Now to save the princess!

This won't make any sense...

...if you're unfamiliar with Nedroid.



This comic is in response to this comic



And this one is in response to: this comic

Quack

I've drawn the next comic in the series... but I haven't inked it like I've been doing, and have been instead trying to figure out GIMP (freeware equivalent of photoshop that I was directed to by Phil). It's complex! It might take me a while to figure it out, but hopefully I'll be able to start using that instead of the basic paint program for comics and such things.

But I really wanted to update the blog, so I cheated and used Paint to quickly crank out what is below this text:

A Saddest Factory Comic 3

Because nobody demanded it, here's the latest! Click it, why don't you?


Also, here is one of my dogs. It's meant to be kinda cartoony... but somehow it doesn't come across that way... So it's neither cartoonish or realistic. What it is, however, is Sophie!

Post Apocalyptic!

Okay, so I was browsing through Livejournal artists, and, similar to the Teen Meme, I found a place where lots of people were posting themselves as survivors in a post- apocalyptic world. I decided to do one... so I spent entirely too much time on it, and drew it with merely a mouse in MS Paint. It's huge (once you click it), but I'm exhausted right now, and don't care to resize it.



...but since I'm such a nice guy, I'll also give you a black and white one... which was last saved before a lot more was done to the background... and I will resize it a bit. It's still kinda big, and you should still click it.



I thought about adding speech or thought bubbles, with me thinking/saying something like "Seriously, guys, just let me grab some groceries and I'll leave," but then decided that I'd actually try to make it seem more like a comic book cover than a mere panel.

Me... Six, Seven Years Ago.

A popular thing that has been going around (or it used to go around, I'm not sure), is the Teen Meme. This is where an artist will draw how they looked as a teenager next to how they look now.

Here's mine. I'm quite different from how I used to be, but I like to think that the teen-me would approve of the now-me.

If I'm ever successful

You know what I would do if I were ever to become successful to the point of financial security? I would experiment. Not with drugs or lifestyles, but with cheese.

I love cheese but, honestly, I've only tried a handful of varieties. Sure, I've had Swiss, Cheddar, Feta, Monterey Jack, Mozzarella, Ricotta, Cottage, Pimento, Parmesan, Muenster, Provolone, and American, but there are many more types out there in the great Cheese Spectrum which I've never tasted. Just check out this Wikipedia list!

Man, that's a lot of cheese. And I want to try them all, to taste the subtle differences, to be a connoisseur.

But first I must become successful.

Until then, I can only dream.

Dream of cheeses.

A Saddest Factory Comic 2

Here's number two... I still need a name for the male character though... I'm thinking maybe Nick, but I'm really not sure. Any suggestions?

MS Paint Pieces

Tomorrow, or sometime also relatively soon, I'll scan and post the second comic strip about the guy what is going on a date. But tonight you get two things I churned out in my basic paint program. They're just random little things that I made and happened to like.

Congratulations on graduations.

Two very good friends of mine graduated recently. I drew a comic for the one that is female. I did this because I would much rather get into her pants than I would Doug's.

Here's the comic!


(If anyone wants me to post the other The Inconsequential Daily Happenings of Dark Adam comics that were published in the school paper, then just say the word, and I'll slap them up here.)

True story

It was drawn very quickly... but I just thought everyone would like to learn how about how I saved Christm...er, May 16th.

...stupid nose.


Also, I'll work more on the comic with the guy on a date soon... this short strip was just a little break from the actual storyline.

A Saddest Factory Comic

Alright, the scanner is up and running once more. That being the case, here's something special: A comic that I drew in a different manner than usual. Instead of just using a single pencil (or maybe an additional blue colored pencil for guidelines), I used inks that my favorite professor gave me for my college graduation. Plus I drew each panel independently on a separate sheet of paper, and then resized and moved them around in MS Paint.

Let me know what you think. Is it witty, or humdrum?



(Click for a larger (i.e. readable) version.)

Personality Test

I enjoy taking Personality Tests sometimes (...even though they also bring about a touch of sadness for some reason). Here's one that I found recently. You can click where it says "full Personality Report" for much more detail.


My Personality

Neuroticism	61
Extraversion	18
Openness to Experience	73
Agreeableness	99
Conscientiousness	61

You rarely get angry and it takes a lot to make you angry, however you tend to lack energy and have difficult initiating activities. You lead a leisurely and relaxed life. You would prefer to sit back and smell the roses than indulge in high energy activities. You prefer facts over fantasy and are more interested in what is happening in the real word. You do not like to claim that you are better than other people, and generally shy from talking yourself up, however you dislike confrontations and are perfectly willing to compromise or to deny your own needs in order to get along with others. You have a strong sense of duty and obligation, and feel a moral obligation to do the right thing.

Take a Personality Test now or view the full Personality Report. UK ugg boots

So, yeah, that's me, I guess. Anyone else want to take it and share their results?

Sad Songs

Hi! I just thought it would be interesting if I shared some of my favorite sad songs with you, gentle reader. You might be surprised.

I know that I could list some obscure things that most people have ever heard of, but where would the fun be in that? So, I've chosen some that maybe you've heard before, and if you haven't, well, I've included videos.

First off, there's Bastards of Young, by The Replacements. This one gets more of an honorable mention rather than a space at the very top. It has sad elements, and has tugged on the heartstrings a bit, but I can also just listen to it and think "Ah, Groovy." Especially poignant are the lines "The ones [that] love us best, are the ones we'll lay to rest, and visit their graves on holidays at best. The Ones [that] love us least, are the ones we'll die to please, if it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them."




Next up, we have Glycerine, by Bush. It just sounds so melancholy. This song is definitely in my top five sad songs. The strings give it such a lonely air. Memorable lyrics: "I needed you more, you wanted us less, could not kiss, just regress. It might just be clear simple and plain, but that's just fine, that's just one of my names."


My number one saddest song might cause some strange looks or chuckles though. Holding the spot at number one for tunes which depress me (but in that good way that makes me keep listening) is Rainbow Connection, by the immortal Kermit The Frog. "Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection; The lovers, the dreamers... and me." Something about the tone suggests that while Kermit hopes to find the answers to happiness (the Rainbow Connection), he doesn't truly expect to. There is a deep longing there.

Ocean Blues, a piece of fiction.

All matter as we know it was created in the Big Bang. We see the remnants of the universe's great expansion every time we gaze upon the stars. They appear immobile to our ephemeral eyes, yet they silently stream across the heavens at speeds too fast for comprehension, moving further and further from some initial point, some universal answer to their existence. And here, on Earth, all life has emerged from the sea. We are drawn to it, and countless civilizations have flourished on it's shores. Maybe that's why a coastline at night stirs something within us.

Several years ago, during my college days, I went to Florida with some classmates for spring break. By this point in my life, it was already well-established that I would but rarely drink and preferred to always be in control of my faculties. These teetotaler ways of mine, coupled with being a mutual friend to everyone on the trip, undeniably played a part in securing me a seat in Jeff's old station wagon for the seven hour ride to the ocean.
There were five of us total. There was Jeff Codby, the unquestionable leader of our troupe with an infectious good-nature, and Tom Davidson, a foot-baller with a good head on his broad shoulders and an unhidden love for botany. There was Eric Worth, a very intelligent young man with absolutely no drive to succeed or study, and there was Daniel Winters, who, despite belonging to very wealthy family, lumped himself with us and looked forward to working for a living, even if it was in a laboratory. And of course there was me, Anthony Landis, the introspective model student and designated driver.

One of my fondest memories from the trip involved me taking over my duties as designated driver on the very night that we arrived. Eric, no taller than 5'7, and no heavier than a hundred-thirty pounds soaking wet, challenged Tom Davidson to a drinking contest. Tom, it should be mentioned, stood 6'2 and weighed near 300 pounds of solid muscle. After three mugs of beer each, Eric began to slur his words very noticeably, and Tom confessed to being “a little less thirsty than before.” Across the bar, Jeff spent his time trying to impress some female vacationers with his pinball skills and personal charm, while at the same time, Daniel tried to impress the same girls with his ability to buy them drinks. He never once mentioned his social status, but kept the taps running.

At the end of the night, we had only been to the one bar, and the only one in our ranks that was completely smashed was Eric, who was easily carried to the car by Tom(Tom, it should be mentioned, had developed nothing more than a touch of uncertainty in his tread). I drove the group to our motel smiling faintly as Jeff and Daniel recounted how they made plans to meet back up with the girls they had met.

The next two nights saw me again chauffeuring the crew around, and by the fourth night, it seemed like my good-natured sobriety was being required a bit too often. I had fully expected to be the designated driver, but for some reason I hadn't expected my comrades to end up drunken every night after the first, and to need my services throughout the daylight hours. What complicated matters was that not everyone in the group had the same plans each day. There were times when I'd drive Jeff to one bar, and then would take Tom to a volleyball tournament, only to turn around and drop off Eric and Daniel at a motel to meet someone. To my further dismay, after taking everyone to their perspective destinations, I would always end up driving back to the motel to wait for calls requesting me to pick them back up. As I've said, by the fourth night, I was wearied. I, in a move quite uncharacteristic of me, voiced this sentiment to Jeff. It was not taken lightly, and I was assured that the next night (our last night to be there) I would be free to do anything I wanted.

The following day came quickly enough, and my peers all found other ways to get about during the day while I read an improving book out in the sunlight and sand. Later, I brought out my pencils, and sketched the sunset as it crept into the sky, and when the stars eventually came out, I began to walk. I simply meandered, slowly taking in the vastness of the stars. At the same time, my thoughts also turned inward, and I began to think about how insignificant we all are in the vastness of space. And I thought about how nothing we do could ever possibly matter in any kind of grand scheme. And, yes, I doubted that, given the infinity of space, that there could even exist a grand scheme. But at the same time, I saw that such beauty and structure could hardly be random! I looked upon my own life's actions: I had made no real accomplishments beyond those of academia, I had seen very little of the world, I had never known real love, my youth was very dull and common, etcetera, ad infinitum. But in the vastness of it all, these facts were trivial. I could exceed in every field and still it could not matter to the universe. It only made a difference in my own mind. And yet... and yet, there seemed to be something more, if I could only grasp it. It was then that I heard my name, called out, as if from some great distance. I turned and looked back towards the lights of the city which were drowning out the stars above.

A figure was heading my way, and after hearing my name again, I determined that it was Daniel. Behind him, further back, I could just make out the others. I waited for them, and when they had all caught up, they told me why they had sought me. There was a carnival out on the docks. It had just started that night, and this was the only opportunity to see it. I politely mentioned how I was supposed to be free of my duties tonight. Jeff answered for the rest of them, saying how the docks were within walking distance and that I wouldn't have to drive. I didn't understand at first, but after a bit more conversing, I realized they wanted me to be the designated walker! I was being asked to make sure that they didn't get completely smashed only to end up walking the wrong way back to the motel, or that they didn't pass out on the beach and get carried away during high tide.

I tried to shirk the responsibility using levity. Their cries of “Let's go the fair” were met by my “I'm sorry, but I'm not a very fair person,” and “You go on without me, I don't fare well.” All I wanted to do was to continue my study of the seas and stars. I felt that if I could just continue, some great puzzle piece would fall into place. I would understand my role in existence, I could figure out my destiny, I would learn the meaning of life, so to speak. And yet, the group all continued their entreaties. They were dead set on going to the jetty, and they desperately wanted me to go along with them. They assured me that I would have a great time, and said that even if they weren't drinking, they would still want me to go with them. They didn't understand how close I felt to finding some great peace and understanding, and I lacked the words to explain. Eventually, their request for my attendance at the docks was little more than a chant. I sighed, and told them I would go.

I actually had fun, I'll admit it. But at the same time, I still have yet to find the answers that seemed so close that night. Some nights, I lie awake and wonder how my life would be different if I had stayed behind, if I hadn't gone to the silly carnival on the docks. Even today I feel remorse for the knowledge I never learned, and for what seemed like my decision to remain ignorant.

All I can do is simply wonder how my life might have turned out differently if I hadn't given in to their request that I join them along the jetty.

Oh, if only I hadn't given in to pier pressure!

Two Images

First is something I drew quite a while back. The second is something I drew very quickly in Paint pretty recently. I had thought about posting a story, and even wrote a good chunk of it today... but then I realized that the length of the thing might put people off, considering this is just a silly little blog. The tale is currently about a page in length, and probably has another full page to go. I might go ahead and finish the story later, and post it here... or I might try to make it more concise... We'll see. For now, here are the images.

Future Updates

I have decided that I'm going to find some way to update my blog at least once a week. I might just post silly little nothings, or a hastily drawn sketch (probably from MS Paint... I still don't know what's wrong with the scanner). For right now, I think I'll try brushing off my writing abilities and change a one-panel comic I drew quite a while back into a short short-story.
So, here it goes (keep in mind that this is a spur of the moment thing... so it won't be perfect by any means):


If these walls could talk

Linda and Will were of that rare type of relationship which grew from adolescent camaraderie into something more mature. They were best friends since meeting in third grade, and one moonlit night three years ago, they became that and more. Under the stars, they had come to the realization that they couldn't bear the thought of ever being without each other. They had never even kissed before that night, but for some reason the planets aligned, their hearts beat faster, and their eyes opened.

Now Linda clings to Will's arm. They are newlywed, and the stars still shine bright in their young eyes. Today they are moving into their new house. They try to suppress their anxiety. This will be their first time entering the old, modest construction rather than viewing it through photographs. It may have been a brash move to make, but the price was right, and they are eager to start a life all their own. Once the paperwork was finished, they hopped a plane and now they stand just outside their very own home, surveying the foundation of their future. Will opens the front door and peers in hesitantly. Linda takes advantage of his turned back, and uses all her might to lift him off the ground. She carries him past the threshold. Will laughs, but isn't wholly surprised. On their short, cheap honeymoon Linda had sworn she wouldn't stand for being carried through every new door the two of them crossed together. This was just payback.

Once nestled in the gloom of the house, Linda sets her husband down and tries to regain her composure (and breath). They smile at each other, Will still laughing. It is then that they hear it: a strange, almost groaning sound. The couple's bodies go rigid, their eyes go wide. They both hear it -- something resembling a voice in the vaguely metallic noise. It doesn't last long, and when silence begins to seem certain, Will asks "Did you hear what I did?" Linda shrugs, her eyes still wide; she doesn't know what she's just heard. The noise starts again. This time it sounds less like something clanging against old steel, and has an eerie creaking sound. Will and Linda huddle together silently, listening hard, trying to discern some meaning in the noise. This time the voice is more apparent and they hear the words. As soon as the creaking voice ceases, Will takes his wife by the hand, and they run out the door.

By the road, next to many of their worldly possessions they look at each other, dazed and pale.

"What was that!?" Linda pleads.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out right now." Will pulls out his cell phone and calls the real estate agent. "Jared, this is Will Barter..."

"Oh, Mister Barter! How do you and the misses like the house?"

"That's what I've called you about! I'm telling you, this place is haunted! My wife and I just heard... things."

"What's that? It's nothing, I'm sure. Old houses make lots of noises. Old pipes, old, strong wood."

"You don't understand! There was a voice from nowhere!"

"A voice, Mister Barter?"

"Yes, Jared, a voice! The first time I think it said 'good enough, I suppose.' How do you explain that?"

"Oh, that! Don't worry about that," Jared Green replies sagely.

Will looks at his wife, far paler than usual, shivering in the summertime. He draws her close to him, and presses the button on his cell to turn on speaker phone. If there's a good explanation, he wants, he needs, his wife to hear it. "Okay, Jared, maybe I imagined the first one, but the second time, I'm sure there was a voice that said 'Well, alright... I guess... that's fine... really...' Now, why, how, would our house say something like that?!"

"Like I've said: It's an old house, Mr. Barter. What you heard was the house settling."

Here's the deal...

The scanner still doesn't scan. Also, I haven't drawn anything particularly funny or jaw-droppingly amazing anyway. However, I am writing a story (which is a little odd for me), or at least I'm trying. After I finish (IF I finish) this new project, I'll most likely post it here. So, honestly, I don't know when I'll finish it or what its length will be.
I'm also doing some art to go with the story. I'm thinking, currently, that the sketches are just a way for me to visualize my characters better and might only be posted afterwards as "concept art," but at this stage it isn't unreasonable to think that they could actually be part of the story. I don't know.


I wish I had amazing and interesting things to tell you (whoever "you" are), and maybe I'll think up some ultra-witty topics later on. But for now, this post is all you get.
Hope you enjoyed it.

Peace,
the Saddest Factory Artist,
Adam.

The Arts.

This is one of those random attempts at wit.

It seems to me that I'll never have the wealth, social standings or grace to ever truly be a patron of the arts. However, I do think that I could make it as a patronizer of the arts.

















Due to a temporary lack of scanner, this was drawn by mouse in MS Paint... Also, I think it looks better if you actually click it and view it at a larger size.

A self-portait, drawn by mouse in MS Paint