Cracked: 5 Bizarre Comics Written By, And Starring, Celebrities

After a miserably unproductive 2016,* at least I kicked off this year in writing correctly by returning to Cracked with this piece on comics that celebrities wrote starring themselves…and how they got weird fast.

Is Ultimate Warrior in there? Of course Ultimate Warrior is in there. But also some fun stops along the way, like the universally beloved** Michael Chiklis.

Best-case scenario this guy beat a saintly old elf into unconsciousness.

*The script for Indelible, Inc. #5 dragged my fingers across the keyboard for something like six months of revisions even though the story’s been assembled for well over a decade…and in turn retooled from the very first Indelible, Inc. story, a non-superhero team of adventurers that I wrote in college. Nothing has ever been so hard for me to create/compose/carve/compress/cut/conclude since I started writing. I’m taking some time away from it before I start lettering Rodolfo’s art so I can tell if it’s any good. I went deep and couldn’t look at it clearly when it was done, but I think it pleases.

**unless you’re Bill Murray, but that guy touches people without their consent.

What you’ll find here

I am a writer, editor, comedian, and occasional illustrator and graphic designer. You may have read my work on Cracked, Thrillist, CBS Local, or a few of the sites I’ve freelanced for. Or maybe you stumbled across my book on BBQ in a clearance bin, in which case, happy grilling.

You can read the comic books and comedy articles I’ve written in the menu above, and see the latest happenings below.



NATIONAL LAMPOON: An Oral History of Space Jam

It’s the 20th anniversary of cinema’s greatest work about Looney Tunes vs. space monsters starring Michael Jordan, a hot mess that should by no means work, considering it’s the same era that gave us Extreme Toonz. But did! To that end, here’s my PA’s-eye-view of how the film got made over at National Lampoon.

Also, the Merrie Melodies era was superior. You know it, I know it.

Find the Beautiful

If you need another reason to loathe Trump before he actually gets his pussy-grabbing mitts on the American dream, I recommend that he’s already making people regard Bush 43 as a much better president than W ever was. By proximity, folks are already starting to say “Well, Dubya may have started an unprovoked war that killed 4400 Americans and up to a million Iraqis, but he was a genuine guy doing his best,” as if he was anything like either of those and his administration didn’t openly admit to doing things much more impeachable than Watergate.

Also this bullshit.

(And yeah, I know, Obama, drones, homeland surveillance, spying on reporters. The world is not turning the way it should.)

I got some good writing out of the incessant rage of the Bush years. But those were a different class of idiot — they were fully capable of winning, just not of achieving anything. They were able to get everything they wanted no matter how much they were fought and told it was a bad idea. And then, when that proved true, they weren’t able to push their vision all the way into reality. Just into the mess they were told it would be.

The Trump administration’s not going to be like that. It’s going to be a different kind of bad. And weeeeeeiiiird. There’s no aspect of Trump that isn’t repulsive even to a lot of his voters who shrugged and pulled the lever anyway. If you get apoplectic about the mad carnival whose tent flap we all now pass through, you’ll have a stroke by the end of February. So I’m going madcap with my comedy. Satire was fun, but it needs one foot on the ground.

(By the way, wouldn’t it be great if we all refused to say Trump’s name for four years? Say “The President,” call him 45, just drive him crazy by pretending he’s not there.)

In my personal life, I’m trying a new thing of instead of assuming every errant sparrow on the sidewalk is trying to keep me from catching my train, figuring out what the most sublime aspect is of every scene in which I find myself. Just practice for a strong, sane, mind. Leaving my apartment this morning, it was the dappled sunlight on the western side of the 1 train, reflected from the apartment buildings.

First foray, pretty good. I got off the 1 and walked through the West Village to my gym. Crossing the street by a coffee cart, there was a construction worker with an empty muffin liner in both hands like Holy Communion. As I passed by him, he stepped carefully off the curb, over the bike lane, and shook the crumbs in the buffer zone where the sparrows could eat it safe from cars, bikes, and pedestrians.

I could mine a metaphor or three out of that, but I’ll just take it for what it is. Found the beautiful that morning.

Rejected McSweeney’s Pitch: H.P. Lovecraft’s Fiancée Responds to His Love Letter

The weird thing about HP Lovecraft is even when he smiled he never opened his mouth. There are photos of him laughing with his friends and wife Sonia and he’s still tight-lipped like he’s Woodrow Wilson or something.

The other weird thing is he was toxically racist. And that’s terrible. But so was Neko and her music is still beautiful. It’s always a weird question about when the art is so good you can make time for it even when you’re horrified by the artist’s beliefs. Anyway, here’s a thing I pitched to McSweeney’s about — by all accounts — a nice woman whose husband constantly said anti-Semitic dreck as if he wasn’t married to a Jewish woman. (Tip: you shouldn’t be saying those things anyway, HP!) People: they’re complex! And also very simple, in some of the wrong ways. She tried to raise his consciousness, but he wouldn’t have it.

McSweeney’s passed, as they have a Lovecraft piece coming up. Oh well. Here’s my short little ditty I pitched to them in which Sonia Greene doesn’t take any guff from her soon-to-be husband, be they real or imagined ugliness