WolverMEAN!

There's only one real decision for our hero to make on a daily basis...which pants should he wear? Does he feel like wearing his "uncaged fury", paint-on tight spandex which are stylish, but leave little to the imagination or his constant go to, cranky pants, which are well worn, comfortable, but have a chronic smell of inner turmoil. Is there any surprise to his bedside manner when his anger management sponsor is "The HULK".

I forgot I had this on my iphone. I quickly sketched this up while waiting in line for the San Francisco Wondercon. Enjoy!

Lemme Tell You Something Mean Gene!

Hulk Hogan: Oh, the offering of an airline snack won't save you now. To you this might seem like a deal too good to pass up, but for someone suffering from food allergies, you're pushing your kryptonite bar grub on the wrong hombre. Why do you continually provoke me so with your legumes of death and your oversized frenchiness? It pains me to do this, but you leave me no choice. Say your prayers, eat your vitamins, and acquaint yourself with the canvas, Andre Le Giant.

Andre: (whispering to the Hulkster)Ask me if there are rocks ahead?

Shut Your Yapper?

For Mr. Cranky Pantz some birds seem like nothing more than annoying, squawking happy meals in flight. Casey the Cat is on a mission to bring down the flying food wagons from this world and use their beak as toothpicks all the while never losing his street cred as a flashy dresser. I'm out.

March Madness

Whitey McGee (aka Noxema) here is serving up facials left and right, and won't even let the blue man group get in his way. Nothing brings out the crazy in this super basketball junky like the month of March where college b-ball rules tv programming. Yo' Moma!

El Sensitivo!

Many a man resorted to the acoustic guitar sensitive man routine in college, and Oasis' Wonderwall will forever be tainted for me because of it. Good times...Good times!

It's Been Awhile

This is me, post village pillaging, realizing that I haven't posted anything in a long while. I'm angry with myself, and I'm ready to throw down at the first sign of someone bad-mouthing Odin or a mention of my eyebrows looking like terrified caterpillars. Sorry for the poor quality, my camera phone is no so bueno. This crazed viking will definitely need some cleaning up and a nice paint job soon. I need to take a page out of Chuck Sheen's book and get back to some Winning!

He Who Must Not Be MisNamed

The Dark Lord is not too pleased about being thwarted again by the pint-size chosen one. This is the last time that over-achieving, expelliarmus spatting wonderbrat makes me look bad in front of my death-eating posse. Just wait til that thunder stealing jerk gets a load of my new thunder stick. Later.