Look, it's not that it makes sense. It's that it wins games. I think, anyway. I've never really tracked it.

This weekend: Festival of Books at UCLA!


(Flickr image from meekorouse)

I would like to thank everyone for their kind comments regarding my potential life-destroying move to Chicago! Although many folks weighed in with trenchant arguments both for and against the Windy City, I thought it’d be only fair to give my hometown a fair shake before making any final decisions. To that end, I’ll be appearing this weekend at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, on the UCLA campus!

The Festival of Books is a giant free event consisting of author panels, interviews, readings, and vendors, spread across the entire UCLA campus in Westwood. I’ll be there both days with books, comic prints, smiles and possibly sweet rhymes, sharing booth 704 with my friends and fellow cartoonists Keith Knight and Jose Cabrera. Please peruse the official programming for other events you may want to check out at the festival as well — while I won’t be doing anything more complex than simply hanging out at the booth to chat and meet with people, plenty of neat authors will be doing talks and readings throughout the weekend.

Now then! The UCLA campus is huge, and the official Festival of Books map looks like a placemat that might come with a child’s meal at a particularly unhealthy restaurant. Just look at that thing — it’s got flags, and bears, and treasure clues, and headache-inducing colors… everything a good, functional event-map needs, except any modicum of clarity. You can try your luck with it:

Or, just know that Booth 704 is near Dodd Hall, on the east side of campus. Here’s a Google Map directly to where I will be standing:


View Larger Map

Or, if you are a space traveler from the amazing future, just plug 34.072426, -118.439242 into your GPS brain-chip. Let’s see how that works. Now, I’m not 100% sure about the table placement — so If I’m not right there, just start walking in a spiral outward from that point. I won’t be too far.

The Science-Doktor’s Vengeance

Science-Doktor Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa watched through the tall, sloped windows as Eyjafjallajökull began to spew clouds of brown, billowing ash.

“This will prove that I am serious,” he sneered, checking his command console for the blinking light that would indicate a phone message. Those fools at NATO headquarters had missed the deadline to respond — and now had paid for their impudence.

“Seriously weak,” came an echoing voice. Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa whirled. Bond. But no matter — the volcano had been triggered. The Englishman was too late.

“It’s no use, 007,” Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa shouted, pulling the Beretta PM12 into his hands. “There’s no stopping the volcano now! Europe will be blanketed in ash within days! They tried to play games with me,” he said, cocking the submachine gun and tracking the spy’s slow walk across the polished marble floor. Bond’s confident posture angered him. What did he have to be confident about? “Now they realize what a threat I really am!”

“I’m surprised you had the money to pull this off, Vondurdog,” Bond said coolly, tracing a finger along the lines of the command console. He looked like he was itching to turn a knob, press a button… but the spy showed commendable restraint. “After the whole banking debacle. You must have been very well invested.”

Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa fumed. He knew. He had to know! “The Icelandic government is very hard-headed, it seems,” he growled. “I had a very simple ransom demand — and was left without even the courtesy of a reply. After that exercise of my power, you would have thought the world would have learned to listen!”

“Tsk, tsk, temper temper,” Bond cooed, and Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa brought the Beretta up in rage. BRAPPPPP — Bond dove — and the geologic destabilizer controls went up in a shower of sparks. That cost fifty thousand krónur! Bond had goaded him into it. The rat was nowhere to be seen.

“This is just the beginning,” Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa crowed to the empty room, slowly circling with the gun at the ready. Where was he hiding? “Eyjafjallajökull was just a throat-clearing. If my demands are not met, Katla will be triggered next — and it will drown all of Europe beneath a sea of ash and magma!”

“That’d be a good trick,” came the voice from across the room, and Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa whirled, firing another long burst into the far corner. The glass face of the seismolostroyer console disintegrated into green dust. And with the click of his empty gun, Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa knew it was over. Bond’s shadow felt somehow cold as it covered him.

Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa spun quickly and tripped the spy. Bond’s voice-transmitter still active, the cry of pain seemed to come from the far corner of the room. A clever ruse! As Bond hit the ground, Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa stomped on his wrist to dislodge the Walther from his hand — but Bond wrapped a leg around Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa’s knees and brought the Science-Doktor down with him. They fought for the gun in silence, the sky outside darkening with the growing cloud from Eyjafjallajökull.

A shot rang out! Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa flinched, his ears ringing from the sound and his hands burning from the powder — but he felt no bee-sting of a bullet, only the thin hum of some far-off machine spurting to life. “You’ll have to do better than that, 007,” he growled. But the spy only smiled.

The geologic destabilizer’s agitation-paddle caught Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa in the side of the head, wrapping its auger-talons around his jaw and skull and dragging him across the room, chewing a furrow in the hard black floor. Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa pulled at the talons with his fingers, but they were double-bonded titanium, designed to fight the pressures of plate tectonics. A man was no match for them — less so, a pane of tempered glass. The paddle pushed Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa through the window and out into open air.

Then it stopped, the long arm of the paddle hovering above the burning, roiling mouth of Eyjafjallajökull, shards of glass falling to vaporize in mid-air. Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa gaped back at Bond, who delicately brushed dust from the shoulders of his jacket.

“Well, do it,” Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa squealed with as much force as his tight-gripped throat could muster, kicking his legs in the ash above the long drop to Hell. But Bond only smiled.

“Do you want to know why NATO never called?” he shouted through the window at Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa. “Do you wonder why your ransom demands were never answered? Why nobody trembled in fear when you threatened to collapse the banks, or trigger the volcano?”

And then, as Vondurdauðahöfuðkúpa’s eyes bugged out high above the flaming glacier, Bond held up a single, severed telephone cable.

“They never even knew it was you.”

Chicago this weekend!

I’ve really enjoyed walking around downtown Chicago the last few days! The weather’s been clear and temperate, and it’s been a wonderful introduction to a city I’ve never visited before. Wednesday I walked from Soldier Field up along the harbor to the river, and everything just seemed nice. People were jogging and biking; I talked to a dude fishing for bass in Lake Michigan; a lady’s dog was just freaking out at a goose who seemed much calmer than I would have been in the same situation. I exchanged a knowing glance with a jogger as if to say, “Yeah, I see it too. That dog is nuts.” Overall I am having a wonderful time!

So much so, in fact, that I am in danger of becoming infatuated with Chicago. Some kind Twitter folks tried nobly to warn me away — they say it gets cold; it’s windy; the politicians are corrupt; Ira Glass is not very tall — but to all that, my heart is saying “balderdash.” If I don’t get over this infatuation, I might uproot my entire family and career to move to Chicago immediately, and that would be devastating and irresponsible! So here is my challenge to you: come see me at C2E2 this weekend (booth 965, with TopatoCo) and tell me something bad about Chicago to bring me to my senses. If you say something that nobody else has said, I’ll give you a free sketch!

So which will it be? Will I destroy my family and ruin my life, or will you come and snap me out of it? We will see how the weekend goes!

I drew some fish

I am in Easthampton, MA at the moment, having just drawn sketches in about a hundred books! All of my books (and shirts, and prints, and pretty much everything) are shipped from the TopatoCo Command Bunker here, so once the Artist Edition orders that I’ve been crowing about were received and compiled, I swung on into The Office Of The CEO and drew strange little vignettes into everyone’s books while The Executive and I listened to folks recount their visits to Saturn on Coast to Coast AM. I shared a handful of the sketches on my Twitter as I went: the one above is among my favorites, and here are several more examples as well. We may be seeing more freakish dinosaur/tank/airplane/fish drawings in the future! These were pretty fun to do, and thanks very much to all the kind folks who ordered Artist Editions. The next opportunity to get sketched books will be in November.

If you would like to know the sorts of things that go on at TopatoHQ on a daily basis, I guest-star in a totally factual documentary account by John Allison, a well-respected subject of the Queen. In fact, I believe this tale bears the Royal Warrant. (Part 1 is at the bottom of the linked page.)

Now then! In just a few short hours I’ll be leaving the cozy confines of the Pioneer Valley for big ol’ Chicago! The Windy City! Chi-burg! Town of The Double Friendlies! The Urban Chicagopolis! Ol’ Jimmybean! I’ll be at the new C2E2 convention all weekend (with TopatoCo, booth 965), including a Friday-night panel discussion about webcomics that’s sure to be a thrill. I’ve never ever been to Chicago before, and I’m super-triple-excited to check it out and meet all the fun people who I’m sure populate its warrens! You guys have warrens, right? (I have been reading up.)

Finally — thanks to everyone who said hello at the MoCCA Festival last weekend in New York, and especial kind double-thanks to Chris and Carly, my gracious and collegial hosts. Chris if you find my jacket can you please bring it to Chicago.

Three Fearsome Things from History

I did not make the above illustration! Marksman Brian G. kindly forwarded me this article at Futility Closet, which reprints a 1910 magazine feature entitled “If Insects Were Bigger”:

What a terrible calamity, what a stupefying circumstance, if mosquitoes were the size of camels, and a herd of wild slugs the size of elephants invaded our gardens and had to be shot with rifles!

Basically, someone beat me to Wondermark by 100 years or so (and this even predates Max Ernst by a few decades). The full article is well worth a read. Thanks, Brian!

Several kind readers brought to my attention the “Playing with Pictures: The Art of Victorian Photocollage” exhibit, showing through May 9 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Here’s a great description from an article in the CS Monitor:

William Henry Fox Talbot introduced photography to England in 1839. Due to the cumbersome equipment and time and expense required, photographs were the exclusive purview of the wealthy. In the 1850s, however, commercial cartes-de-visite with photographic portraits (the size of business cards today) became, as [curator Malcolm] Daniel says, “wildly, wildly popular – a worldwide phenomenon.” Collecting and displaying these pictures fueled a fad called “cartomania.” When Queen Victoria had her portrait made in the 1860s, 3 million to 4 million copies were made and sold. […]

This accessibility and democratizing effect posed a problem for the “upper ten thousand” of high-society England. Wishing to re-establish the display of photographs as an elite activity, amateur artists adopted a cut-and-paste technique that required ample leisure not available to the masses. The female album creators collaged images of family, friends, and celebrities, mixing fact (photographs) and fancy (the sometimes irreverent settings they drew).

Finally, Mike H. sends along this collection of drunken mugshots from 1904. Need more be said?


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