#64 June 19, 2013

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One of my favorite parts about this one was making the ant farm. It seems to help this giant machine devised by large-brained aliens run well. Although maybe it is really just cosmetic. Regardless, I enjoyed drawing it, and I am not sure I had ever drawn one before. It's funny how there are some things that you never draw even though they are part of your history. When I was a kid, we had an ant farm. I am pretty sure we were inspired to get one by Raul's Wild Kingdom on the classic Weird "Al" movie, "UHF." Whatever the inspiration, my brother and I thought it would be a cool thing to have an ant farm. So, we went to the mall, and picked one up from Kay-bee toys or from the Nature store. You don't get ants at the store, which I initially thought was a little weird, but these kits are all sealed up so there's no way the ants would be able to survive on the shelf for so many weeks/months/years, so instead you had to send away for the ants. The company who makes the farms will then send you live ants through the mail. At this time in my life, I was living in Syracuse, New York, and anyone who has been to Syracuse, knows that it is cold there pretty much 10 months out of the year. So, when we finally got our ants from the real farm/factory, they were frozen solid and dead. It's crazy to think back on that, only because I am remembering them all frozen and dead, but also packaged in a test tube, essentially. So, my brother and I are looking at all these dead ants in a frozen tube and we are obviously pretty bummed out because we want to see these ants dig! Right? That's why you get the ant farm in the first place, because you can't believe that they will actually be able to do the digging (even though your whole life you've seen ants doing just fine on their own). So we sent back the frozen ants, and soon enough we had ants in a tube that were totally alive! We put them in the green plastic farm that was three-quarters filled with white sand, and watched to see if they would really dig. And weren't we pretty excited when they did! Wow, those ants really digging tunnels! Minutes of fun!
We had the ant farm for about as long as the average kid has an ant farm, which is to say, until the first batch of ants dies. Once they were in there and working away, the whole novelty of thing had worn off. Don't get me wrong, the inventors of the ant farm are geniuses. Whoever can make money by mailing bugs to suburban homes for 50 years is pretty smart. Not to mention, the simple design of the thing is pretty amazing. It's no more than a couple inches deep, and about the size of an 11 x 14 poster that is a self contained, living  picture. The more I write about it here as an object, the more I want to get one again, but in my adult life. I think I want one just to see if I could take better care of the ants now that I am a relatively normal, functioning adult. Or, would the ants grow to be a finite age and die, but not cannibalize each other. Because, that was one of my questions then, as it is now. What happens to the remains of the ants when they die? I doubt the ants bury one another, so where do the corpses go? Also, since there is no queen sold with the set, how does one continue the colony except by introducing new ants into the existing farm?
Luckily for me, there are still thousands of people buying and selling ant farms. In fact, NASA developed a new gel as a sand substitute which also contains nutrients for the ants, so they could be observed in zero-gravity. All of the questions I have just asked have been answered by the internet. That is a great thing about writing these blog posts. While I am writing, I have some pretty random stories that send me down strange rabbit holes of internet. This post is a perfect example of this; I would never look up ant farms or be interested in getting one, but since I was going down memory lane, it just kind of happened. Now I know NASA is interested in ant farms and their history goes back to 1900's era France. Yes, this knowledge is all but useless, but it might make for some interesting conversations at the bar tomorrow.

#44 "Shakespeare In The Park" November 7, 2011

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To tell you the truth, I haven't read that much Shakespeare. I've read Romeo & Juliet, Othello, and Hamlet. I think that's it. I've seen Sleep No More and The Donkey Show, but both of those are loose interpretations; the latter being very loose, if you know what I mean. So, I would try to wax poetic about the picture here being an interpretation of Billy's works but I am afraid I am not knowledgeable enough to do that. Of course, there are all of the characters that Shakespeare liked to write about pictured here. There is the hero, pictured here holding a rabbit, (or cat; let's make it a cat to really double up on symbolism) looking off into space with a knowing look; as if he knows of his impending doom and is foreshadowing the coming storm with a sense of calm and helplessness. As if he can do nothing to stop his fate. He wears headphones to block out the advise given to him by friends and family and even has an Ego growing out of his head. His ego looks down on him, unable to change his mind, although in constant dialogue with him; a sad expression on its face, also foreshadowing his grisly fate. The hero (or possibly tragic hero) is being carried in a baby bjorn by an eyeless, sexless being, possibly the narrator, possibly a spiritual being who is "carrying" the hero to his predestined future; both unseeing and uncaring, the being merely delivers the hero's destiny as written by the stars. Behind these characters is the crazy woman, the Ophelia of the picture. You may remember her from Tim & Jeremy's #21 where she first appeared in a seemingly much older form. In this incarnation, she dances at the peripheral as the men make the big decisions and ultimate downfalls. She becomes marginalized and dances her way out of the picture, literally, with her socks drooping and feeding her hat all the while. Next, we have the villain. Here he is pictured as a high school aged cat (not unlike the kind the hero has been "carrying", amIright?) smack dab in the middle of the composition. He is like Iago, stabbing the proverbial lamb in the heart with a smirk on his face implying that he will probably get away with it, or at least bring down the entire kingdom while doing so. The lamb, in turn has a surprised look, like he should have known the knife was coming, like his own fate was to die by the knife in order to become the martyr or rallying cry for the kingdom to seek revenge. The revenge can possibly come from the character right in front of him, the king. The king looks old and regal and wields a hedge trimmer, eyes wild with bloodlust. He swings the hedge trimmer wildly, out for blood of those who have been trying to manipulate him into laying down the crown and give it to the evil high school cat. He really wants to cut down the plant behind him, but he has been blinded by fantasies of revenge so powerful that his hedge trimmers cannot find the source of his ire, which is the plant. The plant obviously represents the ghosts prevalent in many works of Shakespeare. No one in the picture even notices this plant, although they should as it has a head, teeth and is sprouting small heads each with it's own mouth and eyes. The plant sits on the edge, watching the living souls play out their irrelevant drama, as it waits patiently to be joined by one and all of them. They will all eventually die, and since this is a work of Shakespeare, they will all die relatively soon. But wait! Is that a band in the background? It is! The band provides a little comic relief, like that of the jester or Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream. The lead singer adds some sex appeal by exposing himself while the backup singer provides the comedy so needed in this tragedy by throwing up and the band plays on. This is merely a stage show! Look over on the side, there is the audience, silent and ghostly, observing but making no comment; an act made difficult without mouths. They observe the unfolding drama as judges, unable to provide assistance to any of the participants in the play and must sit and watch the action unfold. 

This is certainly an entertaining way to look at this one. It gives it some weight where there may not have been any in the first place. But isn't that so Shakespearian? Ordinary lives take on extraordinary properties and turn literature into scripture, passed down for the ages that repeat themselves forever.

#42 "Space/Time Kissing Contest" October 12, 2011 in Color!

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So, people have been blogging about being waiters for as long as the internet has hosted blogs, so I feel like this one is just another drop in the bucket of blogs about waiting tables. I guess the most famous one is Waiter Rant, although that one lost its significance when the guy got fired/quit his restaurant and wrote a book about the whole thing. I read the book. At times I found it funny but as a waiter, maybe it was too close to home, but in actuality I imagined working with this clown and I ended up not liking the guy or the book very much. I recently found another blog that has been getting some legs on the interwebs called The Bitchy Waiter. Again, some funny and valid gripes about the industry, and again; thank the baby jesus I don't work with this clown. I hate my job just as much as the next guy, but I try to see the positive side of it as much as I can. Yes, I will get in the weeds and hate everyone on the earth and wish I could just be at home watching Frankenweenie, but I know that sooner or later I will be in that exact spot so why worry about it. I know that these guys are really just venting their frustration about work onto the internet for everyones enjoyment, and I am glad they are doing that. The internet should know when they are being obnoxious when they go out to dinner. In fact, everyone should read these blogs so as to learn restaurant manners. Think about it. Back in the days, most places didn't allow children. You had to wear a blazer to dinner, shorts and jeans weren't allowed, and the ladies had to wear dresses. Going out to dinner was an event, not a mere formality. Now, that being said, I am sure that waiters back then had it a lot worse than the waiters of today. For one thing, the tips were way smaller, but then so was the bill. I mean, everything was cheaper back then, so of course they are going to get smaller tips, if any at all. Also, the customers back then were all children of the Depression, so they were probably extremely tight with the old purse strings and very vocal about it. I still have customers like this. I attribute their curmudgeonly ways to them being older than dirt, but I bet some of them have been that way since they were young and hip. The moral of the story is that there is always going to be bad customers, just like there is always going to be bad waiters. So, no matter how much these guys rant and bitch about the customers being complete idiots, the situation is never going to change. People are always going to have crazy requests, and it's only going to get worse. Food allergies are way more common these days than ever before, special diets and food regimens, and low/no carb people aren't going anywhere. They are going to be around forever, and I'm sure a lot of them don't like to cook because even they find themselves obnoxious, so they'll be dining out tonight and every night henceforth. I guess the only thing that these bloggers and all waiters nationwide can hope for, is that the new generation of diners learns how to tip. I think all of these bloggers should recommend the Tip Calculator App for the smart phones. There should be sponsored links on the sidebars of their blogs and little plugs in all of the blog posts. I mean, all the kids have smart phones and the app is FREE! Because, let's face it, if you're always getting good tips, how much bitching are you really allowed to do?
Apparently, a lot. Sad emoticon.

#42 "Space/Time Kissing Contest" October 12, 2011

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This one didn't start with the wine stain. I'm not sure if the wine stain was on purpose or not, either. I am pretty sure, the girl on the bike and the fox were the first things drawn here. The fox was actually drawn by Tim's girlfriend Catherine. Or, it was a collaboration. That was when Tim and I still worked together on Sunday nights. I still work the bar on Sunday night, so if you're not doing anything on Sunday, come down and hang out with me. Tim couldn't take the jazz any more. That, and Sundays are a nice day to spend with loved ones, not at a bar or at work, which are one in the same when you work at Cafe Loup. I personally miss him working on Sunday night, as it is my favorite shift at the Loup. For me, it is because I am the bartender and I love being behind the bar. It is so much more enjoyable than waiting tables. It is very different, anyway, which is why I like it so much. Waiters get no respect, while bartenders get all the love. I think it's because the bartender is the last person between you and the booze. A waiter is but a middle man; if your waiter won't get you some booze, you can always bypass him and get it straight from the bartender. The bartender is the guy who can cut you off and throw you out as well. Generally, a waiter has to go through a manager to throw someone out, although I guess they have the power to cut you off as well; but then if you are sneaky, you could always just go straight to the bar! We no longer have a traditional "manager" at the Loup anymore. Ardes is the de facto manager, but she also owns the place, so she's wearing a bunch of hats. I like this about the Loup as I feel like there is a special place in hell for restaurant managers. I have been saying that for years although I stopped for  a while after our last manager died. But then I thought about it, and if there is a traditional hell, like the one portrayed in the Bible, than our last manager is definitely there. He was the poster boy for behavior that would warm up your seat in hell for you. After he died, we didn't get another manager. We have a couple people who are close to being management, but they don't want the title, the pay, or the responsibility. I don't blame them; that is one thankless job, which is probably why managers get the reputation as hell-bound jerks. If you think waiters get no respect, managers get less than no respect; they are in the negative integer column! They are the ones who police the staff, so obviously no one likes them. They have to be there when the place opens and stay until it closes, so when you have 18 hour days every day, you're going to get a little cranky and short tempered. I understand this, which is why I would never want to be a manager myself. I am perfectly happy to stay behind the bar on Sunday nights spilling wine on the Triple Dupe Pads and turning its stain into a one-eyed, ample breasted alien girl with a high pony tail and diddly-boppers, thank you very much. Now, if I could just get Tim to come back and work with me, it would be perfect!
All of that having been said, this one remains one of my all time favorite T&J drawings.