Gordon begins his day, embarking on the treacherous journey to his bathroom. This page marks the big switch from ink to sloppy pencils. Is that style, or is that laziness? You be the judge–I’m okay either way.

Again with the Chuck Norris…

You know, the first time I read one of those lists about how awesome Chuck Norris is, I thought is was pretty funny. I even laughed out loud a few times. The first time. After hearing/reading 63 hundred some-odd more jokes about it, it seems to have lost something. Yes, I get it. Deifying a b-list celebrity is funny. The thought that all of life’s problems can be solved with a roundhouse kick to the face holds some appeal. Humanity’s greatest accomplishments being credited to the badassitude of one man who, in actuality, is merely a quasi-badass is pretty entertaining. But enough already. I get it. Can we please move on now?

In the future, we will have machines that answer the telephone for us, SO WE DON’T HAVE TO. This will free us up to do other, more important tasks, like groan miserably and hold pillows over our heads.

Serenity/Firefly

Okay, I know I’m late for this bandwagon, but holy crap, that stuff is sweet. I’ve always dug Buffy the Vampire Slayer (hell, my wife and I even taped over our wedding w/ a Buffy re-run), but for some reason I never caught an episode of Firefly when it was on. I just assumed I could catch up on it in the off season and then catch season 2 from the beginning. Obviously, that didn’t work out.

Anyhow, we rented Serenity last week and it kicked so much ass, that when my wife found the Firefly DVD set on sale, she grabbed it. Watched half the series yesterday, and I’m angry that in 7 more episodes, I’ll never see a new one. I’m a geek.

Sorry this is a few hours late (like you were sitting there hammering the F5 key or something), but the holiday on Monday threw me off–I had forgotten that Wednesday was here already.

Anyhow, here’s Gordon waking up with the sound of thunder ringing in his ears. It’s actually the sound of ringing thundering in his ears, but it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference to him. At least you now know what all those weird letter Rs from last time are supposed to be.

My daughter’s 1st birthday and Francois Mitterand’s last meal

Yesterday was my daughter’s first birthday. That year went fast. Of course I’m still having a hard time believing that my son is already 7. Geez I’m old. Anyhow, we had a party for her on Sunday, and while talking to my brother-in-law Dwight, the conversation turned to Francois Mitterand’s last meal. I’ll skip the details, but if you’re curious, just Google it or check out Wikipedia or something. Now I’m usually a pretty tolerant guy, but those freakin’ Frogs are just plain weird. Who was the guy that figured out that the way a tiny songbird tastes the best is after it’s been force fed and then drowned in brandy? I realize that French cuisine doesn’t have the patent on cruelty, and that any culture that’s foreign to you is going to seem…foreign, but WOW.

And have you noticed that when someone says something like “I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but…” or “I’m not a rascist or anything, but…” they usually follow it up w/ something vile and offensive?

Lousy Frogs.

See that bit about puking? It might be a bit too obvious to be called foreshadowing if I come right out and say “He’s gonna puke soon,” but guess what? He’s gonna puke soon! This one’s dedicated to anyone out there who’s ever woken up hungover on a futon (and who hasn’t, right?)

Not much happening in today’s comic. Remember when I mentioned the pacing problems? I guess that’s abundantly clear here.

Nashville, TN

Just got back Monday night from a weekend trip to Nashville–saw the Gibson World Headquarters, which was pretty cool. Wish I had a banjo. My wife went w/ her sister to this cross-stitch market thing (my sister-in-law designs cross-stitch), and my brother-in-law and I went along as baby wranglers. Needle arts aren’t really my thing, but it was a pretty cool set-up. Unlike a typical convention kind of huge-room-full-of-tables sort of thing, each designer had a suite at the Embassy Suites hotel. Looking up at the balconies surrounding the central courtyard of the hotel, you could see banners hanging over the rail for each designer. Then you could go check out their suite, where they had all their stuff on display for purchase. The only down-side was my daughter picked up a nasty cold on the trip–by the time the weekend was over, my bicep was sore from all the baby-holding.

Anyhow, check back Friday for the new Grandpa Sex Machine.

The filthy gas station restroom was fun to draw. Back when I was a teacher’s aide in a Jr. High LD/BD classroom, we had this one student who insisted on writing “Chad is Cool” on any flat surface he came in contact with. This kind of graffiti, while not big and fancy, was still less than subtle–we always knew who had written it, because Chad was the only one who thought he was cool enough to write about. If you’ve got good eyes, you might be able to see the on-going debate between Chad and those who think he is less than cool.