Unreasonable Doubt Update

Not once during the whole trial did I see or hear a gavel. This left me disillusioned about televised images of our legal system.

Medical exams and a work assignment have me squished for time. But I hope to at least wrap up the trial by this evening.
 Image: Capstone Education ePortfolio

Unreasonable Doubt II: A Pocketful of Koreans

Let us call the defendant "Mr. Pak." Mr. Pak was in his early thirties, tall, wearing a sharp-looking gray suit, no socks and running shoes. He and his female interpreter wedged into the witness box to testify. Mr. Pak's attorney was a middle-aged Korean with dark glasses who spoke heavily-accented English; not bad English but he often groped for words like a sleepy man fumbling for the alarm clock.

(I should note here that the city attorney was also of Korean heritage and spoke excellent English. Clearly the City of Los Angeles had determined they would not be out-Koreaned by anyone.)

Next to the witness stand was a bulletin board with a schematic of the apartment where the incident had taken place. The judge handed the defendant a laser pointer. The defendant fiddled around, at one instance turning it toward his face

Here the defense attorney dropped the ball.

He warned the defendant in English not to point the laser at his eyes. The defendant immediately flipped the pointer around and got the beam aimed at the schematic. (I'd like to say I noticed at the time, but one of the other jurors bagged that golden moment.)

So testimony began. Here the usual translating process was reversed. The defendant would hold forth in Korean while the interpreter in her high-pitched voice would relate events. 

 Mr. Pak came across as confident, even arrogant at times, but his thumbs twisted and mashed against each other like sumo opponents while his right foot tapped out a steady pneumatic cadence.

After I heard his testimony, I knew why he was nervous.

According to Mr. Pak he was beset by woes. His wife's brain had become soft as a rotten peach from too much cocaine. Mr. Pak wasn't above the occasional toot. But cocaine sometimes made him throw up and he'd go to bed chastened. However his nut wife would stay up all night snorting plate loads of blow and making her strange ululating sounds.

 One night she burst from the apartment, sprinting down the hall wailing like a high priest of Dagon in an H.P. Lovecraft tale. Poor Mr. Pak was forced to pursue and haul her back to their unit by her pony tail. He then flung her on the bed. This had the ring of admitting you pilfered copy paper from work to deflect charges of stealing several Xerox machines.

To get all that information on the record took most of an afternoon as there were objections, frequent side bars and at least two "strike that from the record." The judge was a business-like woman with long straight hair and a short fuse for awkward lines of questioning and any tangents that slowed down the process. She dogged both counsels to keep things moving. You got the impression the judge had rented out Department 46 for a wedding reception and needed all parties out by a certain time so she could string bunting and set up folding chairs.

On cross examination, the city attorney set out to ventilate Mr. Pak's story. But he was cagey and hid behind the translator like a running back shadowing a huge tackle.

"I do not understand that word."

"Could you repeat your question please?"

"I am not sure. Could you say that once more?"

"I do not know the word 'bruise.'"

I stopped taking notes and started doodling arrows with thick lines and shading.

At great length, the city attorney attempted to prove Mr. Pak was aware of—and had violated—a restraining order that instructed him to avoid his apartment.  But via the translator he was primed for that line of inquiry.

"The police gave me a paper. I could not read it. So I put it in my pocket."

"Why should  I tell my lawyer about a paper when I don't know what it is?"

"I don't read English very well."

(Unless there's a turkey club sandwich somewhere in the sentence.)

That night I dreamed I was talking to my wife through a Korean translator.

And we still weren't finished.

Tomorrow: Pak Up Your Worries

Image: zazzle.com & NewYork Magazine

Unreasonable Doubt

Last Monday I reported for jury duty at the Stanley Mosk Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles, hoping to hang out in the jury room, read all day and not get picked for a panel. Afterwards, I'd go home and forget about jury duty for the next 18 months to two years. The closest I've ever come to sitting on a panel was many years back when I made the cut at traffic court for a drunk driving case. But the defendant settled before trial—gutless wimp! Every since, I've sat in the juror room every couple of years, reading a damn thick book. Stacks of newspapers gave way around me to laptop cubicles, then WiFi and iPhones. But I remained the perennial jury duty wall flower, showing up for a day of reading with my thick library book.

Clara Shortridge-Foltz Criminal Justice Center

At first, Monday went as expected. I wasn't called for any morning panels. We broke for lunch. Afterwards, I resumed my reading. Suddenly about 40 names were called out including mine. We're being transferred to another courthouse further away from where our cars were parked. Apparently, the Clara Shortridge-Foltz Justice Center Building—also known as the Criminal Courts Building— ran out of jurors. Great. We're being sent to a legal meat grinder. Forty of us walked out into a bright sunny afternoon up to Temple, then east down past the LA Cathedral, across Hill Street, through a gauntlet of street folk that included a bald transvestite in women's platform shoes and a cadre of Informal Americans with super sized Styrofoam "donation" cups to the Criminal Courts Building and up to Department 46.

To my surprise and discomfort, I was sworn in on a panel at Superior Court. Our case involved seven misdemeanor counts that included spousal abuse, battery, intimidation, imprisonment, violation of restraining order plus damaging a cell phone thrown in for good measure. (That's what you get for not taking a plea bargain.) I didn't want to sit in a room with a bunch of strangers and decide seven counts. My fondest wish was that the defendant would do the right thing by me and settle.


But no. Not only wouldn't he settle but he claimed not to understand English very well. That meant a translator ghosted everything said by anybody in the courtroom—judge, clerk, bailiff, city attorney, defense attorney, witnesses—from English into Korean. There were two translators and they tagged in and out like wrestlers, warming the seat next to the defendant and keeping the air filled with muttered Korean. It was distracting. You never really got used to it.

Basically, the case came down to this: the victim said her husband punched her lights out one morning with a closed fist, smothered her with a pillow, restrained her until she promised not to call the cops, released her, then chased her into the bathroom, grabbed her cell phone and played keep away until she again promised not to call the cops. She promised and he let her leave.

Once outside she called the cops.

The defendant said via translator that his wife was a crazy cocaine addict who made weird glottal sounds as if she were speaking in tongues. He had accidentally hugged her too hard and that was what had caused the victim's facial injuries. Also his right hand suffered from a preexisting condition that would prevent him from ever punching his wife but not earning a living as a musician.

In addition, the defendant wore a sharp looking gray suit but no socks and running shoes. Where the heck were his socks? Unfortunately you are under orders not to discuss the case with anybody including fellow jurors. To my knowledge, everybody on the panel clammed up. We never discussed the sock angle. Now my fellow jurors are gone and I'm left alone with my memories.

On Thursday afternoon I was at lunch in a nearby food court waiting for my Quiznos salad special. I glanced next to me and there were the defendant and his attorney. They didn't recognize me, but I heard the defendant speaking pretty confident English. Granted, the Quiznos menu isn't exactly the works of Thomas Aquinas but for a guy who was burning up two translators he sounded like he could sling around a few good English sentences.

But you can't share that with anyone. And when it's time to deliberate, you can't use it because it's outside the evidence and testimony presented in court and they're all you get to judge the defendant. So no socks and OK English. These remained locked inside of me like valuable jewels kept deep in a bank vault guarded by goblins.

Witnesses came and went; there was cross and re-direct and inquiries and muttered Korean droning on and on. There were cops and a paramedic and a victim friend and a doctor who testified for the defendant, arms folded tightly across his chest as if posing for a painting to be titled "hostile witness."

The court provided you with note pads. You could take notes but had to leave them in the courtroom. The juror sitting next to me used his notebook to doodle an intriguing series of thick arrows along with parallel pencil strokes throwing off shadows. I wondered if he would be thoughtful and wise during deliberations. (I found out.)

Tomorrow: A Pocketful of Koreans

Image: Wickipedia and Chow

So Long, wee Earl Kress

Tom Ruegger has a post up on Earl Kress who just passed away from cancer. A nubbin of a man but with a good heart, Earl had been around animation so long that he used to TYPE scripts on a TYPEWRITER. He wrote animated moves and performed voices and pretty much did everything in the animation industry that a creative guy could do. I'll always remember him sitting in his office at Warner Bros. cranking out scripts wearing a repetitive stress brace on his wrist and forearm. While making shows we'd always say "On film forever" to remind ourselves to pay attention to the details.  Earl leaves behind a big old batch of work that will be 'on film' in one form or another for years to come. Rest in peace, Mr. Kress.
Here's a piece from an Animaniacs Christmas episode Earl wrote called "Little Drummer Warners." 

h/t: CillalisTheSeller

UPDATE: The Animation Guild remembers Earl. 

Jury Duty and Traffic

Jury duty is at least interesting. Morning traffic from my house to downtown Los Angeles is like sitting on a high branch with bees in your shorts—unpleasant and precarious. Yesterday, I saw a man flip out because some guy had edged in front of him. He whipped his car into the next lane just so he could violently cut back in front of the guy. All the time, he's leaning on the stinking horn. Perhaps all the shootings blamed on road rage really have nothing to do with crazed drivers, but are the actions of bystanders administering street justice to savage dopes. I hope so.

Tom Ruegger Remembers

In the beginning......there were a number of people responsible for the creation of Tiny Toons and Anamaniacs. Tom Ruegger says who the heck they were.

Image: Commentarama

Sprint to the End of Health Care

Not necessarily forever, but I'm nearing the completion of my COBRA-extended Motion Picture health care at September's end. I'm still in physical therapy for my shoulder, undergoing more skin cancer treatments, and have teeth cleaning on the near horizon. While I'm at it, I should probably shoe horn in another physical. Starting in October, I will simply will myself to remain healthy. An underutilized, cost-effective method, force-of-will treatments will be the norm for the foreseeable future.

As for my shoulder, it's perhaps a month away from being fully healed. I can do most things except trick pool shots or scrub above my lumbar vertebrae in the shower. But I'm getting there. And no one really minds that I'm strolling around town with dirty vertebrae. This is Los Angeles where such things often pass without comment.

Not-Very-Memorable Clunkers

Ling Carter lists three TV pilots that mercifully never saw the air.
Image: The Atomic Bomb Decision

SpongeBob Strongarm

A former lead artist on the popular animated series has been accused of setting up an attack on his art dealer. I've always said you need to diversify your animated career.
Image— It Thing

In the Better Late Than Never Category...

...I nominate me for the following tardy acknowledgement: Paul Rugg has introduced Freaky Friday, a day dedicated to things Freakazoid! Go see what has come to pass.

Just Say 'No' Rejection Cure

And they do—editors and publishers and animation execs. Author Leonard Chang talks rejection and the best way to beat the Man.

I went on six pitches this year for three different animated TV projects. No hits. The rejections ranged from blunt to complimentary and, since the process is highly subjective, the reasons for rejection varied in logic. In one instance, my agent gave me pitch guidelines from a studio. I wrote up a show within those guidelines. The show was rejected because "it's not what we're looking for right now." This can enrage a normal man into bending crow bars. But as Chang points out, the only way to sanity and success is to keep on keeping on.

That said, my favorite 2011 rejection came from a magazine editor. He passed on a short story of mine, but a simple 'no thanks' was inadequate. He dissed my characters, plot and pacing as well as slagging the dialogue as "elevator conversation." In closing, the editor invited me to submit again.

I thought of wishing him success in one day achieving his goal of editing The Passive-Aggressive Quarterly.

Instead I just sent the story somewhere else.
h/t: Bernadette Murphy
Image: Clevelandseniors.com

Criminals in 'Jeopardy'

Alex Trebek ran down a burglar, suffering a tendon injury in the process. I like my game show hosts robust and ready for action.
Image: Imagesshack

Jimmy Freeman 8th at Angeles Crest

My former Team in Training marathon coach, Jimmy Dean Freeman finished 8th at the Angeles Crest 100 Race. Very impressive performance, with Jimmy finishing in under 24 hours. This foot race is over and through the Angeles Crest National Forest. When it's not burning down, these mountains can be quite a beautiful place to visit and an exhausting spot to run a hundred miles across. Nevertheless, a well done performance kudos from a guy who can maybe walk two miles without some surgical injury or other acting up.
Image: Livestrong.com

Al Qaeda Cartoons Promise Thoughtful Nuance

(A deep sigh of great length.) I remember seeing something a few years ago about university students in Iran being lectured on aspects of Jewish propaganda in Tom and Jerry shorts. Now Al Qaeda, the world's go-to animation guys, are cranking out their own cartoons at Beard-of-the-Prophet Studios in Yemen.

I can imagine the notes: "Good first draft, Azhar, but the infidels aren't screaming enough when they perish from nerve gas. And could you punch up those lines in the second act when our heroic fighters torch the geriatric hospital? 'Hey, hot stuff' is just so bleh.'"

I'm guessing "imitable behaviour" isn't an issue out there.
h/t: Hot Air
Image: his vorpal sword

Breaker Burn Out

But it was withheld by burned out breakers leading from the meter to my unit. A deadline loomed yesterday with intermittent to zero electricity starting early in the morning and followed by a carnival of fun contacting and/or coordinating my Home Owners Association, an electrician, and the city Public Services.

Through God's mercy and sheer persistence, I had new breakers by 5:00 PM. Only then was I able to resume writing, typing on until the street outside was actually quiet—very unnerving. (You suspect something.)

Off to the shoulder doctor this morning then back home for more writing. Ah, but I'll have power, sweet power.

Link to Paul Rugg Musical Challenge

And it is here!

Froynlaven Update

Luke alerted me that busy Paul Rugg was detailing his many projects as well as teasing a NEW MUSICAL CHALLENGE!! With Keeper married now who will pick up the slack?

Happy July 4th!

Though weakened, our republic endures. How the Founding Fathers established a nation without benefit of air conditioning continues to mesmerize me.

Non-stop marketing work for the last ten days. My boss is a young guy who has never had to give notes to writers outside the marketing world. Thus he delivers insights such, "this is no good" or the refreshingly delightful "you need to do this over." We lurch forward together.

Writing today on the outline for my online book. My employer's company is similar to choose your own adventure. My job now is to fan out the story in multiple directions and think of interesting characters for avatars of all ages to foil-outwit-escape-or date.

Be cool today.
(Image: loot-ninja.com)

Daily Kos Remarks on Huntsman

Both of them. Scroll down to "Rachel Maddow comes to the rescue." As matters stand, the Huntsman song may well go viral before Jon's campaign.

Link to John Locke Article: A Writing-Class Hero

This man placed no barriers between his writing and the public and grew wealthy as a result. I LIKE it.

Jon Huntsman, You're a Prince!

Jon HUNTSMAN is officially running for president.

Oh, what a great boon!

Rachel Maddow broke the ice on her show last month during a discussion of the former Utah governor's ambitions by playing the "Huntsman" theme song. So excited was I—that's a very Paul Harvey construction—that I emailed BMI and inquired about residuals. Sure enough, MSNBC is a BMI signatory. As lyricist, that means a nice little bump whenever the second quarter of 2011 catches up with me. (BMI checks are usually several quarters behind.)

Now imagine the rest of the media latches on to the Huntsman theme. We have almost eighteen months until election. That could be 18 months of "Hunt-hunt-hunt he's the Huntsman."

Our nation faces major issues—declining economy, inflation, many wars. What are Huntsman's views? His plans? How will he address these challenges?

I'm not certain. Mercantile as it may be, I only know Huntsman is a potential cash cow at least until the 2012 Republican Party Convention. That said, I wish Mr. Huntsman a dynamic, news-filled campaign filled with stirring speeches, gaffes, scandals, recovery from said scandals, acts of personal bravery, each and every deed inspiring the media to play "The Huntsman."

Who would've believed this possible?

Perhaps Huntsman's vice presidential pick will be an unknown. A quiet, thoughtful man named Howard Freakazoid.

Then I would know we were parked several spaces down from the Apocalypse.
Images: (abolishcampaigncontributions.blogspot.com) & cartoonatics.blogspot.com)

Shoulder Pitches

Shoulder is healing well with more movement all the time. On Tuesday, I start physical therapy: 2x a week with a home edition. Other than having to sleep and type in the sling, I'm making progress.

Not so much forward-movement with animation. The last of my projects received a 'no.' However there's one more pitch to set-up and deliver before this round is officially history. In the meantime, I may have work writing a form of ebook similar to the old choose your own adventure. I've got to sort through the material and think up a concept. Thankfully, I've had so much marketing work as of late that my typing speed sizzles and I'd be able to knock out the material in fairly short order.

Happy Father's Day to dads everywhere.

"Death Honk" Changes Lives

Not really, but my short story from last year did serve as a call to action. Thanks to author Jonathan Pinnock for his kind remarks re. my rendering of clown-bear fights as detailed in the Journal of Microliterature.

Link to Unfunny Emmy Nominees

Emmy politics and comedy blend unevenly.

Link to Vonnegut on Story

Kurt Vonnegut diagrams the story.
Via Webless Friend Ken

Pitching Animated TV Shows

With my big-ass sling on, I went to the last of this session's pitch sessions. The exec. was affable and laughed after I told him I was only wearing the sling to score a handicapped parking plaque. He listened politely and demonstrated the mark of a seasoned exec. - expressing both interest and a non-committal attitude.

So far, the score stands at two shows out of three pitched, generating a trio of foul balls known as 'maybes.'

The only way to improve at pitching is to keep at it. I'm taking a deep breath plus my notes on what approaches worked and which ones sucked and start cranking out more ideas for my summer pitch session.

I really hate pitching. Why can't they simply give me money to write something funny and then make it my way? Lousy politics, that's why.

Memorial Day 2011

American cemetery at Omaha Beach in Normandy. Like the man said, "freedom isn't free." Memorial Day should contain an element of remembrance for all who served and especially those who fell.

As a kid in the Midwest, our parents once took us to a Memorial Day parade in a small town outside Chicago. In addition to the high school marching bands and cheerleaders, the stars of the day were a large group of survivors from the Bataan Death March. At the time, they were middle-aged guys, mostly in their forties, and seemed relaxed, walking along in a loose knot and waving to the cheering crowd. Only later did I learn what they had endured fighting on Bataan and how they had been treated on the march to prisoner-of-war camps. Freedom certainly wasn't free for them.

So I thank our veterans, past and present, including my second cousin Marty Smith serving in the Air Force. Thanks for watching our backs and allowing us to barbecue in peace.

Forgot to mention Colin Wells of the Army's Stryker Brigade, home safe from Afghanistan and based in Ft. Lewis. Thanks on behalf of the Write Enough family.
Image: Travelpod.com

Things to Watch Recovering from Surgery

Yesterday I watched more TV than I have in one sitting in many a year. In a post-operative haze I viewed:

1. I Shouldn't Be Alive

2. Biography of John Candy

3. Two Hour Special on Snipers

4. Scared Straight

5. 2 Hours of Storage Wars

Dog the Bounty Hunter was coming on but I was done in and lapsed into a deep sleep sitting upright per doctor's orders.

Some pain today, but not bad. I can move my fingers, but typing is a bit difficult. More soon on this year's operation.

Thanks for the well wishes.

Away, Away to Surgery Land!

I'll return soon with a patched up rotator cuff. Shouldn't be long before I'm back pitching AAA ball in...no, wait. I never pitched AAA ball. But I will receive a video of the procedure possibly with the soundtrack to House. I thought they were kidding when they told me about the video, but this is, after all, the Motion Picture Hospital. Why not my own underscore throughout the operation? A craft services table for the doctors and a separate one for administration and nursing. Remember: anything can happen in Hollywood, even good things.

Rachel Maddow Meets the Huntsman

Thanks to Tom Minton and Tom Ruegger we now have MSNBC's Rachel Maddow and frustrated crime fighter The Huntsman in the same room at the same time. Zip ahead to around 7:52 for her intro. Don't forward too far ahead or you'll be saying, "Darn the luck!"
Image: meine kleine fabrik & newsinus.us

Busy Shoulder Pre-Op

'Perchance to Dream' said the Bard and I'm down with that. The last two and a half weeks have been a series of marketing deadlines, animation pitch meetings, and overall preparation for this operation on Wednesday—such as getting all the bills paid while I'm still able to type with both hands. I've worked every day and still need time to complete the last few marketing/animation projects.

But Wednesday—sleep, then football-sized pain pills. And it will all seem very dream-like.

Live By the Sword, Die By The Pepporoni

In Louisville, fast-food restaurant disputes always end old-school.
Via: Drudge Report

Published Yet Again

A short story of mine, "Fresh Ideas" has migrated into an anthology, The Best of Every Day Fiction Three. Support small presses, especially the ones that publish my stories. They have the discrimination and taste to rise above their boorish peers.

Pitching Animated Shows

A strike and a long foul ball. Double-pitch meeting today at a studio with happy, laughing execs. They knocked down one idea in short order, but loved another, wanting to hear a bit more. So I'll get a second swing. Weird to be on that particular lot, since I'd worked there a few years ago during a dark period of life and hadn't been back since. It was the last time I smoked.

So fix my one idea, write up a few more, and return to seek that elusive development deal.

Just to clarify my Ick! post. I reread it and smelled a victimy scent. I'm the only one who can sidetrack me—not mean people, bad breaks, or unfortunate circumstances. Alas, I'm very good at sidetracking myself, thus need little help. But this time will be different!

"The hot dog of fate is often lathered in the mustard of opportunity."
Billy the Marlin, mascot for the Florida Marlins

Caroline Hammond Art

Young artist Caroline Hammond offers up a few renderings.

Ugly Pitch Meeting

An unpleasant pitch meeting this morning. The exec. clearly was looking for reasons not to buy my animated TV show idea and couldn't wait to tell me. On the one hand it was refreshing to receive the blunt, unvarnished truth, on the other hand who wants the blunt unvarnished truth when it isn't good news?

I've never had a rewarding experience at this particular studio, despite the fact that I know many people who have worked there for years and proclaim it a pleasant environment. Several years back, one big exec. dissed me to my agent and would not allow me to even pitch there. What triggered his animus has yet to be revealed. In any case, his no-pitch edict was successfully enforced. Today was my fourth pitch in six years. (On one of those pitches I was the writer attached to a big star's project; on another they passed on a fav, Tomorrow Bear.)

On Wednesday, I have a double-header, pitching a brace of animated TV show ideas to an exec. at another studio where I've had universally pleasant but financially meager dealings over time.

"Each new at-bat holds the potential for a variety of outcomes."
— Billy the Marlin, mascot for the Florida Marlins

Marathon Mom Finishes

Congrats to first-time marathoners Bernadette and daughter Hope (and friend Emily) for finishing the Pasadena Marathon. Good running weather—overcast, 50s, rain—but lousy for cheering.

I walked my 5k and finished in 41:18. That's about 13:17 a mile and landed me smack in the middle of my age group. (Had I run as well as I did at Santa Clarita last year I'd have placed third and taken home a coveted age group medal. My point being Santa Clarita has much faster old men.) Despite the pissy sky, I beat out a 79 year old man and a four-year old girl and challenged a woman pushing a stroller but she pulled away in the home stretch.

Who do I meet on the course but old Team in Training coaches Jimmy and Kate Freeman. (Jimmy was coaching a group completing their first 5k.) Kate was watching her hub work having just crossed the half-marathon finish line, third among women, strolling in at 1:29:03.

Anyway, fun to participate in a race again. Note that the 5k gave out finishers medals. It's like receiving an award for placing seventh in a Candyland tournament. But I accepted the medal on behalf of my knee. Congrats to all who ran in Pasadena today!

No Man is an Island—But Several Men are Peninsulas

For old times sake I'll be walking the Pasadena 5k tomorrow. Haven't actually run in two weeks because of a sore knee. And after my late May shoulder operation I won't be running or walking much for the next three months. So this will be a leisurely farewell stroll for the reminder of the summer. By fall, I'll weigh as much as the island of Crete. But there are racing categories for island-sized men and women. I intend to enter and beat the Greenland and New Guinea classes before taking on Long Island then aiming for either Catalina or Tonga. When I get down to Staten Island or Capri, I'll make a big deal out of it.

A Variety of Pitching Experiences

'We Don't Laugh Around Here. We smile politely.'

No one came out and said that, but such a message was clearly conveyed yesterday afternoon as I pitched an animated TV show idea to a pair of execs. I could feel my energy draining like air from a punctured volleyball.

It made for a long pitch.

Oddly enough, last week I was at CBS for a meeting with two different execs. where I didn't pitch a thing. Nevertheless, they laughed at my every jest and bon mot no matter how tepid. While leaving I said I had to attend a child's funereal. They roared.

Meanwhile, a second animated show pitch to a different studio—involving a different idea— looms on Monday.

What reaction I'll receive is unknown.

But I'll exchange non-laughter for a development deal any old day.

My Interview in Necrotic Tissue

The latest, and final, issue of Necrotic Tissue includes a fine interview with me where I hold forth briefly on Waylon Jeepers, writing differences between animation and prose, plus my in-depth take on what a poor husband King Kong must have been since he ran through a lot of brides.

As indicated, Necrotic Tissue is closing up shop. I want to wish Publisher/Editor R. Scott McCoy the very best. Putting out a small press genre magazine can be pretty thankless, but "Tissue" kept up the quality on all fronts. His imprint, Stygian Publications, will be publishing an upcoming Necrotic Tissue Best Of which will include my own, "Dagon and Jill."

Writing all that made me pine for fiction writing. Not that cobwebs have grown on the computer keys. I'm cranking out a tsunami of copy for the marketing folks.

And the first of my new animated TV series pitches is this Thursday. Then two next week and one the following week. One pitch will include two separate shows. But very exciting overall. Send me waves of pleasant goodness.

Beware the Honey Badger

Colorful language peppers this slice-of-honey badger-life.
via Webless Ken

Happy Mother's Day!

To moms: We wouldn't be anywhere without you and we certainly wouldn't be on time.

Fan Pans New Looney Tunes

From the Comments section, Luke weighs in on Warner Bros. new Looney Tunes:

"Saw the show. It was okay, boring, generic, and slow paced. Probably the biggest hit in the face is the sheer lack of background music. It just is not Looney Tunes without the orchestra. I've heard that the budget for each episode was 750,000 dollars. I don't know how hight that is in comparison to, say, Animaniacs, but they have to have money in there for orchestra tracks. The biggest problem is it just does not have energy, or charisma behind it. It is, what it is, Seinfeld with bad timing and no charisma."

5 Pitches, 3 Shows, No Waiting

Three original animated series will be pitched to various people at various studios over the next two and a half weeks during the run up to my latest operation May 25th. As health care is running out, I must accelerate the schedule for my annual surgery. This year I feature the rotator cuff, a change of pace from last year's skin cancer and on par with '09s knee operation.

It's been awhile since I've pitched anything animated, but if you wait long enough the executive deck gets reshuffled and you walk in somewhat fresh. But its important not to mention too many operations. Then you remind the execs. of their own mortality and they'll grow sullen and stop their perpetual smiling.

I'm thinking of hiring someone young to impersonate me at meetings. I'll pay for gas and throw in a percentage of every show sold. Let me know in the Comments section. If this works out, we could be on the verge of a plot for a Disney film.

Shocking Footage

Bad luck? Possibly and yet more seems implied. The lesson, clearly, is do not wear metal underwear no matter how comfortable they are or sexy they make you feel.

fororoma753aclive via breitbart.tv

Po Tofu

News overload. No sooner has terrorist mastermind OBL been clasped to the bosom of Neptune, then Kung Fu Panda 2 decides on a previously overlooked product placement.

Bin Laden Dead of Lead Poisoning

Good.

Euro Trash?

Animated offerings from Cartoon Network Europe.

Let's Try This Again

And they are as Warner Bros. gears up for another TV series involving the Looney Toons.
(Image: CBR)

Ruegger Recalls HB-WB Mashup

Tom Ruegger recalls his show idea to combine HB and WB classic characters—and he has the artwork to prove it.