Monday, September 28, 2009

Ro-bust




I drew this while waiting in line for the IMAX screening of Harry Potter 6 (i.e. "Dumbledore is Dumble-dead!"). Needless to say, not only does this indicate the extent to which I am a nerd (level 12, with +3 scimitar and -5 TI 89), but it also illustrates (punned!) how lugubriously pessimistic I am about the future....the future of robots! Not to mention the fact that I'm totally exploiting the plight of quadraplegic robots for a good laugh. How ableist robotist of me! I'm going to robot hell...a locked room with no wall sockets! Oh the agony!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Beware...the FUTURE of the FUTURE!



In the not too distant future, ramen-cooking robots will be responsible for spitting in your soup. Spit will come in the flavor of motor oil. Instead of finding a band-aid in your meal, you'll find a piece of duct tape. Then a panhandler will enter the restaurant. His name is Johnny 5 and he just wants some input. More input. And while the jukebox is playing Digital Getdown by N-Synchronized, please refrain from doing the robot. That's just as bad as donning blackface and doing a tapdance. However, at the end of your nourishment session, you can finally, proudly say "Domo arigato, Mister Roboto!" without coming off as a racist prick (or should I say screw?).

Monday, September 21, 2009

Beware...the FUTURE!



In the near future, cutesy but stoic little puppy bunny furball heads will rule the planet. They will enslave our hands and make us play typing games. "130 words per minute? Pitiful. Repeat....283 words per minute? Pitiful. Repeat...You mispelled tatterdemalion. Prepare for death." Because these puppy bunny furball heads remain tacit they will send electric charges directly to our brains via USB ports (minimum requirement: USB 2.0) that deliver the message to continue typing out words that are highlighted...in our MINDS!


This Get Down entry is brought to you by the letter Y and Crazy Pills, America's favorite over-the-counter halucinogen.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Animal Attraction

Every morning I walk to the train station. Never to actually take a train, no, but I go to watch suited self-important people get mangled by closing train doors. It's a delightful way to start any day. On the way there, I often encounter the myriad sights, sounds, and smells that New York has to offer. The sight of brown-skin women pushing strollers of pasty white babies, the sound of souls being crushed by corporate jobs, the smell of exhaust and refuse emanating from sanitation trucks. It's pure sensory bliss. And it goes great with coffee.

Today on my morning walk to the train station, I came across a middle aged woman (but not a Middle Ages woman; that would be so much more impressive) who came a across a tight-jeaned fellow walking his miniature dog--a doglet, if you will. She stopped and exclaimed to the entire block what an adorable doglet it was. She then got down on both knees and proceeded to stroke his back (the doglet's back, not the tight-jeaned fellow's). "She needs friends," my inner monologue said. And then, suddenly, in a hideous display of affection, she started making out with the canine, tongue and all.

"What a great way to start a day!" she said to anyone listening. Apparently, the best part of waking up isn't Folgers in your cup, but rather doglet tonguelet in your mouth.

It was like a combination between watching your parents make out and sitting through a PETA video of a pig slaughter. That's just not right. I'm all for interracial love, but I'm sorry, I'm still closed minded when it comes to inter-species spit-swapping face-sucking sessions. And yet she was taking so much joy out of her moment of bestiality foreplay. That may have even been the most upsetting part because really, what is worse than witnessing another person's happiness? Can I get some schaudenfraude up in here?

In utter disgust, I kept walking, my right hand cupping the side of my face to serve as temporary blinders from the show. But then, as I approached the stairwell to the train station, a pigeon took a huge dump on my chest. Cleveland steamer? Really? Damn, these animals are getting kinky.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

At least one...



I'm not sure what to make of this one yet. It's a follow-up to last year's First Asian Boy, which apparently didn't work because this track has less boasting and more beseeching (GRE word! someone's taking Kaplan). But I suppose "...at least $#&% one" is still a better line than "I'll pay you for it." I can't wait to see what lubetube music video comes out next summer. I predict we'll see George Takei on a Casio keyboard using the maracas preset while singing "thank goodness I prefer guys, otherwise I wouldn't get anyyyy. My hetero bros can't get girls, that's why they're drowning in hennyyy..." Le sigh.

birdHouse

Friday, September 11, 2009

Full time work sucked. I quit. Perhaps DBT will be revived. Yeah, I think that'd be for the best

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


Promotional video made for Industrial Design during Monsoon Fiesta. Inspired by the Soviet struggle led by Lenin and Stalin. Animations clips that make the video are an extension of powerful posters of amazing graphical quality. A variety of techniques of representation put into use, with remarkable attention to detail. Moreover Every poster is a historical reference of events, opinions, dreams that took place at that time which with the aid of powerful graphic design is carried through time.

The sketch is a random expression on one of the mess tables.