December 31 -  Well, this is it.  Yet another year has flown by, and what a year it was!  There were lots of amazing or important stories, both in the world in general, and in The World of Monkey.  As is customary in such situations, I began to assemble a special "top ten" list of this year's big events here at WOMP.  The problem is, no matter what category I came up with ("Top Ten WOMP Blunders of 2004," "Top Ten Simple Lessons Learned in 2004," etc.), I just couldn't find ten things for the list.  This happened last year, too.  On that occasion, I posted WOMP's 2003 Top Ten "Top Ten" Lists With Only One Thing On Each List (Instead of Ten).  This year, I have a different solution.  So, without further ado, I now present to you -

WOMP's Top Ten Stories of 2004 Or Key Causes of Irritable Male Syndrome (Also Called IMS)

Number Ten - This year marked the 20th anniversary of my graduation from high school.  Ugh!  I hate to even think about it!  Not so much because this now affirms the assumption that I am getting older, but because it also brings back a flood of memories from a slightly unpleasant era, both personally and nationally.  Needless to say, I did not attend either of the two competing reunions.

Number Nine - Hormonal changes.

Number Eight - I attended several comic book conventions this year, and set up the WOMP booth at two.  The I-Con, at the Iowa State Fairgrounds, was a new one for me.  I met some great people, including Official Friend of WOMP, Mr. Brian Payne.  I've lost track of how many Minnesota Comic Book Association FallCons I've set up at, but this year had to be around the twelfth!  All in all, I didn't make a killing at these shows, but I had fun, met old friends, made new ones, and kept my name, and WOMP's, in circulation for another year.

Number Seven - I had some minor successes as an "artist" during 2004.  The issue of Oziana, for which I provided several illustrations, was released, I drew even more caricatures than I did in 2003, presented several of my The Adventures of Comics lecture workshops, and I even donated a painting to the local historical society, which they auctioned for a donation of $100.00!  Pretty cool, and somewhat shocking!

Number Six - Biochemical changes or imbalance.

Number Five - One of our kitties, Danny Boy, died unexpectedly in the morning of the day when we took in a new cat, Orange Kitty, later that evening.  Danny was a sweetheart of a cat, and it was very hard for us (and anyone else who ever knew him) when he passed away.  By sheer coincidence, we were working on a wild stray for almost two months by that point, finally bringing him in on that same day.  Because he had been a stray for so long, his "outside" nickname, Orange Kitty, became his "real" name when he began to come to us when we used it (although sometimes we just call him OK).  He's now fitting right into our family very nicely, and I'm sure that it has helped us with Danny's loss to have a new little friend in the house. 

Number Four - Changes in stress patterns, or stress management.

Number Three - OK, who didn't see this coming?  For yet another year, I have neglected to publish the fabled fifth issue of The Adventures of Monkey.  It's not like I don't want to get it done.  I can barely stand to write about it...it makes me almost sick!  I have the story written, plans for what will go where and who will do what, but I just can't come up with the money.  That, and I'm pathetic and lazy.  And talentless.  And dumb.  Sigh...

Number Two - On a sad note, 2004 saw the passing of people who were (and always will be) very important to me.  In a year where a deadly tsunami struck the Indian Ocean, and some of my personal heroes, like Christopher Reeve and Jerry Orbach, died, I also lost my mentor and my grandmother.  Loretta Grellner was as much a mentor to me as anyone in my life.  A talented and deep-thinking (and deep-feeling) artist, she came out of semi-retirement to conduct art instruction classes for a small group of local kids back in the early 1980's...and I was lucky enough to be one of those kids.  She passed away unexpectedly, shortly after I, and my friend Bill, had a happy reunion with her during a fun, and funny, dinner.  My Grandma, Leona Fry, had been unwell for about a year when she passed away.  We thought we were going to lose her much earlier when she, and my Grandpa, were in a car accident.  We made the most of that time with visits and hugs.  She was a remarkable, loving woman, more or less self-taught, who kept a daily diary for most of her life.  Beyond the love that she and I shared, or the many lessons that I learned from her over the years, she also provided the inspiration for this ol' WOMP-Blog itself!

Number One - (drumroll please....)  Loss of male identity!

Well, friends, that's it for this year, I guess.  I'm off now to retire my 2004 signature, and to develop my 2005 version.  If you'd like to learn more about IMS, check out http://www.theirritablemale.com/ on the Internet.  If you want to learn more about The World of Monkey, or my crazy yet boring life, keep on reading the ol' WOMP-Blog!  Thanks for stopping by!  Have a safe and happy New Year!  See ya!

December 30 -  Hiya!  I gotta be honest with you, kids.  I'm going to more-or-less ignore tonight's entry here in the ol' WOMP-Blog.  I spent a pretty good portion of the day today planning tomorrow's big year-end entry, then went in to the dumb "real" job.  Now it's almost midnight, and I am going to try to catch a little extra sleep tonight in preparatin for tomorrow's "excitement."  I did want to mention, though, that I am currently offering the Thought-Beast of Krypton art, of which I wrote a couple of nights ago, for sale on eBay (as well as another stupid creature from the same old issue of Action Comics and a character study of Marvel's Morbius).  If you'd like to look at them, click HERE!  See ya later!

December 29 -  I've been thinking a lot about the victims of the tsunami around the Indian Ocean.  Of course, my heart goes out to everyone there.  I can't imagine how unbearable life is going to be for them for quite some time, and I'm trying to figure out a way to help.  This event principally hit the same area where the infamous Krakatoa volcano erupted over a hundred years ago.  That tragedy, which will be remembered forever on the sad list of the world's great natural disasters, killed less than half the number of people who perished in this latest disaster.  Much like the tragic events of 9/11/01, it's hard to watch the television coverage of the disaster, and even more difficult to grasp the tragic scope of it.  It is in the midst of these television reports that I learned that a hero of mine, Mr. Jerry Orbach, had died today.  Probably best known as Detective Briscoe on the Law & Order TV series, Mr. Orbach was a true Renaissance Man, who, as far as I can tell, could do everything but fly.  He starred in Broadway musicals, played tough cops and dads and such on television and in film, was a trick-shot pool expert, the voice of an animated candlestick, and one of the truly great New Yorkers of our times.  Mostly, though, he was to me a supremely confident, superbly talented man who was also a gracious and giving "man of the people."  In my best moments, I hope to be like him some day.  The problem is that, in light of the tens of thousands of people who died suddenly in the tsunami this week, cut down in the prime of life when they least expected it, I am now feeling very guilty that Mr. Orbach's death, of prostate cancer at the age of 69, has even gotten my attention, nonetheless my sympathy.  It reminded me of the attention that the death of Princess Diana got, while Mother Theresa's death, which happened at the same time, received little notice comparatively.  I guess that, when it comes to emotions, especially for our concepts of people (I don't, for example, actually know anyone from the tsunami area, nor did I ever meet Jerry Orbach), we are ruled more by the heart than the head.  You can feel regret for your disproportionate emotional responses (as I do right now), but you also can't help feeling the way that you do.  That's just the way it is.  If it were different, and we spent only that amount of emotion on situations as they required, balanced against an emotion-level scale of some sort, we'd be Vulcans.  That's the deal with emotion.  It answers to no other force.  In creating Mr. Spock, Gene Roddenberry knew that, so did Polish artist David Borenstein when he said "Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions."

December 28 -  Oh, I just am too stupid to think of anything to write about tonight.  I completely forgot about the ol' WOMP-Blog last night, which is just as well, since I couldn't have thought about much of anything to write then, either.  How do those daily comic strip folks do it?  Something funny every day, rain or shine.  I suppose that it helps that they focus everything on that task, whereas I consider the ol' WOMP-Blog as an afterthought, at best.  And they have talent.  That helps, I'm sure.  Ugh.  This has been the kind of day that I'd have gotten more out of had I just stayed in bed.  Bleh.  For every stumbling shuffle-step forward today, I fell back three or four.  Surprisingly, I did draw a fully-inked piece featuring a creature from the original DC continuity.  From Action Comics #310 (1964), I drew a Thought-Beast of Krypton.  The monster was so stupid, so impossibly dumb, that I just had to put pen to paper to depict one.  The idea behind the creature, which looks a bit like a rhino, was that it had a huge TV screen on the top of its head, on which was projected the beast's every primal thought (for example, in the story, the screen showed the beast eating Superman).  Stupid, insipid, utterly ridiculous.  This is the kind of garbage that nearly killed comics (thank goodness for Stan Lee, et al, who moved Marvel, which, in turn, moved comics at that time, toward a brighter future).  The principle of the thought-projection screen on an animal has so many problems, that it would have been easier for the original artist (Curt Swan?) to quit the book rather than to depict the monster as anything close to believable.  So, I set about solving those problems!  I won't even go into the moronic reasons for the confrontation between Supes and the Thought-Beast.  Let's just imagine that, long ago, in the wilds of Krypton, such  beast existed.  Problem #1 - How could a wild animal imagine a third-party perspective of an act in which it hoped to participate?  The image on the thought-screen was of the beast eating Superman (almost like another panel of the comic), not of the beast's muzzle and horned-nose wrapped over Superman's mid-section (a more natural concept of what an animal might see or imagine).  Well, actually, the story has a solution for this one.  The Thought-Beast lived very near bejeweled, crystalline formations.  As they were highly reflective, it is conceivable that a beast might evolve with a pretty good concept of what it looks like.  Also, it would have seen, in the facetted reflections of the enormous jewels, vignetted scenes of it's normal activities.  OK, so it's sort of explainable, in a comic book sort of way, as to why they see the entire image of themselves doing things when they thought-project. Problem #2 - Why on Earth (oops, I mean Krypton) WOULD an animal reveal it's thoughts for others, especially prey, to see?  Uh, this is a bit of a stumper.  From the story, it is clear that the thoughts are the beast's true intentions, so we can rule out subterfuge.  Confusing an opponent is a possibility, or even intimidation...or, how about mesmerization?  The confusion would act much like the fake "eye" patterns on certain bugs, making them seem bigger than they are, or facing away, etc..  The intimidation factor of the projections would be pretty obvious, like guys yelling as they charge in battle.  The image would also have a sort of entrancing effect, much in the way some people watch a tornado heading for them, but don't move because they are so transfixed.  A healthy combination of these elements, coupled again with the reflective nature of the surrounding jewels, may actually have some sort of natural sense to why a Thought-Beast would do what it did.  Problem #3 - What was the TV screen?  Was the Thought-Beast some sort of half-animal, half-machine?  Here I had an immediate idea.  Just as there are many animals on Earth with extremely complex systems of natural adaptive camouflage (most noteworthy being the cuttlefish), I postulated that such a process is involved on the membrane which stretches across the beast's "screen."  In the story, Superman was "saved" when the beast was attacked by an unseen man, after which it turned and ran.  The thought-screen, during the attack, was blank.  Much like an animal which flees when it encounters a situation in which it can not seamlessly blend in, the Thought-Beast ran when it's greatest natural tool was rendered useless (probably because it would otherwise have shown thoughts of it's own demise).  SO, armed with this re-imagining of the biomechanics behind the creature, I drew a Thought-Beast.  The image on the ugly critter's thought-membrane shows a man (in classic Kryptonian garb) being chomped by the beast.  It looks like a combination of pigment and texture changes, which have a much more naturalistic look than the original fully inked image of Superman from the story.  The size of the Thought-Beast also suggests that it eats larger, and presumably more intelligent, prey than a smaller carnivore might.  So, it's OK that it looks a bit like a rhino, since it's prey would have to be able to at least marginally recognize the forms on the thought-membrane.  Wait a minute.  I just wrote something after all, didn't I?  Oh, well...

December 26 -  Yikes!  December 26th?  Where has the year gone?  It seems like only a couple of months ago when I was thinking about summarizing the events of 2003 for this ol' WOMP-Blog, and now I'm already doing the same for 2004!  I suppose that it's inevitable that I compose some sort of "Top Ten of 2004" list as the days count down to 2005, but I want to do something unique, if possible.  I have a couple of ideas, but I am also open to suggestion.  Other than thinking about that, I haven't done much today.  We took my Grandpa back to the retirement home, and did some shopping while we were out, but have otherwise been just loafing around WOMP H.Q. in a turkey and cookie induced stupor.  I have been thinking about some goals for next year as I've been lounging, I guess.  Nothing specific, but some general areas of possible focus.  All in all, this has been a day of surprising reflection.  Oh, and I have begun to contemplate the annual "Changin' o' The Signature" that I go through every year.  Well, I'll say goodnight now. Bye! 

December 25 -  No entry tonight. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

December 24 -  Hiya, gang!  OK, so it's Christmas Eve, and we here at WOMP H.Q. are pretty well whipped from a long day of hopping from one house to another, seeing as many different combinations of family and friends as possible.  The highlight of the day was probably when we drove to Richland Center to pick up my Grandpa.  He had been suffering from pneumonia earlier in the week, and his two day visit with us was in doubt.  However, he has gotten a lot better in the last day or so, which means that we'd get to share the Holiday with him after all.  In fact, I'd better wrap this up for now so that I can get some sleep in preparation for an even longer day tomorrow.  Besides, doesn't Santa know when I am sleeping?  I sure don't want to mess that up!  Have a Happy Christmas! 

December 23 -  A little more "Blast From The Past" stuff tonight.  This entry will be a transcription of notes scribbled on six over-sized Post-It Notes.  For the last couple of years of my days in high school, and the first few years after that, I was convinced that "MY" character, the one for which I would always be remembered, was a guy named Vladic.  He is a sort of super-dude with an increasingly shaky grip on his sanity, but he doesn't really have powers.  Vladic is immortal.  That is his "thing."  He was going to have a series of encounters, much like the TV shows The Fugitive and The Incredible Hulk, where he sort of breezed into town (or a planet), got embroiled in something, solved it, and kept on a-rollin' along...always driven to keep moving by an unseen force.  I still like Vladic, even having gone so far as to include him, along with several other characters, in ghostly cameo form behind Monkey in the last panel of the Zero Issue story in T.A.O.M. #1.  He is the gnarly looking guy with the horrible scars all over his face.  These six sheets are from 1986, and they cover a lot of my early thinking on Vladic, and on life in general.  Enjoy (?) -

1)  There's a certain dignity to a scar.  It represents, if nothing else, that the person scarred made it through whatever caused it.  A "deforming" scar carries this one step further, in that one can not help admiring the person scarred for his bravery in not hiding away from society.

2)  A scar is a thing of permanence, something that, for the rest of your life, will remind you of the unpleasant circumstances surrounding its origin every time you look in a mirror, or meet a person, or casually run your fingers across it.  In reality, then, you receive TWO SCARS.

3)  Mr. Vladic is scarred.  Deformed for eternity. The deep red lines and creeping black trenches that infest his body, mirror those in his mind.  In an immortal life, the first 80 years should seem so insignificant that they would scarcely amount to even a fraction of the smallest amount of time that a normal man measures his life with, yet...

4)  ...it is the memory of mistakes made in that equivalent of a fraction of a second that will haunt Vladic for the rest of ETERNITY.  But, what is "ETERNITY?"  Man is born, lives, and dies.  Is eternity only for the living, or is it only for the dead?

5)  The summation of a man's life is his eternity.  He keeps it in a back pocket or under his pillow.  But death brings another eternity, one unto itself.  Once a man has died, a "free" eternity begins, one unencumbered by concepts and theories.

6)  Vladic knows this in his heart, if not his mind.  Part of what drives him on, of what SCARS him, is the fact that if the current unbearable eternity should end, yet another would begin.  Knowing that the second eternity is inevitable is probably what keeps us sane, even if in constant dread.

That's it.  Interesting, especially since I think I jotted it all down while driving! 

December 22 -  OK, so I've been looking over some of these so-called "Blast From The Past" story ideas, and it occurred to me that there was a reason why I left them in the past; they are all almost exactly the same!  It's like I had a kernel of an idea, and I kept trying to find the best way to turn that kernel into a full-fledged story.  And they are all way too serious, a side-effect of my on-again-off-again delusions of being a writer.  Here is the general theme from which every story concept seemed to stem - Love is Death, Death is Love.  That, and I like to write about hot girls, apparently.  Remember, these stories also come from my less than spectacular bachelorhood, so there seems to be a healthy amount of wishful thinking in them, along with some surprisingly unhealthy frustrations.  In some respects, these story concepts are like a diary, written in secret code or something.  They are not so much direct transcripts of my life back then as they are Rorschach ink blotches for me to try to interpret now.  In that way, they are funny, but only to me as I reflect on both how serious I was when I wrote them, and how mediocre (at best) they were all along.  Oh, and there are TONS of them!  I have notebook after notebook filled with this junk!  To be honest, though, most of that takes the form of extremely short notes or even just potential character names.  In fact, this sort of quick note idea-journal sparked one of my most successful creative tools, which, of course, I can't find now that I am writing about it.  Although I used this tool on a couple of occasions, it was Eric Gillitzer, creative genius and Founder of The International Order of Friends of WOMP, who benefited from it most.  "It" was a small pile of two-inch-square slips of paper, on each of which was written a possible title.  Whenever Eric's idea-well was running a little dry, he could pull out two or three of these titles from a hat and write something from the ideas they provoked.  In fact, this is sort of how and why I came up with the FALLFIRE contest earlier this year.  The pile of possible titles worked in much the same way.  Anyhoo, just to illustrate the point, here, transcribed, is a sample page from one of my idea-journals...enjoy!

- Scientific Murder - man pours bowl of Corn Flakes, adds Carbon Peroxide crystals, which he mistakes for sugar, and then pours on watered-down milk.  The resulting explosion will flame six to ten feet high and send shards of the cereal and the bowl out like shrapnel.  Man is murdered.

- funny cowboy name - CLIFF HANGER

- yet another - ROCKY RIDGE

- and another - RUSTY NAILS

- how about General Refuse as himself?

- don't forget Johnny Wunnote, musical detective!

- A CROSSWALK in the Road of Life

- A name for an elf or other such mythologically inspired character - LAERIK

- Reason to volunteer - "Don't think of it as taking time out of your life, think of it as putting life into your time!"

- People with ESP are always presented as the next step on the mind's evolutionary ladder, but what if it were just the opposite?  People with ESP say that they have no control over what they perceive.  What if "regular" people, MANY years ago, all had ESP powers and have since evolved to such a point that they automatically CAN control, and subsequently ignore, them?  This leaves open the possibility that everyone is truly empowered with ESP, except those few who currently are considered to be psychic!

- The only real crystal ball is a rear-view mirror.

- In ancient Egypt, the Ba, or soul of a man, was represented by a bird with a human head, supposed to leave the body at death, but expected eventually to return, and, if the body has been preserved, together with the Khu (transfigured soul or intelligence) and the Ka (the genius of the body itself) to revivify it.  The Ba is eternal, immortal, and becomes divine.  Now, if that doesn't sound like elements of a super-person's secret origin, I don't know what does!

- funny cowboy name again - RIP SNORTER!

- the thermometer was invented on December 22nd, 1593

There.  That's one whole page from one of my tattered tablets of hastily jotted, and heavily jumbled, notes and ideas.  As you can see, I picked this one because the December 22nd date mentioned matches up with today.  So, with that in mind, Happy Thermometer Invention Day!  See ya!

December 21 -  Another "Blast From The Past" story for ya.  Looking at it, I see that it is also "death-centric," and somewhat similar to the one from a couple of nights ago.  This one, based in part on an neighbor of mine, is called -

Dancing at Midnight

It's getting pretty late, but that doesn't matter much.  It's not like he has a job or a school to go to or anything.  In fact, there's not much to do at all.  He has played every video game in the house, like about a million times.  There's nothing on TV.  The only things he has left are his music, and his room.  His room, specially equipped for his wheelchair, is in all other ways typical for a teenage guy.  Posters on the walls feature half nude girls and goth-gear bands.  CDs are thrown in stacks on every semi-flat surface.  Dirty clothes lie in piles, accented by empty Pepsi cans and McDonalds wrappers.  A bit messy, I suppose, but who cares?  It's not like anyone ever visits.  The closest thing to a visitor he has is his physical therapist, and those "visits" are not worth cleaning for.  In fact, the therapist is a sour, unfriendly older woman who, with a self-righteous smirk, always manages to remind him that his Muscular Dystrophy prevents his muscles from building back up if they are broken down, so "there isn't any real reason to exercise."  He hates her, of course, but he knows that she is right.  He'd been told for years that he won't see the next, so it's not like a surprise or anything.  In fact, he has been feeling much worse recently, and about the only thing he could still do without some sort of help is listen to his tunes, and dream...for dreaming is about as close as he will get to the girl who moved into the old house across the street.  He didn't see when her family moved in because he was in the hospital at the time, but he has caught glimpses of her at night through her bedroom window as she danced in her underwear.  Pretty cool.  So, here he is, alone, looking for the right music.  He picks out a good CD, a special mix of his own, then puts on his earphones and settles in by his window facing the street.  Some time passes, and he may have drifted to sleep a couple of times when he suddenly sees a light go on across the street.  It's her.  She is just hanging out, listening to her own music.  In the dark of his room, she appears almost like a figure on a movie screen, flickering in the midnight stillness.  She's just a girl, maybe seventeen, but there is something about her...something so "right," you know?  She has short jet-black hair which hangs in her eyes, and she's wearing a small white top with matching sleep-shorts.  She closes her eyes and starts to dance, arms in the air, spinning and bopping, and free.  It's almost like she's dancing to the same music that he's listening to.  But, doesn't she realize that people can see her?  If she does, she doesn't seem to care.  He drives his chair forward a little, into the light, when, suddenly, she sees him!  He can't turn or run, obviously, so he just freezes.  She stops dancing for a minute, then cocks her head slightly to the side and smiles...and starts dancing again...for him!  He can't believe it.  She doesn't mind at all!  In fact, she gestures to him to dance too.  He points to his wheelchair and shrugs his shoulders.  Never missing a beat, she smiles and eggs him on anyway.  Obligingly, he manages to sort of nod his head, and then kind of pump his fist in the air.  She laughs and begins to dance and whirl even more wildly.  He starts to get into it, too.  Now he's got a sort of dance routine down; pump fist, nod head, keep the beat with other hand.  Soon, he, too, is rocking out in his chair.  They stare at each other, and dance, together, so intently that he almost didn't notice that his feet started tapping, and, by the time he leapt from the wheelchair and began to dance around the room, he'd forgotten everything else.  It was like she was right in the room with him, or that they were dancing together in some other place and time where there was no such thing as MD and his body was free of pain and...and......and when the therapist found him the next morning, slumped in his wheelchair, his special mix was still playing.  In her morbid righteousness, she shook her head as she called to report his death.  "What a waste!" she thought, "He died listening to that stupid trash music, looking out a window at the empty lot across the street."

That's it.  I like that one, but, again, it needs some work.  Well, goodnight for now!  Keep on dancing!

December 20 -  As many of you know, I am a collector of lots of strange things.  Besides the NASCAR memorabilia, comic books, vintage quilts, and ancient talismans of limitless power, I also collect quotes!  I just found a tablet filled with some of my favorites.  While some of them may be found in Bartlett's Quotes, most were read in interviews or overheard on TV and such.  Here is a sampling, which should give you an idea of my peculiar tastes;

"The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat." - Lilly Tomlin

"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try!" - Beverly Sills

"Imagination is more important than knowledge." - Albert Einstein

"Fate protects fools, little children, and ships named 'Enterprise!'" - Jonathan Frakes as Wil Riker

"I've never met a man worse than I am!" - George Orwell

"If at first you don't succeed, switch to power tools." - Red Green

"It's OK to be filled with hate...people suck!" - Mark Marin

"No matter how cynical you get, it's never enough to keep up." - Lilly Tomlin again

"Humor is just truth, only faster." - Gilda Radner

"Always do what is right.  It will gratify some and astonish the rest." - Mark Twain (lots of Twain in my little tablet)

"Good taste is the death of art." - Truman Capote

"Good things come to those who wait, but crap comes right away." - Rich Hall

"Dreams are not made to put us to sleep, but to awaken us." - Goemans (?)

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with a lot of pleasure!" - Clarence Darrow

"A day where you don't create something that wasn't there the day before is a day lost." - Buddy Ebsen

"The visionary is the only true realist." - Frederico Fellini

"Instant gratification takes too long." - Carrie Fisher

"The mind's the measure of the man" - John Merrick ("The Elephant Man")

"To punish me for my contempt for authority, Fate made me an authority myself!" - Albert Einstein again

"Having a family is like having a bowling alley installed in your head." - Martin Mull

"One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is always making exciting discoveries!" - A. A. Milne

"Without heroes, we are all plain people and don't know how far we can go." - Bernard Malamoud

...and this, about what it's like to be an artist, is a personal favorite; "We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have.  Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task.  The rest is the madness of art." - Henry James

How about you?  Do you have a favorite quote?  Would you send it to me HERE to add to my collection?  Thanks!

December 19 -  Hey there, my e-friends!  I've found another "Blast From The Past" story to post tonight.  This one is another one of my "Strange Haunted Weird Bizarre Story-Tales From The Vault-Crypt-Tomb" story ideas.  Even though I wrote it in 1994, it is somewhat timely as it was inspired by the life of Howard Hughes, currently the subject of the film, The Aviator. More of a story concept than an actual story, it is called -

Head-Long

A lifetime of innovative aeronautical engineering has given the aging aviation pioneer a vast fortune, but an increasingly paranoiac nature has also cursed him with a broken heart from a failed relationship and a compulsive obsession with death.  Now, in his late seventies, he resides exclusively in an enormous strato-liner, which he designed and had constructed to his exacting specifications.  Self-sufficient and nuclear powered, the massive airplane travels far above the clouds over international air space, never landing.  He is convinced that "when you're flying, you leave all of your troubles behind on the ground.  If you land, they all catch up to you, and that's what will kill you!"  As he sits by a huge, sterile window, he thinks about each detail of the great airship's design, from the specifics of the series of fail-safe redundant engines, to the rotating staff of medicos, engineers, and pilots who are transported in and out of the small hangar in the ship's belly just keep him and his creation in top condition, to the agriponics bay filled with organic vegetables, fruit bearing plants, and...and flowers.  Beautiful flowers.  But, why flowers?  They aren't necessary, of course, but they do remind him of...her.  He can still see her in the rooftop garden of their first apartment all those years ago.  Her hair is golden, like the daffodils, her eyes the deep color of violets, and her smile....ah, her smile is like no bouquet that he could ever gather.  He is holding her now, and she is so soft, and warm.  She looks at him with welcoming eyes that speak of a deep love, and he, in turn closes his eyes, as he is wrapped in her warm embrace.....except that, instantly, we can see that he is actually lying dead in the smoldering wreck that used to be his great airplane.  The frame pulls back further, and we see that this is a photograph from the investigation of the disaster.  An investigator explains to the gathered media that the accident was a tragic result of poor planning.  The designer, in his obsession with detail, had not allowed for the unforeseen effects of his own subconscious.  Unable to bring himself, or allow others, to cut back the wildflowers which grew unexpectedly in the agriponics bay, he inadvertently allowed the humidity level, and then the internal pressure, to rise past the ship's toleration levels, which eventually cracked the seams of the windows.  Slowly, and imperceptibly, the cabin pressure and oxygen leaked out until he, and the entire crew, quietly froze to death.  The result was a tragic plummet to Earth in the heart of a tropical rainforest.  By ignoring his inner troubles, he was destined to crash, head-long, into them.

That's it.  It's not bad, but it, too, needs some work.  Maybe more background info?  Maybe a more ironic crash site?  I don't know what it needs, but I guess I won't worry about it too much until I need to for some reason.  See ya tomorrow!

December 18 -  Hey there, gang!  Well, I think that something is wrong with some element of my server or the company which hosts the WOMP-Site, because I am having trouble staying connected while I write this entry.  This is try number four, so I am going to keep it short.  Not much going on anyway.  Umm...I guess that's it (?).  See ya!

December 17 -  Well, it's the day after the big December 16th celebrations (known as Sixteen-December-Boxing Day in Canada), and I have recuperated quite nicely, thank you.  This year, I attended a 12/16 shindig that was held, in part, in honor of my mentor, Loretta, who passed away earlier this year (as you may remember).  My buddy, and Official Friend of WOMP, Bill was pretty much the only person I knew there, but I had a good time meeting so many other artistic types of all ages (well, not of ALL ages...in fact, I believe that I was the youngest person there), that I didn't feel out of place at all.  I met one guy, a retired pediatrician, whose father owned a newsstand during the 1930's and 1940's.  During that time, the doctor was just a kid who was hooked on comic books, and read them all; Superman, Batman, etc., right off of the stand (which had the added bonus of giving the appearance of helping his Dad).  His brother, greatly influenced by the same access to comics, even attended cartoonist school in the 1950's!  Anyhoo, the party was pretty subdued, even laid back, so I wasn't uncomfortable by myself (although I am absolutely not a conversation starter.  I often found myself "inspecting" the walls while trying not to look anti-social).  Even at that, I left after about two hours or so as the conversation began drifting toward music theory and such.  The main thing is, I guess, that I didn't let the "holiday" go by without seeing at least one old friend, while also making some new ones.  That may be the true legacy of our yearly December 16th observance.  At least once a year, no matter where we are on the globe, old friends are all thinking about each other at the same time.  We may not be able to write or call or pay a visit, but we are, at least once a year, all tuned into the same frequency for one day.  What could be better than that?  Well, I think I'd better get back to drawing commissioned caricatures (only two left!).  See ya!

December 16 -  Happy December Sixteenth!!  I hope that all of your December 16th wishes come true!  What's that?  You...you don't know what I'm talking about?  Well, let me take you back to the very first December 16th celebration;

The year's 1980, and a small group of friends

Were wrapping up gifts, but not some loose ends.

Seems each one forgot, as Winter Break arrived,

To think of the reasons from which gift-giving derived.

In haste they were preparing to leave school in a huff,

When somebody asked "Are we exchanging stuff?"

Strange as it seems, for they were all so close,

They hadn't bought presents for the pals they liked most!

A scramble ensued, and somehow presents were found.

Some were hand made, others had been homeward bound.

At the end of the day, the friends gathered once more

To "exchange stuff" before they ran out of the door.

Well, I don't have to tell you that much fun was had

and that these last minute gifts were comically bad!

A feeling of warmth and friendship so filled the room

That each pal was lifted from their mid-Winter gloom.

The occasion was marked on a hastily-made tag

Which was attached to a gift stuffed into a bag.

The author had penned, in a moment of mirth

A phrase which would travel all over the Earth!

"Happy December 16th" the whimsical note began,

After which the reason to celebrate ran

(As true today as it was then, I fear);

"Because it comes only once a year!"

From that year to this, the friends have spread word of this day

And each year it has grown, in a nutty sort of way.

So, enjoy the tradition, say a toast to your friend

For December 16th is too special to ever, ever end!

December 14 -  Hey!  OK, so I had to let another day go by without an entry in the ol' WOMP-Blog.  Sorry.  I was drawing commissioned caricatures all night, AND our newest cat, Orange Kitty, had a sudden medical problem (he seems to be sort of OK right now, but it is still unresolved).  By the time I had a moment to type something, it was 6:30 in the morning, I was pretty well whipped, and I had to go in to the dinky "real" job a few short hours later.  So, I went to bed.  Tonight, as I write this, I am trying to wrap up my day quite early because I have early morning meetings (beginning at 6:00 AM...UGH), a day of drawing caricatures for the local gambling boat again, and I still have to get to the dumb "real" job right after that.  If I make it through tomorrow, things should start to slow down for me a little for a bit.  Before I sign off tonight, though, I wanted to plug a good guy, and Official Friend of WOMP, Mr. Derek Anderson.  He's got to be one of the busiest guys around, and yet, in spite of his teaching position, his active participation in the indie-folk-rock band My Cousin Dallas, and his countless anonymous acts of kindness, he thought of me recently!  He found some "quarter-box" copies of the issues of the From Heaven to Hell comics for which I provided artwork.  He remembered that I had never been given copies, so he purchased them for me (keeping some out for himself).  How nice was that?  It's a little embarrassing, then, that I say that I didn't have time to post an entry here last night when Derek also has his own blog on top of everything else that he does!  And it's cool!  Check it out by clicking HERE!

December 12 -  Hey!  I'm not sick today!  Yippee!  Boy, what a long day.  And it's still going.  It is actually about 3:30 in the morning on the 13th as I write this (ooh...Monday The 13th...that's gotta be extra bad luck), and it has been a day full to the gills with great volumes of odd work here at WOMP Central.  Perhaps "work" isn't the best word.  Maybe "tasks" or "objectives" more accurately describes the kinds of things that seemed to occupy the day.  Besides drawing caricatures (and I even got two more commissions today), we have all been swallowed up by the aimlessness of the day, coupled with the time and energy which we don't often have.  Here is an example;  Vickie went down into the subterranean bunker here at WOMP H.Q. to start the wash, and wound up stripping the paint off of an old dresser!  I was simply clearing off the desk where I draw, when it sparked a three hour detour into cleaning and organizing my entire office (right down to sorting paperclips by size!).  Amazingly, with the possible exception of some caricatures which might have otherwise filled the time, we got EVERY project done!  Oh, except a quilt, which was merely started (a collaborative effort, it will eventually be a Christmas present for a member of our extended WOMP Family).  Anyhoo, I am going to get back to it for an hour or so, then get some sleep.  Tomorrow (or, well, later today) I will have an entire day to devote to finishing up these caricature commissions, just in time for Christmas...oops, I mean December 16th!

December 11 -  Well, it didn't work.  In spite of a full eight hours of sleep, the cold that socked me a couple of days ago is still here.  I got a small handful of things done today, but, for the most part, I have been bundled up on the couch, drinking hot soup and cold Diet Mt. Dew.  The area behind my eyes is throbbing with the sure rhythm of a syncopated metronome, my nose is as cold as an ice sculpture on Pluto, and the collection of sounds coming from my throat when I "breath" reminds one of Mel Blanc's vocal impression of a back-firing Model T!  All of this, beyond being just generally annoying, would be more tolerable if it weren't compounded by that stupid, queasy, achy, tiresomely restless "sick" feeling that is instantly recognizable when you have it.  It really reminds me of slowly drowning.  It is a state which is not, in my experience, conducive to drawing.  At least not anything for pay.  I'm sure that I've written here in the ol' WOMP-Blog at some point about how, as a kid, I was pretty sick quite often.  I can't remember.  If I did write about that, I probably also talked about all of the wild drawings that I made while under the influence of influenza.  The series of images that I drew while suffering the mumps are still among the strangest things I've ever created!  And I was 12!  Anyhoo, even with such an interesting track record when it comes to drawing while ill, I laid off today, hoping to kick it once and for all.  If I do, I will still have two days off from the dim "real" job to get stuff done.  If I still have the cold, then I have two days of wild artwork ahead of me!

December 10 -  Greetings, friends!  Sorry for the no-show yesterday.  I was, and still am, suddenly quite sick with a stupid cold.  It began while I was at the dumb "real" job, and, by the time I got home, I was a sneezing, coughing, aching mess.  I went to sleep almost right away, hoping to nap a bit, then write something here in the ol' WOMP-Blog.  A few hours later, though, I was in AGONY!  Today, my cold has settled down to a simple aggravation, but I'm still going to keep this brief so I can get some sleep.  I have the next three days off from the dear "real" job, and, because I will thereafter have NO days off until Christmas, I HAVE to be healthy enough to get stuff done it.  So, have a good one!

December 8 -  Hey!  Another (mercifully) short entry in the ol' WOMP-Blog tonight, gang.  I have a ton of drawing to do (lots of caricature orders for Christmas gifts....which is cool, but time consuming), and, thanks to my extended schedule earlier today, I need to get to them before I fall asleep!  The meetings, of which I wrote last night and alluded to just a run-on sentence ago, were about a very interesting art commission.  If all goes well, it will be among the largest works I've ever created (it would be my largest drawing if I hadn't created backdrops and such for the community theater).  There are still some details to work out (like how much to charge), so I think that I'll allow the specifics to remain a bit of a mystery for now.  So, on that note, I'll get back to the drawing board (Oh, and it was my birthday...I'm now 114!)!

December 7 -  Well, as I hinted last night, I am going to give the whole "Blast From The Past" thing a rest for tonight.  I have a very early series of meetings tomorrow (beginning at 6:00am!!!), so, even though it is already 1:30am as I write this, I am going to try to get to bed early for a change.  Thanks for understanding!  Before I go, let me give you a topic to think about.  The Golden Age of Comics was neither an Age nor Golden; now, discuss!

December 6 -  Hey there!  Another "Blast From The Past" entry tonight.  This one is another one of my "Strange Haunted Weird Bizarre Story-Tales From The Vault-Crypt-Tomb" story ideas. It could easily be expanded from a one or two page story to a full single issue (with the addition of some thematic elements, like dealing with a recent loss or a dark secret).  It's working title is -

Ghost Family

The time is the present.  A young family (Mom, Dad, and 8 year old Kid) has just bought a fantastic looking Victorian home.  They are in the process of moving their stuff in.  A neighbor kid is watching, says to Kid "Are you guys gonna live in the Haunted House?"  Dad overhears, says "Well, those stories are just stories.  There's no such thing as a haunted house."  The neighbor kid rejects that, saying "There are too!  A hundred years ago the family that built it ran away after they saw a ghost family, and ever since nobody stays there.  It's true!"  The family continues inside.  Mom quietly says to Dad "You know, I'm glad that people think this place is haunted by a family of ghosts, otherwise we'd never have been able to afford it!"  Dad says "Actually, most of the story is true.  When I was researching the history of the house, I found an old newspaper report of the incident."  Mom laughs a little, says "When were you planning to tell me that our new house had ghosts?"  "It's just a silly story, I think, made up by the original owners to keep people from snooping in their summer home when they were gone.  The story was obviously taken from a dime novel or something."  The couple continues to unpack and set things up.  Most of the house looks pretty well settled, and they are just putting out lamps and such.  Kid is messing with TV, maybe hooking up VCR.  Mom asks "What did they see?"  "Oh, it said that they found a secret window through which they saw the restless spirits of angry Indians coming to attack them.  Before they could react, a ghostly family appeared behind them and began 'tortured howling,'  apparently having long before been slain by the Indians.  According to the article, they left immediately, leaving everything behind.  I guess the 'ghost family' never returned because other families have lived here on and off without any 'sightings' since then."  Mom adds "They just didn't believe, that's all!  It would be interesting to share a house with ghosts!"  Dad says "Ha ha ha.  Don't be so sure.  Haven't you ever seen Poltergeist?"  "Did you get a copy of that article?  We should frame it and put it right here in the hallway."  "Yep," Dad says, "it's in the box marked 'New House Stuff.'  I think it's in the living room."  Kid meets them at entryway to living room.  "Mom!  Dad!  I got the TV and the VCR to work!  I even set the date!  Look!"  He turns and activates the remote in his hand.  The TV comes on, but it is full of static.  Kid hits the remote a couple of times.  Dad yells at him "Kid!  Don't hit the remote!  That's a very sensitive piece of electronic..."  Just then, the TV clears up, and, volume on full blast, it's playing an old Western movie.  "Give me that before you break it..."  Suddenly, right in front of them, the ghostly forms of a Victorian Era family appear, facing away.  The ghost family turns toward them and they all begin shrieking!  Dad grabs Kid, and all three scream their heads off and knock over boxes as they run from the house!  As they do, the ghosts disappear, and we see the copy of the old article laying on the stack of stuff that fell out of one of the boxes.  The date on the article is exactly 100 years before the date on the TV screen!  Outside, as they drive away in the minivan, Dad says "Is everybody OK?"  Kid says "I think so."  Mom has put it all together, begins to sort of laugh "Don't you see what just happened?  WE were the ghosts!  Somehow, when you hit the remote, it did something to allow the original family to see the cowboy movie on TV...and us!  And we could see them!  I...I think we can go back.  It should be OK, as long as we avoid watching Westerns!"

That's it.  It is more like a story-kernal than a full-blown story.  I'm not happy with the "Mom explains it" ending that I had originally written.  It would be better if it was just obvious to the reader that the modern family was the ghost family which haunted the original family, and vice versa.  Maybe, while Dad is recalling the article, we could see it illustrated in some form.  Hmm.  I guess that's all for tonight.  Tomorrow, maybe another "BFTP" story, maybe not.  We'll see.  Bye!

December 5 -  I guess that the holiday season has a greater percentage of films showing on TV than during the rest of the year.  I have been watching at least two movies each day!  Today I saw two very different films.  The first one, called The Life and Death of Peter Sellers, was an interesting and inventive biopic about one of the strangest, and perhaps greatest, comedians of film.  The other was Love, Actually, a romantic comedy featuring an all-star British cast.  I liked both films very much and I recommend them both...with the following warnings; if you want a warm and cheery movie about funny people and love, you may want to watch the latter film instead of the former.  If you want psychological exploration of complicated people and sad reality, then check out the other.  OK, so here is another "Blast From The Past" piece, this one a story concept that I shared with several people at the time I wrote it, in about 1990 or so, but it was written mostly to show to talented Official Friend of WOMP, Eric Olson.  It's a very short synopsis of one of my "Strange Haunted Weird Bizarre Story-Tales From The Vault-Crypt-Tomb," as I called them back then.  It's called -

People Like Them

One page, maybe two.  Story set at twilight.  In shadow we see these three or four guys watching out a window as a family of African Americans is moving in next door.  One guy says generic racial slurs and such, explaining that he can't stand "people like them" and "their type."  Still in shadow, but clearly getting angrier and angrier, the other men agree with him.  At the end he finally says that they "have to do something about them, because..." -and, at this point we see him full face and realize that he and the other men are not only black, but also clearly walking zombie corpses, and the window is in a crypt in a graveyard, as he concludes - "...living people like them are nothing but trouble!" 

That's it.  I told you it was short.  Tomorrow, another "Blast From The Past."  It's called "Ghost Family."  Bye!

December 4 -  So, after seeing Signs last night on TV, I've been thinking about how M. Night Shyamalan has created this set of great movies, most with wide appeal, which are essentially comic books come to life!  One of his secrets to success seems to be to take these fantastical elements out of the realm of all-too-familiar science fiction and fantasy, returning them to their original, emotional, "something's out there" gut level feel.  We've forgotten what it's like to have never heard of a flying saucer.  Even the name, "flying saucer," hints at just how long ago the term was coined.  Shyamalan reminds us of what we would really experience if we encountered aliens, or superheroes, or ghosts, or whatever, in our own, very real, lives.  In his way, he's following in the footsteps of Orson Welles, the genius behind both the very fanciful War of The Worlds radio broadcast and its very real panic-inducing effects.  Imagine living during that time, before video games, Star Wars, television, or even the H-Bomb.  You turn on your radio and hear a special report about slimy space aliens attacking New Jersey!  No wonder people grabbed their guns and started shooting at watertowers!  Shyamalan is a genius, I think, in giving back to us the suspense, fear, and sense of wonder that we should feel when we encounter something outside of our narrow understanding of reality.  The best part is that all of this is accomplished without the usual bombastic sci-fi movie editing.  He understands how to give us a simple shot of wide, world-weary eyes, quietly quivering in reaction to seeing that which should not be.  Just as Hitchcock knew to use aging male movie stars, Shyamalan draws us in through the expressive, stoic, and thoroughly familiar faces of Bruce Willis, Mel Gibson, etc., because we all now have an unconscious connection to them.  Also, he's not afraid of scope, even going so far as to carry the storyline of Signs to a worldwide level (while still clearly about one family).  It reminds me of how anyone in the course of history has lived during a turbulent time, just as we are now.  Although part of a larger story, we see the conflicts through the lens of our own lives and loved-ones.  World War Two wasn't just a geopolitical struggle between Fascism and Democracy, it was also the era when my Great-Uncle Bob was killed in a munitions explosion.  This disaster caused my Great-grandmother to preserve his room intact for the next twenty or so years, complete with bathrobe thrown over a chair, a watch by the bedside, and money on a bureau.  For her, WW2 was very personal.  Anyhoo, I guess I have to admit that I am sort of hooked on Shyamalan movies now.  I haven't seen The Village yet, and I have only seen the shocking surprise ending (unfortunately) of The Sixth Sense, so I may have to have a "movie night" sometime soon.  Great films like these are very inspirational, at least to me.  They make me start thinking about stuff to draw, or storylines to write.  Hey!  That gives me an idea!  Tomorrow, barring any other blog-worthy developments, I will bring out some more "Blast From The Past" stuff....these being some comic book story ideas that I have shared with others in the past.  Several of them are in the EC Comics horror and science fiction styles, with slight updates.  I think that you may enjoy them.  In fact, if you are inspired in some way by them, drop me a line or draw me a scene from one of them or whatever comes to your mind.  Check back tomorrow for the first one, an extremely un-Monkey-like story of prejudice and the supernatural....I call it People Like Them.  See ya then!

December 3 -  Well, of course, I have thrown out my back.  I made it through the entire day, including an extended stint at the dull "real" job, and was getting out of the trusty (rusty) WOMPmoblie, when, BAM, I crumpled to the ground in agony!  I pulled myself up, and thought that I was doing OK until I reached the front door and nearly doubled over.  It's not just that it hurts...that part I can handle...it's the fact that I've lost the strength in my back muscles that bothers me most.  After I finally got into the house, I grabbed two cans of Diet Mt. Dew, and plopped myself down on the couch.  I laid flat on my back, through the end of the live NASCAR Nextel Cup Awards Banquet and all of the movie Signs, which brings us to right now.  It's 3:03am as I write this, and it's all I can do to keep myself propped awkwardly in my stupid chair as I suffer through writing today's entry.  I think that I am going to have to take this seriously, darn it.  I haven't thrown my back out very often in my life (like three times before?).  The last time was in 1991, just before opening night of the last big community theater production that I directed.  That was miserable!  This time around shouldn't be as intrusive (I hope).  Even though I do work on Saturday, it's not until later in the evening, so I hope that I can rest up over the course of the time between now and then.  I think that I had some stuff to talk to you about tonight, but I can't remember any of it anymore.  I suppose it wouldn't matter too much anyway as I have to wrap this up soon before I either black out or just plain implode.  On that happy note, I will wrap this up so I can hobble off to bed.  Toodles!

December 2 -  Hiya!  Today I had a pretty cool "art" day.  Years ago, my hometown of Prairie du Chien was also the home of an amazing, if somewhat enigmatic, artist named Cal N. Peters.  During the 1930's and 1940's, he was instrumental in the development of the Villa Louis (now a Wisconsin State Historical Site) as both a tourist and historical attraction.  He was even the first curator of the P.d.C. museum.  His works included sculpture, drawing, painting, and more, but his greatest contributions may have been his historically accurate scale dioramas and gigantic murals.  For as much as anyone now remembers, he dedicated the last years of his life to documenting our city's rich history, from the era of the Mound Builders to about 1900.  Tomorrow, a collection of ten of Mr. Peters' giant paintings will have a grand re-unveiling in their home in Prairie du Chien's new City Hall...right when I have to go to work at the dumb "real" job!  UGH!  I took a chance earlier this afternoon and stopped by City Hall to see if I could get a sneak preview.  Fortunately, Prairie is still a small enough town that everyone there knew me, so I got a quick tour from Mr. Gary Koch, City Administrator.  Using the new digital camera that I just learned how to use yesterday, I took several photos of each work, paying special attention to the details that stood out to me.  Most interesting to me was the fact that none of these works, which measure anywhere from six feet square to five by twenty feet in size, had truly been "completed."  Mr. Peters apparently worked on them for years, even as they hung on the walls of the original museum seventy years ago.  Upon close inspection, each work revealed light pencil outlines of elements not ever finished.  The paintings deal mostly with the frontier and military history of Prairie (several early American wars had major battles here), but his best known work depicts the "great figures of Prairie du Chien from 1673 to 1900."  Here can be found portraits not only of obscure early fur traders and later civic leaders, like Hercules Dousman, but also the national figures who had a direct impact on our history, like Zachary Taylor and Jefferson Davis.  It is an enormous work, both in size and in scope.  There are about thirty personalities depicted, full-figure, at about 1/2 scale.  Mr. Peters' style is somewhat reminiscent of N.C. Wyeth, but with a little more stiffness and near-obsessive attention to minute detail.  It is sort of surprising, then, to see the ghostly penciled outlines of figures amongst the otherwise fully painted crowd!  Perhaps he reserved space for figures whose historic contributions might not be appreciated or known until later, perhaps he painted the person somewhere else on the work, or maybe he just never wanted to be "done" with the piece.  Anyway I looked at it, this "unfinished" nature of his work intrigued me.  I am going to try to learn as much as I can about Mr. Peters over the net few months (years?).  It is so cool to see paintings like this close up.  It's actually inspirational!  So much can be learned from just looking at original artwork in person, as opposed to seeing it printed in a book or something.  If you get the chance, try to get to a museum or gallery sometime in the near future.  If you have even half as much fun as I did in the short time that I spent taking pictures of Mr. Peters' paintings today, you'll thank me for the suggestion!

December 1 -  Hey, gang!  How are you doing?  It's been a great "getting stuff done" day.  After about two weeks straight without a break, this was the second of three days off from the deadly-dull "real" job.  As you might imagine, I have a long "to do" list of things that I've been putting off.  The trick is to do as much of them as possible on the first day off....a trick that this old dog apparently can't learn.  Yesterday, I cleared off my desk, did a tiny bit of yard work, and learned how to use my new digital camera.  Other than that, I just loafed around the house, presumably "recuperating" from the previous few days.  Today, I got a few more things done, but, once I started working on some much needed updates to the WOMP-Site, day turned to night, night into early morning, and, well, here we are.  Tomorrow (or, later today, I guess), I have stuff going on ALL day, starting at 6:00am!  I guess I'll just wrap this up by letting you know that you can check out some of the changes that I installed today by clicking HERE.  See ya tomorrow!