To my dearest Internet,

I write to apologize  for not telling you I love you, for not renting billboards scrawled with messages of my affection for you and not telling everyone I meet that I believe in love at first sight, because it was the first time I laid eyes on you that I knew my life would never be the same.

If you leave me I will die, and if I cannot muster the will to overcome my instinct for self preservation I will, at the very least, be totally bummed out until my end comes.

Yours Forever,

Michael

I had to take a break from reading about people like this guy before my brain exploded (from “people used to be a million times cooler” overload) so I made this digital poster. Neat. When I get some time I would like to do something similar to this but IRH (in real human) with my flesh and bone paddywhackers.

Anyway, keep the dream alive. Manned mission to Mars by March 14. Can you dig it?

 Edit: Let’s stop for a rest here on our way.

It’s the beginning of a new year and the beginning of a lot of new projects. Basically, it’s do or die now. I have 2 days less than a full calender year to make it happen or volunteer my life to the American dream of food service for the rest of my time on this filthy excuse of a planet.

Here is one of my upcoming projects. These are sketches from a short book I am currently trying to explode out of my fingertips. It’s a story about winter, outer space and rockets that spans 5 billion years of progress in 16 pages of glorious text and illustration.

Some of my other goals for this year include, but are not limited to:

1. Draw one million pictures of the invisible forces of nature.

2. Have a secondary roll in a made-for-television movie.

3. See a human land on Mars… with my own eyes… (that means I was on Mars first, dummy.)

4. Upload my mind-brain to the web so that I can surf myself all day.

5. Go to Boom City! (by plane, train & aquatic-mobile)

So, in closing, good luck with your New Year’s resolutions. Please, send me your fake-believe positive energies to aid in my conquest of our beautiful solar system and all its lovely treasures. Thank you.

From the deepest depths of the void to full frontal splendor, this site has had a rough year and an even rougher last few days. In an attempt to stop the hemorrhaging, seizing and all-around fluid evacuation of this sputtering old homeless hag of an internet rest stop, I inadvertently quickened the process. I was sure that she was dead, without a drop of life in her, but as I crouched to empty her cup of pennies I heard a faint rattle emanate from her charred lungs. It was a final, instinctual push for life, a whimpering plea to the merciful gods of  hypertext. It was the desire, buried deep within every last corner of the web, to continue to survive no matter what the purpose, no matter who the audience and no matter what the cost.

So my faithful reader(s), fear not. A blast of lightning has reawakened her rhythm, beating like the fathers of old who stood atop mountains of anxious children, waiting for their birching. Every morning inspired high school girls scrub the filth and rust of misuse and neglect from the pulsing carcass. They submerge her in attention while tickling the keys that light up her face, knowing that soon enough the toothy woman from Mystic Pizza will go from Paul Walker to Cindy Crawford.

Don’t hold your breath, but this baby is getting a makeover… Sometime… Maybe soon…