Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Friday, June 18, 2010

Young Eimer - Inside a Bottle Rocket

Yet another drawing from my box of goodies that was found last week.

This one is titled 'Inside a Bottle Rocket' (click image to enlarge).



A little history on this one. I faintly remember drawing this picture after our parents let my brother and I graduate from Black Snakes, Pops, Smoke Bombs and Sparklers to bigger Fourth of July ammo like Bottle Rockets, Roman Candles, Firecrackers and - yes - M-80's (although my brother was the only one allowed to light those suckers).

I was so excited about bottle rockets, that I couldn't sleep. As a matter of fact, our Mom drove us up to Ohio Fireworks multiple times during the summer, so we could stock up - and I'm talking waaaayyyy after the Fourth of July.

Thanks Mom!

Ahhhh, the simplicity of youth, and the things that excited boys before they took a keen interest in girls...horror movies, sports, bike riding, a full can of WD40 and fireworks.

Wait a minute! Not too much has changed at all, except for my adulthood affinity for Gorilla Glue and Gorilla Tape.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

On the verge of a Bigfoot discovery?

I was going to write about something else today, but damn if i didn't come across this little nugger news story about Bigfoot.

You know I can't pass up on a news story about Bigfoot.

BIlly Willard, President of the Sasquatch Watch of Virginia organization, says he's on the verge of a major discovery that will have homo sapiens re-thinking the way we look at the natural world.

Pretty heavy, stuff. Call me intriqued.

I've hiked, pretty much, most of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia. There were miles and miles of stretches where we didn't see a living soul. One particular morning on the Trail, a friend of mine pulled himself out of his tent and started smiling.

"Funny stuff last night," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Grunting and snorting outside my tent," he said. "You spooked me for a second till I realized it was you."

"Dude, I didn't even get out of my tent last night," I said. "Must have been a black bear."

"I've been around a lot of black bears," my buddy said. "There ain't no bear that grunts and snorts like that."

We were silent.

In any event, click here to read the story.

And click SWV link above for some interesting news.

Oh, and for other Eimer Debris Bigfoot-related stories, click here.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

The Jazz Band

Remember that box of goodies I was talking about yesterday?

Remember when I said that I uncovered a lot more fun stuff that I wrote/drew in the early 80's when I was between the ages of 8 and 11 years old?

Well...behold the awesomeness of The Jazz Band.
(click image to enlarge)

You know when I unearthed this little treasure a couple nights ago, I couldn't imagine what was going through my mind.

At this age, I didn't even really like jazz. Hell, I'm not even sure that I knew what jazz was.

That said, there's a lot that I love about this drawing including:

  • The guitarist riffing off the jazz drummer.
  • The intense look in all of their eyes. (If I'm not mistaken, they're a bit pissed off.)
  • The matching star shoes and earrings.
  • The fact that the actual name of the group is JAZZ (hence the marking on the drums).
  • I don't think I was trying to be racist with this drawing. My limited Martins Ferry knowledge probably just assumed that only black people played jazz.

More to come.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Murder Hill 2: Electric Boogaloo

In my basement, I have 10, 11 (or 15) boxes of stuff that I've collected over my years on this Earth. I've hauled these boxes from house to house, starting when I moved out of my parent's house for good, way back in 1991.

What's in these boxes you ask? Drawings, crayons, action figures, old watches term papers, magazine clips, sketch books, Playboys, Fangoria, etc. Basicaly a lot of stuff. I know (I hope) my kids will love going through these boxes because there's a lot of stuff in those boxes of stuff that shows my stuff (if you know what I mean).

Once in a blue moon when I'm feeling a bit nostalgic, I open one of these boxes and, take an hour or two, to rummage through the contents, searching for any funny, creative buried treasures.

Well lo and behold, I came upon another interesting Eimer drawing (circa early 1980's) that could give Murder Hill and Richie Rich a run for it's money. It's a before and after type drawing, but taken to the extreme.


BEFORE
(click to enlarge)



AFTER
(click to enlarge)




Oh, that's not all. This one particular box had some pretty funny stuff that I drew, and wrote, in my youth.

Definitely more to come.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Snakes? Snakes? Where are you?

If you are the one or two people who frequently read this blog, you know that I do a lot of trail running.

Pretty much, I've hit every hiking trail in and around the Cuyahoga Valley National Park region. I've also had my share of running adventures in Central Ohio as well.

But, I'm not here to brag.

I'm here to make a specific point about snakes. (work with me, here)

When I was a kid, my brother and I would find a plentitude of snakes all around our home of Martins Ferry, Ohio. We used to pick snakes up with ease, like it was almost second nature. With precision, we would pull on their tails from in between two rocks, throw them in the grass, grab them on the back of the head, squeeze and pull them up. Their tails would slowly slither around your arm.

It was a cool feeling of empowerment over the smaller creatures of the world.

Waaaay back in 2007, when I moved up to the Northeast Ohio region (particularly Lakewood) I would come across a number of snakes on my runs. Most of the time, I would mistake them for a stick and, as soon as I jumped over them, they would skitter away giving my heart a slight tremble.

Lately, I've been a little out of practice in picking up snakes. So I thought to myself 'On my trail running, if I see a snake, I'll get back into the practice of snake-picking-up just in case I run across one with my kids.'

Important note to fathers: You don't want to look like a sissy in front of your kids, especially if it has to do with insects or snakes. So I recommend you get over your fears of eight-legged and no-legged creatures prior to having children.

I've been on some very rustic runs in the Akron area and, let me tell you, I've only come across a total of five snakes since moving down to the Bath area in 2007. Five freaking snakes!

That said, I wasn't surprised when I came across this article on Yahoo.com today concerning our slithery friends.

Seems that the world's scientists are in agreement that there is a noticeable decrease in the snake population - not just in Northeast Ohio....worldwide mother fucker. Worldwide.

According to the article, some key factors known to play a role in the decline include climate change, habitat loss, pollution, disease, lack of prey and over-exploitation, either for food or trade.

I know some people will clicking their heels in excitement over this news, (My wife would prefer to be reading a similar article about spiders.), but I'm a little disappointed to read this news.

Hopefully there will be an upswing in the population. Hopefully the little tiny country mice will get busy humping. Hopefully St. Patrick isn't taking his snake campaign worldwide and running the snakes out of the planet.

Hopefully this article isn't true and it's simply a slow news day.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

A Tim Horton's Memory.

I like Columbus, Ohio alot.

Like.

It was a place I called home for about 13 years. In fact, I've only lived in three other cities since leaving my hillside home in Martins Ferry, Ohio: Columbus, Cleveland and Akron. Moving to Northeast Ohio was a welcome change to my psyche and my attitude.

Besides Buckeye football Saturdays, plenty of good buddies to drink with and easy access to a number of running trails, my fourth favorite thing about Columbus was Tim Horton's.

I loved the fucking place. Nothing tasted quite better than an old-fashioned glazed donut and a medium coffee in the morning before driving to work.

Which reminded me of this one story...

It was winter, probably Janurary or February. It was sleeting, slushy and very cold outside. As I pulled into the Clintonville Tim Horton's to order my mainstay (see above), I noticed a gigantic long line at the drive in stretching around the entire red building.

Quickly, I pulled into an open parking space next to the entrance, and decided to run in the store to get my donut and coffee.

I hopped out of the car, ran into the shop and was standing in line behind a nice elderly lady who was taking her good, old sweet time.

"Hey, buddy," someone said from behind. I turned my head and saw this 6-8 black man in who slightly reminded me of Biz Markie. He was wearing a postal uniform and he looked slightly perturbed.

"Hi," I said not really sure what to say. I glanced forward. The old lady was still ordering her whatever in front of me.

"Are you the fool that left your car running outside?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"You shouldn't do that," he said.

"Do what?"

He rolled his eyes, then put his hands on his hips. "Leave your fucking car running, while you in the store."

"Seriously?" I asked not believing the conversation I was having.

"Don't you do that again," he ordered.

"What?"

"I said don't do that again," he shouted.

"CAN I HELP YOU," shouted the Tim Horton's lady at the counter. The old lady left and it was my turn to order.

I looked at Biz. I looked back at the Tim Horton's lady. I placed my order.

"Did you hear me?" the large man asked.

I turned toward him. "Look, I heard you, but why do you care what I do with my car."

He gave me an angry glare. "Don't do that again," was all he said.

I paid the lady, she gave me my donut and coffee and I headed towards the door.

"Hey," he yelled.

I looked around. My heart was pounding. I was preparing myself for a fight.

"If I see you here, and I see your car running in the parking lot, I'm a gonna steal it," he screamed. "That will teach you a fuckin' lesson, honkey"

Everyone in the store looked towards me. Somebody just called me a honkey and meant it.

"Whatever, dude," I said and left the store.

That was the last time I saw Biz the postman - almost seven years ago.

Now, everytime I leave my car running when I run into a coffee shop or store, I always picture that guy and his stupid Biz Markie head, sneaking up, stealing my car and burning rubber onto the highway screaming "I told you so!"

Thanks a lot, Biz. You son of a bitch.

CLICK HERE FOR ANOTHER DONUT STORY!