It's long overdue, and it replaces the half-assed version that used to be on this site, but it is with great pride that I present to you the RLA's portfolio. It includes work by his students, his markers, his Illustrator stuff, his realism and his surrealism and even the work we do together in photoshop... Shoes of course, available as giclee prints for a modest price.

The link over there on the left now goes to the dotmac page, too.

This is what a three-million dollar ad campaign looks like:



And you just know that the bright lights at the agency were just pissing themselves over their own cleverness: it's a sign that says it's a sign.
Oh. My. Gawd. We are so funny. A sign. That says it's a sign. Get it?

The other ones in the series say things like "You're in one of the few places we're not." Huh? You mean you don't have a clinic on the train? Well, but the train stops right at the hospital, so sometimes you are where the hospital is.

Or in the immortal words of Firesign Theater, how can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all?

Another one says "Get a better health plan by the next stop." and then has the web address. So I guess that works if you are a commuter with a wireless bluetooth connection on your cell phone. Or something like that.

It's a sign. It's a sign that's a sign.

OK, I mean, I get that this is supposed to represent the family that owns the car. There is a pencil-necked dad, and a vacuous mom, and a teen-age girl with a spiral on her t-shirt (representing that she's spiralling out of control, maybe? That she has an IUD? That she suffers from vertigo?), there's the roller-skating tween of indeterminate gender and rubber-armed boy who loves baseball.

My question is "WHY?"

Really. Why the fuck would you want to advertize that you have underage children available for abduction in the car, and even give strangers a chance to know what sort of bait to use? Who's business is it, anyway, how many people are in your family? Why should I give a rat's ass about the fact that you overbred?

And these things are everywhere... although I've never seen them for sale anywhere.

You can specify your recreational choices. You can add your pets: I've seen dogs, cats, fish and birds. There are toddler stickers and baby stickers. I've yet to see a pregnant woman sticker, or a car with two women and a child. Lots of single parents out there, advertising that they can be met at any Little League park, ballet school or hockey rink.

The RLA and I want to produce add-ons, so that we can vandalize these things, which almost always sseem to be associated with Jesus fish or W bumper stickers. Maybe that's the secret: they are handed out at tent revivals and Republican party meetings.

Yeah... stick-on piles of dog poop, S&M paraphenalia, dreadlocks, jail house bars, beer bottles and bongs. You could accessorize strangers' car windows to your heart's content.

I've spent the last week powerless. Hurricane Wilma (who thinks up these names, anyway?) took out the power for most of Florida, topped my favorite mango tree, decapitated the grafted side of the avocado tree, and almost killed my koi.
The RLA and I were out there with bicycle pumps, trying to keep the koi aereated while our generator was being repaired. The koi are troopers, though, and came through just fine, unlike the awning over them.

For almost a week, I could go out at night and see the Milky Way, even though I live in an urban wasteland. The nights were cool and, except for the rattle and gasp of the generators, quiet. You could, if you were listening, hear the owl in the old tree next door, or the peeping of the tree frogs.

We need to rethink our cities, the way we live, so that you can always see the stars.

I rose with the sun, and went to bed with the sun. I knitted and read by candlelight. I took sponge baths with water that had been heated on the gas stove. The RLA and I were out in the yard all day, sawing up the downed trees with hand tools, because we don't own a chain saw.

I made coffee in a French press, and we kept our milk cool with a block of ice.

Everyone I know has been complaining of the horrors of being without electricity, but you know? I loved it. I loved being aware of the hours of the day by the location of the sun or the moon. I loved being able to walk in the street and talk to my neighbors who are usually in their own hermetically sealed cocoons. We shared ice, water, flashlights, stories, alcohol and the experience.

I thought it was wonderful.

Frankly, the biggest hardship for me was having to watch America's Next Top Model on a hand-held, battery-operated tv with a screen the size of a matchbox.

Oh, there's more, of course. This was the first hurricane of my life where I actually felt fear. Well, what I felt was the roof lift. It is an indescribable sensation, but there was no doubt as to what the change in pressure was. The roof held. There are no leaks. The power is back on. People are started to be assholes to each other again.

Life as we know it, is back to normal.

I pass this sign every day. I know enough Spanglish to understand that the show is called "Ground Zero" and that these guys talk about sex and drugs and rock and roll and sex. But is it just me, or is Javier really Jay (Jason Mewes)?

What happens when an irresistable force meets an immovable object?

Well, nothing. Because it's a paradox. There can be no such thing as an irresistable force, nor an immovable object.

However, in real life, what happens is this: The (non)irresistable force is my rapidly foreward-moving foot. The (semi)immovable object is the leg of a heavy chair.

As Sancho Panza says in "Man of La Mancha", whether the stone hits the pitcher, or the pitcher hits the stone, it's going to be very bad for the pitcher.


And that is what my broken toe looks like two weeks after the force met the object.