A Fool and his Comic

Ever heard of the comic strip Big Nate? It's written and illustrated by a Portland, Maine native named Lincoln Peirce. According to his Wikipedia page, he's "an American cartoon [sic]." I'd edit the Wiki page to say "cartoonist," but how do I know he's not a cartoon? I've never met the guy. Hell, I wanted to write "[sic]" after his last name, too, but apparently it's actually spelled "Peirce," not "Pierce." All I'm saying is, my Spidey Sense is outta whack on this one.

I don't know how widely Big Nate is syndicated in newspapers but as part of the GoComics stable, I'm guessing it's seen by quite a few people. When I occasionally flip through the criminally misnamed "funny pages," Big Nate is a beacon of mild entertainment, one of a scant few such dim lights in the cold, black, humorless night that is today's newspaper comics section. That is to say, I don't love it, but I'm not physically repulsed by it either. Sometimes I feel something like a smile approaching when I read it.

Not June 19th, though.


Look familiar? It should, assuming you're familiar with one of history's greatest works of literature: Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes. (I understand if you never return after clicking that last link, as a C&H search engine is a transmogrifier that converts spare time into spent time.)


I don't know if the Big Nate strip is a less funny rip-off, a less funny accident, or a less funny homage. But without some clearer nods to its source material (for example, if Peirce's strip had appeared on the anniversary of the C&H strip's original publication date), I'm ruling out homage. It's possible Peirce was channeling Calvin and Hobbes accidentally, not realizing where his oh-so-clever inspiration was coming from, which happens to the best of us (even The Beatles; I'll let my dad elaborate on that one). I hope that's the case.

Either way, this reminded me a lot of my last post about sampling. Sure, everything's stolen, and I bet someone will point out a comedian from the '50s from whom Bill Watterson stole this bit (as a matter of fact, judging by the search engine, Watterson recycled his original strip with slightly enhanced colors four years later...is it stealing if you steal from yourself? As John Fogerty of CCR knows, yes, sometimes; once again, I defer to my dad on this explanation). But it's much less palatable when no personal spin is added, especially when these are two artists using the same exact medium. And it's worse when no explicit credit is given. Cite your sources, Peirce, if that is how your name is really spelled.

Edit, July 3, 2011: Whoops. In the second sentence, I originally called the creator of Big Nate "Leonard Peirce," but his name's actually Lincoln Peirce. I guess the "fool" in the title is me, too! Also, someone has since edited Peirce's Wikipedia page to reflect his job as a cartoonist rather than a cartoon. Looks like I'm making a difference in the world.

Roses and Birthdays

I'm still alive. Here's a post to prove it. Could I have done this from beyoooond the graaaave?

I mspainted this card for my grandmother last week. I printed the rose on one side of a piece of card stock paper, flipped the paper over, printed the text on the other side, then folded the paper so it looked like a real card, since it was being sent in the real mail. And that was on my third try. This real world stuff is terribly complicated.

Don't forget to click it to enlarge it. When you do, you'll notice a distinct lack of snark. This is because my grandmother appreciates sincere, aka sappy, emotion. When I sass her, she appreciates that, too, but often I have to explain my sass before she fully appreciates it, and that's hard to do in a greeting card. Oh, also, her birthday's not about me, it's about her, or something. (If she's reading this she might be disappointed in me until I explain the tongue-in-cheekness of that joke. Then she's going to be mad at me for implying she doesn't get my jokes. Good thing she mostly avoids the computer. No one print this out for her, she already got her card and pretended she loved it. Let's not mess with a good thing.)

Anyway, all I'm saying is Hallmark ain't so great. Takin' back the greeting card industry.

My Brief Stint as an Examiner

For those of you who show up expecting a Big Bird fix, I apologize for the interruption, but this isn't strictly a Big Bird blog (yet), so settle down. When I get another picture in my email or when I figure out how my parents' scanner works so I can scan the latest (hand-drawn) picture, regular muppet service will resume. In the meantime, either read this regrettably long, semi-serious rant or get to work drawing me pictures. Can you do any less?

Begin rant.

Recently I started writing for examiner.com, an employer that is constantly bombarding job sites like monster.com. They're always looking for both national and local writers covering topics as broad as "Young Adult Pop Culture" and as specific as "The Beatles" -- though my dad might argue that "The Beatles" is just as broad a topic, so let's say there are topics as specific as..."Handbags." (Seriously. Who are these people?)

I didn't know if I was enough of an expert in any subject to qualify, but I finally bit when I saw a call for a local "Food and Drink" examiner. I figured, Hey, I eat food and drink drinks. I also figured, Hey, I'm already cooking and blogging about cooking pretty regularly. I went on to figure, Hey, the Portland area's not a bad one for covering local food and drink. Finally, I figured, Hey, if I could continue doing what I was doing but get some slight professional cred along with some slight monetary compensation, so much the better.

I'm good with figures.

I was kind of excited, and for my first official article I fleshed out my application's sample piece about LeRoux Kitchen's Baker's Thursday event. I saved it for the editorial team to review it, which is allegedly what they do with each article before it goes live. My article passed muster, it went live, and I was officially a published Examiner. I posted a link to my piece on LeRoux's Facebook page so they could see the positive review. Slight professional cred attained! Cool.

Examiner.com wants you to write at least two or three pieces a week, so a few days later I put together a little recipe for a Chocolate Peanut Butter Bourbon Milkshake. Stasia and I had recently made it, it was good and simple, and I even had a couple pictures I could run with the article. I saved it for the editorial team to review it. I waited.

And I never heard back.

If that were the only problem, I would have made an effort. It would probably be simple enough to contact someone at examiner.com, figure out what went wrong, sort it out, maybe alter or scrap the article if for some reason it didn't follow their rules or they didn't like it. But I had already been feeling uneasy about examiner.com. Here are the other major problems I have with that make me prefer to let the matter drop rather than pursue a working relationship with the site:

Examiner.com purports to pay based on factors such as page views, session length, and so on. That's not uncommon these days; in fact, it's very similar to Google Adsense's model, as far as I know. Here's the rub: nowhere will they tell you the formula for payment. Not even when you're "hired" and get your whole introductory spiel, which is mostly a few editorial rules and tips on how to navigate the site. So I'm just supposed to trust that I'll get my fair share of whatever advertising dollars they collect?

The only concrete figure given is $50: the amount of money you'll receive for each additional person you refer to examiner.com who gets accepted as a writer for the site. I know there are employers, such as summer camps, that thrive on word of mouth. But this feels less like a summer camp and more like a pyramid scheme. Keep drawing writers to the site, pound the Search Engine Optimization pavement, keep hitting the top of search engine lists, fill the site with obtrusive and aggravating advertising, toss a few cents around here and there, and profit at others' expense (okay, profit has to come at others' expense, but usually "others" are the consumers, not the workers).

These are the glaring issues, and there seems to be a lot more seething just beneath the surface, enough that my gut tells me to get out sooner rather than later. Google "examiner.com scam?" for yourself if you'd really like to know more, including the frighteningly conservative politics of the billionaire owner of Examiner.com, Philip Anschutz. When I didn't hear anything about my second article, it was the final push needed to convince me to sever my ties to examiner.com and stick to personal blogging for now. (Technically I didn't "sever" ties yet, so this is kind of like when I hated my coaches in college and "quit" track by never showing up again my senior year, or when I hated the Pope and "quit" the Catholic Church by never showing up again after being confirmed, Christmas mass notwithstanding. Actually quitting is harder than it sounds.)

My sister's working on her homepage and very generously offered me a sub-site, so maybe I'll take her up on that. I might not know her secret formula for paying me either, but I prefer her frighteningly liberal politics any day.

Velocipede

On Thursday the weather got nice. Remember that? It feels like a lifetime ago.

Though I love to bike, filling tires is about as far as my limited bike-care ability goes. So I hauled my bike out of the shed, stomped on the rickety foot pump about 800 times, and finally got the proper PSI of air into my tires. Then I put my slightly less limited bike-knowledge and deductive skills to good use and assessed the chain as "too dry." Considering the bike sat in the shed for over two years, I felt confident in my assessment. Dry chain = bad.

I've seen a chain lubed before and I figured with a combination of spotty memory and BicycleTutor.com I could take that major step and lube my own chain, thereby doubling my practical bike skills. I know where the rags are and I know where the stuff like WD40 is. So far so good! Is WD40 kosher, though? Thankfully I looked it up. Turns out WD40 strips stuff from metal, which means it's great for cleaning off gunk and rust but won't make the chain any less dry when you're through. I'd have to take my search on the road.

Since there are no bike shops in sleepy little South Portland, I went to the hardware store. I found some Tri-Flow, which seemed like a possibility, but I realized if I didn't want to waste my money on the wrong product and risk ruining my chain, I'd better get some actual bike advice from an actual bike shop. These flashes of insight just strike me sometimes; I can't explain them.

Next blind spot in my knowledge: what bike shop to go to. There are about six in Portland but I've only ever been to CycleMania, and I wasn't 100% satisfied with the last tune-up I got there, so I started searching. There wasn't much feedback online to guide me until I spotted a little gem called Portland Velocipede. If the name alone weren't enough of a draw, there were multiple glowing reviews on the google maps site, it was the closest shop on my route, it had an amazing logo, and it focused on retro, solid-steel-on-wheels, European-style city cycles. I tend to ride sporty bikes but you know I appreciate a good European-style cycle, perfect not only for cruising but also for convincing your non-biker friends to go cruising.


I didn't make it to Portland Velocipede on Thursday, though, so my bike ride had to wait.

On Friday, the weather got NICE. Remember that? It feels like a lifetime ago.

As we hit a record high temperature of 67 degrees Fahrenheit, my bike ride could no longer wait, car or no car, lube or no lube. In shorts, t-shirt, and sunglasses I braved the Casco Bay Bridge for my first time ever. What a terrible choice! The wind was unusually strong, enough to give cars some trouble, which meant I was nearly blown off the bridge. While trying to breathe in as little dust as possible in the intense sandstorm, I wished for the first time that my bike were as heavy as some of those European cruisers.

It was worth it, ultimately. I can't say enough good about Gillian and Josh, the owners of Portland Velocipede. They've got a great attitude, a great shop, and great customer service. Josh put some lube on my chain before I even bought anything and after I had talked their ears off for a while. Josh explained all kinds of technical stuff, Gillian told me all about the shop and the wares, Josh measured my chain to make sure it was still in good condition (it is, somehow, despite my utter lack of care), and I had an excellent time hanging out.

I bought some Chainj lube (top notch quality; not the number one in pure lube power but certainly number one in bio-degradable lube power, according to Josh). I left my Chainj on the counter while joking about the change purse in my European-style wallet (I lost my American-style one with everything in it last weekend). I returned sheepishly the next day and picked up my Chainj.

Bottom line: check out Portland Velocipede, even if you prefer your ride more sporty than European. They've been around for a year and should stick around for many more. They're good people doing good work, offering good advice, and fostering good community. And like at Two Fat Cats Bakery, the main area is completely open so it feels welcoming and you can see all that's going on, which in the case of Portland Velocipede involves less baking and more bike tuning, which is cool in its own way if not strictly edible.

Slugging and Sleeping

I don't know why I haven't heard of Miller-McCune before, but it seems like a fantastic magazine/site. The surprisingly long article on Slugging held my attention to the last. Over the past few years living in Europe I discovered the joys of ridesharing, aka carpooling, and have lamented its absence in the USA. Everyone here has a car; no one seems to want to share his car with strangers. We don't like nor trust strangers here. I'm a trustworthy, semi-likable stranger without a car, people! Stop shutting me out.

Quite different from the typically longer-distance sharing that happens in Europe, it turns out DC and San Francisco are a couple of places that have had a strange ridesharing system for over 30 years. Irked by traffic jams and HOV lanes, it is workers in and around these two major cities that have casually organized a better way. Talk about an awful name, though, "slugging." Here's the suggested origin story:

When LeBlanc moved to the area in the mid-1990s, slugging was already entrenched. It was born alongside the I-395 HOV in the 1970s. According to the slugs’ creation story, drivers quickly realized they could get people in their cars and qualify for the new lanes by poaching waiting passengers from bus stops. Bitter bus drivers are credited with coining the term “slug,” originally a derogatory reference that has been amiably reappropriated.

"Slug" doesn't sound like it refers to anything specific about the practice, and I have a hard time believing bus drivers would use such a tame insult...am I missing some historical connotation there? I'll have to ask my family and friends in DC if they've heard of this system, which sounds really cool but also so specific to the surrounding layout and circumstances that it would be impossible to try to export it. But these are the cases that give hope that even Americans can change their travel habits if under enough time or cost pressure.

After spending an inordinate amount of time reading this fascinating piece, I was drawn to A Day in the Life of a Sleepy Student, which will please Stasia, who is incensed at the early start of a high schooler's day (seriously: ask her). I haven't made it all the way through yet, since the screen is starting to make my eyes burn and I need to get the word out here before I burrow squintingly back into my mole-hole for the evening, but I like what I've read so far and I'll certainly be exploring the Miller-McCune site in more depth soon.

The articles are massive, which is sometimes a turn-off when I'm reading something on a computer (see: eyes burning), but they're interesting, well-written, and most importantly they aren't spread out across 5 or 10 pages but rather contained on a single, very tall page. Web sites aren't subject to the space restrictions of the printed page, but sites like The Washington Post and Slate insist on making me load multiple pages for each piece I try to read, which is possibly a way of suggesting more length/depth than actually exists and is certainly a way of maximizing page views (Slate even goes so far as to automatically refresh its pages every minute or so in its quest to inflate its numbers).

Slideshows and multiple-page articles are infuriating and unnecessary and should go the way of AOL's cd-mailing bombardment and other relics of an age when "the Internet" and its benefits were completely misunderstood. Make the piece as long as it takes, utilizing the magic of the web, and let me use my handy scroll wheel to read it without interruptions. I'm more likely to finish it, revisit it, and discuss it if I can easily search and access the entire piece this way. You can slap ads up and down both sides of the page, I don't care; just don't ruin my reading experience or I won't keep reading. Though it could do without the awkward, hyphenated name, Miller-McCune seems to understand what it takes to captivate a reader.