This album needs to be out now. It needs to be in my ears.
Don Rosa Does The Art For A Prog Rock Concept Album About Scrooge McDuck From Finland
By Chris Sims
Don Rosa‘s The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a comic book masterpiece. It’s one of my all-time favorite stories, a tribute to one of the all-time greats, Carl Barks, by a guy who isn’t too far shy of that title himself. Expertly researched and threaded through an existing continuity in a way that’s still incredibly accessible to readers. And yet, every time I read it, I find myself thinking “wouldn’t this be better if it was told through the timeless medium of Finnish prog rock?”
It’s the album I never knew I wanted.
For those that don’t know, Onyx Path Publishing is holding an open call for new freelancer writers (and they clarified a few things). While I’m not involved in the process, I spent years going through the “slush pile” of unsolicited submissions. I saw just about every mistake it is possible to make in attempting to get hired. Here are a few of them, so you can avoid making the same mistakes if…
Some great advice and a good opportunity!
It was only when the three of us were twenty thousand feet in the air that I could finally think of some sort of protest.
“I’ve just discovered that I’ve developed a fear of heights,” I said. “Right here. Right now.”
“What was that, honey?” said my mother. “You’ll have to speak louder!”
No dice. The plane was too loud. I had two choices now: taking the fast way out by skydiving with my mother and my step dad, Erik, or staying on the plane alone and having to wait it out. I already knew I wasn’t going to just sit here for any longer than I had to.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
Subject matter’s a bit unorthodox, but THAT FIDDLE
Last night I was up late and this was on my mind, so I sketched it out. I think it was the fox picture I posted last that brought it to the front, played out again like a picture show. It’s just rough, I thought someday I’d draw it out better. But sometimes the urge to draw a thing takes over a bit - and I’m awful impatient when it comes to drawing long strips, unfortunately.
Some backstory, as some know, I worked for two years in the Tar Sands of Fort McMurray, in various mining sites. I paid my student loans off, I saved a bit, and I started cartooning as a job when I left. Not everyone’s experiences there are the same, this was just a part of my own. It’s a complicated place that I think of every day, and there are scenes that never leave my mind.
This is one night at the Syncrude site, in January 2006. Click for the whole thing, here
It’s 1:21 in the morning, I’m writing, and I’ve got a song in my head. I’d like to share it with you.
Here’s Quarter Chicken Dark from Yo Yo Ma, Edgar Meyer, Chris Thile, and Stuart Duncan from their album The Goat Rodeo Sessions.
Inspired by “That Changes Everything” by Cathryn Alpert
There are times now when I make sure I’m all alone. I sit perfectly still, I put two fingers over my wrist, and I feel my pulse. I do this for a few minutes, a few times a day. Every time I do, I almost convince myself that my body has not betrayed me.
The last time I saw my son, his daughter held herself close to my chest. She kept her ear to my breast, and said my heart sounded like a horse. She asked if hearts ever take a break, and that mine was working too hard. My son pulled her away before I could tell her the problem is that it’s not working hard enough.
It’s just a simple operation, Jig.
That’s all I hear when my doctor speaks.
“Just think of it as another fast, Mom”, he says, “It’s like Lent!”
I pour another helping of pasta onto his plate.
“If I’m fasting”, I tell him, “You are picking up the slack.”
I took a look at the wait list while my doctor wasn’t looking. There are fourteen people waiting for a new heart. One of them is nine.
Do you think hospitals apologize to your family if you die before you get the help you need?
The mask is snug over my mouth and nose. The anesthetist looks proud of herself.
“Now”, she says, “Countdown from ten.”
I only make it to “eight”.
I decided, before the operation, that since I wouldn’t be able to dream during the whole thing, I could make up my own to remember, if I wanted.
It would be a better icebreaker than talking about this.
There is a family at a table, and they are whole. There is food at the table, and it is plenty. There is love at the table, and it is real. The table is round, like the one King Arthur had, and there are no empty seats.
They do not talk about hearts, or insurance, or Lent, or heart break. They just are.
I am awake in a bed, and there is a scar.
I am alone, and my fingers find their way to my wrist. I take my pulse. It is still there. That changes everything.
There are flowers and cards, and I make sure to read every one. There is one with a picture of a horse, drawn by a clumsy hand. It is sleeping.
I keep that one near me. I make sure that I wake up to that every day.
Thanks to an argument with the-mad-doctor-gradamit, I ended up creating this MSpainted monstrosity. I figured that since is the most complete thing I have in a long while, I should share it with all of you!
It’s not entirely comprehensive (if I had better layout, there’d be so much more, you don’t even know), some of it is splitting hairs, and plenty of it is heavily Western-Centric, but here is an overlook at the Supernatural.