Archive for February, 2008:
The Rubble Report
To:
Buster B. Maybe
Editor and Publisher
Scuba Du Magazine
From:
J. Wilton Damply
Zero Vista Hotel
Rubble
Melanoma Islands
Dear Mr. Maybe,
As you no doubt recall, you hired me some months ago to produce a feature for Scuba Du on the subject of Rubble Island and its underwater environs. In good faith, I traveled here at my own expense and proceeded to explore the island and its various lagoons and bays. The project is complete. The results of my underwater investigations are enclosed.
Because I expected payment from Scuba Du but haven’t yet received it, I find myself in difficult circumstances here in regards to payment for my accommodations and travel, not to mention a sizeable bar bill, an entirely justifiable entertainment expense incurred in the process of doing business in this corner of the world. There were also significant outlays for sunblock, cigars, and tropical shirts.
I haven’t heard from you for some while and am becoming a bit alarmed. The proprietor of my hotel has threatened to evict me unless payment is received soon for his services and I am at this time unable to finance my return. Please reply as soon as possible.
Thankyou,
J. Wilton Damply
I Really Should Be Drawing Classified Ads
Items for Sale
Ark. Used once. Could use a good cleaning. Handy for parties, floods, etc. Write Noah, c/o I Really Should Be Drawing.
Chairs. Overstuffed, Clunky, Other Styles. Many to choose from. Contact Stanley or Eunice via this blog.
Doctor Stuff. Stethoscope, white coat, clipboard, pocket-protector and pens. Am switching to lawyer jokes. Email Manny Suits, Esq. c/o IRSBD.
Learn to Crawl. Look right when you land that next crawling-in-the-desert cartoon. Tips on acting thirsty, costume selection, non-shaving techniques. Contact Burt, IRSBD.
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Help Wanted
Receptionist. Can you say, “Mr. Reynolds won’t see you, now.”? Must remain expressionless for long periods and look good in a telephone headset.
Piano-Bar Guy. Must own a tuxedo and look vaguely sleazy. Musical knowledge a plus.
Party Extras. Need people to hang out and chat in the background of my cocktail party drawings. All types. BYOB.
Tired of Puns, scatological, sexist, racist, ageist, and just plain dumb jokes? Want to do more sophisticated humor? We offer courses in intellectually stimulating subjects, like using literary references, metaphor, and esoteric language which will shoot right over most reader’s heads! It’s not your college newspaper any more! The Highbrow Institute of Cartoon Art, Saint Augustine, Florida.
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Personals
Single White Businessman, permanently installed behind desk, seeks someone to sit opposite and engage in snappy repartee. Must have a sense of humor, including the ability to laugh at my jokes. My interests include scribbling on paper, answering the telephone, bending paper-clips into S-shapes, and shooting rubber bands.
Guy at Bar, 40-ish, balding, drunk, seeks woman of similar description (Except for the bald part) for possible relationship after closing time. Must be a good listener.
Woman at Cocktail Party seeks husband. Has anyone seen Larry? I haven’t seen him since we first got here. I hope he’s not out in the parking-lot with somebody else’s wife like last time, the S.O.B.
Man in Desert seeks water. No mirages, please. Actual water. Water! Water!
Dog on Couch looking for psychoanalyst. FedEx man issues. Please help me. Arf!
Woman with Two Easy Chairs seeks man to sit in one. I’ll sit in the other. We’ll know each other so well that we won’t need to talk, but I’ll still want to. Can you put down that newspaper for just a few minutes, for God’s sake?!
Man Stranded on Desert Island seeks companionship or possibly more with the right person. I like dreaming about food, waiting for cocoanuts to fall, and scanning the horizon for possible rescuers. Share the sand, the sun, the fun! Must be tasty.
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From The I Really Should Be Drawing "Great Artists" Series
The hard part? Getting God to sit still long enough for a quick portrait. Eventually, all I got was a sketch of His hand, which I used in that big ceiling job I got over at the Sistine Chapel. The Pope’s people said I couldn’t use the likeness of The Big Guy, so I substituted the face of the old geezer who sells religious trinkets out in front of the Chapel. I had to work way the hell up there on a scaffold, lying on my back for months at a time. It took four years. Hey! It was a job. I needed the money, as usual.
I wonder if anyone will actually see the thing? People don’t usually look up when they’re praying do they? Aren’t you supposed to keep your eyes closed? With luck, someone will notice, though. I put a lot of work into that thing. I’m hoping people see it because I need the exposure. The David job kept me in pocket change for awhile, but interest has faded already. And the Tomb? Don’t get me started!
In this business, you’re only as good as your last masterpiece.
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Vincent Van Gone
My life’s a mess, as usual.
Gauguin, the crumb, has to be the world’s worst room-mate. The guy’s always half in the bag and often argumentative. He says he hates my work, which hurts, since I like his a lot.
That woman I’m interested in is still ignoring me down at the bar.
Theo’s checks are bouncing all over the place.
On top of everything, I cut myself big-time the other morning while I was shaving. I was bleeding like crazy so I went down to the walk-in clinic. They were no help at all, claiming, among other things, that they hadn’t been invented yet. I had to use my hankie as a bandage, tying it around my head with a big goofy-looking knot at the top. I painted a picture of myself like that, for the insurance company. It was a lot of work for nothing. They said it looked like I had a toothache, which isn’t covered since I don’t have a dental plan.
It’s all making me a little nuts, to tell you the truth.
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¿Que Pasa, Pablo?
I had to tell Felicia not to come back. She had been here much too long. After three weeks, it is high time for her to move on.
Today, a new model came. Her name is Nympholita and she is 20, a little old for me, but what the hell. I am immortal, after all. What difference does a few months, mas o menos, make to me? I made her promise not to reveal anything about our upcoming relationship. After what happened with Immasculina, I do not wish to take chances. Immasculina promised not to tell anyone about my little ED problem, but she must have said something because a lot of women are pointing and laughing at me down at the café.
I like Nympholita so far. She brings me coffee in the morning and doesn’t wear clothing, which I find charming. I’m looking forward to working on her. She must be molded, like those before her, into the shape my genius demands. Bringing me that coffee every day is a good start.
She reminds me a little of Imaginina, a good example from my blue period. She was already beautiful when she came to me. When she left, she was beautiful and sad.
Of course, Braquelita was probably my best creation. She had known other men, which I don’t ordinarily tolerate. However, in my hands she blossomed! Ah, yes. Her magnificent temper! When she threw that vase at me and fractured the mirror! A great moment! After she stormed out, I recall gazing into that mirror (Always a source of pleasure and inspiration for me) and seeing things very differently.
I did then what I always do in those brief periods between women. I painted. The mirror incident has sent me off in a new artistic direction. I shall I call it Fracturism…
Something like that.
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