My latest painting:

I wanted a photo of me punching that Mystery Box, and I couldn't take it myself, so I enlisted Mom's help. She has never played Super Mario Bros., and she didn't quite understand what I was after or, apparently, that you can keep pressing the shutter button on my phone to capture a whole bunch of images (because, you know, there's not actually a roll of film inside the phone). And that is how you get an expression like that on my face.

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My favorite barbeque joint is celebrating 100 years in business, so I painted them a birthday card:

That logo was designed by David Boyd and has been part of their street sign since at least 1992 when I worked my first ever summer job there as a curb hop, a position they have since eliminated, maybe because they had a hard time finding qualified curb hops. In my case, I just wrote whatever the customer said on my pad and handed it to the employee behind the register who re-wrote the order for the kitchen. Not that I didn't try; I think they just didn't trust me to take the orders correctly, and in all honesty, they were probably right. In addition to being my first job, it was the first job I was fired from.

(Don't feel bad for me. As lowest man on the totem pole, it was also my job to clean the barbeque pit every night. Being fired from shoveling grease out of an oven was an undisguised blessing. And I've since been fired from many jobs, so it would prove to be good training.)

Here's to one hundred more!

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I've shown Mighty Mouse before, but here he is by the mailbox, flying as the animation gods intended.

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Mister Trouble never hangs around when he hears this Mighty sound: "Here I come to save the day." That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!

He gets the situation well in hand!

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I just read that famous performance artist Yoko Ono, who everyone knows only because of her famous performance art and for no other reason, once published a "book of instructions" (Grapefruit) containing a conceptual think piece ("Number Piece 1") in which she instructed readers to "Count all the words in the book instead of reading them." My knee-jerk response to that knowledge was, "damn, that's stupid." That's the same as telling someone to go a museum and focus on measuring the size of all the frames. And then, as I was feeling very superior in my judgment, it dawned on me that counting the number of words in a book is exactly the sort of thing I might do without being prompted. (122 so far. Now 126. Is this art?)

I do not understood what this says about me, but I do have the sudden urge to go find a band to break up.

154.

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It's been over a year since I was in the local hospital, and they've updated their wall art:

Because it was so pleasant to be in the ER waiting room before there were giant bugs on the wall.

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I've almost finished my latest painting. Henry tells me it's pretty good.

And that's why dogs are a man's best friend.

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Back in May, Google drove through my neighborhood to update their Street View (for the first time since March 2022). Right now this is what you get if you Google my house:

The good news is that Google is very concerned about my privacy. Per their Google-Contributed Street View Imagery Policy (google.com/streetview/policy/):

We have developed cutting-edge face and license plate blurring technology that is designed to blur identifiable faces and license plates within Google-contributed imagery in Street View.

That's nice. But sometimes it isn't enough to blur just a face.

"I see you've noticed the ears. They're actually easy to explain...."

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I did not paint that. It came with the house when Mom bought it, along with carpet that smelled of cat piss and ceilings painted brown to match the walls. We got rid of the cat piss carpets and brown ceilings years ago, but the coconut trees have been here the whole time. Until now.

For reasons that are completely unrelated to the fact that we're having house guests next weekend, we've decided to finally paint the solid green laundry room in tasteful Icebreaker Blue, Dutch White, and Purple Prince to accompany the Weeping Wisteria in the adjacent mud room. (You can probably imagine what blue, white, and purple look like, but do you know what color wisteria is? Hint, hint.)

Anyway, when our house guests arrive and wonder why the house smells like fresh paint, well, that's just me hiding the nuts in the laundry room.

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You might think I'm kidding, but I really did just take this off the refrigerator:

Yes, those are cowboy boots with little jets in the heels. And no, there never was a time in my life when I wasn't obsessed with comic book super heroes.

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