I don’t know if ya noticed or not, but Hot Dog Man isn’t, doesn’t, chooses to forgo, wearing any pants. I though about that one for a while, but I guess he just wouldn’t be the same with his best part all covered up. But all of him is good, with the bottom being no better (or different) from the top. I guess the bottom line is: he doesn’t have any genitals, so what’s there to hide? Perhaps he’s gender neutral. He’s not gay. He does reek of pheromones. Nope, he’s a man alright. Hot Dog Man! He is, his best part.
Okay, enough of this fascination with H D’s weenie. Do you ever wonder what it would be like to walk around all day with no pants on like Hot Dog Man? I sure do, and wish I could. But if I went outside, got lost and wound-up in public, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure, and nobody wants to see that.
I could do it in my backyard. It’s fairly large, deep, secluded, with neighbors on only one side. And if a neighbor did see me in the buff, they’d probably think. “Wow, old Hansi is out there in his garden again, looking at his medical plants for the hundredth time today.” Besides, I’m naked when I go in the hot tub [One just does not wear a bathing suit when doing some So Cal hydro therapy], so what’s the big deal?
Sorry for the distraction. I was really gonna talk about cartooning, and how much fun these quick pencil drawings have been, freeing me up artistically. I’m truly enjoying it, and hope you are too. It’s almost as much fun as walking around with no pants on.
Okay, Hot Dog man is starting to become a little bit of a challenge for me. Something new to work on, something I haven’t done before. But it’s fun playing with it, watching it evolve. All pretty trippy stuff.
See, what I’m dealing with here is not so much a vulgar portrayal of (alter ego) Hot Dog Man trying to pinch some Hot Chick’s ass. But drawing two figures in relationship with each other, which also tells a story [in this case about old H D trying to cop a feel]. That’s not easy art-wise. The old masters did it, loaded up with symbolism, I’m just trying to do it
loaded with gestures.
Before I could draw some of these, I had to first visualize the scene in my mind, and have a mental picture of what it might look like. Kinda like drawing from life, but cranking it up a notch.
I still haven’t gotten Hot Dog Woman down yet, but I’m workin’ on it. Seems to me that ol’ H D likes his women a little bit on the trashy side. In fact, the trashier the better. If it flashes, sparkles and smells good, well ol’ H D is gonna jump on that stuff faster than a rainbow trout hits a treble hook loaded with Power-bait. Hard to resist I know, but look what happens to the poor trout. BAM! Fifteen minutes out of the hatchery, thinking “freedom at last”, and he’s a goner.
And what man can resist something in hot pants and a tube top sashaying by ya, jacked up four inches by stiletto heels, and dangling with cheap jewelry? Sure works on fish, and it sure works on trouser trout. Thing is, and I think this is part of my problem in coming up with a consort for Hot Dog Man, H D don’t need a woman… he needs women.
Lone Pine. What two old geezers long for when ya need to release some steam, get outta the house, de-stress, and do what ya wanna do without first asking permission from The Wife.
A dream, a symbol of hope. A refuge to be sought after and achieved even in this life-time. Lone Pine. Solitude, peace, a feeling of being at ease, comfortable at all times. Something to savor, look forward to, and enjoy in all its fullness. Lone Pine.
Well, we’re not talking about enlightenment here, but a small California town in the Eastern Sierras at the foot of Mount Whitney (the highest peak in the contiguous United States), and home of the Alabama Hills of movie fame. From Lone Pine north up the Owens Valley, there’s many creeks running down from the snow capped mountains, into the valley and eventually into the Owens River (which is owned by the City of Los Angeles) which becomes the California Aqueduct, the source of water for L A and the south-land. For some strange reason, I always enjoy peeing in the Owens River when up there. Must be something nostalgic from my childhood and growing up in L A.
So there’s not only all this natural phenomenon and history up there, but fish (who also piss in the water). And fish equals fishing, and so begins some of the best trout fishing all the way up California’s Highway 395.
How sweet it is. So old Hansi (aka Hot Dog Man) went up there last week with his fishin’ Bud. Boy, did we ever have to take a leak. A mental one that is. I’d never urinate in someones water supply. Gawd knows what with all the fish shitting in it, not to mention cattle leaving huge ploppers, that water is unfit for human consumption. But peradventure a drop or two of geezer pee should dribble into the creek, you can rest assured that it’s Viagra free 🙂
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.
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.
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.
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: