Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Art of the Grill: Part 2

Click the pics for jimperfect views.


"Wholesome" fix: Remove the morning wood.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Art of the Grill: Part 1

Click the pic to get grilly with it.

"Wholesome" fix: Remove Jim's "shit" bubble.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Movie Post # 5: THE INCREDIBLE BULK—in color!

"Don't make me hungry, Mr. McGee. You won't like me when I'm hungry."

A Full Color Jimperfect cartoon! Just in time for the Sunday funnies.

As you can see, I'm dabbling in Photoshop.

"Wholesome" fix: I'd zip up a bit more. Less pubes.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 9

Hooray! It is a day of celebration in the peaceful village of Malverne. The squirrels have fled the tree-lined streets for the less wooded, yet more tranquil-sounding towns of Lynbrook, Valley Stream, Rockville Center, and Franklin Square.... Okay, the last two may not invoke tranquility—but the little bastards are gone, by golly!

As his family takes their rightful place at his side, our hero can sit peaceably on his throne once again for he truly is: THE LORD OF THE SQUIRRELS.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

New Updates at BIG-BONED

Visit http://bigbonedbook.blogspot.com/ for new spreads and extra features on our graphic novel. I'll be updating this more often as we approach publication of BIG-BONED in two parts. We'd love your support and welcome any comments and critiquing. Well, maybe not so much the critiquing....

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 8

They say that in war, there are no true winners. That, in the end, everyone loses. Well ... THEY are idiots (according to our hero).

As he stands alone on the battlefied surveying his decimated lawn, now littered with the cloven corpses of quarry-making critters, Jimbo breathes deep the air and gives thanks to the gods for helping him vanquish the menacing mammals of Malverne from his land.

Click the pic for a squirlier view.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 7

They fought hard, the Hastings clan. The clash of steel on fur could be heard for miles around as the battle surged amongst the boughs of the arbor kingdom.

Meanwhile, on the ground below, the multitudes of Malverne-ites gathered, huddled in their houses—icked out by the fuzz and funk, gore and gunk, that poured down from the trees—and spoke warily of the great conflict outside their windows in hushed tones (as if uttering the words above a whisper would invite this squirrel mêlée into their own homes).

Surrounded by younglings, the "old ones"—their withered hair as ashen as the rodent warriors outside their doors—spoke openly of their own experiences in the first War of the Squirrels. Of how many were lost.... The toll it took. But not one veteran could recall having ever heard such clang and clamour, nor chitter and chatter, before this day. Nor had they ever witnessed carnage such as this. For as far back as they could remember, the sky above had never rained the its and bits

of squirrels.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 6

But all is not lost! For the two large grey squirrels who accompanied the broad-shouldered Lyn to the squirrel lair high above our hero's battle-scarred lawn were none other than faithful ward Cooper and Jim's intrepid nephew Liam in disguise!!!

click the pic

Monday, September 22, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 5

High up in the boughs of Malverne's mighty oaks—just 5 minutes away from being "perfect" according to resident squirrel chef, Emeril Squirlgossi—our hero is allowed a last visit from his one true love: the raven-haired, button-nosed, apple-cheeked, disturbingly-square-shouldered Lyn.

Yes, one last visit.
One last chance to look into each other's eyes...
One last chance to express their love...
One last chance to say ... "goodbye."

Lyn says nothing however. After 13 years together, no words need be spoken. She and our hero's hearts are one. Being in each other's presence is enough—enough to last an eternity.

And gazing into his bloodshot hazel eyes, she knows that there is nothing that can ruin this moment.


Until Jim speaks...

click the pic

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 4

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 3

Pelted by acorns into submission, the courageous Jim is taken prisoner by the "grey ones." His hands and feet bound with roots and leaves and feathers and grass, our hero struggles valiantly against his bindings only to realize ... all is for naught.

It looks as though our great hero will be entering their realm after all.

But not the way he had hoped....

click the pic

Friday, September 19, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 2

Alas! Our hero's plan has gone awry. His chance for glory dashed. For in one fell swoop, the "grey ones" have taken down humanity's (actually, just Jim's) last chance for a really nice lawn.

Now, trapped in a pungee-stick-filled hole, the trees above him alive with enthusiastic squirrel chatter, Jim braces for what is to come...

click the pic

Is this the end of our hero? Tune in tomorrow.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Lord of the Squirrels: Part 1

It had been brewing for three long years, this war between man and squirrel. Like a storm cloud lingering ominously on the horizon, the "grey ones"—as they were known throughout the land—inched further and further towards our hero Jim's home, threatening a deluge of terror upon his soul.

It was THEY who started this.
THEY who took advantage of Jim's good nature.
THEY who brought this battle to his border....

And now ... THEY were going to pay.

click the pic

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

EXTRA EXTRA! Commuter Special

30-Day Unlimited-Ride MetroCard for the E Train: $81

Grande cup of coffee at Starbucks: $2

One Monthly Commuter Ticket for the L.I.R.R.: $185

Watching some self-involved cell-phone jerk choke on his own saliva? Priceless.


Lyn doesn't share my animosity towards the squirrels. They irk her, sure, but not to the level of outrage that I'm at.

And so the burden is mine to bear. That is why ... I must go it alone. For if I am to defeat this great evil from my Shire, I must travel to where no man has gone before: into the trees!

...Wish me luck.

Click the pic for a lonelier view.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Nut Falls Not Far From The Tree

He's watched me for two years….

My son Cooper knows the rage that squirrels stir up in me. He’s witnessed it firsthand from his basinet, his high chair, his pack and play…. He understands my contempt for those bushy-tailed rodents with their beady eyes and diligent little digits that dig down deep my dirt.

He knows the wickedness they wield. And he shares my hopes and dreams of a squirrel-free world. A world where bird-feeders go unmolested by prying paws and gnawing gnashers and grass grows thick and long—like the once lush locks of the formerly fabulous Fabio! A world where we no longer have to stare envy-eyed at our neighbors' plush green yards—thick with Zoysia, Bentgrass, Bermuda, Kentucky Bluegrass, Saint Augustine, Ryegrass and Fescue (gesundheit!)—while we stand helplessly … solemnly … on what looks to be the remains of a hastily-abandoned mass grave.

Click the pic for a sonnier view.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Squirrels Make Me Nuts!!!

Squirrels. God how I hate them. They've been destroying my lawn ever since I started owning one. Every day. All day long. They're out there digging. They dig and they dig and they dig until the green is almost gone.

How many times have I seeded and reseeded that divot-laced lawn? How many times have I run to the door and yelled, "You ratty brats! Bratty rats!"? And how many times has my son Coop imitated me—to the ire of my wife? Just the mention of the word "squirrel" sends him into a tizzy. My mini-doppleganger throws his hand into the air and screams in his cute little high voice, "Aii yaii yaii!!!" [Translation: Get off my Daddy's lawn!!!]

I love it.

Lyn hates it. She doesn't want him to be an odd child.

She should have thought of that before procreating with the likes of me.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

No Sleep Til Lynbrook, Lyn!

Tried to get the title to go with the Beastie Boys song. Lynbrook is right next to our village: Malverne. Can't win 'em all.

Anyway, my son Cooper. He's a dream come true. He's beautiful, funny, energetic, smart. But he's no sleeper. Oh no. For two years now, Lyn and I have had nary a night's sleep thanks to the numerous nightmares knocking at his nocturnal noggin. I'd like to say I'm exaggerating when I tell you he wakes up almost every single night—sometimes 2 or 3 times a night—but I'm not. And often when he gets up, he wants to go downstairs and play. And draw. And eat.

Don't believe me? Well see for yourself.

((Click the pic for a bleary-eyed view))

Friday, September 12, 2008

Nocturnal Emissions

After our cat Henry's operation, his bowel movements were very ... smooth to say the least. Believe it or not, wiping his rear after running him down was no picnic—not up there on my list of life's pleasures. But at least he was able to go again. And boy did he ever.

In the morning. In the evening. Aint we got runs.

But nothing was ever as disturbing as the middle of the night....

Nestled deep within our comfy bed
A pillow cool beneath the head
On top, a downy soft duvet
To keep Jack Frost's touch at bay

Outside, a winter's wonderland.
Fresh snow has blanketed the land
And made us feel so comfy coze
Free to go enjoy the doze

But suddenly a sound so wet
Came from our sweet and gassy pet
His litter box 10 feet away
There's not much time to save the day

Awake now from a soothing dream
By a smell so rank it'd make you scream
A stench so foul—completely spoiled
You, yourself, would feel quite soiled

A squish A squirt A plop A ploop
Came our Henry's runny poop
He darts. I chase. Again, a fight
And this is how I spend each night

(Click the pic)


Thursday, September 11, 2008


Today is my birthday. 39 years old. It's a little shocking. I could probably sit here and try and think of some fun things to say but it's difficult to do so when you spend the first half of your morning listening to people on television reading off the names of the thousands murdered by terrorists back in 2001. I was in NYC that day. We were going to go out to dinner that evening with a bunch of friends. I could see the Towers from where I worked up in Rockefeller Center....

Anyway, when I start to get all gloomy about what happened (on my birthday), I remind myself how lucky I am to be alive. I have a wonderful wife and son, a roof over my head, and my health. *cough* *cough*

I couldn't be happier.

Well ... I COULD be happier, but why push it?

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

A great CatASStrophe

I had a cat. A GREAT cat. His name was Henry. The friendliest Siamese you could ever meet. But he had a lot of health problems. Runny eye, rotting teeth, snorty sinuses ... and a leaky bucket. You see, Henry had colon problems. Big time. His stool was so hard he couldn't pass it—so he'd get all backed up and become incredibly sick. After months of taking him to the vet, getting enemas and shots, he needed an operation.... A $1,300 operation!

How could I say no? He was my buddy. He was only 9. And he was wonderful.

The vet warned me though, that if the operation was successful, Henry could end up having a bit of ANAL LEAKAGE. And he was right. There was indeed ANAL LEAKAGE. But there was a bright side!

I know what you're thinking, "how can there be a bright side when we're talking about his dark side?" Well after the vet removed a third of Henry's colon, he was able to go normally again. We'd only have to wipe him AFTER he took a dump and not all day like we thought! YES!

There was one big problem though—other than the obvious: Henry HATED to have his anus wiped! So every time that cat shat in the hat, he'd see me coming with the toilet paper and RUN—under tables, behind chairs, over beds—anywhere he could to avoid my swiping grasp. It got frustrating trying to catch him before he could tie-dye my carpet with his drippage and I often resorted to yelling.


How many people happened by our lovely ground-floor condo—located just 10 feet from the curb of a rather busy street—as I shouted out those overly-aggressive, S&M-like commands?

How many of them stood joined together—not even knowing we HAD a cat—and thought:
"What kind of crazy, serial-killer, man-on-man action is going on in there?"

((Click the pic for an even CATchier view))

Tuesday, September 9, 2008


I once had a hooker ...
or should I say she once had me?
She lived just next door,
my working ho, my little whore.

But seriously folks, she wasn't really my hooker. She WAS a hooker—and Lyn and I DID live next door. It was our first apartment together in NYC—Lyn and I, not me and the hooker....

After several months of sharing a wall with—let's call her "Debbie"—(whom I didn't yet know was a pro, bro) I commented to a coworker of mine that people were always ringing her bell during the day. He laughed at my statement.

"Dude," he said. "I guarantee you, she's a prostitute. Just look out your peephole the next time you're home."

So one day, when I stayed home, I took his advice.

It started around 11:00 a.m.:
The first "gentleman caller" buzzed her apartment. "Debbie" went right to the intercom and said in her husky, gin-soaked-sounding southern accent, "Cum on up, sweetie."

I raced to the door, put me pupil to the peephole and waited as the John made his way up four flights of stairs to the wanton woman's whoopee woom.

From my right I could here "Debbie" clomping "seductively" towards the door in her hooker heels, Boyz 2 Men whoa whoa whoaing in the background on the CD player.

And then I spotted him, cresting the landing of our floor in a very expensive suit. He was young—late twenties. Attractive. Fit. I was stunned. How could this be? I thought only celibate sad sacks propositioned hos. But this guy... He was better than ME.

As I peered pensively through the peephole, the young stud stood stoicly on the steps, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair while trying to get his bearings. He looked to his right and thought, "Is she this way?"

Suddenly, "Debbie" unlocked her Medco with an audible, echo-y clack and "John" turned towards my door, his gaze searching MY peephole for some semblance of sexiness.

I immediately shrank back from the hole—feeling as if he could see right through me—but rallied just as "Debbie" opened her door letting "John" know he was heading towards the wrong residence.

And then...
The sound of ice clinking into two glasses, R&B woo woo wooing from the boom box, and nothing else ... for 8 whole minutes.

When they were done, "Debbie"—sans shoes—walked "John" to the door and bid him adieu. 40 minutes later: The next guy arrived.

This all occurred several times a week, no more than three times a day. Always during the day. Always the same scenario. Buzz. Clomp. Clack. Clink. And every one of them standing unsurely, eyeing MY apartment.

I don't know how many times I was tempted to just open up my door dressed in something slutty....
(click the pic for a more Jimtimate view)

It would've been worth a million dollars to see their faces.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

A long time ago, in a theme park far, far away ...

Sweat-soaked and soda-stained after his steeplechase across the Disney MGM theme park, my brother Chris would sneak himself into the Characters' Cooling Room: an air-conditioned, sub-zero breakroom for anyone wearing a giant character costume.

Mandatory for Wookies, Ewoks and tea-totaling Tauntaun trainers, this Hoth-like haven was the place to be for anyone wearing a heatstroke-honing headpiece. And like young Luke Skywalker in Mos Eisley's Cantina, my brother Chris—with his pronounced predispositon towards perpetual perspiration—wasn't welcome.

(Click the pic for a better wook(ie))

Chris and Ruth

Lyn and I like a cool room—so we keep the temperature lower than most people. But my brother Chris and his wife Ruth are like polar bears. They like their house COLD. Meat-locker cold. Morgue cold. Reagan's room from "The Exorcist" cold. But if you comment on it, they'll blame each other. Just check out the transcript below from a recent conversation:

ME: Are you guys insane? It's freezing in here!
CHRIS: It's her.
RUTH: It's him.

Okay, you got me ... that's not a real transcript—but the encounters usually go something like that. And as for who is to blame, well I can tell you right now, it's the both of them. And here's why:

One night many years ago, we stayed over their apartment.... The A/C was on. The windows were open. There was snow on the ground—What? Why was their snow on the ground, you ask? Because it was THE MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY. IN MASSACHUSETTS!!!

(Click the pic for tundriffic view)

Meanwhile back in THEIR room...

Yes, that's Ruth on Chris's left. Her penchant for polar temps, along with her glacial glare, inspired me to sketch her likeness in the form of a snowman.

We also nicknamed her Snow Cone ... or Snowky for short.

Saturday, September 6, 2008


Many summers ago, my brother Chris got a job at Disney MGM—in the Disney College Program—where he was required to wear a big orange jumpsuit and show up in it when reporting to duty. Unfortunately for Chris, Disney-employee-living quarters were situated on the opposite side of the park that he worked in. This meant having to fight his way through the masses in order to get there on time. And as luck would have it, Chris would be stopped by tourist after tourist asking him directions—inevitably causing him to be late.

But Chris found a way to beat them. He ran.

As fast as he could!
Through Disney!
In the Florida heat!

Who knows how many anxious visitors witnessed this orange polyester blur streaking through the park, colliding with characters, knocking over knick knacks, and kicking at King Kones—oblivious to the multitude of young fans screaming, "It's Winnie the Pooh! Winniiiiiiiiie!!! Winnie Waaaaaait!" as the cameras of the many, mustachioed international sight-seeers click click clicked away in hopes of getting a snapshot of the portly, honey-loving bear they so loved.

Imagine the surprise when they got home and developed their film...

Friday, September 5, 2008

MOVIE POST #4: 300

Please tell me you've all seen 300. It is one of the most incredible looking movies ever made—like a Boris Vallejo or Frank Frazetta painting come to life.


Boris V. Link: http://www.fantasygallery.net/vallejo/
Frank F. Link: http://www.frazettaartgallery.com/gallery/gallery.html

Thursday, September 4, 2008

The Joys of HomeOH!ning Volume 2: Nature is taking advantage of my good nature.

The Bible tells of ten plagues... I present to you 5 more—of course, these only affect ME.

1. Squirrels dig up my lawn on a daily basis leaving my yard looking like the aftermath of a polo match.
2. Small mammals have decided that my garage roof is the perfect place to up and die—leaving their sun-dried little carcasses for me to find.
3. When not tearing into my garbage each night—casting dirty diapers and litter box feces across the driveway—a local family of raccoons utilizes my gutters as a latrine.
4. The neighborhood cats do likewise with the pine needles atop my shed.
5. Oh, and cave crickets have infested my garage and basement. For a pic of a cave cricket go to this link (they are gross and I've no wish to put a picture up): http://clapso.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/cave_cricket.jpg

(Click the pics for some Jimperfect views)

One day a few months back, I came home to find a dead cat decomposing in my back yard not 10 feet away from my son's sandbox. Lying in the ivy, stiff as a board, with maggots writhing inside its eye sockets and maw, the uninvited cadaver clashed terribly with my landscaping and provided a less than desirable additon to my son's play area. With the stench of death quashing my—up-til-then—ravenous appetite, I stood fixated on the once cute kitty and pondered what to do next.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The Joys of HomeOH!ning Volume 1: You're on your own.

Owning your own home can be the greatest thing in the world: you're establishing equity, people can't throw 3 a.m dance parties above you or cook 6 a.m. curry dishes below you, and you don't have to horde quarters for laundry. But for every pro or two, there's a con.

3 years ago, we bought our first house—a cute little brick cape that belonged to my grandparents. After renting apartments for 10 years in New York City and Westchester County, we realized we weren't getting any younger... and we weren't moving forward. Sure we finally got married—after 5 YEARS OF ENGAGEMENT—but what had we done since then?

We assessed our situation and decided it was time. Time to grow up. Time to forge ahead. And time ... to be miserable.

[Cue flashback music and wavy screen] We were in the house not even a month... .

I was down in the basement doing a bit of laundry when I happened to spot a small puddle on the cement floor. After checking to make sure I hadn't lost control of my bladder, I looked up to see a few small drips coming from the ruddy, cast-iron pipe above my head and hollered up to Lyn....

(Click pics for a more Jimperfect view)




After calling FOUR 24-hour EMERGENCY plumbers at 9:30 p.m. only ONE got back to me ... at 8:30 the NEXT morning.

Anyone have a home horror story they'd like to share? Misery loves company so jot down a quick anecdote in the comments section.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


Before Lord of the Rings came out, I had spent endless hours—nay, DAYS—trying to explain to Lyn the concept and story of the books. She, being a typical girl, didn't get it.


Everyone remembers their first time... I remember mine. And here it is! The first time I ever ...


Monday, September 1, 2008


Lyn used to complain because I never wanted to go anywhere. I was a home-body. So one day I tried to defend myself when she became a bit irate at my lack of interest in travel.

Click the pics for a BIGger view.

I apologize if it is difficult to read. I drew many of these years ago (and they are just scans by the way).

Below: a series of cartoons about our adventures in BIG SKY COUNTRY ... if we had actually gone there.