tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-210982882024-03-18T20:56:12.689-06:00S.T. LewisS.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.comBlogger286125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-47977215551694409442013-07-10T00:33:00.001-06:002013-07-10T00:33:55.068-06:00Giant Panda<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXJLA5qK3yMR7p3QY38QJyIyt_tdGL1WCmG3__M34HuaraQHSJ5eKiMNo6kwc8ueLH1Pbe3Xz726aDkd7nGrJWH-kEBq7myRCeiX1E8Tsv2WALsx9omMcqoHrKQAj4LK7uFqjT/s708/giant+panda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXJLA5qK3yMR7p3QY38QJyIyt_tdGL1WCmG3__M34HuaraQHSJ5eKiMNo6kwc8ueLH1Pbe3Xz726aDkd7nGrJWH-kEBq7myRCeiX1E8Tsv2WALsx9omMcqoHrKQAj4LK7uFqjT/s400/giant+panda.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Officially speaking, there's no such thing as a panda. The animal that you were certainly picturing when I blew your mind just then is actually known as the "<i>giant</i> panda." Giant? Really? I mean, granted... they're pretty big. It would take a few minutes and some clever packing to squeeze one into your carry-on, but "giant" may be a bit of an over-sell for a bear that tops out at between 200 and 250 pounds. That weight range may qualify something to be a giant chipmunk, a giant toad, or a giant bacon cheeseburger, but we're talking about a bear here. For the sake of comparison, the Kodiak bear can weigh up to 1,500 pounds, and that's just the basic, non-giant Kodiak. I feel like we're potentially disappointing zoo-goers and cheapening the word "giant" with this misleading terminology. It's troubling.<br />
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I did a little research into the matter and learned that the term "giant panda" is meant to distinguish this bear from the completely non-related red panda. Non-related? Why did we use the word "panda" for two non-related animals? Was every other possible word already taken? Because I just Googled "shormshoo" and nothing came up. It's not being used for anything. And there are hundreds of other words just like it that, though stupid, could easily be attached to something like a reddish, raccoon-sized thing or a not-so-giant bear. Non-related animals should have non-related names.<br />
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I don't mean to suggest that we should start randomly changing the established names of existing animals. That would get confusing. Obviously the better solution is to force the world's entire populations of giant pandas and red pandas into a coliseum-style battle to the death... the winning species becoming the sole heir of the coveted title of "panda." If you're the gambling type, you would be wise to bet against the little red raccoons, because these bears are freaking giants!S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-58310558709215159072013-06-26T11:29:00.000-06:002013-06-27T10:35:18.946-06:00Evolution's Next Step<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNl12nyXAxbycXU3-PGtN1dWTeAgaZJYPv0h6lqXyu0Zl9ZOdDrNxCRjDelYFeY0MW2jGLGgHdoVqPpsSaHrPn_-2Kw-C4ftQrsSN5UV18AYWBV47PVt7N0YyjS-Lyi_pDdsyc/s1600/taped+animals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNl12nyXAxbycXU3-PGtN1dWTeAgaZJYPv0h6lqXyu0Zl9ZOdDrNxCRjDelYFeY0MW2jGLGgHdoVqPpsSaHrPn_-2Kw-C4ftQrsSN5UV18AYWBV47PVt7N0YyjS-Lyi_pDdsyc/s400/taped+animals.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You may have
noticed that my blog has been fairly dormant for quite some time. Perhaps you assumed that I had given up on
blogging or that some grudge-holding killer whale had murdered me in my sleep,
but no… I’m still here. I’ve actually
been working on something that ended up taking a lot more time than you’d think
it would: evolution. </div>
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It all began with a simple question: What would happen if a bear was bred with a
shark? Great white bear? Grizzly shark? In a perfect world, one of those would certainly
be the result, but trying to get a bear and a shark to breed posed a set of
problems I wasn’t prepared to deal with and led to the deaths of at least seven
unpaid, entry-level interns.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I recently came to the life-altering realization that breeding
two animals together causes you to effectively forfeit half of each animal. How do you know which elements of which
animal your final product will exhibit? I could end up with a grizzly shark that only has a single row of flesh-tearing
teeth or a great white bear without its signature, flesh-tearing claws? Why lose elements of each animal when you could
just tape the two of them together and keep all parts of both? It's simple, common sense! And as long as we’re taping animals together,
why stop at just a bear and a shark?<o:p></o:p></div>
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This new, advanced creature I’m developing is not
completely free of problems. For
instance, how does it get around? Does
it swim? Does it fly? If it’s going to fly, I’m going to need to
tape a penguin to it… and also tape the penguin to some kind of flying bird. This creature is going to happen, though, and
when it does, you’ll remember that you heard about it here first! And YOU can be a part of it! I’m currently hiring interns… no experience
or expectations of payment necessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-49151559805447622022012-08-14T11:58:00.000-06:002013-03-29T15:10:23.446-06:00Shark Anatomy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9r5PEEsxVc6dRby1FntxwkU7ud_JDIKuuXjkTwk7RPQVDoWKvwjfeUnlpjD3m9hWZZZvZztI5_xrc86tWIfAOMaPeiPZuZDqC0z2wrUWwGWJIJkKUKc1p9sCRsNFWq5LrdzAY/s1600/shark+anatomy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9r5PEEsxVc6dRby1FntxwkU7ud_JDIKuuXjkTwk7RPQVDoWKvwjfeUnlpjD3m9hWZZZvZztI5_xrc86tWIfAOMaPeiPZuZDqC0z2wrUWwGWJIJkKUKc1p9sCRsNFWq5LrdzAY/s400/shark+anatomy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shark experts commonly insist that sharks don't target humans or even want to eat us. I guess that's kind of comforting... until you're watching <em>Shark Week</em> and a great white repeatedly attacks a camera, some steel beams, and a Styrofoam seal. Did he want to eat that stuff? I can't imagine any of those items were seal-flavored, yet that shark kept returning to bite them again and again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The truth is that sharks will eat anything they find in the ocean, so if you're a thing in the ocean, a shark will eat you. As it turns out, they're not all that discriminatory when it comes to what they will or won't eat, so don't try to comfort me by pointing out that I'm not a shark's preferred meal or that I'm not the delicious sea creature he's mistaken me for. Hearing that a shark doesn't want to eat me is as comforting as hearing that a tornado doesn't want to destroy my house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to be a shark expert... and looking at this diagram, I guess it's pretty obvious that I kind of already am.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-12159184808659253502012-04-05T10:00:00.002-06:002013-03-29T15:11:31.064-06:00Chocolate Bunny<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwuCsPnYjysbFNSM6-ERgxN4ufZGA1gjKkTRLblPaZ_pNEbbYZ0sfudzgqiCDiwu0qmCWXxxaonLnfiuF8QQBWkZ9iUwPtSafn9FmUoxyas1juqKyPcJI1wgcjghFoC8gwC2d/s1600/chocolate+bunny.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726888027451190946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwuCsPnYjysbFNSM6-ERgxN4ufZGA1gjKkTRLblPaZ_pNEbbYZ0sfudzgqiCDiwu0qmCWXxxaonLnfiuF8QQBWkZ9iUwPtSafn9FmUoxyas1juqKyPcJI1wgcjghFoC8gwC2d/s400/chocolate+bunny.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 281px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chocolate fondue bunnies?! Cute, right? I originally considered drawing a cheerful predator of some kind dipping a chick in a vat of melted marshmallow to make <em>Peeps</em>, but that one seemed like a stretch, mostly because I can't get by the fact that <em>Peeps</em> look more like elephant seals than they look like chicks, and an Easter drawing of an elephant seal getting dipped in marshmallow seemed especially confusing. That's more of a "Labor Day" thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Happy Easter once again, everybody!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-27688732536676486102012-03-19T12:42:00.001-06:002012-03-19T12:44:53.299-06:00Greatest Hits<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHtd9FyTzltAOjDLN2gG0dC_spFsGlHtroP6LAQJCGcbHanE3Mwa8PVMG1S0KKi19kWo2kQ6_ldCFdRfEHZklr0QluEucv2qOpWHzH6tpkqyUm4XM3Tl0X3Sa4Fa3LIH_dJna/s1600/st+lewis.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 308px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721644321341293458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHtd9FyTzltAOjDLN2gG0dC_spFsGlHtroP6LAQJCGcbHanE3Mwa8PVMG1S0KKi19kWo2kQ6_ldCFdRfEHZklr0QluEucv2qOpWHzH6tpkqyUm4XM3Tl0X3Sa4Fa3LIH_dJna/s400/st+lewis.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">You know how sometimes a band will disappear for a couple of years, and then they suddenly return with a "Greatest Hits" album and a reunion tour so they can get some more of your money without producing anything new? Well, as you may have noticed, it's been five months since I updated my blog... so I made this. Please send me your money.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-6485580137398048512011-10-04T13:40:00.008-06:002011-12-19T08:44:12.672-07:00Bunnies Love Bears<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoscqLZk76b6hEnE03lmkJXB4uzlg7Hwm22NIztZyy6kHIcXgCKGPj_ERXJU9o6CRf7eYpwhTDJu1-vW7KkdexZ7VgdG4JHP5XQbi3LlaJGic6krT3vCE_pQkAvZc1yfeawBY/s1600/bunny+horror.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662420072178292130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoscqLZk76b6hEnE03lmkJXB4uzlg7Hwm22NIztZyy6kHIcXgCKGPj_ERXJU9o6CRf7eYpwhTDJu1-vW7KkdexZ7VgdG4JHP5XQbi3LlaJGic6krT3vCE_pQkAvZc1yfeawBY/s400/bunny+horror.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">I know it's only October, but I finished this already, so I might as well post it. Happy Easter, everybody!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-91042875133319841562011-09-15T22:40:00.003-06:002011-09-15T22:44:02.343-06:00Motivationally Couraged<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KMozYq9foNF18KW5r8W9ROEzSl6DvT14RGM83ZIO0K_xXmAjXOsuSGrJMG703yD1mRJcHid4A9kaHXFNklbS2ZlIJ983qduRIjyK_k0Q2lJkUpCHa5dIcPMzxg3kP76kf80q/s1600/courage+lion.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 275px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646646035620186562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KMozYq9foNF18KW5r8W9ROEzSl6DvT14RGM83ZIO0K_xXmAjXOsuSGrJMG703yD1mRJcHid4A9kaHXFNklbS2ZlIJ983qduRIjyK_k0Q2lJkUpCHa5dIcPMzxg3kP76kf80q/s400/courage+lion.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkwVi8GSIEZWsxhU86OHlxrfL-DGXiHtqmtg51ftpIC4w8NxR2ubtsi902_ptVC6VawRe4QLke_3YHTCYW5sig9vbjqOQ0vIR4-JA0GlBaPmGxS-ZZauatcIzC_u3eARHDsdO/s1600/courage+chicken.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 275px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645184759335885010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkwVi8GSIEZWsxhU86OHlxrfL-DGXiHtqmtg51ftpIC4w8NxR2ubtsi902_ptVC6VawRe4QLke_3YHTCYW5sig9vbjqOQ0vIR4-JA0GlBaPmGxS-ZZauatcIzC_u3eARHDsdO/s400/courage+chicken.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The only thing a motivational poster has ever motivated me to do is "stop reading motivational posters." It is my hope that these two posters will inspire you to do the same. I doubt you'll learn much about "courage" from these things. The one thing I do expect you to learn is that there are scary things on the right side of yellow grass fields, so if you find yourself in such a place, then for goodness sake... run left!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-17744298869749946702011-08-04T22:25:00.005-06:002011-08-05T08:06:38.975-06:00Chumming for Humans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5zYG-rjWupQGO-x6O8UTz8W1w4LuxLX4ocoNw_ccu1t4e7g7M2VN0tveTSfqDahpGtWN5PYNQotSX9UAX3k3axkxuGlP8Pnv1K0TpwL4JcaybLA7bNURy10bZZ6eC-txiYaa/s1600/shark+chum+small.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635986042971658290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5zYG-rjWupQGO-x6O8UTz8W1w4LuxLX4ocoNw_ccu1t4e7g7M2VN0tveTSfqDahpGtWN5PYNQotSX9UAX3k3axkxuGlP8Pnv1K0TpwL4JcaybLA7bNURy10bZZ6eC-txiYaa/s400/shark+chum+small.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">In August of 2008, our bathroom scale accused me of weighing in at a hefty 255 pounds. As of this morning of 2011, I was down to 175 pounds, meaning I've lost 80 pounds in just three years. Fairly impressive, I guess, especially when you consider that I did it the old-fashioned, unpleasant way: eating sensibly and exercising.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">While watching a series of <em>Discovery Channel</em> documentaries recently as part of the annual celebration of my favorite religious holiday, <em>Shark Week</em>, I realized there's a much easier way to lose a lot of weight in a fraction of the time with only minimal effort... shark attack! I could kick myself! How did I not see this before?! Think of all the exercise I could have avoided and the cookie dough I might have enjoyed if I had only considered the permanent kind of weight-loss you can only get from being the victim of a shark attack.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">What does a leg weigh? Twenty? Thirty pounds? Why, you could lose that in just a few minutes of surfing in murky water while the sun sets. Under this new weight-loss program I'm developing, you could eat whatever you want to and still lose weight! In fact, the more bacon cheeseburgers and double fudge brownies you consume, the more likely you are to be mistaken for an elephant seal, and therefore, the more likely you are to be selected as a candidate for sudden, oceanic weight loss. (That's what I'm calling it, as "shark attack" turns a lot of people away before they've even given it a chance).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As long as you're still agile enough to wiggle your way down the beach and roll your giant body into the surf, I think "sudden, oceanic weight loss" may be for you! After all, it's less painful than diet and exercise.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Although it's been said many times, many ways... "Happy Shark Week to you!"</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-24434272199924498972011-07-14T09:35:00.001-06:002011-07-14T09:38:01.828-06:00Pigs are Pigs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurzrL65x_dB6RRDYmEpfxPugz9Q-gfPm7WSu7F9NzvNvKbzNnFVhFHnU9s9Why3MAmu4xGD8sSYW2xUKB-vrDLoMEs4aLgktAqOReKDG5RCU7Sk2p4R9kwX8tJYrr2_zg-4J7/s1600/banjo+pigs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593366364474222418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurzrL65x_dB6RRDYmEpfxPugz9Q-gfPm7WSu7F9NzvNvKbzNnFVhFHnU9s9Why3MAmu4xGD8sSYW2xUKB-vrDLoMEs4aLgktAqOReKDG5RCU7Sk2p4R9kwX8tJYrr2_zg-4J7/s400/banjo+pigs.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Pigs are omnivorous, which means they'll eat anything... fruits, vegetables, hamburgers, soup, grass, VHS tapes, goats... anything you can think of. A pig would eat an airplane if he had the time for it. A pig would eat 62 hot dogs in ten minutes if it would get him on TV. A pig would even eat you if I needed to eliminate incriminating evidence after hitting you with my car (but I'm a better driver than that, so relax). Because pigs will eat anything they can get their snouts on, they have even occasionally been known to eat each other... which is gross. Then again, if any animal can be excused for exhibiting cannibalistic tendencies, it's a pig. Certainly they too must know what the inclusion of bacon does to a cheeseburger. So whatever it is pigs are eating, whether it be moldy bread, gum wrappers, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Cajun</span> shrimp, or each other, I hope they keep it up, because those things they're eating are the recipe for bacon. If "other pigs" is a necessary ingredient, then by all means, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cannibalize</span> away, you disgusting pigs! These arteries aren't going to clog themselves!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-64765445997743672592011-06-30T15:15:00.001-06:002011-06-30T15:23:46.796-06:00Cars 2: The Video Game<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_DHGq7s5vFNFYDwS6GDuFeQbtnh7vZ31RPROeEBINkPjWS3-uJirkLcajhWX-5eDYoE29a5M0gAaojFHR-4cmJmgNFSifElkoegBVgPIyjG2cND6r7LM5sS7IBK8hjzFfzKE/s1600/cars+boards.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624126585689548114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_DHGq7s5vFNFYDwS6GDuFeQbtnh7vZ31RPROeEBINkPjWS3-uJirkLcajhWX-5eDYoE29a5M0gAaojFHR-4cmJmgNFSifElkoegBVgPIyjG2cND6r7LM5sS7IBK8hjzFfzKE/s400/cars+boards.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Here are some storyboards I did for the <em>Cars 2</em> video game. They're out of order and out of context, so don't expect to get much from them. Don't expect to see the movies they helped create in all of their fully-animated grandeur either. Unfortunately, every scene I boarded for the game got cut. Take that, me! The game's a lot of fun, though, so go buy it. And if you don't play video games in your home, please send the money you would have spent on the game directly to me. I'll know what to do with it.</span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 172px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620762838684948754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4t_F9UZ8RKnqKEh6wmDEjQDSsT5rQLMlxbph-dVqmj3tyrNjNG31h2ER3iq5I61ItaAPo-4XdUjBUenqTIjZ5FCISmnszu3p_Qwky7Mhvp1sqZzOH-HQ36FAxky9x1L75b4-E/s200/cars2+game.jpg" />S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-88920101267841353162011-05-20T09:30:00.002-06:002011-05-20T09:42:07.809-06:00Flying Giraffe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GsKc3sr3NCDFB8yC-41_uRfaAGG6FtjLT6tDxo7jA6Cfru3OEiQs9oNEQcoihpN5nynquVsMG39R3yi8oYwWRAPOdP1Gm2nUoVJRe50GqJ3_4UBd3N0KilLuVlEHcF4jqP3t/s1600/flying_giraffe.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608824054127669794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GsKc3sr3NCDFB8yC-41_uRfaAGG6FtjLT6tDxo7jA6Cfru3OEiQs9oNEQcoihpN5nynquVsMG39R3yi8oYwWRAPOdP1Gm2nUoVJRe50GqJ3_4UBd3N0KilLuVlEHcF4jqP3t/s320/flying_giraffe.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">As I sat down to draw this, I thought, "A flying giraffe... there's something new." It wasn't until after I'd drawn it, colored it, and given the sketch away to one of my Facebook fans that I started wondering just how original the concept of a flying giraffe was. I Googled it and found 1,260,000 other flying giraffes... so, not quite as original as I had hoped. At that point, I couldn't help but wonder how many non-flying giraffe images Google would find, so I did a second search for the simpler, more conventional "giraffe." That one yielded 2,430,000 images. So it turns out that only about one-in-three of the internet's giraffe population is capable of flight... which I'm pretty sure is the actual percentage you would find if you just went outside and looked around.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-5101559352765410572011-05-07T22:20:00.008-06:002011-05-07T22:35:45.774-06:00Hooray for Moms!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT-7fjcq7l6lPZ5n9OL4oOK8z4CJCr7JsvJT9-9r_GL_8IF9JLLU1GebDcxlVuhmZky01c6U-acveJ4BgZBw_Khh4U-8ltlTtlq6bN-U78RtYt9RhOADncSAsB5PZvMX_QeDy/s1600/kangaroo+mom.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604198408765678610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqT-7fjcq7l6lPZ5n9OL4oOK8z4CJCr7JsvJT9-9r_GL_8IF9JLLU1GebDcxlVuhmZky01c6U-acveJ4BgZBw_Khh4U-8ltlTtlq6bN-U78RtYt9RhOADncSAsB5PZvMX_QeDy/s400/kangaroo+mom.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">I've been a dad for a few years now, and I've learned a lot of things about raising kids, the most profound of which is that, on my best day, I'm passably decent at it. I guess I do all right compared to some delinquent fathers, but I'm not even close to being the best parent in our house. This is probably true in most homes, because let's face it, moms are better than dads at about everything. Like when my daughter was coming around the corner and bumped her hand on the wall... my wife immediately gave her a hug and asked her if she was all right. What?! Where does she get this stuff? All I could think of to do in that situation was say, "I'm just glad you're still alive enough to cry about it." I've found that dads aren't generally very compassionate... at least not in our house.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms out there... especially my favorite moms, which includes my wife, my mom, my mother-in-law, my sisters, my sisters-in-law, my step mom, my grandmas, my grandma-in-law, my aunts, my cousins, my cousins' wives, all the moms who read my blog or are my Facebook fans, all the moms who are currently reading this or having it read to them because they like pictures but can't read, and any of you who aren't moms but someday will be or would be if you could be. Hooray for you! You're making our lives seem bearable on days when we know they really aren't. Thanks for all you do... and Happy Mother's Day!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-56722207827666842972011-04-23T20:05:00.009-06:002011-04-24T10:33:26.754-06:00Easter Dinner<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598497514240812754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuTKfPBU2yzayqZRt_HDsbOa7ZscpTd02XOY1-h_8zHg04MVYolcdW6vCmDyf3EnWSALZguKA8NUHlAcBf5UgbP5BYKBTwhJV48A2SDR8uhSiQt6aFKOBYuMDH022B9opZ0Go/s400/easter+dinner.jpg" /> <span style="font-size:85%;">I've never tasted rabbit before, but thanks to years of cartoon-watching, and based on the opinions of Wile E. Coyote, Brer Fox, and whoever ended up eating Roger Rabbit, I have plenty of reason to believe that, of all the animals that talk, walk around on their hind legs, and occasionally wear clothes, rabbits are probably the most delicious.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If you find this picture upsetting, allow me to share a few facts that may offer you some much-needed peace of mind. First of all, this is a drawing, so no one's really going to be eaten... unless I draw someone being eaten... which I probably will. Second, the Easter Bunny probably has some kind of magic wand that allows him to leave eggs and candy all over everyone's houses in a single night, and he could easily use that wand to light a fox on fire if he felt his life was threatened. And third, the Easter Bunny is already dead.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If you're still feeling uneasy, consider one other thing. The peace you were experiencing before seeing this picture was only a pretended peace... the result of your own misguided ignorance. Foxes eat rabbits every day. I'm sure it's happening somewhere right now. The circle of life is spinning out of control just beyond your door at this very moment whether you like it or not, so just be glad that I didn't draw baby chicks in that frying pan like I had originally planned to.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Happy Easter, everybody!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-81084531472189686802011-04-13T09:55:00.003-06:002011-04-13T10:26:56.465-06:00Jumping the Shark<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVpMwmUU15XsEGEPdUXOL5iCe0XgmXHj6ZqRdj8uayFb4TzEGtfyO1BfDP0o0KBpjmUOZykS-mhPoZCWCJapH3l84AGB7R85WPJy4u9Z7NLjsSG1aDOvor3zBjaYWzRRp3AJC/s1600/jump+shark.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595097794628465954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVpMwmUU15XsEGEPdUXOL5iCe0XgmXHj6ZqRdj8uayFb4TzEGtfyO1BfDP0o0KBpjmUOZykS-mhPoZCWCJapH3l84AGB7R85WPJy4u9Z7NLjsSG1aDOvor3zBjaYWzRRp3AJC/s400/jump+shark.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">This drawing was inspired by an episode of <em>Happy Days</em>, a little known television series that served as a springboard for the mega-hit, <em>Joanie Loves Chachi</em>. In September of 1977, <em>Happy Days</em>' Cunninghams took an infamous trip to the beach. While they were there, among other riveting plot lines, Arthur (a.k.a. "Fonzie") was challenged by a bunch of beach-toughs to water-ski off of a jump that led directly over some stock footage of a variety of deadly sharks. Having roughed up a jukebox prior to their vacation, the Fonz was feeling pretty brave, so he succumbed to the prodding of the beach boys (probably not the ones you're thinking of), suited up in his leather jacket and his finest denim cut-offs, and did the dumbest thing anyone on that beach or in their living rooms had ever seen... he jumped the shark.<br><br></span><span style="font-size:85%;">This episode of <em>Happy Days</em> undoubtedly won several Emmy Awards, but that's not its only accomplishment. It also established a phrase that has come to signify that a show is out of good storylines and has most likely run its course: "jumping the shark." For example, <em>Scooby Doo</em> jumped the shark when Scrappy Doo showed up, <em>The Brady Bunch</em> jumped the shark when the lady met this fellow, and <em>Flipper</em> jumped the shark when he and Bud inadvertently swam into shark-infested waters... though that last one was more of a literal shark-jumping and was actually kind of heroic.<br><br></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Anything can jump the shark... a TV series, a relationship, a greaser in a leather jacket and never-nude cut-offs, or even a blog. This blog jumped the shark when I became obsessed with animal jug bands, and this blog post jumped the shark when I mentioned <em>Joanie Loves Chachi</em>. She does, though.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-26120620377921084842011-03-30T20:05:00.000-06:002011-03-30T20:09:03.479-06:00Banjo-Strummin' Pig<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdr8_dFIxxS7eW5KkA6eS8Lq0Hs8eFAf0Bv4r62ObYHoFMtzCVsaOJOdfMTvt0rb4uQcv-8Xy8wlGwY_ZA6-oPPytYU12w4jGrb3S4HUTo2V7v0R-A1-7gjDS-atBGReG9iHs/s1600/jug+pig+2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590048712981363682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdr8_dFIxxS7eW5KkA6eS8Lq0Hs8eFAf0Bv4r62ObYHoFMtzCVsaOJOdfMTvt0rb4uQcv-8Xy8wlGwY_ZA6-oPPytYU12w4jGrb3S4HUTo2V7v0R-A1-7gjDS-atBGReG9iHs/s320/jug+pig+2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">For the last couple of years I've had the pleasure of being obsessed with animals playing banjos, corn jugs, washboards, and washtubs. If you've browsed this blog at all, you already know that. The good news is I'm not alone! At least not about the "banjo" part. Did you know there's a whole blog dedicated to </span><a href="http://banjopigs.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">banjo-playing pigs</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">? It's true! Wonderfully true! We're all very fortunate that the internet didn't fill up before this happened.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-52739510860464818732011-02-04T16:00:00.005-07:002011-02-04T17:45:03.335-07:00Jug Band O' Birds<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbRzE7bOIH_SZ7UG9hLy6E5tIjCzoZP12ahX0XTE5ZKnEyUYu_tszx_se3V_QRfaWlL2n3ADeOXbXVacdDYzE5qGeZ782ZAQEqfiKegBrp3vu_jOY2p4iJIQzLMgr80C2_sva/s1600/jugband+birds.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569293387260368386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbRzE7bOIH_SZ7UG9hLy6E5tIjCzoZP12ahX0XTE5ZKnEyUYu_tszx_se3V_QRfaWlL2n3ADeOXbXVacdDYzE5qGeZ782ZAQEqfiKegBrp3vu_jOY2p4iJIQzLMgr80C2_sva/s400/jugband+birds.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">Humans hate birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When we’re not shooting them, eating them, or chasing them into the sky to dice them with our airplane engines, we’re making up phrases that highlight how lame we think they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For instance, something that is foolish or ridiculous can be classified as “for the birds,” someone who’s not very bright may be called “bird brained,” “killing two birds with one stone” is a bird-hating substitute for the term "multi-tasking," and if you mention to someone with a gentle honk that their texting is putting your life in danger, they will almost always thank you for your courteous warning by “flipping the bird.”</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">As if threatening and insulting the entire bird population with phrases like these isn’t enough, consider the negative connotations that are associated with individual types of birds... like chickens, turkeys, loons, cuckoos, dodos, stool pigeons, silly geese, and lame ducks. No one wants to be called bird names. That's mean... and it's not 1955.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">Are birds doomed to be loathed by mankind forever? As long as we're using phrases like "a bird in the hand is worth squeezing to death," it appears so. Which reminds me... please start using that phrase.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-41335075382360264562011-01-13T11:10:00.000-07:002011-01-13T11:20:25.724-07:00Chuckle-to-Yourself Cats<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLb4uRsRr1DgZmhmJ3wA7eor_bJKSk6hpHUioKX_zQwJbWL_KaZFKxhIXi5DqCgubGhYRJZ59ecHy0u-dABd8esfSURfrkleSCT8mmZ-6roZFMivMKpavF__nf38qAQnJy4zn/s1600/koford.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561719184288882514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLb4uRsRr1DgZmhmJ3wA7eor_bJKSk6hpHUioKX_zQwJbWL_KaZFKxhIXi5DqCgubGhYRJZ59ecHy0u-dABd8esfSURfrkleSCT8mmZ-6roZFMivMKpavF__nf38qAQnJy4zn/s400/koford.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">It's not often that I create fan art... especially fan art that openly mocks the thing I'm a fan of... but I decided to try it this once. These cats are based on my good friend Adam Koford's <em><a href="http://apelad.blogspot.com/">Laugh-Out-Loud Cats</a></em>. Adam and I shared an office here at Avalanche for a few years before he was moved to another office last week to focus on another project. He's a funny man and an easy guy to share an office with, and I'm happy to say that his pleasant demeanor is as inoffensive as his scent.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I've shared offices with a bunch of guys in recent years, and while all of them have been subject to my interesting assortment of music, only most of them complained about it. I probably should honor all of them with fan art, but instead of that, I'll just post links to their blogs, a few of which have been updated in the last year. This is a good group of guys... some of my best friends. Many thanks to all of them for making "work" seem like "a little better than work."</span><br /><ul><li><a href="http://alooslimadeblog.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Kelly Loosli</span></a></li><li><a href="http://flippinhippenstudios.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Seth Hippen</span></a></li><li><a href="http://toonbaboon.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Adrian Ropp</span></a></li><li><a href="http://bryanlefler.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Bryan Lefler</span></a></li><li><a href="http://trentfox.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Trent Halvorsen</span></a></li><li><a href="http://apelad.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Adam Koford</span></a></li></ul>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-75213147476670200422010-12-22T21:00:00.001-07:002010-12-22T21:05:43.344-07:00Free Gift<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjnh8Uro92xkBfJqnSxDqyGD4AJrhZgOrWjd2OFyzOCKfMXyGCxSZkqzp2EWSQod_tcrNZTAWui216IiR8SAKLWuSElBrSuG31mmKKnWZ-7S_InP6fSVw-PDWnOBsWd3poxak/s1600/free+gift.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553723961884919010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjnh8Uro92xkBfJqnSxDqyGD4AJrhZgOrWjd2OFyzOCKfMXyGCxSZkqzp2EWSQod_tcrNZTAWui216IiR8SAKLWuSElBrSuG31mmKKnWZ-7S_InP6fSVw-PDWnOBsWd3poxak/s320/free+gift.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">There's so much that I love about Christmas... the music, the lights, the food, the tree in our living room, the TV specials and movies, the day off of work, the Carpenters. But I think what I love most about Christmas is that it's yet another day of the year that we don't have a cat.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Merry Christmas, y'all, and y'all a good night!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-88156693786981581322010-12-13T09:40:00.003-07:002010-12-13T09:45:35.673-07:00The Hap-Happiest Season of All<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4mI0RClY85gMOaTSMjYXsjt4iA9pm-37zQmP0w6edpJRWEx_y5mHB11c702hkyszVNJPwIdufatWJvsve-cHCAjEG2hFEGgyWpwOOSx4oQgXvZSf1m63dtHyNlf8d-onH9i9/s1600/jugband+xmas.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550185743680724770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4mI0RClY85gMOaTSMjYXsjt4iA9pm-37zQmP0w6edpJRWEx_y5mHB11c702hkyszVNJPwIdufatWJvsve-cHCAjEG2hFEGgyWpwOOSx4oQgXvZSf1m63dtHyNlf8d-onH9i9/s400/jugband+xmas.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">In 1963, Andy Williams released a song that has become a holiday classic: “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Since then it has also been recorded by Johnny Mathis, Harry Connick Jr., Amy Grant, the Muppets, and a bunch of other people who we forget exist the other eleven months of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What I find most surprising about this song is that, as many times as it's been re-recorded, no one has ever tried to improve the lyrics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They all just sing what’s been sung before without considering how dumb the words are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I think it's time someone examined </span>these lyrics more closely than Donny Osmond or Gonzo ever did.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">According to the song, one of the reasons the holiday season is so wonderful is that “everyone’s telling you, ‘Be of good cheer.’” Have you ever been cheered up by someone telling you to cheer up?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Of course not. </span>If you want to make someone smile, you do something nice for them or trip down some icy stairs in front of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Telling someone to “be of good cheer” raises that person’s happiness level about the same amount as telling them you're going to drown a pillowcase full of puppies if they don't smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> In either case, they're only smiling to get you to leave them alone and go away... and possibly to save some puppies, but not </span>because you cheered them up.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes">Next on the list of bad lyrical choices... j</span>ingle-belling? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Mistle-toeing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Is</span> “wassailing” responsible for this slippery slope? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Just because someone turned a Christmas noun into a verb for their song once doesn’t mean you have to do it multiple times in yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> The guy who wrote this song needs a solid </span>candy-caning.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes">As for "m</span>arshmallows for toasting" and "scary ghost stories"...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I guess every family’s entitled to their own Christmas traditions, but are you sure you’re thinking of the holiday season here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Because what you're describing is camping… or possibly Halloween. You may be thinking, "But <em>A Christmas Carol</em> is kind of a 'scary ghost story.'" All right, but the song refers to "scary ghost <em>stories</em>," so name the rest.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And speaking of "the rest," "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" was co-written by George Wyle, the guy who co-wrote the <em>Gilligan’s Island</em> theme song with Sherwood Schwartz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Originally that song ended with the words, "...and the rest, here on Gilligan's Isle." And the rest? They only needed to mention two other people. That's like saying the seven dwarfs are Doc, Grumpy, Dopey, Sneezy, Sleepy, and the rest. They later replaced that phrase in their song with, "The Professor and Mary Ann." It just made more sense. So if you can change the poorly co-written lyrics in the <em>Gilligan's Island</em> theme song, then why not offer the same courtesy to a song that has somehow managed to become a Christmas classic?</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes">I'd rewrite the lyrics myself, but I just wasted all of my time making fun of the old ones. Maybe next year.</span></span></span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-51302657311798571372010-12-06T00:45:00.002-07:002010-12-06T15:42:00.885-07:00Toy Story 3: The Video Game<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 365px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546206904221693746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-pawIpKD9_n5-MUDG-F2zUY1IWb9DU0UiNxLSGzIuRbTqQUmIxaBSOusFZ80Fse4aM6qhNy5jX5n7b8JYASOpeEuXHY6lEqOxf6ZClJ5hp5_I8KVg-jMdREtNpV6CZ2qR9tR/s400/ts3+boards.jpg" /> <div><div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Way back in June, <em>Toy Story 3: The Video Game</em> was finally released. I had been working on it for a couple of years, but even after all that time and work, I forgot to mention its release on my blog... until now. Here are six of the 1,800 storyboards I did during the game's production... and that's not just an exaggerated number either. I still have all of them. Clearly these boards aren't in sequence, and some of them were never used for anything, but I wanted to share them anyway... because these are a few that I actually toned. Ah, wonderful grayscale!</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm very pleased with the way this game turned out... especially after watching my nieces and nephews become addicted to it. The "Toy Box" area is especially fun. That's where you just run around an old Western town as Woody, Buzz, or Jessie, doing whatever you feel like doing. If you want to shoot Bullseye with a rocket blaster for ten minutes straight, no one's stopping you... unless you're my nephew. After ten minutes I stopped him, because enough's enough! I also wrote a lot of the dialogue for the game, so if Hamm sometimes sounds like he's reading my blog to you, that's why.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 92px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546212149296686114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8R1Ye6wkwFhw_sP_HElfqVijPIc-o_swjlkIz1HWlYCXUwX-ySg6gR60soEUbc7foWJ0qjtHvUYZ3X3-1XVDbNPXpPemCG-mhnlTFwXEywyw-99biKG6o8a0ZH_6tCsEKbKR/s400/zurg.jpg" /></span></div><div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I did these three drawings for a commercial that we made for <em>Sony</em>. They wanted a video that would highlight Zurg as a playable character in the <em>Play Station 3</em> version of the game, and they left the rest of it up to us. I thought it would be funny to show Zurg having the time of his life, laughing it up like a crazy person, while Woody and Buzz watched in uncomfortable silence. In the </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_tNl9iqwaA"><span style="font-size:85%;">final version</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, Zurg walks over and hugs the two of them. It works a lot better that way than it did in the boards, so three cheers to whoever added that part.</span><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 164px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546209034518659058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0X8Nt6tKeZW3HKaXsOPXHcS4zJBHUB_V489q-TiBc3huOl0aOT3bKiykSfSmnLOkpOiWWzfFYxWFuXi-PGlCtDduXxhYZM8RQ3qzcZj0GLFv7f4CM35zmX5FJbHE3zHBXscH_/s200/ts3+game.jpg" /><span style="font-size:85%;">So, Christmas shoppers, if your kids like <em>Toy Story</em>, I expect them to like this game. And if your kids don't like <em>Toy Story</em>, you should probably ask yourself where you've gone wrong as a parent.</span></div></div></div></div>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-62738327509602974152010-09-30T23:15:00.000-06:002010-09-30T23:16:29.296-06:00Babysitting the Cubs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXWLUPV_dphEjNqlz-FoMDlgqgrOwvfvXs4gmNS5VeUfu8bX_ywcBzplS2b5LwIqm8NiElPKG2djYlylUuJTopaiwlJN7440h7F-zXiwAZTA8ciU6YZ488CZZd3gyj2Xv7LTz/s1600/lion+cubs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522786792408366146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXWLUPV_dphEjNqlz-FoMDlgqgrOwvfvXs4gmNS5VeUfu8bX_ywcBzplS2b5LwIqm8NiElPKG2djYlylUuJTopaiwlJN7440h7F-zXiwAZTA8ciU6YZ488CZZd3gyj2Xv7LTz/s400/lion+cubs.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks to a combination of cartoons, children's books, a really vivid dream I once had, and a nature documentary that featured a segment about them, I pretty much know all there is to know about lions. I expect I'd know even more if the TV hadn't been muted during the documentary, but they're just big cats. How complicated can they be? I now want to share some of what I've learned with you, the easily-angered, blog-post-policing public. This should go well.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To begin with, female lions (or "lionesses" to those who enjoy stumbling through words that end in too many S's) do the majority of the hunting, most likely due to the fact that they yearn to be in charge and feel important. Because female lions spend so much of their time hunting as a result of their pride (or "for their pride" as it's generally stated), the responsibility to babysit falls on the unfortunate males.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Now, babysitting is never easy, but imagine doing it full time while you're also trying to get twenty hours of sleep a day. That's how much an adult, male lion sleeps. You may not know this, but you can't really get much done when you're only awake for four hours a day. I did it for about six years in college, and even if someone had been doing all my hunting for me, by the time I'd eaten dinner and watched <em>Monday Night Football</em>, there's no way I would have been up for babysitting. Male lions are getting robbed! And on top of that, sometimes they're raised by sheep.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-52400301200407259802010-08-31T22:30:00.003-06:002010-08-31T22:34:51.916-06:00Dogs Get Old Quickly<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZRpYygGdHsU9tRetDsqCU-8BMToJ2dps9G46JgfNuMHTlx5QN7nrmIak9-Tk28jw6nQLSy1K9mtcEsLKogULFpBMyBGx-Z5npo7kHSGNCkjNIfaQN4kvY_g1r-U6XgaLX3WE/s1600/dog+cake.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511580902154708914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZRpYygGdHsU9tRetDsqCU-8BMToJ2dps9G46JgfNuMHTlx5QN7nrmIak9-Tk28jw6nQLSy1K9mtcEsLKogULFpBMyBGx-Z5npo7kHSGNCkjNIfaQN4kvY_g1r-U6XgaLX3WE/s320/dog+cake.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">It used to bother me when neighborhood dogs would bark and howl in the middle of the night, but then I realized something. Based on the calculation that a human year is equal to seven dog years, if a dog barks at 2AM on a Monday morning, to him he's actually barking at 5PM in 2084. He's probably just trying to protect you from burglars and alien invaders who will be snooping around your backyard in seventy-four years. Consider that for a moment. It's a fascinating thought, riddled with countless logistical holes.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">How did someone figure out that a human year is equal to seven dog years? Were a lot of two-year-old dogs reading at an 8th grade level? Because that doesn't say as much about how time works for dogs as it says about 8th grade illiteracy. However this "human to dog" time relationship was determined, the discrepancy between the two explains why your dog celebrates excessively every time you return home. What seemed like a normal day at work to you lasted almost three days for your dog. Your week-long vacation? Nearly two dog months. If the people who provided my food left me home alone for unpredictably lengthy periods of time, I'd start chewing up the couch cushions too.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This coming Thursday afternoon, my wife and I will celebrate our 50th Dog Year Anniversary... which is equal to seven years and 52.14 days in dumb, slow-moving, human time. These fifty years of marriage have been the best years of my 244 year life.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-48898659766231299152010-07-31T08:45:00.002-06:002010-07-31T20:48:25.234-06:00Shark Week!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAE-PH4P10mheJZOtbjevKFgAFOux_dIa83nHXkXQ2yU-8OwdfazkgKO37nNeYcUvkp7DBQfKJwsH94LDMGpJWCqtVw_JWs2iehniOq86HKRSMkSF8O8UXiXJvLwr2FZ1CFmE/s1600/shark+tub.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 260px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499738540806953922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAE-PH4P10mheJZOtbjevKFgAFOux_dIa83nHXkXQ2yU-8OwdfazkgKO37nNeYcUvkp7DBQfKJwsH94LDMGpJWCqtVw_JWs2iehniOq86HKRSMkSF8O8UXiXJvLwr2FZ1CFmE/s400/shark+tub.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">It's Shark Week again! Time to fill our heads and our nightmares with a whole new set of facts, images, and terrifying tales about the ugliest, most tooth-filled demons of the sea. I've decided that the less you know about sharks, the more danger you're in, and the more you know about sharks, the more danger you think you're in. But no matter how much or how little you know about them, the one thing you can be sure of is that sharks are currently plotting your death. There's no way around that.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This drawing was inspired by my childhood fear of bubble baths and hot tubs. I was all right in a bath without bubbles because I could see everything in the tub around me. No shark's going to sneak up on a kid in a bubbleless bath. But as soon as bubbles were involved... well, any idiot can tell you that murky water is the ideal condition for shark attacks... and any idiot just did.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Happy Shark Week, everybody!</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-57931632689071500162010-07-18T20:45:00.001-06:002010-07-18T20:54:32.086-06:00Filthy Animals<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixR05hOzY8NSd3qmPtq_CPRloX2eOXti4lNyhwIb_Bn0-uzeNDJuHLcFPirnZ_v70jCQl6WqLarBaIr3wLYpIRdRSf0jcRaxqcZIYnakkG5nDac1uhQiRq9VnFnAsFVn7pVMTX/s1600/bear+bathing.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494149655218130338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixR05hOzY8NSd3qmPtq_CPRloX2eOXti4lNyhwIb_Bn0-uzeNDJuHLcFPirnZ_v70jCQl6WqLarBaIr3wLYpIRdRSf0jcRaxqcZIYnakkG5nDac1uhQiRq9VnFnAsFVn7pVMTX/s320/bear+bathing.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">As I watched volunteers cleaning the unfortunate animal victims of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, I thought, "What a great thing to do... but why stop there? Aren't all animals stinky and gross?" A walk in the rain or a river crossing is the closest most of them ever get to taking a bath, and those activities so rarely involve soap that I'm not even sure they count.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Monkeys get clean by picking bugs out of each other's back hair... and then they eat the bugs they find. That's a little bit like taking a bath except, where a bath makes you clean, this just makes you disgusting. Other animals, such as lions, clean their young by licking them. In that way, a lion's tongue is like a wash cloth... a wash cloth that was just used to clean out a zebra's carcass.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So don't think you have to go all the way to the Gulf of Mexico to clean animals. Grab a brush and some shampoo and start tidying up the animals where you live. The ones that don't kill you will be slightly less gross because of the service you provide.</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21098288.post-54727070492849362642010-06-29T14:00:00.001-06:002010-06-29T14:02:27.721-06:00Bursting with American Pride<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRK4o-G4RAo2LK_npYkUuMfaZYxu0kk4SwWUbBaTSywSE8G9OkaffNnamdvEQMZI9Fg9fEuOtXUL4iXmd7DSqkIjhwbD3NaP-SwlLwvfLPoKtmfOifx36R4oG1Himn4vnjcrz/s1600/fat+eagle.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488212066672859330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRK4o-G4RAo2LK_npYkUuMfaZYxu0kk4SwWUbBaTSywSE8G9OkaffNnamdvEQMZI9Fg9fEuOtXUL4iXmd7DSqkIjhwbD3NaP-SwlLwvfLPoKtmfOifx36R4oG1Himn4vnjcrz/s320/fat+eagle.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">It has been widely publicized in recent years that Americans are fat, but is this an accurate assessment or an unfair generalization? I looked up the statistics, and I was proud to find that nearly one in three Americans is barely fat at all, meaning that we, as a nation, score an unimpressive 67% when it comes to being overweight. Sixty-seven percent? That would earn you a D+ in most high school classrooms... hardly enough to cause your fellow students to refer to you as "the smart kid." Sure we're a little on the chunky side, but until we reach a respectable 90% obesity rate, shouldn't we be known for our cowboy hats, our poorly-made cars, and our arrogant self-importance? After all, our success rate in those fields is well above 67%.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As fat as we may seem, America isn't even the fattest country. Like most Olympic events, our chubby nation comes in third in that race. Did you know that the U.S. has more bronze medals than China, Canada, Spain, Russia, and Germany combined? We're the third-placingest country on the planet! If we ever hope to become the fattest country, we must first find a way to out-eat and under-exercise American Samoa and Kiribati. What? There's a country called Kiribati? When did this happen? Maybe we assume we're the fattest country in the world because we haven't heard of the other countries yet, and it's this disregard for the world beyond our borders that seems far more "American" to me than the two-in-three guys who have to turn sideways to get off of a bus... which raises the question... how did they get on there in the first place?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Happy 4th of July, my fellow fatties! It's time for some grillin' and explodin'! Yee-haw! (We shall now throw our cowboy hats in the air and shoot at them with our many handguns).</span>S.T. Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13677349158007132249noreply@blogger.com5