So I really dislike Twilight. Like, a lot. For a variety of reasons, most of which can be echoed on a certain Tumblr blog I frequent.
And after completing the "Bella Sucks" meme that I found on deviantART and having a lot of fun, I decided to elaborate on a particular image on page 2 of the meme that filled me with glee. Out came the sketchpad.
So here's Beast Boy in all his feral glory upon discovering the invasive activities of one of our newer, more sparkling pop-culture figures (because I cannot, in good conscience, call him a "literary" one) and taking action.
Aw.
I have sort of a love-hate relationship with the Twilight series. I hate it because it's a trite, poorly-concieved and poorly-written piece of trash that features creepy values like stalking and bizarre, repressed sexualities, and makes people like its author think that vomiting words on a page is writing. But on the other hand, I love it because it's so easy and entertaining to make fun of. When I make fun of Twilight, I feel a sense of malicious glee, combined with a slight feeling of guilt, like I'm making fun of someone who just can't defend themselves.
But malicious glee is more fun, so here is a meme I filled out. I stole it from someone on deviantART. Since I don't have digital art skillz, I simply printed it out and drew it by hand. The photo quality is terrible because my camera is (once again) broken and so I had to take these on my iPod. So this project was really just a study in ghetto-fabulous improvisation.
But it was fun to do, and I enjoyed drawing my mom summoning the Kraken, as well as Boyfriend ripping out sparkly-vampire-boy's throat.
Sometimes you just need some dumbness.
Note: It might be better to look at these on my dA account, because you can zoom in and actually read the words. Because you totally want to.
It's that time again--the shortest day of the year (in the Northern Hemisphere, at least, which is where I live), and time to appreciate the darkness and the coming light.
So to celebrate, here's a watercolor of me and some bony crows of winter enjoying the cold. I like the winter. I like all seasons, in fact, and I think it's kind of weird when people say they don't like a certain season. First of all, disliking a season seems pointless, because there's nothing you can do about it (except contribute to the greenhouse effect, I guess). Then there's the fact that I find the change of seasons refreshing, and I think I would get really bored if there were only one or two seasons. Four is a nice amount. Just when you're getting tired of one, it changes. When you're tired of the heat, summer's over and it's autumn. When you're tired of the cold, it's spring. And when you're tired of the changeable weather, it becomes either consistently hot or consistently cold. Right now it's cold and dark, and you can see all the lights for miles thanks to the relative clarity of cold air. And there are cookies.
Also just for fun here's a picture of Zooey Deschanel, (whose name I never know to pronounce "Zoh-ee" or "Zu-ee"), in all her horrifying glory. Seriously, lady creeps the shit out of me. I think it's her enormous, icy, soulless eyes and the fact that in every photo I see of her, she seems to be saying, "Boop!" while thinking about the inevitable invasion by her alien compatriots.
Plus I hate it when actors only play one type of role. I just want to see her play like a crack dealer or a ruthless assassin. Just once. Please?
The following was taken from a journal entry, also called "I Hate Ponies," I posted to my deviantART account in a fit of gleeful rage. I was sifting through the front few pages of the site, which is a feat in itself, and getting more and more grossed out by the My Little Pony phenomenon. There's all kinds of creepy pny-themed shit out there. Most of it is fairly innocuous (though still weird and gag-inducing), showing happy, pastel-colored ponies doing anthropomorphic pony things. Fanart is lame, but whatever. Then I came across this image.
Seriously. What the fuck is this. It was created by this fucking creepy weirdo, who might have some artistic talent if they weren't so icky. I mean seriously. What the fuck. And yeah, I shamelessly ripped it off because whoever creates fucked-up pink pony girls deserves it.
It prompted me to write the following:
Okay, so what the hell is the appeal of the newest My Little Ponies series?
On the surface, I get it. It's got bright colors and some trippy animation that appeals to small children and stoned adults. Fine. That's great. When I was little, I fucking loved My Little Ponies. I had like 8,000 plastic ponies in various sugary colors that lived on my dresser, and they all had distinct names and personalities and had all sorts of adventures. I also did not watch the original animated series, which allowed me a certain freedom in their character conception. So yeah, I get it. Rainbow ponies are awesome. When you're six.
I also understand, to a certain extent, why people like to make art referencing their favorite cartoon characters. I'm not much into creating outright fan art (because, you know, I have my own ideas), but I get it that people are inspired by media that appeals to them. But I don't understand the fascination that compels people to dedicate SO much time to creating pony art. Like what the ponies would look like if they were humans (Spoiler alert! They have huge tits!) What REALLY creeps me out though are the images of sexy ponies, where little, brightly colored horses are put into sexual positions and giving the "come hither" look. That's fucking creepy. They're fucking ponies. Ponies. That's sick, bro(ny).
Also? To be perfectly honest? The cartoon show is crap. It's not funny, it's not well written, it's not anything but a bunch of anthropomorphized ponies with shrill voices delivering heavy-handed (hoofed?) life lessons. I got about four minutes into one episode and I was like, "That's enough of that." And this is coming from someone who waxes philosophical about 12 Oz. Mouse. Now, I understand that everyone likes different things, and that's what makes us a beautiful rainbow of humanity and all that shit, but I just don't understand why this franchise has such a dedicated and frankly downright creepy following. I think it's creepy when people create sexual-fantasy-esque images of, say, anime characters, but at least those are humans, or at least humanoids. That makes sense to me. Why the fuck are you drawing Moonlight Buttermoose or whatever the fuck laid out on a bed with her ass in the air? What the fuck is wrong with you?
For the record, and despite the title of this entry, I don't actually hate ponies. Not real ponies, anyway. I spent a summer at a farm camp when I was seven or eight in the company of a 45-year-old pony (if you don't know, that's REALLY OLD in pony years) named Checkers. Checkers was pretty awesome. He was all gray in the face and ambled around and munched on things and was very friendly towards everyone. I'm only sorry that Checkers' memory is being tainted by candy-colored zoophiles. Fuck you guys.
It happened.
I made a cartoon.
A real cartoon with panels and speech bubbles and everything. (Click to make it readable.)
It's only a page long, because that's all the cartoon-making I can stomach. Seriously. I hate making comics and cartoons. Hate it. It's tedious and dull and completely unfulfilling. I like to write and I like to make images, but I don't like to do both at the same time.
Part of the reason was that was I was younger, I was somewhat pigeonholed into being someone who made cartoons exclusively. To the point that people seemed to get annoyed when I expressed interest in doing any other forms of art. You know, because to admit anything other than entirely predictable behavior is hard for some high-schoolers. In fact, I've been told by one particularly silly human being that I "should really stick to cartoons." Needless to say, I didn't take this brilliant advice. It should be also mentioned that this person was not a terribly good artist and was troubled by the fact that anyone might be better than she. It should also be said that this person asked the school librarian what anal beads were.
But there are times when I feel the need to cartoon. It's good, cheap, dirty fun. It's like smoking cigarettes or doing Jell-O shots or making out with strangers. It's not good for you in any way, and you'll feel cheapened afterward, but damn if it isn't fun.
Enter Duck Vs. Cactus.
Duck Vs. Cactus was born on a dark night in a diner while waiting for a spinach-and-American-cheese omelet. There are 5 in total (I think) and they're all scribbled on the backs of placemats. It tells the (roughly put together, non-sequitur, surreal) narrative of the conflict between drug-using criminal lowlife Duck and shady, two-timing Cactus. On Duck's trail are cops Octopus and Triangle (Cactus is revealed in one episode to be on the police force while simultaneously being a strong presence in the underworld). Other episodes feature Duck's girlfriend, who is kind of a cross between a bird and a bowling pin, a gang of violent drug-running Goldfish crackers, and Wendy Williams. It all takes place in a desert. Duck has died several times and it doesn't really matter.
This is Duck Vs. Cactus #4, the shortest one. Because it's so short, I was able to clean it up and render it in ink pen and Sharpie on Bristol plate. It's tentatively titled "You Might Be Trippin' Balls." Because, well, that might be what's happening. This should probably have a continuation of sorts, but I haven't been to a diner in a long time and these only really manifest in diners.
I suppose this can actually tie in with my fascination with corrupt and decaying Americana. But this is less nostalgic and less informed by 19th and early 20th century images, and is more snarky and post-modern.
Or maybe I'm just trippin' balls.
I have these days where I figure I must be a sociopath of some sort, and my hatred for my fellow human burns bright and merry in my heartless interior. Excuse the lofty monologue, I'm watching a special on the Civil War and they all talk like that and it's rubbing off on me.
But seriously, I do hate people.
There are particular traits in people that I find unbearable. To make them more bearable, and to lash out in a wonderfully passive-aggressive way, I made these. They're little info cards of people I hate, complete with vital statistics so others can learn to avoid these horrible specimens of sub-humanity. They aren't terribly well done, having been created in a fit of misanthropic rage, and yes, these are based on real people that I actually know.
First is The Merry Foole
Habitat: The Merry Foole is, unfortunately, at home everywhere, but he prefers folk music festivals and Renaissance Faires
Can Be Seen With: Large-brimmed hat decorated with feather, outdated musical instrument played with rudimentary skill, patchwork everything, dubious facial hair
Diet: Berries and nuts and a good draught of hearty ale
Musical Taste: Faux-medieval caterwauling
Fancies Himself: Terribly clever, mischievous, brilliantly unconventional, irresistible to the fairer sex, possessed of captivating musical skill
Is Actually: Fairly predictable, affected, socially awkward, dull, pretentious
Can Be Found In The Company Of: Fat girls in corsets who titter at his limericks
Activities: singing, rhyming, prancing, invading space
Wishes: It were the year 1125 (factual historical knowledge is not his strong point), to score with all the damsels
Doesn't Understand: Sarcasm
Role Models: Every "Foole" character in every Shakespeare play
Then we have The Furry Sidekick. I hate this person a lot, lot more. This person, in real life, is 24 goddamn years old. Seriously.
Habitat: Childrens' musicals, near a TV when Dragon Tales is on, holed up in a bedroom reading manga
Can Be Seen With: Overalls, striped socks, furry animal ears/tails, perpetually insipid facial expression
Diet: Ramen, candy, Ramune soda
Musical Taste: anime intro songs, show tunes, J-Pop
Fancies Herself: Adorable, impossible to dislike, necessary, a cartoon character, is full of childlike wonder
Is Actually: Nauseating, shrill, age-inappropriate, extremely annoying, usually harboring some deep-seated psychological issues
Can Be Found In The Company Of: Anyone who will give her attention, or hopping around the perimeter of a group looking for said attention
Activities: Squealing, meowing, chirping, making fan-art and -fiction, trying hard to ignore the scarier aspects of adulthood
Wishes: Her ears and tail were real, that she could be 5 forever, to find a hot cartoon guy of her very own, that she didn't have to think about being an adult
Doesn't Understand: Why people don't want to be around her, what is and is not age appropriate, the scary dark grown-up feelings deep down inside
Role Models: Pikachu, and every furry sidekick in every anime ever produced
So I was a real dick and posted these to deviantART, which will, if they ever see it, offend all the chirpy high school girls who pine over Sebastien Michaelis (not the real one--he was a dick), and wear kitty ears. But they need to know. They need to know it's not acceptable past the age of sixteen. Real Furry Sidekick is a friend of friends, so I have to be all tactful when in their company. This is how it comes out. I've clearly got aggression issues.
But that's okay. At least I don't meow in public.
