with satellite TV. Yes, broadcasting is the cornerstone of middle class culture. TV has to be middle class because its upper class owners know that the middle class have money. They devote much of their programming to espousing middle class values and even glorifying middle class occupations in a bid to reach into the pockets of workers and take back their paychecks. Even though the viewers know they are being manipulated, they enjoy the special attention and submit to it. It is in support of middle class values that daytime TV is as bad as it is. Middle class workers don't want unemployed males able to stay home on a work day and watch something stimulating on TV, but they think it's okay for housewives. As soon as those ladies get together and start clucking, I start running, which brings me to my next aspect of this topic. Middle class women look sexy when they dress up for their office jobs in those form fitting skirts and blouses. They may express their sexual arousal to a man with hostility. They intensely dislike unemployed males, but will make exceptions for talented ones, who they may allow to stay at home and draw a picture of a space chick while they go to work. They may even let one get them pregnant - after they make him take a long shower. While praising the mediocre might be somewhat ridiculous, having mediocre problems is quite positive. That's what really makes the boring middle class dream so beautiful. With nothing to worry about but problems of work or household, they are an enviable lot. And why was my work so successful on the TV and radio? Because I live the kind of life that makes middle class people feel better off, I think, besides being a pretty good author.
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Lord of the Fruit Flies

(A rooming house. A mad tenant worships a pile of rotting fruit skins with high-pitched buzzing in the background.) Worshiper: (consuming a banana) Oh great and fragrant one, extend thy withered hand to receive my offering. (He tosses the skin into the pile.) In return, I would like a new motorcycle for my birthday, a real nice one I can park in the front yard and use for imaginary rides. It will draw customers for my lemonade stand, to add to your appeal. I will gather your worshipers from around the whole block to join in shrill tribute to your mushy magnificence. From you shall sprout a new culture- (Another tenant sees his activity through his open door and interrupts him.) Tenant: (noticing increase in insect noise) Oh, it's you! For Christ's sake, take that to the compost heap before we all go deaf! Worshiper: You dare speak that way before the Lord of the Fruit Flies? Salvation lies within squalor on the Lord of the Fruit Flies.
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Pretty Boy

Duncan Bently may have looked too good for his own good. (A party. Bently dazzles with Adonis like perfection as he approaches a woman.) Bently: Hey, sugar, wanna go out with me? Woman: With you? Where? Shopping for makeup? Get lost! As a nurse, he'd hoped to make lots of girlfriends, but instead his face went to waste. (A hospital assembly room. The head nurse addresses her large staff.) Head Nurse: (holding clipboard) Nurse Bently, you will be on bedpan patrol. Bently: Again? What is this? Some kind of gender discrimination? Head Nurse: No, the decision was arrived at democratically by your fellow nurses. But after he was caught trafficking stolen drugs from the supply room, his beauty would finally be noticed. (Prison. Bently endures whistles and catcalls as he is marched to his cell.) Wishing he'd tolerated the overt sexual advances of the men who'd offered him a modelling career, no one envies Pretty Boy.
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Money Talks

Downey: Good day and welcome to Money Talks, where money gets the last word. I'm Hugh Downy. Sitting on our hot seat today is Ed Clairmont, CEO of SPENRON, a blue chip concern currently under investigation by the authorities. Mister Clairmont, thank you for appearing with us. Clairmont: Thank you for giving me a chance to defend SPENRON. Downey: Yes, why don't you tell us about your company? Clairmont: Gladly. SPENRON is a high tech innovator which offers informed speculation on the fluctuating focuses of prospective research and development. Downey: How impressive. And what prospective research and development do you speculate on? Clairmont: It depends. Downey: It depends? Clairmont: Yes, because the conditional climate imposed by unpredictable market forces produces wide ranging possibilities. Downey: But you're in high technology right? Clairmont: That's correct. Downey: So, computers? Clairmont: Possibly. Downey: Mr Clairmont, I'm not interested in possibilities. What does your company produce? Clairmont: Jobs. Downey: Yes, for you, at least. Well, I think we've heard enough from the man. Now let's have a little chat with his money. (He holds up a dollar bill.) Clairmont: Where did you get that? Downey: We followed you to the bar for your last transaction. (To the dollar bill) President Washington, how did they make you? Washington: (lips moving in portrait) Why, in a printing press, my boy. From there I can only change hands. Downey: Yes, I know, but do you recall your last transaction before Mr Clairmont's martini? Washington: Yes, of course. Downey: What were you exchanged for? Washington: A promissory note. Downey: (restraining frustration) I should have guessed. A promissory note of what, Mr President? Washington: Loss.
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Sitting on a Geyser

Losing mom and dad one after the other so fast like that is a real bummer and that''s probably why I wake up every morning flooded with comedy ideas. I'm working on about a dozen or so at once right now and many look new. I was thinking I should save them for the lawyers before publishing them, but I doubt that will make any difference. I can just share them from here to make the same point. Might as well put my depression to a positive use for those who enjoy my punchlines. It also helps me to at least smile through a tough time in my life. The immediately following Money Talks script looks like it might be another reconstructed old classic, but I assure you that I am into new material with the others. On that topic, I think I may have been the author of that SNL sketch about Celebrity Jeopardy that bashed Tom Hanks, the one I was forced to watch back in 2012 when I was at that shelter and there were all those lies going around to explain my homelessness. I won't bother rewriting that one. Technical Note: On some versions of Firefox, my visibility program doesn't work here for some reason. I just browse it Google's Chrome.
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