My son wanted to see those chipmunks mentioned on page 1, so here they are on page 2. Hope you dig.

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First off, let me wish Casimir Pulaski a heartfelt “Happy Birthday.”

The image on this page is where it all started. Well not quite. It all REALLY started with a Pottery Barn catalog one Christmas when my son was a tiny little boy. On the page of the catalog where Pottery Barn had its rocking horses, there was one rocking horse that was actually a moose. Truman’s Grandma Marsha decided this was so cute, her grandson just had to have it. So that Christmas morning, Truman rode on a moose for the first time, and had a good time with it until he eventually got old enough to not be interested in such things. We set the moose aside, and some years later, Truman’s little sister Wini had her first turn riding a moose.

She, like Truman, had a lot of fun. Truman played with her as she rode the moose, and I was just struck by this look of nostalgia on his face–not a look I expected to see on the face of a 9-year-old. I found myself wishing they could ride a moose together, so I drew it.

In the original sketch, for some reason I drew the hilt of a katana sticking out of Truman’s backpack. In my head, the fact that it was there to fight zombies was just sort of assumed, and rather obvious really.

“Katana? Is that for the zombies?”
“Of course. What else would it be for?”

As I looked at the sketch, I thought, “Wait a minute. Where would a 9-year-old get a samurai sword? Don’t be ridiculous.” That’s when I changed it to a crowbar… because that made perfect sense.

Anyhow, I’ve redone the antlers since that original concept, but other than that, it’s mostly the same. The old antlers are still available on a skateboard deck, btw.

Oh, and if you find yourself trying to turn the phrase “riding the moose” into some sort of filthy euphemism, then you are officially a sick bastard.

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Ok, here we go!

This is the cover for chapter one of The Moose Riders. Yesterday was my daughter’s 5th birthday, and since I started this whole thing when she was, what… 2? 3? Well, it’s about time I get moving on it, don’t you think? For those of you who are fans of Grandpa Sex Machine, apologies for the lack of cleavage in this title.

Thanks to Sarah, Chris, and JT for the critiques/advice, and thanks to my son Truman and my daughter Wini for inspiring this whole thing from the beginning.

Check back next week for page 1!

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This was probably the second or third Grandpa Sex Machine thing I ever did–Made it for my brother-in-law Tim for Christmas years ago.

Hope your Holidays are happy and spent with people you love.  And if a hot elf sits on your lap, even better.

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A Zombie Apocalypse separates two children from their parents while on a camping trip in Alaska. The kids befriend a moose who becomes their guardian against the shambling hordes.

I’ve been slowly putting this comic together for awhile now and have finally quit dragging my feet on it. Hoping to start making pages available to read beginning in Jan. or Feb.

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…for her pouty lips.

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Trying to get back in the habit of regular updates.  Don’t have my new comic ready yet, so I’m posting stuff from my sketchbook.  Drew this yesterday–graphite, colored pencil, PITT brush pen, and correction fluid on toned ground paper.

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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.

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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.

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