Yesterday’s xkcd cartoon discussed the terminology “The West” and “The East”, and how it was confusing to an American:

His map isn’t exactly in line with what I’ve inferred the meanings of these terms to be, so I modified his map a bit to reflect my (also confusing) understanding of these terms:

Generally, “The West” and “The Western Hemisphere” have a meaning roughly equivalent to “First-World Nations”, with the exceptions of Japan and (maybe?) South Korea.  Which is to say, something similar to “developed democracies which were aligned with the United States in the Cold War.”  This generally includes Australia and New Zealand, which makes the map pretty nonsensical.  Sometimes “The West” includes Mexico and Central and South America, but I didn’t mark the map this way because that’s not usually how I hear the term used.

Oddly, “The East” does not mean “Not ‘The West.’”  It is more synonymous with “The Far East”, which is to say, “places where Asian people live.”  That includes Japan, China, Taiwan, Korea, and Southeast Asia.  I suppose that if the “Middle East” is really the middle of the east, then “The East” must include all of Asia and Africa.  But I think “Middle East” is a whole other discussion.  You could also debate whether India, Indonesia, and New Guinea belong in “The East.”  I just drew it based on what I’ve inferred.

In either map, I think it is clear that the terms are ambiguous and only loosely correlated to their geographic meaning.

Sometimes I wish that I had a really crappy car.  ‘Why?’ you ask?  Because then when someone is tailgating me, particularly when I am already going 5-9 mph over the speed limit and there is a perfectly good lane to my left not being used, I could just slam on the brakes so that they would hit me.  After all, it would be their fault (who’s to say I didn’t see a deer about to run out onto the highway?).  They would learn the hard way not to tailgate, their insurance would go up, and they’d get a ticket.  Maybe they’d even be over the legal blood-alcohol limit and spend the night in jail.  Jackpot.  As for me, I’d just be out a crappy car that I didn’t care about to begin with.  I guess if I did it too many times the police or insurance companies might catch on.  Oh well, it’s not like I’d actually do that.  I’d probably react much more passive-aggressively.  Perhaps by writing a blog post about the tailgating incident.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time.  It’s Count von Count from Sesame Street, singing a song in which the word “count” has been bleeped out, with hilarious results.  (The video’s pretty old—maybe everyone has already seen this and they just forgot to tell me about it.)

While authorizing a third party to conduct a criminal background check (for my application to grad school), I noticed this:

I clicked the “FAQ” link, expecting “why do you only need to know the ethnicity of Michiganis?” to be the most frequently asked question.  But it was nowhere to be found.

Maybe it’s like how they ask you if you have had gay sex with a man from the Congo since 1976 before you can give blood.  If you answer “yes”, they just assume you have AIDS and throw your blood away without testing it.  Similarly, if you are from Michigan and select the wrong race1, you must be a sociopath.

A few weeks ago I started seeing an ice cream truck driving through our neighborhood.  This kind of surprised me.  I thought ice cream trucks were a relic of the past, much like newspaper boys and telephone operators.  You know, things that are only remembered in modern society due to their presence in 1950’s sitcoms.  I certainly don’t remember an ice cream truck ever coming through my neighborhood when I was a child (unless you count the Schwan’s man).  In fact, I now have the same reaction to ice cream trucks that I have to male gym teachers and men dressed as Santa Claus:  every time I see one I think “that has to be a pedophile.”  I mean, why else would a person drive an ice cream truck?

For some reason this morning, I decided to see how well I could draw the continental United States from memory.

I started with California and worked my way generally to the east and then north.  Michigan and New England are particularly atrocious.  I forgot that Maine comes off the side of NH/VT.  Which themselves come off the side of New York.  I guess those states are just so small that I felt bad for them, and drew them bigger.  Then Minnesota totally got embiggened.  But all in all I think it’s still a perfectly cromulent map.

Recently Penny Arcade made a very funny comic about gifts they receive from PR firms, a topic which Joel Spolsky discussed about a year ago.  This seems like a good time to publicly state my gifts policy here at vacant-nebula.  I’ll now shift to the editorial “we” so that I we sound more important.

We, at vacant-nebula.com, like stuff.  Especially free stuff.  We will accept any gift, be it money or merchandise.  We particularly like high technical devices, such as anything that could be found in Best Buy.

Unlike many other blogs, we do not consider ourselves journalists, and as such we are not bound by any code of journalistic ethics.  In particular, this means that we do feel an obligation to disclose the source of any gifts, or even the fact that a gift was given.  We are even willing to praise products that we don’t really like, as long as this means we might get free stuff we do like in the future.

In short, we are preemptively selling out, even though no one is buying yet.  So send us stuff we want and we’ll tell people it’s great.  We won’t write any holier-than-thou blog posts about how we’re too good to accept free stuff.  If you would like to send us gifts, but you are unsure what products we would like, just drop us an e-mail and we’ll be glad to work something out.

PS- if anyone knows a Microsoft PR rep who has an Xbox 360 they are just dying to bribe a blogger with, send them here.

A few days ago I was talking to Stephanie and somehow the subject of ear-piercing came up.  Stephanie said she was seven when she first got her ears pierced, which seemed young to me.  I thought most parents didn’t let their girls get their ears pierced till they were thirteen or so.  She said no—for most parents who make their girls wait till they are a certain age, that age is nine or ten.

Afterwards I was thinking about it, wondering why I had an age of thirteen in mind.  I never had sisters, so it’s not like it was a rule I learned from my parents.  All of my friends were boys, and although some had sisters, I never really saw the parenting process per se.  The closest would have been some of my cousins, but even then I don’t recall ear-piercing being discussed.

Then I remembered that episode of Full House where Stephanie wants to get her ears pierced but her dad says she needs to wait until she is in Jr. High (i.e. about 13 years old), because that’s when D.J. got her ears pierced.  All of a sudden it occurred to me: everything I think I know about how to raise a girl I learned from watching Full House.

That’s a little scary.

Over the weekend (Saturday in fact!) yours truly completed his twenty-sixth lap around the sun.  The only thing I know of that changes on your twenty-sixth birthday is that you can no longer be drafted.  Of course, they aren’t drafting anyone nowadays, but if they started doing it again I’d be safe.  Unless of course Congress changed the rules, which I believe they are perfectly capable of doing.  In any case, I’m continuing to get older.  Somehow on this year’s birthday I actually felt more than a day older.  It seems absolutely impossible that a full year has passed since I passed the quarter-century mark.  And it’s not that I haven’t done anything all year.  I guess it’s that I have done a lot of “grown-up” stuff in the last year.  I bought a house, for example.  I went on a business trip.  I started making mortgage payments.  I filed my own taxes.  And the big one, of course, is that I’m going to be a father in four months.  A dad.  This guy is going to be responsible for the life of another human being.  I mean, we are talking about a person who not only created a drawing of a guy in a giant toilet riding a turd, but he posted said turd cowboy onto the various internets.  That’s just craziness.

Maybe, just maybe—with the help of her seemingly sane mother—my daughter will turn out to be more than a demented sociopath.

Yee-Ha!

If you’re just joining us, where have you been??  This is the conclusion of a series on my demented mind.  If you’re lost, try reading all the other posts first.

Bookstix IV was pretty good, it actually had some semblance of a plot.  But for Bookstix V, I went all-out with the story.  There were pages of text between every so many drawings.  The basic gist of the story was that the aliens from Bookstix IV were actually “archaliens,” sent to scout out our planet.  They killed most of the inhabitants, and now the more powerful “nualiens” had arrived.  The only earthling armies left were the Americans and Arabians.  And believe it or not, they actually teamed up with each other, in order to have any kind of hope against their new alien overlords.  The surviving earthlings were known as “Rebyls.”  The entire book followed these star wars of the worlds for independence days.

Another improvement in Bookstix V came in the artistic media.  All blood was drawn with colored pencils: red for rebyls, and purple for aliens.  In addition I used a drafting pencil for a lot of the background work, which had much softer lead than your standard bubble-filling #2 pencil.  So without further ado, here are some pages from the book.

First up is some of that text I was talking about.  This comes from the book’s introduction, and I think is probably the best writing in the whole book.  I still like it, although I have a problem with the way it posits the big bang theory and the theory of evolution as competing theories trying to explain the same thing, when that isn’t at all accurate.  I think most of all I like the way the drawings accent the text, and IMHO this is pretty well-written stuff here, except for the last paragraph maybe.

Moving on to battles, here we have the first one, which takes place on the Rebyl Warship.  Since it was in outer space and there was no gravity, I drew this with the speech bubbles going in all directions.  The explosions with the starfish-shaped light beams are from antimatter guns.  If you look closely you can see quite a clear difference in the darkness of the two types of pencils I used, especially with the text where I probably used 0.5 mm lead in a mechanical pencil.  I like the alien who is shooting the guy with two guns at the same time, splitting him into three parts.  Awesome!

Here is the second battle, which I think was meant to be happening in parallel with the first battle.  This is the aliens’ mother ship, being attacked by the rebyls.  Things to note: a painful alien examination of human reproductive organs (since they seem to like to do that during abductions), and a reference the lyrics to Closer by Nine Inch Nails.  I’m not sure why, I never really liked NIN all that much.  Also, some jokes from the two warship pictures: both of them have someone from the opposite group wondering what kind of spaceship this is, and in both cases someone is reprogramming the ship to have a destination of hell.  Because spaceships can travel there you know.

There was more of that story line that I won’t recount here.  Basically we find that the aliens are seeking Iron Trinicklide (FeNi₃), a substance that is plentiful in the earth’s core, but has been almost entirely depleted on the aliens’ home planet.  Throughout the book the aliens fight their way to a mine in South Africa, the deepest in the world, and start blasting a hole into the earth (to get to the core).  The book ends with a four page conclusion, which reveals that the aliens got the rock they wanted and left our planet in ruin.  That was four pages of single-spaced text, at a time when teachers struggled to get students to write a five paragraph essay.

I tried to start Bookstix VI: Vigilante Justice, whose title page is pictured here.  Unfortunately I lost interest after half-drawing a single battle.  The idea was that the earth was in chaos from the events of book 5, with no police, military, or government, and now the only way to survive was to become a vigilante.  I had intended to improve by using black ink (like, from a pen) for some of the detail work, and everything was to be drawn on plain white paper.  You can see this on the title page actually.  This was concluded at the beginning of my second semester of ninth grade, when I was fifteen.  I guess I just got bored with drawing these things.

Before we go, here are some random bits of information that I either forgot to mention earlier this week, or couldn’t work into the narrative.

• Most of my books were dedicated to “people in the future reading this after I die.”  Hopefully that won’t be until I have grandchildren that find these drawings and say “mom what was wrong with grandpa??”

• If you’re wondering, I pretyped about 90% of the material in these five posts in one sitting, last Sunday.  That’s just one of many ways I maintained a quality level consistent with the The Lord Of The Rings movies.

• I was originally only going to scan one drawing representative of the whole work, but I started looking through my drawings and realized there was way too much stuff worth sharing.

• To give more props, Kevin was doing stick drawings first, then Keith, Garrison, Peter, and I all borrowed the idea to varying degrees over the next three years.  It was definitely either Kevin or me who produced the most of these things though.

• While I was scanning these things, I scanned Garrison’s entry in my eight grade yearbook.  He made a post on his blog about it.  Go check it out if you haven’t already.

• Anyone found on the back page of a sheet of paper would be executed by a character from Mortal Kombat.  I really liked fatalities.

• A teacher did actually see these books once, when I let someone (I think Keith) borrow one of my books (I think the first one) to read it, and he was doing this during class and it got confiscated.  Either Mrs. Mims didn’t understand what it was or she didn’t look inside it, because we got it back later without getting into any trouble.

Well that concludes this week of Kip’s drawings from when he was 12-15 years old.  Let me know if you think this whole five-part series was cool or if it was way too much crap to read.  If you guys like it I may do something similar in the future, if I ever come up with a topic deserving several posts.  I hope you’ve enjoyed it.  And hopefully you’re not too much more scared of me now than you were a week ago.  Have a good Labor Day weekend!