I just sat down to my drawing table, which was gifted to me by my parents on my 16th birthday in 1972, to start on a new picture which has been haunting me for years. Once again I just sat down so now I have to stare at the blank piece of 18 x 24″ drawing paper for a few hours before pencil ever touches it. The picture, as of yet untitled, will be liked and understood by most men, and not liked and possibly not understood by most women. You’ll know what I mean when it’s completed, some one hundred man hours from now.
In between the obligatory blank sheet stare I am also in the process of packing for a trip to Australia. This includes throwing together the needed toiletries and sundries for three weeks in the southern hemisphere to which I’ve never been. It’s frigid here in New York and blazing hot in Victoria, I am told. Preparations for the trip also include booby-trapping my house for any savage-like, drug crazed miscreants who may think that since the Big Man is away they can help themselves to whatever they may want or need. This is not the case. As soon as anyone unauthorized enters through any door or window they will be in for a big surprise. Let me tell you what that surprise is. On second thought, let’s just leave it as a SURPRISE! Rest peacefully, young Skell.
I remember years ago reading about a store owner in Miami who after being the victim of numerous burglaries, booby-trapped his liquor store so that any perpetrator would get a 120 volt jolt if he “entered and remained unlawfully with the intent to commit a crime”. Sure enough, this mutant broke through the roof and ended up getting fried on a steel grate which was positioned in a strategic location by the frustrated victim shop owner. P.S. Mr. Liquor Store Owner was indicted and found guilty of involuntary Manslaughter. Shame, shame.
I’m willing to take that chance.
Hey Evil-Doers. BRING IT!