Well, here’s Grandpa after a long hiatus, and I’m sorry to say it may be awhile ’til you see him again.  There’s only so much I can do with this guy–every single panel is just a variation on a theme.  I might bring him back if I’m ever struck with inspiration, but for now I feel like I need to work on something else.  Thanks to Grandpa Sex Machine’s fans for supporting him through my horrible updating schedule.

Let me start by saying that Grandpa Sex Machine is NOT based on my grandfather.

My real grandpa was definitely a charming guy who flirted with every woman he met, but he had class and was always a gentleman (not like Gus).

I’ve always heard the stories about how tough Grandpa was–how after he,  his crew mates, and their B-25 got shot up with .50 caliber machine guns and they were getting ready to land, he threatened the pilot that pulled into the flight path in front of him, even though the other guy out-ranked him.  How he kept the bullet in his back for 10 days because the flight surgeon said, “I’ll come back for that later–I’m too drunk right now.”  How they got shot down over China, bounced off a rice paddy, and flew the rest of the way home.  How after being stationed on Guam  his job was to fly inside typhoons (those are hurricanes to you and me).  On purpose.  Repeatedly.  How there were times inside a typhoon when they had the nose pointed straight down and the throttle all the way up but the altimeter kept climbing.

Those are the stories I heard about Grandpa.  What I knew about him first-hand was that he was the man who taught me the importance of filling every crater in your waffle with syrup.  He taught me the whole concept of “Ladies First,” including the bit about holding the door open.  We built a birdhouse together.  We sat at the bar together when I was little and he’d drink a dry martini while I drank a Shirley Temple.  He always insisted on picking up the tab.  He’s the first person I knew with a home computer (an Apple II+), and he encouraged my sister and I to use it/play with it/learn about it.

He had plans to live to 102 and get shot by a jealous husband, but it didn’t quite work out that way.

I love you Grandpa, and I miss you.

Are you in desperate need of some Grandpa Sex Machine merchandise?  I thought so.  That’s why I did you the favor of making Gus available on a skate deck.

But wait, there’s more!  For all of you old farts (like me) that’ll break a hip if you try to ollie, here’s the GSM longboard, built for cruisin’.

And finally, because all the kids dig the snow sports these days, the GSM snowboard, featuring Grandpa printed on a genuine Donek snowboard.  Sweet.

So think about this stuff for your Valentine–because nothing says “I Love You” like a dirty old man with a thong on his head.

Congratulations Barack Obama!

I’m voting for Barack Obama. You should too. Go vote now.

As I look over my website stats, I’m not surprised to see odd search terms giving me hits.  People google  proctology and are given link to my site.  They Ask Jeeves about a duplex kidney and are sent here.  The vast quantity of search terms that point this direction are variations on a theme:  grandpa sex, sex with grandpa, hot sexy grandpa, are all shockingly prevalent.  Seriously.  I’m not trying to judge, but…

Anyhow, a couple months back I noticed a lot of searches from all over the world for Charlie James.  People from France, Turkey, Hungary, Brazil, and the US, all searching for my name.  I knew I shared a name with an old St. Louis Browns baseball player, but I was resonably certain that these folks weren’t searching for either one of us.  I googled my own name and couldn’t find anyone that held any status worthy of such interest.

That’s when I turned off the safety filter.

As it turns out, not only do I share a name with a female porn star, but so does my wife.