Wednesday, April 27, 2011


note to self #66: smiiile

Well, jack kelly, creator of note to self, requests the displeasure of your company for "owl jowl jewelry," this week's collection of 5 cent comics, starting with a comic about jack kelly's feeble attempts at commiseration. Honestly, I've seen Nexus-6's with more empathy than jack kelly. The last time I saw someone so cold and robotic crash and burn while attempting to emulate human behavior, I was watching Olivia Munn butcher a Daily Show segment.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Friday, April 22, 2011


This image has been made public, so I can post it now. It's one in a series of commissions I did for a client, so there's more to come. Rough drafts "after the jump," by which I mean, "click the link thingy after the period in this sentence" in order to see the rough drafts that lead to this final image.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


note to self #62: sicko

On the bright side, that dullard jack kelly, author of note to self, is OCD about the numbering on his stuff, and he wants to end on multiples of 5 since he's going to be doing 5 "comics" per week now, so he's only doing 4 this week to get the numbering in sync. Sadly, I don't have the heart to tell him that nobody cares, he should stop wasting everyone's time, and he should just do us all a favor and just go French kiss an outlet.

But in any case, here's this week's collection, called "vegan sausage fest," and it kicks off with a comic about jack kelly's latent fear that his wife will pounce on any reason/man to leave him. Wait, jack kelly's married?! When did that happen? Why wasn't I invited? Oh, right. It's because jack kelly thinks that balloon with the magic marker smiley face drawn on it is his wife.

Monday, April 18, 2011


At least you're not lining up for Hall H. Now THAT's geeky.

Zero Like Me #162:


Friday, April 15, 2011


I know I already talked about a similar experience at Yale, but did I ever tell you about the time I went to Harvard and this one girl decided to go pee right next to me as I was sketching?

It started at The Game, of course, as there is no reason anyone would want to go to Harvard otherwise. I spent all day incognito, hiding from anyone who might recognize me bundled up in Yale hat and sweater and masked in layers of scarf, meanwhile I sketched scenes of socs schmoozing. The tailgate was pretty aight, in that the food was great. I loaded up on burgers and cookies and chocolate hot water. I felt torn because I wanted to go up to talk to people, but, well, y'know.

I couldn't afford tickets to The Game, so I just sat outside of the stadium sketching up the joint. My cover got blown as a JE '10 guy spotted me and insisted on the whole human interaction thing. Total emo buzzkill. So after he scoots off, and I stop wondering why I can't be more like him, I get back to sketching the stadium grounds from my solitary perch atop an empty staircase facing the busy scene.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a gaggle of Game-goers gathering on the ground floor. This one girl among them seems to be in a serious pickle, based on her antsy body language. She's consulting with the group, and they're all anxiously whipping their heads around, scoping out either a location or for a clear coast. It sinks in. She needs to pee. Bad. As she's frantically weighing her options for where to execute Order Sixty-Sick as privately as possible, she keeps looking in my direction.

So she bolts over to the left of the staircase where I'm drawing and jumps into a squat in the patch of bushes in my quiet corner of the campus. I'm sketching and sketching, hoping she goes away and that she's just joking around, but then I hear a trickling. A TRICKLING! I throw up a little in my mouth, chug it back down, and keep drawing the stadium like my insecurity depends on it. THE END.

To help cleanse the palate, these last few drawings are from after I left the staircase to explore Harvard's version of Old Campus. There was a girl wearing an incredible jacket that reaffirmed that females have cornered the market on aesthetics, a building called Matthews Hall, and what I believe is Prescott Street.

Despite the urinous sidequest, I'd say Harvard was pretty good games. Loved the architecture, loved Leverett House, loved seeing healthy Boston Terriers out and about while mine was painfully dying back home, loved feeling like a lonely Yalie again. Or something.


Wednesday, April 13, 2011


note to self #57: fallon hard times

Unfortunately note to self by the hideous jack kelly, returns with a now increased output of five comics per week, this episode being collectively called "fat girls wearing prada." jack kelly opens with a comic that is his poor attempt at being politically aware, but be honest, jack kelly, all you know of politics is what Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Conan O'Brien, and Jimmy Fallon approve of you to know about. I double dog dare you to argue otherwise, jack kelly.

Monday, April 11, 2011


Don't kid yourself, it's about to suck a lot more now.

Zero Like Me #161:
Light Truth


Friday, April 8, 2011


Study: March Insanity
Patient: #003
Department: Historical Forensics Commission
Case: Regicidal properties of the candius regalis strain

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


note to self #53: blues

Like the mudstains in your underpants, note to self, by the Quasimodian jack kelly, returns with four more comics that put the "stupid" in "stupid comics," starting with a comic that is jack kelly's way of showing he cares, I guess. But jack kelly is a jerk, though--why shouldn't rich people be able to get away with playing with money and capitalizing on dead or dying people if it's for a good cause? And by good cause, I of course mean self promotion. Rich people are inherently superior to normal people, and are vastly superior to poor people, so if they want to use their money for publicity stunts, that is their right, and I salute them. Or at least I would if I could afford arms, but I sold them for food because I'm living in a van down by the river.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Friday, April 1, 2011