You can tell that it’s a dream sequence by the funky outline where the box should be and also the little bubbles that are in the corners. I thought that if anyone deserved a dream sequence of big breasted women, it’s you … the dear reader of Room 19 Comics. So there you go, don’t say that I never gave you anything.
You want to see cartoons of big boobed woman? Check it out here, my friend at:
www.room19comics.com
This strip actually is grounded in something that happened to me last week. If you’re a regular reader of my Blog (and shame on you if you’re not, especially considering that I’m updating it a guaranteed TWICE every week) you would know that last week I was a traveling man. Monday I was in DC and Wednesday I was in New York City. For some reason, I had a rotten night of sleep on Wednesday night, but I had some very lucid dreams.
One of which was about how I drew the greatest comic strip that has ever been drawn. In my dream it propelled me to fame and fortune and countless people were telling me how great it is. For some reason, I realized that this was a dream (maybe it’s because of all of the wealth that I got from a web comic), but I told myself to write down the strip as soon as I woke up, so I wouldn’t forget. The problem was that I woke up at 4:00 am and I had no idea where the pen and pad was. I convinced myself that I’d remember and fell back to sleep.
Problem was, when I woke up, the only thing that I remembered was a general description of the dream, but not the specifics. I spent a good 15 or 20 minutes in bed trying valiantly to remember the dream, but it wouldn’t come back to me. Eventually, I gave up and took a shower, but since then every once in a while I’ll try to recall it. I think I’m SOL on this one though.
So instead of the greatest comic strip ever, you get a story about forgetting the greatest pick up line ever. That sort of evens out, eh? And you get to see your old buddy Layne, who has been sort of MIA in the past few months. Like I say every time I draw him, I love this character. To me, he’s better than Eddie and Kurt, because he’s very inhibited and does what he feels. I feel free when I write for him, because he’s a goof ball, but a good-natured one.
That being said, I can see why Eddie gets pissed at him in the last panel. Aside from my riveting yarn that I just spun about my dream, don’t you hate it when people tell you about their dreams? Most of the time they don’t make sense and you have no idea whether their motivations for telling you this story is to just tell you or they want you to analyze their nighttime insanities. When you do put on your Freudian hat, more likely than not, they begin to get pissed; “No. Just because I had a dream where I took a leak on my mother, does not mean that I have issues with her … I just had to pee really bad, can’t you see that?”
Or if you say nothing, they say, “Well, what do you think?” and you’re back to that last paragraph. I guess if you’re going to tell someone about a dream you had, you better have a point, which is what Eddie thought that Layne had. If you don’t, be prepared for a bitter dis.
I’m running out of old-school logos that have resonated with me, so I had to use that lame Cleveland Indian one from the 70s. You remember those uniforms, they were freaking terrible. Check it out here:
Boog Powell said that he felt like a giant blood clot in them. So, today I am honoring those shitty Indians teams of the 70s. You may have had a couple of stars; Frank Robinson, Boog Powell, a young Dennis Eckersley and Rick Manning, but your uniforms sucked and so didn’t most of your teams.
Speaking of sucking, I’m not too wild about Layne’s final statement. I mean it’s ok, and I wanted to take the sting out of Eddie’s insult, mostly because I don’t want to portray him as a dick, but Layne sort of sounds like a wimp here. That’s not what I wanted. Next time I’ll know to leave well enough alone.
BTW, if you have any ideas on what old-school logos I should use next, email me at byronm19@yahoo.com
The one wise ass remark I liked was Eddie’s calling Layne, Martin Luther. Since a lot of people still don’t know the characters’ names, I made sure that the chicks were calling him Layne in the next panel. Hopefully, people won’t be confused.
BTW, the Sox traded Bronson Arroyo to the Reds for Wily Mo Pena. I think that this is a terrific deal for a number of reasons, one the guy is a young stud (he’s 24) and he hits absolute bombs. According to some numbers that I’ve looked up in his last 650 at bats, he has 45 dingers. In the same number of abs, Manny has 45 homers and Ortiz has 47. I’m not saying that he’s going to be the next Manny Ortiz, but a right handed slugger coming into his prime—in Fenway—is not the worst thing in the world.
But this being Boston, the talk radio shows are already in a lather about losing Arroyo. Listen, I like Arroyo, he was one of the 24, yadda, yadda, yadda. But the fact is, he’s no more than a number three guy at the very best and this year he was going to be a swing man. He’s also older than most people think (he’s 29) and despite Curt Schilling telling everyone that he has “nuts the size of Saturn”, I think we’ve seen the absolute best of him.
The old axiom is that you never trade pitching for hitting, but in this case, this was a no-brainer. The Sox have gotten pretty lucky this winter (getting Loretta for Mirabelli and now Pena for Arroyo), but like that sage of the dugout Jimy Williams was so fond of saying, “We have a problem in Boston.” Not this time though, we actually have a solution.
Here’s hoping that Tito uses Pena right and remember this day all you Trot Nixon fans, as this could be the day that your boy got his ticket out of town punched. Nixon is going to be a free agent at the end of the year and this pretty much clinches it that he isn’t coming back.
