What A Day

It has been a while. Hooooey! has it been a while!  Here is a picture inked by the immutable Richard Tuggz and colored by the uncrustable Scott Rideout. A picture made to be  a poster, but due to dumb un-luck the poster was not used for anything. Does a person make their own luck? Take the case of George Hersey, a gambler and a lover, lucky in both, but killed by a paper cut gone septic.  Now take the case of Linda Loverhein, a hard-working, self-educated altruist living life under the lead net of poverty, also killed by a paper cut gone septic.  Is it all the same in the end? In the split second before a stupid accident ends a life, does the victim think about luck? Does the spectator immediately dwell on the subject?

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Jeepers Creepers

After a long night of wandering the subterranean byways Mickey B. Hughmen finds the source of the real goo. The good stuff. To view other pieces of the puzzle go here.

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Hollywood Nights (with their diamonds and frills)

Earlier that night he heard the trumpet calling. It seemed like it was just around the corner.  He was sure that if he rounded that corner the sound would fade back, a Will o' the wisp leading him farther and farther away from his own world, and into the zones of the city that will always be foreign. 
He was right and wrong.  The calling of the trumpet was right around the corner, and when he rounded that corner it was there staring him right in the face.  His body was left face down for three days before police happened upon the scene.
-EPILOGUE-
Roger turned to his partner, "Hey Riggs, remember that guy we found in the alleyway last week?"
Martin Riggs polished off the last of his Korean Nacho Calzone, "Yah, you could tell from the look on his face that he appreciated a good C major scale.  What a mess."
"I had another dream about him."
Riggs slowly turned his attention away from the puddle in his lap, "Did you tell the chief?"
Roger Murtaugh couldn't believe it.  This had been the best summer of his life.  He reunited with his partner, he was making a psychic breakthrough that was sure to lead to a promotion, and his son had just made purple belt in his karate class.
Riggs raised his charming, funnyman eyebrows, "Can I drive?"
"No," replied Roger, and as he slid back in his seat, taking in the smell of his favorite calzone, he knew everything was going to be alright.

A Religious Experience: A guided meditation

You are in a box. You turn around. You are flying through the air. You develop a fixation.

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Drawings from "The Trap."

...But What Happens When a Little Becomes a Lot?

It has been over a year since our last post and that sort of thing can really leave a sour taste in the mouth of a blog consumer, but we've got good things cookin' over here in the FORCES laboratory.  That's right, the FORCES artists decided to take a little unannounced break, (sorry, fans!!!) each for their own reasons.  Millie Cindzer had a toe removed, then hiked along the entirety of Highway I-40 just to prove to her sister that she wouldn't be "walking all wonky for the rest of her life."  Richard Tuggz spent the past year in Australia with his hand in an echidna puppet, acting as ersatz mother to a litter of baby echidnas (puggles).  Alana Ponui was in the woods up in Maine. Every day she would row around the nearby lake, Lake Hole. Toward the end of the year she could boast to the few others that lived in the area that she could whip around Lake Hole in under forty-seven minutes, and not even break a sweat.  Scott Rideout stood from a crouching position way too fast and slammed his head into a utility pipe and spent the year in a coma. "It was a good year," was all he had to say about it.  But now they are all back, and all pistons are firing, and the juices of time are flowing toward a bright and productive future!
For all you people trapped inside a cage of ice right now, here is an eery number.  It could be from any of the freezing corners of the world,  and you'd better hope it's not near you.  The first person to write in and guess which FORCES artist is responsible for this piece gets the honor of having their own portrait done by the FORCES artist of their choosing. What a gas, right?

Unfinished Business

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All Alone in a Cedar Room

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Mtv

Scott Rideout's band, The Yoots, have a music video.  It is directed by Monica Raden.
Go here to see what all the fuss is about.

You Don't Even Deserve To Be Here If You Have To Ask

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Fabric of Reality See, Fabric of Reality Do

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A Ruined Meal And All Because You Just Couldn't Be Nice

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Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones! You are invited!

the Yoots: yoots.bandcamp.com
Cop Circles: copcircles.bandcamp.com

Photon

Science has never proved that this is what a photon looks like. In fact, it is safe to say that they have proved that without a doubt a photon does not look like this.  But what if they are lying to us?  That is a question that Scott Rideout is without a doubt not asking. Take a look.

Renegade

Dried Sponge: Familiar Faces V.II

What started out as innocent fun with no expectation of any serious consequences ended in a terrible quietness.

The Transmogrification of Mickey B. Hughmen: Familiar Faces V. I

Here is another group of drawings from Scott Rideout's series, "The Trap." The winding path, the twisting and turning route that ends in ultimate change. What might start in the impeccable tracts of the suburbs and end in the halls of ultimate psychic rebirth could leave its footprint on any number of surfaces. To fill in some of the blanks click here.

Joey, Chandler, Ross, A Monkey

This is what happens when people stop being nice and start getting real weird. Knowing someone well is no guarantee that they will be the same person after living in close quarters with them. But how far is too far? What happens when the scab collection comes out at parties? What happens when you find a nanny-cam in your shampoo bottle? What happens when you wake up and your fingernails have been switched with your toenails in your sleep? When is the last straw? Sure, you can jam out and chew the fat just fine during the normal hours of the day, discussing books and magazines, the weather, golf statistics, but during the twilight hours a sick feeling begins to fill your guts. Your brain begins to swell under your skull, you just can't take it anymore!

During The Fight

Before the fight no one knew what would happen. After the fight no one knew what happened.

Theatah!

Entertainment! Distraction! Auto-Pilot! If the world is a stage and we are merely players, where are our royalties, where is our trailer, and where is our caramel macchiato?

But does it grow on trees?

In a time of diminishing resources, when the sun is blotted out by an evil conglomerate, and the ocean is being turned into chicken soup, when the only prayer that will save you is no prayer, and there is no where left for humans to run except out of time, Thoroughbred Publishing brings us the tale of one human who will risk it all to save the only other human who is worth a damn. A story of hope in a hopeless time, a time of corruption and singing chowderheads, in which everything will be consumed or we wont get any dessert.