A Red Letter Day

As I write this, I haven't slept in twenty-four hours. I have had three meals in the last forty-six: Two-bowls of cereal on separate occasions and lasagna flavored Hamburger Helper. Today I went to work hungover from last night's bar adventure, which was not so much an adventure as it was an onslaught of human misery. I have class in the morning with nothing prepared, and I made plans with like eight different people and no intention of following through with any of them.

My Nemesis: Stardom is out, finally. Forty pages of full-color hilarity. This disgusting pictograph, or "comic book," features new jokes, unused strips and never-before-seen art; even more vile internet filth to be pushed down the throats of America's youth.

BWR has forged its own MySpace account. Now... I am not sure what this "MySpace" is. It's a computer or something, like pornography. I know a lot of you have MySpace accounts, and I want you to know I think you're awful. The new BWR MySpace features original artwork such as character designs, concept sketches, and other blurbs which have sometimes made brief appearances on here.

Are you chewing gum? Spit it out. Spit it out right now. No gum.

One other announcement before we get started: I, Ken Krekeler, billion-dollar oil tycoon extraordinaire, will be making my first public appearance in over eighty years this May at the Motor City Comic Convention. The convention, May 18 - May 20, will be a rare opportunity to meet me in person, so that we might better discuss the direction of the American economy as a global superpower. There will be copies of Stardom on sale, as well as a horde of original artwork including comic book pages, concept sketches, and finished paintings for other projects.

I hope some of you can make it out there. I've never done a con before. In my head, I imagine tumbleweeds rolling past my lonely booth. I imagine James O'Barr and Jonathan Frakes laughing at me from their celebrity panels. I imagine all my ex-girlfriends lined up in a row, throwing pudding and ketchup, hooting.

Of course, that's probably just my insecurities talking.

Besides, I won't have time to get upset. I'll be drunk.