From the mind of Tom Beland

Creator of True Story Swear to God

Thursday, December 4, 2008


... is the greatest issue of any comic this year. Really, it's that great.

I'll tell you something. It's no secret what a boner I've had for this character my entire life. There's a reason. He was a character I was instantly drawn to because he had such a great personality to him and the stories took me away, to this awesome place of fun and action.

This is the first book in over twenty years that pulled me back to those exact same emotions and feelings I got from back in those early days. Every page of this book is a time machine for me. Mark Waid's story has everything... the great humor, the put-downs that made me do spit takes and what happens on page 21 is a fucking complete classic. And I mean CLASSIC.

And there's no doubt about it. Marcos Martin is the greatest Spidey artist since the days of Ditko and Romita. His Jonah J. is perfect. Spidey in a ruined costume, page 21... fuck man... it has to be a dream to work with this guy.

Anyhoo... really check this book out. And for guys my age... pour yourself a big bowl of Cocoa Puffs, put on your old baseball cap and enjoy a wonderful comics glow that you haven't felt in years.

Awesome time.

Monday, October 20, 2008


... is the Sarah Palin of television journalism.

He's SO fucking over-the-top in his reactions and his "golly jeeze" personality, that it's impossible to take in anything the man says. Nobody is that naive and I really hope to God it's an act.

The other night, he was talking to someone who worked on Wall Street and he asked if people there did drugs. The guy said "sure we did, we did cocaine, uppers, you name it" to which Sanchez looks stunned, puts his chin on his hand and replies, "COCAINE..? REALLY..??? That is eye-opening."

Quit the "golly gee" act and treat the news with some maturity.

Thursday, October 16, 2008


You have to understand my long-standing hatred for the Los Angeles Dodgers to appreciate how great it was to see them get so close to the Word Series... only to fail. MMMMmmmmMMmm.... it was like homemade cookies in the oven, I tell ya.

I've always been a San Francisco sports fan. Love the Giants, even though they're currently hopeless. Love the Niners, even though they're currently hopeless. Love the Warriors, even though they own the rights to looking hopeless. And when you're a fan of the SF teams, LA is your worst enemy. And if we can't win something... then they DEFINITELY can't win it..

Felt pretty damned good.

But I'll say this. For Los Angles not to have an NFL team is a crime and a farce. Washing and Dallas have their rivalries. So does New York and Boston. You cannot be serious that Seattle-San Francisco is a good rivalry. Or Arizona-San Francisco. Nope. Wont' do. We need LA and we need it soon.


For anyone worried about Hurricane Omar hitting the island, it was close, but it missed us. We're all safe and life is good.

This means my record of consecutive years we've never had a hurricane with me on the island continues to 11!! That's something else we can celebrate!!

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


Eh. Better late than never. It was held at our favorite restaurant, Al Dente. This place is like our second kitchen and we so love it.

Sitting down with "Clan Boricua": That's Tony and his wife, Margie sitting next to me. My niece, Tiana, behind them. Gigi, Lily's sister, is on my left, followed by Papi and Mami.

I love holding the camera and taking my own photo. Me and the Princess.

If there's a waitress I love more than Alejandra... I've yet to meet her. She's awesome, gorgeous and a bit bohemian. Gotta love that combination. And she keeps me from drinking more than two cokes at dinner. Seriously. She'll absolutely refuse and bring me a mojito instead. She also makes these outrageously delicious shots that taste exactly like chocolate cake.

Tiana is so outstanding and she doesn't even realize her own level of awesomeness. I can hang with this chick all day and have a great time.

Back in the kitchen with the crew. I so love watching people cook. It's like watching a magician in action and there's so much movement in their actions that they're great to draw. If I wasn't doing this, I'm sure I'd love to be a chef. Chef Mariano is from Argentina, a place world-known for meat and he told me that for my birthday he was going to make me churrassco... a long skirt steak. It was ten levels above delicious.

See that cake? Well, you're right. It was huge. It was solid chocolate. And it was mind-blowing.


I mean, other than the fact that she's an amazing talent. She offering this, as well as other items on her blog and I thought it was great. You can see the other items at Colleen's website. The link is on the right. I'm trying to get the softball shirt, but she doesn't ship to Puerto Rico. WHY MUST YOU BREAK MY HEART SO, COLLEEN DORAN???

Here's the softball shirt:

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Jon Stewart is a GOD.

Just had to say it.


So there's this financial Ragnarok heading our way... and it's crucial to get a plan agreed to as soon as humanly possible or else every nickel we own will turn to dust by Saturday and....


and... they're OFF today..?

Listen, I'm all for religion. I'm all for how important it is and all. But I'm hearing from every person that the world is going to end Saturday and... well... I can't help but go WTF??? And yeah, yeah, I know that it's a sacred day... but it doesn't change my mind. There is a huge BORG ship heading towards Earth and we are truly fucked if we don't act now.

And they took today off.

I used to work for Holiday Inn. When I worked for Holiday Inn, you were told right away that you would be working on Christmas and Easter. No questions asked. People need to have someone at the front desk. So when something like Christmas came around, I'd have to tell my family that I'll have to be working and that I'd catch up with them.

Holiday Inn, people.

Are you telling me that someone like me can be expected to work at Holiday Inn on a religious holiday... one I used to observe... because Steve-O in room 323 may want to get some change for the snack machine... I can be expected to work that day because Steve is important. And when the senators, with the fate of the Nation's economy at stake... THAT job... they get to take holidays off..?

How many fucking Jewish senators DO we have???

Shouldn't the leaders of our country take a moment and call their families that something huge came up, in the form of Galactus with a stolen ATM card. I'd hope that they'd tell them that, even though it's a religious holiday... we have to get this work done. Tell everyone I'm sorry, but they'll understand.

And instead, we lost a day and they have no idea how to solve it. They all waved fists of anger, telling the cameras how insulting it was to hear who did what and that professionalism and sanity have left the stage. Lots of fist-waving. Lots of freaked-out senators worried about them not knowing how to fix it and how huge the situation could get. Everyone is shitting buckshot-style and heads are tweaking out on the television and the bald finance dude was ON HIS FUCKING KNEES, begging the senate to get this done.

And instead, they shut their briefcases and left for home..? Really?


And here we are laughing at Palin.

Monday, September 29, 2008



Legalize it. Tax it. All that tax money goes towards the bailout.

Hey, it's something and it's more thinking outside the box than Obama and McCain combined.

And hell... you think Palin's family does NOT smoke weed..?? C'mon. Seriously.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


Yep. That's right.

I hit the big 4-oh-6 today and I gotta say, I don't think I ever matured over the years.

Oh yeah, the hair's gone, the grey has settled in and found a home in my beard and I'm taking medicine that I once labeled as "old folks" medicine.

But mentally...? I'm still that 23-year old dude who loved to go out at night and get crazy. I'm still in love with comics. I still love a good groove playing while I draw. I still love Saturday morning cartoons and I still love a good Coke from the freezer, just before it explodes.

I still love the feeling I get on new comics day. I love how each book is another wrapped gift and I'm always shocked at what my co-creators are doing in the field. And hey... I get my comics for FREE on my birthday!! The owner never charges me on my birthday.

So what did the wifey get me? Well, for one, she got me one of those CHILL PILLOWS... the ones that never lose their cold side. I've been flipping my pillow over and over at night since I moved to Puerto Rico and when we heard about this, I nearly exploded all over the screen. So, most people would say "a pillow...?" I say "YESSSS!!" She also got me a very cool razor for my head and beard.

My niece, Tiana, is getting me a back scratcher. Trust me... this is also an epic gift. I loooooove a good back scratching. I must've been an old hound dog in another life.

And tonight, we're going to our friends' restaurant for dinner and we'll have a ton of family and friends joining us. There'll be food, conversation, laughter and we'll probably embarrass somebody during the night. It's my favorite part of the day.

I love birthdays. I love celebrating another year on this crazy globe. I love getting birthday wishes on Facebook and MySpace and I love having that inner child still in me. After what I've gone through the past couple of months, you'd better have some sort of childlike optimistic approach to life.

But best of all... my wife continues to give me the greatest gift of all. Her company. Even when she's driving me crazy with how it takes her ten minutes to set-up the stories she tells me while I'm trying to watch the game. Even after ten years of hearing that she's starving, but doesn't know what she wants to eat. And even when I'm watching something and she puts on the channel guide and flips through the listings one at a time... I love her company.

Because she's awesome.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


Sarah Palin claims she's ready to "take on Washington" and "take on terrorism" and "take on Wall Street" and yet she refuses to take on the media. It's more than ridiculous, it's become embarrassing to watch.

Until this woman is ready to sit her ass down and take on the questions by reporters, she's nothing but talk. She's the beautiful woman they use in advertising to get you from looking at the tiny print that tells you that your milage may vary.

But if she's going to be as tough as she, and the party, claim she is, then it's time to get her ass out of the bunker and face some tough questions... as well as answer them. Otherwise, get the fuck out and let someone who actually WANTS to face the media do their job.

Sunday, September 21, 2008


Yankee Stadium came to and end today.

The game itself was a great one, the Yankees winning 7-3 and the emotions were high all night. You could feel the energy in the air as the fans gave it their all as they bid their stadium adieu.

I'm just not sure why.

Because I'm not sure the stadium itself would cheer this day. I wondered if Yankee Stadium was happy with the outpouring of love its fans... or if it had that feeling that Old Yeller had when he saw little Travis holding his shotgun as he took Yeller out to the back yard. And I get the feeling that Yankee Stadium felt the latter. I mean, how would YOU handle it? What if you were Yankee Stadium today?

Yeah, you've heard for decades how you're one of the "crowned jewels" in sports. You'd think that if they call you one of those, you were good to be around forever. A historical landmark, for hell's sake. Your biggest moments in sports history happened right where you are.

But then you get the news. Maybe it's just a rumor at first... some of the other buildings begin talking shit about how the city was going to be losing one of it's jewels. Who... you? Hah. Laughable at best. And if it's ANYONE... it's that old Empire State guy who'll probably go. I mean... the last great thing that happened there was that fucking big ape movie. Right?

But then the rumors get a bit more focused. You hear the public tennis courts crying with the community baseball field. And when you make eye contact, they give you this look that suggests you should brace yourself. And the wind gets a slight bit chillier.

The next day you wake up and... that public park is gone. Everything. The trees, the track, the tennis courts... all of them. All torn up and reduced to dirt. And none of those people were there. It was just... empty. Gone.

And you remember the look the tennis court gave you and you freak-out just a bit. You check yourself out, mentally. You're still in solid shape. Yeah. And you have all those moments and memories that created such a bond between you and the city. I mean... c'mon.. those people-thingies go absolutely ape-shit gah-gah over you for crying out loud. They say that Ruth-guy built you... and you know how they all feel about RUTH!!

Yeah, it's gotta be that Empire guy.

You wake up again and there's a buzz in the air. Usually you don't hear those people thingies talking out there. But for some reason, you're hearing your name over and over. There's a tension in the air. You get that feeling that maybe you should make a call and just see how everything is and see if anything is brought up and....

There's a knock on your door.

You look down and it's those owner-people. All dressed up in suits and looking official. Whoahhh... look at all the media vans pull up!! Wow!! Look at the reporter people run into me!! That kinda tickles!! HAH!!

And then you listen in.

And your elevator drops to the ground floor in a thump.

No. Fucking. Way.

It's not the Empire State guy. It's not even that weird-ass Carnegie Deli fucker near the theaters.

No. It's you.

What the fuck..?? Are they shitting you?? You're absolutely posifuckingtively speechless as they all exit you. Total silence as you hear the cars drive off into the void. Even if you could speak, there's simple no question in the history of asking that could specifically depict your utter loss. Not even CHEMO is an option. And the governor ain't gonna be calling.

And it's not for the fans, those people that you see day or night, sunny or raining, championship runs and the times you were never even in the mix... naw. It wasn't for the those people who believe in keeping history there when you can't improve on it. No. It wasn't for that seat that's been in the family for generations. And that's what's so insulting. The reason those owners are leaving you was for the disastrous of reasons. One that you can't defend in a million years.

It was because they wanted someone younger.

Someone hotter. Someone that doesn't have all that milage you have. Jesus, would it have killed you to polish those plaques once in a while?? We have sponsors out there!! Trim that infield some time and maybe they'd care about you more.

When the air finally returns to your body, you almost laugh, because the reality is so damned impossible. There's no FUCKING way it's you. I mean... you could've SWORN they loved you. That person who was dying... it felt like he meant it... and all the baseball... the football... those events where two guys beat the shit out of each other... they went NUTS over those moments. That's what you were designed for and you gave it back to them a hundred times over. You did your job... and you SEEM to be great at it... but now..?

There she is. The new girl.

Sighh... yeah, she'd young. She's got that virginal look to her. Untouched. You remember being like that. It's so easy to be loved because you're new. They'll go crazy over her... not matter what they see when they get there. She'll have that "new-girl" smell to her and they love that. But then things will change. Those people... there'll be fewer of them around when she doesn't perform. One, two losing seasons and she'll become... normal. And don't forget, she's only got baseball. A one-trick pony.

And then the night comes when they officially end it all... and THIS is how they say goodbye??? The ORIOLES? Are they fucking JOKING HERE?? NO BOSTON?? REALLY??? Wow... okay... whatever. You'd just think that they'd have some respect when they made this schedule. That's all. Wow.


No, it's NOT fucking okay. They new FOREVER that this day was going to come. And they could've shown you some real love and let you go out the way it should be done. But not like this. This is... a bit... embarrassing. You should tell them how cheap you feel. But I guess you won't. You'll go out classy and forgive them the way you always do. And at least your friends... the ones you're CLOSE to... at least they won't have to watch you go out this way.

What the fuck? Is that Paul..? Why did they have to ask him to... noooo. Is that Bernie..? Paul AND Bernie?? They didn't think this would be awkward? Why don't they just invite LARSEN for crying out... OHMYGODIT'SDONLARSEN. And YOGI. TELL me they did NOT invite Don fucking Larsen and Yogi goddamn Berra tonight's game. Is that Chambliss? Jackson..?? And the family members..?

You look at Babe's daughter and quietly mumble that you don't KNOW why they're doing this. You don't know who you pissed off or who you disappointed... you don't know. No one's asked why. RUDI... the 911 guy... HE knows what you are... he's wearing your hat!! Surely HE'LL do something to save you!

But he doesn't. And in a fleeting moment, the game is over... and you can hear them play Sinatra one final time and then the lights go out. It's officially over. I guess everyone goes sooner or later.

You just never thought you'd go out like this. For something called "luxury boxes," whatever the hell those are. You wonder if they'll miss you, or move on. They moved on after the World Trade twins were murdered. And you're not the World Trade twins. You're just a stadium. And you know how they feel about stadiums.

I bet it'd be cold that night.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Couldn't have said it better, Tim

This is Your Nation on White Privilege
By Tim Wise

For those who still can’t grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.

• White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because “every family has challenges,” even as black and Latino families with similar “challenges” are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.

• White privilege is when you can call yourself a “fuckin’ redneck,” like Bristol Palin’s boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you’ll “kick their fuckin’ ass,” and talk about how you like to “shoot shit” for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.

• White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.

• White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don’t all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you’re “untested.”

• White privilege is being able to say that you support the words “under God” in the pledge of allegiance because “if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it’s good enough for me,” and not be immediately disqualified from holding office—since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the “under God” part wasn’t added until the 1950s—while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.

• White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was “Alaska first,” and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you’re black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she’s being disrespectful.

• White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do—like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor—and people think you’re being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college—you’re somehow being mean, or even sexist.

• White privilege is being able to convince white women who don’t even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a “second look.”

• White privilege is being able to fire people who didn’t support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.

• White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God’s punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you’re just a good church-going Christian, but if you’re black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you’re an extremist who probably hates America.

• White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a “trick question,” while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O’Reilly means you’re dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.

• White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it a “light” burden.

• And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren’t sure about that whole “change” thing. Ya know, it’s just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.

White privilege is, in short, the problem.

Tim Wise is the author of White Like Me (Soft Skull, 2005, revised 2008), and of Speaking Treason Fluently, publishing this month, also by Soft Skull. For review copies or interview requests, please reply to

Sunday, September 14, 2008


I've been seeing this chiropractor for the past few weeks and I'm now able to sit down in the chair without discomfort.

I'm also able to draw a little better, so long as I slow down. Wayyyy down. It takes me about four days to get a page done and I can't get too crazy with background details, but if I really take my time and don't freak out when the line jumps a bit, I can actually get a page finished.

The chiropractor also believes that I injured the wrist in my fall. He says that I may still have some swelling there, so we can't do x-rays yet, since the swelling would block the view. He's gotten me this far, I'm going to stick with his plan.

All of you folks have been amazing to me during this and I really want to say thanks.

I'm working on the book again. It should be ready in '09. I hope you all dig it.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Same ol', same ol'

What to do.

I try to get past those three words and I can't help but cry. I've been trying so hard to do what the doctors say... what friends recommend... what the internet explain... but in the end, I pick up my brush and its as it's been.

A jittery line.

Everyone tells me to hang in there. To be strong. That this will pass.

So far, it hasn't happened.

And each time I try and it doesn't happen... it kills a tiny bit more. The hand knows what the brain is telling it to do, but it can't seem to execute those lines that I could do in my sleep at one time.

I feel as if I'm letting so many people down. My readers, Image, comics shop owners, my wife, my characters. Each time I try to draw Lily, there's this feeling of loss that hits me. As though I'm losing that character. Each time I try, it seems a little worse. I just tried to draw that familiar look, where she's looking at the reader, with her shoulder up a bit. Jesus... I can't execute that image and it fucking kills me.

I'm getting emails from readers who want to know when the next issue is coming out and I can only explain it so many times to where I just ignore the emails. It hurts too much to give the run-down over and over. I want to yell, "IT'LL COME OUT WHEN I CAN FUCKING DRAW AGAIN" but I know that's not the right thing to do.

I just miss my art.

It's hard to be strong when you're losing something that has gotten you through so much in life. No matter what happened to me in my life, I've been able to express it on paper. This is the first time in my life where I'm afraid to touch a pencil and pen. When the jittery lines appear, it's like throwing a brick through a stain glass window.

Lily will tell me things like "I don't really notice it" to lift my spirits, but it doesn't help. It's there. Because I can feel it as I draw and see it in my line. It's not about what the reader can see. It's about what I see. This isn't a bad back or a sprained knee... this is my art. I can't put work out there in hope that people won't notice the messed-up line work.

My art has been my entire world since I was five years old. And now I can't do it.

I'm taking pills I wouldn't take in a million years. I'm wearing a magnet bracelet. I'm seeing two doctors. I'm emotionally fucked up and the one thing I would do to ease my mind is the one thing I cannot fucking do. Each time I try something, I sit down and nothing has changed.

My cartooning is more than art. It's my sanctuary. It's my Hundred Acre Woods.

It's that place I can turn to when the rest of the world is hitting on my skull. My cartooning is what got me through mom and dad dying. It got me through my first divorce. It got me through the times where I truly didn't know how I was going to buy food, or pay rent. It's what I did to meet people in school. It's how I got girls to notice me. And it's what I did... for me.

It's what I did to show the world how I met such an exceptional woman who's changed my universe.

It's what I did to spread my wings and soar.

I could be sitting in Starbucks at a table, drinking a coffee and sketching in one of my books. But what nobody can see is how utterly breathtaking it is to create even the simplest doodle. To draw the egg-shaped circle that is the head. To divide it up so the eyes rest on the horizontal line... so they even up. To then fill out the face... the eyes, the nose, the smile. The hair. To then breathe some life into that simple drawing.

I miss it more than I miss my parents.

If it came back to me, I'm confident I could take having cancer. I could hear the news and say to the doctor, "I can deal with this... I once lost my art." If you're an artist, you can understand that.

If you don't draw, you cannot imagine how that is so much a part of my life. When I see people, anyone, the first thing that comes to mind is how I could draw them. What makes them unique, artistically. Do they have a round or thin face? Their eyes. Their smile. Their hair. Their bodies. How could I translate that to the page. And in every case, I could sit down and do it.

And now... forget it.

I'm not going to give up. But even as I say that, it kills me that I even HAVE to say it. But the pain of trying hurst that much more each time. I'm terrified. I'm emotional. I'm irrational.

I just want to draw again.

I miss it so.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

WHAT THE FU#*#*#????


See... I read earlier that Gail Simone announced that she now ran the Bendis boards and not Brian.

But what the fuck did Gail do to make such a claim? You don't just announce... "excuse me... but I'm in charge now.."

No. You go out and you fucking take it. Run that land on a wild stallion and lay claim to all of it.

So... I went on every thread and announced that I had laid claim to each thread, which to them, is spamming. HOWEVER.. I DO have to say that, in my defense, I added a line or two after each post that tied IN with each thread. So... since each post was unique and different... it cannot be technically dubbed "spamming."

I told this to Brian in a confidential email.

Ummm..... Brian shut me down.

Sad. Not even a trial. From a man who once penned the voice of Matt Murdock.

Murdock would've won this. Pro bono.

Now, I'm going to accept my banishment. I'll sit here in the desert and stare at the oasis from afar. Eating a scorpion every now and then... and you know what..?

Each time a scorpion stings my tongue, it'll just make me stronger. And when I return Bendisboard... ohhhh WHEN I RETURN... I WILL BRING A BOUNTY OF SCORPION-INDUCED HUMOR THAT WILL MAKE THE ANCIENTS HEED NOTICE!!!


okay, time for ravioli.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Okay, update time...

The back, to my shock, has gotten better. The lower back is still tight, but the upper part and my neck seem to be back to normal. I'm at least able to move around now and not confined to the sofa. As much as I love television, I could only watch so many episodes of THROWDOWN WITH BOBBY FLAY and PARDON THE INTERRUPTION before going insane.

Which brings me to this freakin' hand problem. We went to our neurologist the other day and he told me, "I want you to try this."

"This" is called Primidone. It's a harmless looking pill, don't it look cute..?

"Primidone.." I say as I look at the prescription. "I never heard of it."

"I want you to take this every morning," he tells me. "This should help with the hand jittering.

"Are there any side-effects..?" I asked. Hey, they always tell you to ask about the side effects on tv, right..? So long as there's no painful diarrea and rectal vomiting or my eyeballs exploding or disappearance of my nads, I should be okay, right?

"You might feel a little groggy, but other than that, nothing." he tells me.

So, I got the pills and, the next day, I woke up and took the pill that will let me draw again. And in a fucking hour I felt like this:

And not just for an hour... oh, nooooOOOooo... I felt like this the entire day and through the night. There was a storm hitting Puerto Rico last night with lots of thunder and, at one point, I heard an airplane coming in for a landing and, well, you can only imagine what images were going through my head being that high.

And when I say I was high... I mean... I was FUCKING. HIGH.

This was the worst drug I've ever taken in my life. And I've had bad acid while hiking up that trail on Browns Valley Road. I've had mushrooms with a guy who couldn't shut the hell up. And I've smoked some truly, truly bad weed.

Primidone makes all those others its bitch.

I don't remember one minute of yesterday, save for me standing naked in the bathroom holding the bottle in my hand, pointing at it and muttering "NOOOO PRIMIDONE... BADDD PRIMIDONE..."

I gave my wife the bottle and said "never again." Did it help my hand..? How he fuck do I know, I was HIGH. I DID find a page that I inked last night and, though the inking looked a little better, I was insanely stoned when I did it. How am I supposed to do a 24-page book like that?? I'll choose marijuana over Primidone.

Marijuana at least makes the high a fun time. Some giggling, some artwork, eight chocolate shakes and a pizza with a side order of chinese food and the day is done! Primidone kicks the door in with Hydra agents and clobbers you on the head and knocks you out until you wake up on the side of the street tied to a lamppost in your underwear. No fun.

I DID, however, have a dream that Giada de Laurentiis came onto me during a Food Network shoot.

I'm as amazed as you are... but I can truly say that she was determined. Maybe it's the way I pronounce "mazzarella." Awwwww Giada... I always knew you were a saucy wench.

So, around noon, when the fog lifted and it was time to go meet with my editor about the "Fantastic Four: Isla de la Muerta" sequel, I at last had my wits about me and came out of that freakin' fog. Then he cancelled. DAMNED YOU ALEJANDRO AND YOUR BUSY SCHEDULE!!!!!!

To say that I'm touched by all the nice words of encouragement is an understatement. Gail Simone never wrote, but hey, what can you expect from someone who hates kittens? Really? You didn't know that?

Really, I've been so moved by the emails and Facebook notes (and for the record, I never use the FunWall, so please stop) that I can never properly put it into words. I may have a tiny readership, but damned if it ain't a loyal one. You guys are Amazing, Spectacular, Sensational and... ummmm... TEAM-UP!!!

Naw, really people... you're the greatest. I'm just going to be patient on this. Humor has always got me through a lot of things, it'll get me through this.

And, fortunately, the FF script is going to fucking rock.

Monday, August 11, 2008

I really need a hug.

Well, the back is still killing me and that jitter in my drawing hand is still there. It's been two weeks since I've been off caffeine and I still shake as much as I have before. Simply put... I cannot draw.

For anyone who knows me in any way whatsoever, you know how I feel about it.

I've done all I can do and I've done all the swearing, brush and paper throwing and crying I can do. I'm pretty much empty inside. I've been drawing since I was a kid and now it's just not there anymore. Not the way I'm happy with at least.

I've had support from my wife and friends, but I don't think they understand truly what I'm going through. This is such a loss to me on an emotional and spiritual level. I just don't see it improving. Every time I pick up a pencil or brush, that shake is right there. Lily will tell me it looks fine, but it doesn't help.

I called my sister to tell her what was going on and she doesn't get it either. She's going through a divorce and every time I tried to talk to her about it, the conversation went to what an asshole her husband is. Yeah, I get it. I hung up and wished I could've had some support there. But my own family doesn't look for my book. That has always hurt, but I really feel like I'm going through this alone. I don't want to hear it's going to get better, I want to SEE it getting better.

The fact is, I see that shaky line everywhere on the page. I feel it as I make the line itself and it kills me when I look at my page.

And then I got the numbers on my TSSTG ARCHIVE COLLECTION:

Image has lost two grand on it. I guess the public has officially spoken.

This was the book I was hoping Image would make money on. Every issue they've published has lost money for them. Add this to my health issues and I'm ready to tie myself to a boulder and push it off a bridge.

Friday, August 1, 2008


I'm going to be accepting commissions for the time being. If there's something you're interested in me drawing, you can email me at All pieces are on 8.5" x 11" and are created with colored pencil. I use PayPal. $40 per commission, depending on difficulty.

Here are some examples:


So here's the thing. I have a shitload of relatives in Chicago who I haven't seen in decades. And I haven't been to Wrigley Field... or an actual White Castle stand, or even eaten a deep-freaking-dish pizza. I haven't been to the Museum of Art in ages and I need to see if they still have my favorite painting of all time there:

All that said... I need to go and hang out at the Loop and try to figure out that Picasso statue. Anyhoo... if you're there next year, look us up!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

And, of course THIS happens

Two emails came to me tonight:

Hello name is Kevin and I was in Chicago over the weekend and saw your book in a Borders Bookstore and bought it. I'm not much of a reader.....actually I hate reading. I am 18 years old and have probably never completely read a book cover to cover. Your book is just so addicting to read because I can relate to a lot of the feelings that you had.........I just wanted to say thank you for giving me a new outlook on reading!! — civicman022


"On july 23rd, I had my youngest brother give my Mom, the bday present, I couldn't give her, because I was on my way to San Diego. It was a graphic novel about something she was familiar with, thanks to local TV, and she LOVED it! TSSTG vol. 1 by Tom Beland. Congrats U have a brand new fan.Get well soon."
— Victor Rosario, Facebook

Yeah. This is why I make my books. Awesome.

So where the hell have I been?

I've been MIA the past month from this blog. I'd love to say that it's because I've been talking with studio executives or I'm putting together a toy line or something... but it's nothing that good.

I've been dealing with health issues and it's been a roller coaster, emotionally.

First of all... there's the ADD situation. I've been battling this problem my entire life and it seems the older I get, the harder it is to get a handle on it. If you don't have ADD, it's probably tough to understand what it does to you. Basically, it makes it impossible to focus on the job at hand. There's always something else on my mind and I get very scattered.

The medication I take works pretty good, however, like most medicines that do any good, the price is insane. Our insurance won't cover the cost of the medication and there are times I feel terribly guilty about the hit our budget takes. The side effects are insomnia and lack of appetite.

Another problem is one that has scared the fuck out of me, as an artist. A few months ago, I began to develop a slight twitch in my drawing hand. The twitch would prevent me from drawing a clean curve, the curves I use primarily in faces and bodies. If you've seen the later works of Charles Schulz, that's the jittery line I'm talking about.

We've seen our doctor and he assured me yesterday that it's not Parkinson's. I have to tell you, this has been worse for me than the ADD thing. It's killed many a page that I've tried to work on and it's been so frustrating and I've had a feeling that I'm not able to draw as well as I used to... which is absolutely heartbreaking to me.

Drawing, to me, is more than just something to do and enjoy. It's a direct link to my father... who taught me most of what I know about cartooning. Not being able to draw would kill me. Now the doctor thinks he knows what the problem is...


If there's one addiction I have in this world, it's soda. I drink a TON of it. So, when he mentioned soda being the issue, I totally listened. It makes sense. I drink it in the morning, pretty much non-stop throughout the day. And this year, it's been more than usual.

So, as of two days ago, I'm off soft drinks. I'm hoping this works.

I also had an accident a couple of months ago. I was walking towards our staircase and I tripped over a shoe that was left there and literally fell down the six-step staircase to the hard floor. I messed up my back something fierce, along with my neck. I'm getting treatment for it, but I can only sit in an artist's chair for a half-hour before it tightens up on me. I hate it. Drives me fucking nuts.

My lettering has also gone to shit over the years. Even I can't read it anymore. It, too, has killed my work. This isn't a Coke issue, it's just becoming harder for me to focus that hard and my vision ain't the greatest, so the letters have become sloppy.

Fortunately, the wonderful Chris Eliopoulos, the man behind the wonderful FRANKLIN RICHARDS books and letterer for about a ZILLION comics, has offered me a computer font, based on my handwriting. My GOOD handwriting. So, TSSTG will switch to computer lettering from here on out. It's a bit of a downer for me, since I really do love seeing everything on the page, but I need to have the reader enjoy my work without having to strain to read it.

All these issues have led to a huge drop-off in production. The last issue was #11 and I'm still working on the wedding issue, with about ten pages to go. After that, I'm not sure what the future of TSSTG will be, to be honest. Image has been very patient, but I wonder just how patient they'll be.

This book has never been a huge money maker. I think the highest total I've seen was around 1,300 orders or so. That doesn't make a publisher's mouth water. After twenty-eight issues and six Einser nominations, my numbers have never really grown to where the book makes money for whomever is publishing it. And the reason is simple:

No titties. No fight scenes. No buildings falling and no bloodshed.

And I can't use those vital parts in TSSTG. It's autobio and, for the comic book buyers out there, autobio may as well be the carrot sticks appetizers you see sitting next to the huge bowl of Fritos and onion dip. And let's face it... everyone prefers the dip and Fritos over the carrot sticks. You can try to tell them how great and nutritious the carrot sticks are... but nobody will listen to it.

Image Comics, who publishes TSSTG, has been nothing but remarkable to me. I get my invoices and see the same numbers and I also see my percentage which has averaged to about -$400 per book and it breaks my heart. I feel guilty that they continue to keep me on while I lose money for them. They've recently asked me what to do with the inventory of my books, since the sales haven't been enough to pay for the storage costs.

The end may be near and if it happened tomorrow, I'd not only shake hands with them, I'd hug them too. I'd make them dinner. I'd probably name my first child "Image." That's how great they've been for me. And there's no "but" there. You can only take so many chances before you realize it ain't selling. And just because nobody is watching. it doesn't mean it's a bad product... ie ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, FIREFLY or DEAD LIKE ME for example. But you have to bring in money to at least pay for the work.

And you DO pay for the work. A lot of folks out there assume that when you hook up with a publisher, the expenses are gone away. Wrong. When the book has shipped, you then pay the publisher for printing, distribution, storage, the cool advertising in the front of PREVIEWS and the coffee for the staff. You never get to do a book for free. Never. Unless you're a comics god.

I'll be honest here, because, well... it's what I'm known for. It kills me to see the Diamond Top 300 and see some of the titles on it. Titles that get horrible reviews and are just bad products. But you look at the numbers and they're selling 100,000 copies a shot. Or even 50,000. For nothing more than titties and blood. Yeah, it kills me. It kills me that I can earn three grand on a script that took me no time to write, but the story I slave and sweat over time after time nets me a negative dollar amount.

I've heard people say that I should get this book out on a monthly basis to build a readership and, yes, that makes sense. But most of those people are either writers or artists, not both. TSSTG is literally on one-man crew. I do the writing, the roughs, the pencils, the lettering, the inking and covers. That's a lot of work and when something like this happens to me, the entire production stops. I can't just give the script to the penciller and move on to the next issue.

Not only that... it's also auto-bio. It's the story of my relationship with this person who has changed my life in ways you cannot imagine. It's real. All of it. And in all of that, it has to be entertaining. It's not an easy thing to do. You don't buy this book for the action and adventure... you buy this book because it moves you somehow and you have a connection with the characters. It's emotional. And emotional ain't easy to do in comics.

If I were doing a super hero book, that'd be different. When you're writing fiction, you can take all types of liberties that you cannot in non-fiction. You can always created a villain and a big fight scene and pepper some big breasts from issue to issue. It's not that difficult and I know this. I've written super hero stories. It's a basic formula. And it's also a team effort. You write issue #1's script and then it's off to issue #2's script while the artist handles the visuals for issue #1.

But when you're doing a book as personal as TSSTG is for me, it all has to be perfect before it ships. I have to be able to say that I'd pay the money myself before I'd ask someone else to invest their cash.

I DO plan to keep TSSTG going. I have so many stories left to tell and I'm going to figure out how to deal with the medical problems and get a production schedule that makes more sense.

This isn't a rant in any way. I just felt that a lot of time has gone by since my last issue and my last post and I just wanted to update everyone. I just ask that everyone be patient during this very troubling time in my life.

And to say thanks for the unbelievable support you've given me over the years.

Sunday, June 29, 2008


... this:

That's right, mother-fuckers, my good friend from high school (GO NAPA INDIANS!) directed the latest FUTURAMA movie!! I'm getting my copy this week (because he NEVER sends me free swag, cheap bastard that he is) and I'm going to enjoy every animated minute of it.

It's been a long road from the days where Peter would address the Napa High student body, while wearing a diaper. Or the days we'd make up super-hero costumes (Captain Sumo and the Arachnoid). But here he is making movies for the world to enjoy. Or that killer Spider-Man costume he had (in which he actually LOOKED like Spidey) I'm hoping he's on the commentary.

What's awesome about this is... Pete and I are doing exactly what we said we wanted to be doing as kids. Is that insane or what? I was going to make comics and he was going to make cartoon. I think that's so cool, I smile when I saw it.

Although, even though he attends bbq's at Matt Groening's house... Ihave actually writtenSpider-Man books and that's his favorite character of all time.

But, for now, I will watch, with envy, my friend's latest work. This week, of course... since I don't have my free copy. Y'know... those copies you send to family and life-long friends..?

Cheap bastard.


This is getting ridiculous now. We're not supposed to lose people at 35.

We lose them at 70, or 90 or sometimes 114 years old. But not 35.

His work was either loved or hated. I sort of jumped back and forth, but given the amount of work Mike did, it's understandable that some pieces here may outshine pieces there.

But after reading what Mike has gone through over the years, while fighting cancer... you cannot help but admire him for working during that time. He gave us all art while he was fighting for his life.


He didn't have a Bucket List. He didn't jump on a plane and fly around the world to see what he was missing out on. He didn't go skydiving or eat at the greatest restaurants in the country. He didn't do anything but make comics.

Because making comics WAS his bucket list.

I'm embarrassed at how I work. I take so much time off from comics because I'm pulled every which way by my ADD crap. And here's a guy who had poison injected into him and still made it to the drawing table. I don't understand it. Why don't I have that drive in me..? Why do I take the day off when I have allergies because my fucking nose is running?

I may not have been the biggest fan of Michael Turner's art... but as a creator and a professional..? I'm a huge fan.

I'm hoping he influences me as a pro.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008


I've been having HORRIBLE connection problems since arriving in Napa.

My other computer issue is my touchpad on my ibook G4 dying on me. I have to connect my Wacom tablet to use my laptop. When I use the touchpad.. nothing happens.

I look like Tony Stark creating a makeshift armor here in Starbucks.

I hate it when computers take the day off. Ugh.

Anyone know how to fix the touchpad...? Help me....

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


This comic says it all. Great job, Keith!

Monday, May 26, 2008


Yeeesh. I thought this movie blew.

Indiana Jones is 65 years old and he's knocking out groups of Russian soldiers half his age. The movie ground to a halt in every scene he was in. Even when he's using the whip, he looks tired.

I could see Shia surviving those three waterfalls... but every other grandparent in that boat is dead. I mean DEAD.

Two things I'd rather not see from this point on. The greedy fucker character who can't run for safety because he's too busy stuffing his fucking pockets and gets killed. And the building falling apart and everybody out-racing the disaster.

It felt old.

The days of Harrison Ford taking on brutes twice his size and absorbing twenty punches in a row are long gone. I was laughing more than cheering him during those slugfests. I just didn't buy any of it. Ugh.

Lily, however, loved it.


It started back in 1997 as a comic strip in the local newspaper. Then it morphed into a 17-issue comic book series that I self-published under CLIB'S BOY COMICS. Now the series is with Image Comics.

In all, I've been doing this comic for ten years. I'm still amazed that I've made all those books. I never thought I had it in me.

Well, this Thursday, you can read every issue of my self-published run. The TRUE STORY, SWEAR TO GOD archives collects all seventeen issues of that run in one book.

It's a fucking huge book. Every issue. How I met Lily at that bus stop in Disneyworld. Visiting Napa and Puerto Rico. The cat-5 hurricane that swept the island. Comics shops in Berkeley. The decision to move. The Vieques incident and the joys of making comics and attending Wonder-Con!

I truly hope you have as much fun reading our story as we had living it.

And yep, it's all true... swear to God.

Sunday, May 25, 2008


I attended my niece, Tiana's, high school graduation last week and this week, she went to her senior prom. This is Tiana as she appears in TRUE STORY, SWEAR TO GOD, above.

These are the moments when you see how time has flown by. In TSSTG, Tiana is still a little kid, doing kid stuff, barely able to handle a conversation with me in English.

Now, however, Tiana is a young woman, gorgeous and interested in the political system and now when we talk, they're great conversations about finding ourselves in this world and being our own person. She also has a deep love for Bob Marley. That's her in the middle in the that "how did you get that hot" I DREAM OF JEANNIE dress.

I also have a niece, Celine, back in Napa. This was her as she appears in my book:

Celine is also graduating in June and will be attending Sonoma State in the fall. This is her now:

Sonoma State.

Celine. My little Celine.

Two hours ago, Celine was a year old, shoving birthday cake all over her face and hair. Now she's also a young woman, dealing with life, work and relationships. We spoke recently about dealing with an ex and, for a moment, I was overwhelmed by the thought of her actually BEING in a relationship with a guy.

Time never seemed to go by this quickly for me. I remember when the days seemed like years to pass by. Summer vacation was like a decade and it was frustrating to find ways to fill the day. Nowadays, the sun never gives us enough time to do what has to be done that day. Years now feel like days as they pass me by.

I'm so proud of these two women. Not only are they gorgeous females on the outside, but they also have integrity and are empowered with a strong sense of self-worth. They radiate when they enter the room and I could talk with them all day without being bored. I'm sure it's obvious at this point how proud I am of these two.

I just wish they'd quit growing up so fast.

Friday, May 23, 2008


This is the cover of my self-published issue of TRUE STORY, SWEAR TO GOD #17. It was the final issue of my run before I took the title to Image Comics.

Have you read it..? Did you like it..? Good. Because you're the person this is aimed at.

Artist Josh Medors is fighting a rare form of cancer in his back, and The Hero Initiative, the first-ever federally chartered not-for-profit corporation dedicated strictly to helping comic book creators in need, is aiding in that fight.

Hero is currently running three eBay auctions with net proceeds benefiting Josh, the artist of Frank Frazetta’s Swamp Demon. One of them is one of my sketchbooks I use when I write TSSTG. This is the sketchbook from issue #17. There are over 60 pages of fully-rendered pencils and it represents months of work. If you've always wanted to know how I write this book, this is a great item to bid on. I don't do scripts when I work on my book. I go right to thumbnails in my sketchbooks.

And here's the final art of the above page. From the sketchbook, you can see what I've changed for the final product and see the creative process. I treasure these books and I'd never let this one go, except it's for such a great cause.

And here's where you come in.

I want you to bid the fuck out of this item. I want you to bid often and win this item. I don't want to see a small amount for the winning bid. I want dollars. I want bucks so big, it's do the good that needs to get done.

I'm not taking a cent. Not a fucking penny. It's all for Josh.

It's cancer. On his back.

If that thought doesn't get you off your ass and bid some cabbage, I don't know what would... and I'd be afraid to ask.

I've lost a mother and father to cancer. I hate this shit. I couldn't do something for them then... but I can do something now.

And so can you.

I don't want to hear anything about how you need money for next week's comics. Bullfuckingshit. While you're looking forward to next week's comics, Josh is simply looking for the next week. Imagine that.

I'm serious on this. If you have the money to donate... and have a computer... and don't feel like being a part of something that will make you feel great and help someone in the process.... do me a favor.

Don't buy my books anymore.


Because the whole point of the TSSTG series is realizing dreams. Be it a dream of love. Or a dream of living somewhere new and different. Or the dream of helping your fellow human.

And if I haven't influenced you in twenty-eight issues... I never will. And I don't have the time in my life to deal with someone who wouldn't do what I would in this situation.

If you do... I'll be forever proud to call you a fan. I want this to be spectacular, amazing and sensational. I want Josh to see what you folks are going to give him and I want him to say "No. Fucking. Way."

Do it. Make me proud.

These auctions can be found at:

And further auctions benefiting Josh can be found by searching “Josh Medors benefit auction.”

In addition to these auctions, The Hero Initiative will be taking additional measures to help Josh in his convalescence.

"Having an organization like the Hero initiative is a blessing,” said Josh Medors. “Even when things are going great, trying to make it as a freelance comic illustrator can be tough. The support the comics community has shown has been amazing. Now having the Hero initiative involved has made it possible for me to focus on what is important, getting better. They are a wonderful, caring organization, and their help has given me a hope and made it possible for me to focus on something I love very much—creating comics."

Thursday, May 22, 2008


I'll be signing books today (Thursday) from 5pm-7 at Metro Comics at the San Patricia Plaza! I'll be signing TSSTG books, as well as the FANTASTIC FOUR: ISLA DE LA MUERTA!

If you're in the area, stop on by!

Monday, May 19, 2008

RORY ROOT 1958-2008

He was the owner of one of the best comics shops in the country, in my opinion. He was honest, he was strict and he was passionate about comics in a way that made him a walking comics encyclopedia. He also looked like the lead singer of Blues Traveler.

And he was the second person in my life to invest in my work.

Rory Root, the owner of Comic Relief, in Berkeley, California, passed away today, after dealing with several health issues. I got the news today from Andrew Farago, who runs the Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco.

This really hit me hard. Rory was someone I always looked forward to seeing whenever I strolled into town. He was someone who always bought whatever I had to sell. He was one of those people who believed in me when I had zero faith in what I do. And he's one of the reasons I've been able to do what I've done in this business.

He never minced words with me. When I attended my first San Diego Con, he set-up a signing event right there. But when I asked him if he needed any books to take back to his store, he told me that he would be getting a 50% discount on them. He wasn't in my face about it... but he was very direct, in his smiling fashion, that this was how it was done.

I remember doing a scene in TSSTG where I took Lily to his store. It was her first time in a comics shop and it was a very fun scene with her looking at all the books. A year later, at one of the conventions, he stopped me as I was walking by and told me that he appreciated the scene. But not just because it was his store being featured in my book.

In the scene, I put in the black cat that used to live in the store. It could always be seen sleeping on top of the comics in the back issue bins. The cat had recently passed away and Rory was very moved to see it in my book. I happened to have that page in my portfolio bag and I signed it and brought it to him.

Rory thought I was there to sell him some books, but when he saw me slip the page out and hand it to him, he got very emotional. It was the only time I'd ever seen this side of Rory. He was moved to tears and gave me a hug.

Whenever I had a question about Diamond, or dealing with a publisher, I went to Rory. He always gave me great advice and he was one of my obi-wans. When I got my dream gig of writing for Marvel, Rory congratulated me and promptly told me that it was nothing compared to what I was doing in my own book. Rory always had a way of letting me know that I had worth in this business.

He was like an uncle to me and I'm so very sad about this. I'll be crying tonight for the loss of my friend.

You were exceptional, Rory. Say hello to Jack Kirby... and that little black cat.

You are missed.

Sunday, May 18, 2008


Her name is Duffy and her CD is called ROCKFERRY and I've been loving it. Has a Dusty Springfield feel to her work and it's great stuff.

Thursday, May 15, 2008


Stefan Blitz asked me to participate in his column "5 QUESTIONS" and who am I to refuse? Okay, he was holding my drawing tools hostage, but even if he didn't, I'd have done the interview.
Click the linky-poo and enjoy href="">

Sigggghhh... this fucking Blogger system won't show the fucking link. And after trying to fix it, it won't connect the link. Does anyone know how to get this to work??

Monday, May 5, 2008


From Thomas Denton... regarding a very special auction:

"My name's Thomas, and I was hoping I could get your help with something. I'm organizing a charity fund raiser to benefit the Candlielighters. They're an organization that helps the families of kids with cancer. They recently did quite a lot to help my family get through a tough time, and I was hoping I could try give something back.

What I'm doing is gathering artists to donate work to be auctioned off, 100% of the proceeds going to the Candlelighters.

It's been mentioned at a few major comic sites and a couple of pros have signed on, and I was hoping you wouldn't mind helping out a bit. Just you starting a thread at MW mentioning it would bring a lot of attention to it, and it'd really mean a lot.

You can read all about it here-

Thanks for your time."

When I was asked to donate something for the cause, I knew immediately what to send. In issue #2 of TSSTG, there's a scene where Lily shaves her head and unknowingly becomes an inspiration for two women with cancer to get rid of their wigs. This was such an emotional experience for Lily and it remains one of my favorite scenes in the series.

So this is the page where she meets them. It's on 11x14" bristol and there are blue pencil not shown on this image. It's one of my favorite pages and I'm giving it for the cause.