Let’s Break Some Rules

Ya ever feel like breaking the rules sometimes?  You know, doing something forbidden or against the law.  Not necessarily criminal, but violating some ordinance or statute, cause ya feel like living dangerously, or think the law is stupid, or whatever?  Well I sometimes do, and Hot Dog Man doesn’t think twice before acting on a whim.

But I sure hope you don’t.  For not only would the fabric of our society immediately crumble to the ground, but if you’re caught, You may end up on probation.  See, for thirty years, I had to deal with folks like that, who despite being sure as shit that they would never get caught, found their asses in jail and being placed on probation. And you know what the first and foremost condition of probation was?  Obey all laws.   So next time, should they ventured outside the law, not only could they end up getting screwed for a new offense, but get shafted even more so because they violated their probation by not obeying all laws.

Boy…That’s enough to keep my ass in line.  And that’s why when I get a ton of junk-mail consisting of Medicare insurance flyers, Long Term Care ads, cable or satellite TV specials, or cremations with burial at sea for only $899 (they sure got my demographic nailed down), instead of getting pissed and destroying something like my pre-approved  AARP card.  I let hot dog Man take care of it for me.  H D don’t give a shit.

H D can be helpful at times too.  Here he helped me fill out the DMV form for a handicapped parking placard.  Those lucky handicapped folks get all the good parking spaces, so H D checked every box to help me out.

Son of Hot Dog Man

Back in the 1930′s when Universal Studios was cranking out all the great horror movies, they always followed a big hit with a “Son Of” movie.  There was The Son of Frankenstein, Son of Dracula, The Wolfman, Mummie ad nauseum.  That way they got more mileage out of their monster characters, and didn’t have to be constantly dreaming up new ones.  Well in the spirit of beating something into the ground, I’ve come up with different Hot Dog Man scenarios.  Don’t have story lines for em yet.  But here’s some possibilities:

Like Batman, Hot Dog Man needs a side-kick.  The Lone Ranger had Tonto.  The Green Hornet had Kato, so Hot Dog Man has Vienna Sausage Boy.  Together they could fight crime and stay Kosher at the same time.

Speaking of fighting crime, I do have a bias for law enforcement, so possibly a western theme would be interesting.  Hot Dog Man could be the sheriff.  And protect all Hot women from being groped.

Can’t leave out the obvious (and what ya all been waiting for), Hot Dog Man as the spokes-dog for Viagra.  No everyday Willy or Peter (a bunch of pricks if ya ask me) would do. And you can be cock-sure and bet the family jewels, that Hot Dog Man will put the ding in anyone’s dong.

Odds and Ends

I gotta give this Hot Dog Man stuff a break for a while, but it’s hard, cause I’m on a roll with him and don’t wanna give that puppy a bit of rest.  So I decided to post some of my Pre-Hot Dog Man work (April’s drawings; which will one day be remembered as the body of work I produced before going on to fame for Hot Dog Man: who everybody knows is a total joke, and  thinly disguised expression of the male phallus, placed in poses  of none too subtle erotic content, that while not out-right smut, are cute enough to be considered ‘naughty’, while having no connection whatsoever to Condom Boy – an earlier theme running throughout my work) for which I had no cohesive narrative to tie the two drawings together.

See…It just can’t be done.  How can one intertwine freaks with the crass and vulgar in a manner that works together as a whole, with start and a finish, filled in the middle with a  juicy, but not necessarily forbidden, but definitely not good for you at your age stuff, mouth watering vanilla center?  May not make a whole lot of sense, and may even be incomprehensible, but sure is enjoyable when along for the ride, which in itself, “enjoying the ride”, may be the key that unlocks all and makes the most sense in its simplicity, only to be truly understood when  fully present and enjoying the ride.

Have a nice trip.

Hooray For Hot Dog Man

Okay….I guess my new direction is cartooning.  Why not?  I grew up watching cartoons all the time.  But I never drew them, it just never interested me.  I guess I could never figure out why of all the Disney characters, Donald Duck was the only one that didn’t wear pants.  Mickey did, so did Goofy.  Pluto was a dog, so he was exempt.  But Donald?  Maybe because you can never tell the sex of birds by looking for their genitals.  I raised chickens for a while, even had a rooster (I called him Bubba) but never saw his you know what.  He was busy ruffling the feathers of all the hens on a daily basis (what a guy), but I never once saw his wee-wee.

What’s really cool about drawing cartoons is that it’s fast, and all ya have to do is get certain gestures right, and presto, it comes to life.  With Hot Dog Man, I don’t have to worry about getting my anatomy down correctly.  Be he a bratwurst, sausage, or weenie, it’s all basically the same.  Here he is in all his splendorous glory:

Hot Dog Man

I love having this Hansi blog.  And what I love about it the most, besides the fact that it’s all about me, is that it allows me to have an alter ego, wherein I can explore all things forbidden, in bad taste, of questionable socially redeeming value, and in a manner loaded with sexual innuendo in the spirit of adolescent bathroom humor.  [Some things never get old].  It’s kinda like being a little boy again when everybody called me Hansi.  The thing of it is, as I get older, the line between “Hansi” and the real deal is fading rapidly, and I’m Hansi more times than not.

Well, one night I was sitting around, pretty much like in the picture on top, and it came to me that I needed a new alter ego.  Being in an altered state of mind, that sure  came easy.  Hence, Hot Dog Man was born.  [Actually he was conceived that evening, but it's the same thing if ya believe that life starts at conception, and to kill a fetus is first degree murder; until that is, you come out of the womb, where-after you're on your own and it's open season on your ass.]  There’s an old saying that “a man ain’t nothing but a dog on two legs”.  A real truism if ya ever lived with one or seen em run in packs.  While my Hot Dog Man is not a true canine, he sure thinks like one at times.  And while not quite a super hero, old H D (that’s short for Hot Dog Man) does have the power to amuse, disgust and generally make ya think twice.

These quickie drawings, done with a #2 pencil, are a new style for me.  Although a lot of my stuff appears cartoonie, I’m really not into cartooning.  But drawing stick figures in interesting posses has always been a source of fascination, and allows me a freedom which my more finished work lacks.  I guess if you had to give it a name, you could call my new works…what else: Doggie Style.

Looking For Direction

Ya ever get lost and need a little help?  Like being out on a drive, taking a wrong turn, and finding yourself out in the middle of nowhere completely lost?  Well when that happens to me, I #1: get real angry at myself for not paying the extra bucks for GPS in my car, and #2: start asking for directions.

That’s what happened to me with this blog.  I got lost.  Not in the usual way when you’re so baked ya ask yourself, “where the fuck am I”.  But more so lacking a clear direction of where I wanted to go with my drawing.  This was compounded by my thirty three year old son Sean publishing an eight page comic book entitled Moonside.

Wow, was old Dad blown away.  But not so much as to forgo shamelessly promoting his effort here and his blog:  Sean Neprud.com,  which chronicles the process and technical issues he had to deal with to pull it off.  He was looking for direction in his artwork and decided to follow his passion: comics.

And then one night, I had this vision, and it all came to me.  I’m gonna do some rough pencil drawings centered around the theme of hot dogs.  In fact, I created a new character called Hot Dog Man, who will be featured in my next post.   He’s not comic book ready, nor am I, but the below drawing is what inspired me.  That and a bad case of the munchies.

Why

Here’s a few things that I have left over, for which I couln’t dream up a cohesive narrative which would tie them all together.

Why is a question we all ponder at times.  It’s kinda like if we know Why, it all makes sense, even though some things will never make sense.

*

Who What When Where Why

Okay…When I was grinding out probation reports for a living, I had to use concise, yet descriptive language, cause I was preparing a legal document which a judge would read, and lawyers argue over, before some poor turd was sentenced for committing a crime.

I had to summarize the circumstance of his or her offense.  Including their statement (usually “I didn’t do it , but was offered such a good deal, I just had to plead guilty”), background information, sentencing alternatives and a recommendation for or against probation.  Heavy duty shit!  Oh yeah, and unlike this blog, I couldn’t use no curse words or slang unless I was directly quoting what a defendant said.  So if he called one of his co-defendants a “mother fucker”, I got to put that in my report.  I had to be careful that I didn’t call the defendant a mother fucker, or refer to the  Judge as one, and definitely could not have my recommendation read: send this mother fucker to the Joint (although that’s what everybody in court was thinking).  Cool way of incorporating a lot of “nasty-ass bullshit” into a legal document.

So, in everything I wrote, I had to include who, what, when where, and why.  The Why part always got me.  As if it explained it all, and a good enough reason justified their behavior.  “Why did you rob that liquor store?”…”cause I was all strung-out on heroin and needed a fix”.  Who, hasn’t been strung-out on something which needs to be fixed.  That’s understandable.  Why do men beat their wives?… “cause I lost my temper and got pissed off”.  I can relate to that one, that’s why I never watch Fox News programs.

Well enough of the crime fighting flash-back.  I did this series based on the five Wh’s.  It’s hard to break old habits.

Wow…new flash-back, wouldn’t it be cool to write whole mini-stories, only using these five words?  Such as :

What? Where?….Who? When…..Why?

When?  Where, Who?  What!….Why?

Who?    When? Where?…..What!

Oh well, I sure used up a lot of material on this post.  Why?  you may ask.  Why not.  Also, here is where I do what I do best…when I want to.

Something New

Talk about misleading tittles just to grab your attention.  But technically this is something new, although in reality it’s the same old stuff, just re-packaged into a new format: A new sketch book.  But then again reality generally sucks, so any way to alter it or give the illusion of an alternative is good…at least for me.

To the Artist, or drawer of drawings like myself, a new sketchbook or blank canvas is a time to reflect on what has gone before, and what may happen in the future, or how things may unfold.  Pretty trippy.  I’m usually hesitant to dive into a new sketchbook, after all, I’ve just laid my previous one to rest, and here I am hooking-up with a new one looking to start the process all over again.

Here’s a little secret.  This blog is nothing more that a chronicle of my sketchbooks, which I’ve been posting in chronological order.  Talk about being chronic!  So it’s more like a journal of what I’ve been doing drawing-wise.

I really don’t like sketchbooks, and prefer loose paper instead.  But people keep giving me new sketchbooks for Christmas and birthdays, so I’m stuck with em, and being basically a cheap-skate, hate to see em go to waste.

Caught With Your Pants Down

I just love sayings and by-words that are loaded with imagery and sexual innuendo, which at the same time portray a situation, or emotional state quite accurately.  Have you ever been caught with your pants down?  I sure as hell have, and quite frequently, and in fact so much, that I thought my only salvation would be to walk around with no pants on at all.  Well, I couldn’t do that!  That would be indecent exposure, or worse yet, exhibitionism, or as we professionals in Probationland used to call it, “Weenie Waving”.

See, being caught with your pants down, is exposure at a time when one is the most vulnerable.  When you were least thinking about it; thinking “I’ve got all my bases covered”…(except home plate).   Worse than Being Up Shit-Creek Without A Paddle, where at least ya know you’re in a bad situation, but don’t wanna dirty your  hands in order to get out, being caught with your pants down, catches ya when all ya can think of doing is one thing.  A Fart In a Two-Manned Submarine, is much more preferable, when it comes to things that go over well.

When one masters these catchy phrases, one can say a lot by only saying a very little, cause everyone knows exactly what you’re talkin’ about.  I’ve ventured up Shit-Creek a few times, and I was just glad I was in a canoe.  A paddle sure would have been nice, and easier to tidy-up after, but when you’re on that voyage, all ya can think about is getting out of there.  Wonder if Shit Creek would be more navigable if I had an out-board motor?

Another One Bites The Dust

This is the last page of the sketchbook I started at the beginning of the year.  That’s way over 50 pages, and a shitload of drawing by me.  Hopefully most of the drawings haven’t been a load of shit.  Anyway, I had to make this page special cause it’s the last one, and kinda like saying goodbye to an old friend.

This one was the second to last page.  You can tell how compulsive I am, cause all I could think of was getting to the last page.  Maybe I should have posted this one first, and the top one last.  But as Jesus said, “The first shall be last, and the last drawing shall be first”.  If it works for Jesus, I works for me.

Extraterrestrials

Here’s some more small drawings of what I call “Terrestrials”.  If one terrestrial is good, having a few extra is even better.  And it’s the extra terrestrials that I’m interested in the most.

Ever notice that in all the science fiction movies where earth is visited by extraterrestrials, that they are either good, and want to save mankind from itself, or thoroughly rotten reptilian slime intent on destroying the planet?  All except E T.  He just spaced-out during a long interstellar potty break, wondered off lost, and ended up having to deal with the madness of 20th century suburban living.  He just wanted to get the hell outta there and go home.

Then there’s all the space craft.  Earthy vessels are phallic in nature; rockets and what-not; while alien ships are more feminine – think flying saucers.  The Star-Ship Enterprise is a hybrid of the two.  There’s the saucer, where everybody lives, then the two rockets that blast it into warp drive.  Kinda gives new meaning to that old rockabilly song, “I’ve got a rocket in my pocket and I’m ready to roll”.  Star Wars vehicles are just weird, but the opening shot in the first movie was sure phallic.  Reminded me of a time lapse shot of a Viagra pill kicking in.

I think if I had to travel on a space ship, I’d prefer the Star-Ship Enterprise.  Everybody had a job, wasn’t fat, did what they were told and didn’t have to make big wardrobe decisions.  Plus, it was all uni-sex.  You could hardly tell the girls from the boys, unless their uniforms were too tight and the boys’ ‘boyz’ started to show.  I bet Dr. Crusher had a hand-held device to take care of that.  Cause there was sure no hanky-panky on the bridge between officers.  The rest of the crew however, were no doubt balling their socks off, doing all kinds of kinky stuff on the holo-deck.  Probably couldn’t get high on board either.  Even though they had a replicator that could make ya all sorts of stuff, it was probably alcohol free, or un-smokeable.

4-5-13

I’m going back to the journal-ling thing (ring a ding),  maybe cause I’m at the end of a sketch book. And what better way to start the end of something by a special entry chronicling  it’s completion.

So let the festivities begin.

It’s Art Blog Time

The above drawing is one of my better ones, if I don’t say so myself, but it makes no sense whatsoever.  Kinda looks like a hand squeezing a dead chicken which has taken on the female form.  Maybe it’s a statement on domestic violence.  Boy did I ever deal with a lot of that bullshit when I was working in Probaionland  [ I had a caseload of 200 wife beaters; what a bunch of whiners].  Or perhaps a statement on Feminism and Women’s Equality.  Loss and letting go?  Or a new improved plastic woman with a few design flaws?  But Nope, it’s none of the above.

See, I wanna start drawing from life again, and not the life in my mind.  So, sitting back in my living room recliner (we have two: His and Hers…what a pair of geezers), the only thing that’s real in front of me, is my entertainment center with flat-screen TV.  Now everybody knows that ya can’t draw from TV!  It’s all moving too fast ( a new image every four seconds), and it doesn’t stand still.  Plus, nothing on TV is particularly real, “reality” shows notwithstanding. [TV is my chief competition when it comes to blasting out pseudo psychedelic images, with bullshit narratives].

So, what else is one to draw when their ass is firmly ensconced in a recliner, except their hand.  Cool.  Sure glad I didn’t have rash on my inner thigh that needed scratching all the time.  So I drew my left hand; sure glad I don’t have palsy or the ‘shakes’.  A nice, moderately mediocre rendition don’t cha think?.  Also sure glad I don’t have Alzheimer’s, or I’d be wondering whose hand that was.

The hand doesn’t look like it’s clenched or gripping anything…well maybe a loose grasp.  And you know I like the female form, especially without any clothes on, or better yet, naked.  And I do like things that are kinda floating up in the air, and if it’s carbonated, so much the better.  Put them all together, and that’s what ya get. I’m just dealing with line, form and color.  Any reactions or metaphorical statements that may arise, are in your mind, not mine.  I think I’m gonna call this on “Woman as dead chicken slipping through the grasp of Man”.

I was gonna call this one “Gay Marriage”, and then go on a political rant about just how “Sacred” marriage really is, when you need a license to do it (The marriage that is, most people are ‘doing it’ before marriage these days and maybe that’s why so many end in divorce: they over ‘did it’, and used it all up), and a Court Order from a Judge to un-’do it’.  Anyway ya look at it, some folks are making a lot of money on other folks ‘doing it’: from government agencies charging fees (regulating sex?), to lawyers and investigators looking for a way to get your ass out.  I think Gays should fully share in all this misery along with the rest of us.

But no…this drawing is about two figures and their spacial relationship with one another.  But, the thing is, I fucked up big time, and it looks like the boyish figure is poking the dyke in her boob.  More depth would have been created if I hadn’t drawn the blue figures hand over the others boob.  Maybe he couldn’t  resist it.   Are they real?  Boys will be boys.  Might as well let get married.

Hell Hounds

Here’s a little secret.  When I sit down to draw, I usually don’t  have anything specific in mind.  It all just sorta happens.  Sometimes (but rarely) I have a flash of brilliance and a concept will pop into my mind.  Hell Hounds was one of them.  I was so taken with the phrase, that I just had to incorporate it into the drawing  above.  Sometimes I’m amazed, and delude myself into thinking I’ve done something profound.  Delusion is sure a great alternative to reality.

Getting back to Hell Hounds, the Devil sure owns a lot of property here in the United States; his name is on stuff everywhere.  There’s the Devil’s Post Piles in the California Sierras; a Devils Tower (the one in Close Encounters Of A Third Kind), the Devil’s Cauldrons, Devil’s Canyons, Baths and Gardens ad nausea, the fallen Arc Angel’s name is on anything totally worthless, barren and thrashed, god-forsaken or volcanic in nature.  That’s sure a lot of real estate.  I wonder if he owns it , or is just leasing it on a multi-millenial basis until Jesus returns?

So…if the Devil had a dog.  It’d be a Hell Hound. Or maybe a Devil Dog?  I’ve run across a few of those in my travels.