With some people creativity is a spring which gushes forth from a rift in their very soul. With others its a slow steady work of diligence and industry. Yet with some it is a grasping, competitive affair which knows only deadlines and headcounts, a shameless plea for attention punctuated by an awkward throw from a wooden horse. Its the karaoke of art...and its my bread and butter...
i'm only half joking...
The following is a comic which was born out of such a womb...took on a bit of steam...and then hit the grass like a cold banana when the teat of attention suckled dry...go figure.
Anyhow it represents my first real attempt at comic strip...
Click the images to make them too large to read comfortably...
Raunchy bluesy guitar staggers under shots of buxom ladies felating chicken strips and pouring gasoline over their tight t-shirts.
Two of the girls brandish carpet knives at each other while the rest of the ladies growl: vrOOOM vrOOOOM vrOOOM.
A picture of Steven Stegall flashes on the screen almost inperceptively: Two men sit back to back at separate tables of a fancy restaurant.
One of the men, a man with a large belt buckle and a ten gallon hat signals for the waiter.
Man: Bring me the meanest, most-low down, dog-beatin' barbecue sauce on the menu.
Waiter: Why certainly, sir.
The waiter returns and pours the sauce, careful to hold his hand over the bottom of the label.
The man behind him, a courtly looking aristocrat wearing a tuxedo and a glued on mustache, stops the waiter.
Man: Yes...fetch me the finest, most-exquisite, premium barbecue sauce on the menu. Waiter: Why sir i have it right here.
The waiter shifts his hand to cover the top of the label and pours then walks away.
The 2 men each take a bite and exclaim in unison: This is delicicous!
The waiter in the back giggles slyly and reveals the bottle for the camera: Over his shoulder, and out of focus, the 2 men are having sex discreetly on one of the tables.
Oh Chris Parnell, thank you for making SNL almost watchable.
