Welcome to the Gravy Train

We here at Hindenburg are used to drama. The presence of Archie and Minxie insures that every Thanksgiving ends with one of them throwing the Turkey across the room in support of Republican Party Dark horses. They do this and they can't even vote. Minxie is a felon, Archie doesn't know how. Though they are a constant burn, we are used to it, it's who they are and, worsely, who they want to be.

Today's drama comes from our omnipresent conscience, ethical compass, and Detroit Tigers centerfielder Curtis Granderson. During our friendship you've taught us to whittle, lectured us on the buddy system, and provided everything our summer camp counselors never could. We thought we knew you. With the trade of Cameron Maybin we thought your demons on insecurity would be quelled and that you would finally buck up and enjoy a clean, Applebee's laden life. I didn't expect this...

http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071121/SPORTS02/311210004/0/ENT01

You really have some explaining to do Curtis. I hope you'll do so soon.

I need to forget, I must move on. I need the synthesizer to do so. No other instrument so innately captures the human soul. Triumphs, failures, and small instances of life can't be captured by the French horn. When I want to concentrate, try, or think the best think to do is listen to a single keyboard loop over and over.

The List: The Best Things to Say to a Fed Ex Delivery Man
1. How much would it cost to mail myself to you?
2. I don't know about you but if I worked at Kinko's I imagine I would only eat at Subway. Do you like the Carne Asada?
3. When you're alone do you ever just stop and sniff the packages?
4. What's the best thing you ever delivered?

Using number 4 as a launch pad. IU am often bored. There is a general unwillingness to share details, anecdotes, and deeelights (grove is in the heart, my ass). When conversation reaches a standstill the first impluse shouldn't be to ask what TV shows someone likes. A much more applicable question is "what is your favorite thing in the world?" or perhaps "what are your 5 best memories?"

These are personal, these are intimate. Isn't that what conversation should be about. They also prove a good litmus test. If you ask someone their favorite thing in the world and they say "beer" or "gerbils" than you know that person is suspicious. Real suspicious.

What's your favorite thing in the world? Comment below.

We really love the Lions

The most fulfilling thing in Sports is cheering for a doormat. Disappointment is constant but so is the potential. It isn't annoying or assholish to be a fan of the said team, but cute. It is fun to rifle through the star wideout's trash, stop in to offer draft advice, and almost get killed at opposing stadiums It also lends itself to dreaming. 

Happy Halloween

The Holidays bring family, parties, and the stealing of nativity scenes. Don't worry too hard though, the nativity scenes are only being borrowed until Easter wherein they are returned with a note reading "Keep the Faith and the Change - J.C." 

My family is a right wing Catholic family tinged with alcoholism and an inability to embrace black quarterbacks. I will always remember the Christmas I was allowed to pick the family activity and decided to spend the day with my homeless Uncle in the woods. This might have been the same Uncle who when driving near a river offered the bribe "If we drive into the river we'll meet Jesus faster", but that didn't stop us from spending Christmas Eve chasing a ferret around a fire. 

At Christmas parties I am only allowed to talk to my cousin with slight autism, a whistle, and felony charges. With that in mind I am trying to envision ways to get kicked out. 

The List

1. Bring a flask of Vodka and offer it to the Children as the blood of Christ. 

2. After the Pickle is found in the game "Find the Pickle" stubbornly protest that it is a cucumber. Soak pickle shaped ornament in brine 

3. Discuss my sister's fake lesbian wedding and how I think it's the right thing to do. Also, discuss this with a lisp while wearing an earring. 

4. Invent a new cousin from the body parts of already existing cousins. 

A Love of Blow Job Jokes

Certain things are meant for certain people. Listening to anything in Of Montreal's catalog I can only visualize patrons of Outback Steakhouse. 

With that in mind the upcoming film, Walk Hard seems destined for my father. An avid fan of rough humor, musical history, and over weight shirtless men, it seems as if John C. Reilly tapped into my father's subconscious and sucked ideas out with a straw. It seems this way also because my father has recently suffered brain damage and I need a scape goat. The scape goat is Hollywood. Paralyzed by the writer's strike they have undoubtedly decided to steal ideas from my father, thus paralyzing him. 

I'll still be wheeling him into the theatre on December 21st. However it won't be handicap accessible so he'll have to enjoy the film while covered in bruises. It won't matter, he can't feel. 

Here's a comic. Click to make it bigger. 

When you don't get their geography, read their map.

Fair or not, things hold connotations. We aren't thinking big here. We are thinking the opposite, which is to say that we're thinking small. Quark sized actually.   

Certain glimmers of detail harbor great truths. The quality of an awning is almost always indicative of how good a florist is. This is easy though, a classy awning proves they care about the garnish (the real bouquet standard bearer). These details go unnoticed at first but after enough experiences you begin to equate them with a certain something, which then becomes a standard. 

In the case of Comic Books, plastic is the great indicator. Strident, sterile organization screams a terrible signal at some, of which I am one. As a child I found my way into a fair amount of hobby shops. I'm not sure I liked them, I am doubtful that I ever appreciated their aesthetics, I only recall my lust for more and more Tony Clark rookie cards. In my brief forays I paid little mind to the section of the store reserved for Comic Books. I had no need for escape when Catholic School and Patrick Ewing posed such an interesting reality. Also, these sections were usually filled with fat guys.

 

As we get older, we usually change. These changes in philosophy and action aren't marked by revelation but interest (in the vast majority of cases). Some kids start to like Korn, later they become idiotic, and puke on top of your mother's garage onto downlookers below while wearing an LSU t-shirt. Some kids get into religion, then get into accounting. In a growing blight, some kids get into Comic Books, I mean REALLY get into Comic Books. This is usually followed by physical atrophy and a lifelong relationship with your first girlfriend. Though Christians argue otherwise, we at Hindenburg call these bad things. 

The connotation of Comic Books scares me. Thank heavens to betsy I find them repulsive. 

SpiderMan, SuperMan, Dr. Potato Boiler, Little Cotton Muncher, and all other super heroes sit in a universe so dynamic and adventurous that I can not relate it to my little world of Macrame. Further more i believe that the Comic book format does little to capture the details that provide both entertainment and resonance. Given the short attention span required to enjoy such a medium I seem a perfect fit. However, with simple statements and bare bones story lines I find the disjointed arrangement of this comic books more of a bastion to think about other things, rather than a separate form of entertainment. 

It isn't just comic books either. Comic strips, words with pictures, and any story driven series of drawings fail to provide any real spark. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem real. it is mortifying to admit that I once owned a book of Foxtrot Comics. Of course given the rules of everything, 10% of these are probably good. However, they don't change the game, they just provide proof that the game isn't pointless. 

Now for the hypocrisy. We're starting a comic. Based on my own adventures, anecdotes, and dreams these will be horribly done, crudely conceived, and a waste of your time. I have no idea why I am  doing this, but you can just assume that it's out of self loathing because you'll probably want to imagine me slitting my wrists after reading them . Fittingly I call them... My Stupid Life.