a glimpse of the horrors to come

Brush art is a new thing for me. I cartoon. That's what I do. It's what I've been doing since I was a tiny, squirming larva gnawing on somebody's dead and rotting flesh. No color in my art-- no fanciness, just pen and paper.

For a long, long time now, I've been wanting to do cartoony things on this blog, like put up a comic strip, show off (and SELL!) my cartoon greeting cards, etc. But I don't have my own computer in Korea, my reading skills haven't been up to snuff to play around with Korean software in the PC-bahng, and I wasn't sure how to deal with FTP.

Now, however, I can play a bit with Korean software in the PC-bahng, and I know you don't need to buy a damn FTP program to get your images onto available FTP space: you just drag & drop from your desktop to the FTP folder of your choice, baby. Armed with this knowledge, I am now ready to destroy.

Here's a peek at the terror in store for you. I'll be dealing with this while I'm in America, and when I'm back in Seoul, I hope to find a PC-bahng with a better scanner (apologies in advance for slightly fuzzed images).

Without further ado:

Welcome to "Cosmic Import." The strip's name actually comes from the main character, who's not the fat slob you see admiring the view. It's a reference to the nameless Alien, seen here offering some insights:













I've got a few more frames almost ready for the above Alien encounter, and I'm working on border design & format so that, when "Cosmic Import" is indeed ready to roll, you'll get the full comic strip effect, like when you visit Sluggy Freelance.

Hope you enjoyed the quick preview. Don't stare too hard at the tits. (I see you scrolling back up there.)

Heh... I imagine any female readers of this blog just left my readership. Look, I'll mumble a few things in my defense:

1. I'm a tit & ass man, like most guys, but I'm also bizarrely fascinated by women's calves, which I find extremely yummy. This fascination dates back to a certain cross-country team co-captain in high school, at whose calves I used to stare all the damn time when she sat in front of me in certain classes, like Mr. Kendall's Functions & Analytical Geometry class junior year. Or Mr. Young's BC Calculus class senior year. But I digress. I drew that picture to satisfy some titty-lust. In this country, it's still pretty rare to see women with more than half a scoop of ice cream filling each Dixie cup. America remains the true land of milk and honey. And... silicone.

2. If you, as a woman, aren't aware that men are visual creatures, often stuck in adolescence when it comes to drawn versions of the female form, then I pity your ignorance.

3. Think back to Rick Ducommun's one-man routine, wherein he described the double-standard perfectly: "Men don't go around with slits in their pants, showing off ball cleavage, then saying, 'Hey, stop staring at that! I'm not a piece of meat!'" (Or something to that effect.) The point: you ladies want to be admired, even as you complain about the admiration you receive. Calling it "objectification" is simply wrong. "Objectification" is, for the most part, merely a cultural articulation of a biological impulse, nothing deeper. Some women get it. Some don't. And guess which ladies experience less stress in life. Am I for hooting and catcalls? No. But should a woman feel scandalized if I'm checking out her juicy ass? I should damn well hope not.

Imagine a world in which men simply cease to appreciate the glorious female form. So what if we don't always get it right in our art, whether in comic strips or on bathroom stall walls? We're not that discriminating in our aesthetics, which works out well for you if you're kinda ugly.

The lady I drew does look pretty pneumatic, though, doesn't she...

If you're offended, I apologize, but not entirely. If you fail to see this for the woman-appreciation it is... let me introduce you to George (cf. previous post). He'll fail to appreciate that you're a woman, period.
_