A brand new week. I'm thinking that I might actually get some rest this upcoming weekend, but who knows. Stranger things have happened. Anyhow, being that it is Monday, you can all enjoy your daily dose of news. Starting with this lovely link to a lovely new quicktime trailer.

Along with this new movie, there's also news that Reese Witherspoon is worth the $15 million she got paid for starring in Sweet Home Alabama. Turns out this weekend's box office take was quite monumental.

I love Beck. I love Beck so much in fact, that I'm posting a review about his new album. Beck loves you too, which is why you should go check it out as soon as you can.

Are you bowlingual? The Japanese seem to think so. Now if only I practiced my Japanese a bit more.

Last bit of movie news today, I promise. Ice Cube's latest movie, Barbershop, is getting lots of publicity. Just not the kind of publicity most people want.

A bonus today, a news story with an additional image to go along with it. The Cartoon Network is adding to their growing stable of original programming by announcing the acquisition of another DC Comics property. This time, they're taking a stab at The Teen Titans. Turns out, this version is a little different being that it's set in the future. Should be interesting to see how it pans out. Take a look at this image and get an idea of what to expect.

You know, I thought I'd also include some musical links for you all today just for fun. I won't make it a habit though. This week I'll feature some DJ's. Fun.

Sasha
Timo Maas
DJ Shadow
Paul Van Dyk
ATB

Can you believe that I didn't post Haikus yesterday? Probably a good thing, people may have been getting sick of them. I'll spare you a make-up haiku post today and instead just post my regular links. Enjoy.

Virus Fonts
Audible Auctions
Fatoe
I Must Create
Simon Robinson
Utopia Fonts
Frost Design

I'm a perfectionist bastard.

Actually, I'm more of a lazy bastard since I haven't finished the second part of Tattle Tale. You can all yell at me for not supplying the goods or you can motivate me by stringing me up by my toes. The best I can do right now is subject you all to some more poetry. Sorry.

somewhere
e.e. cummings

somehwere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

Mid-week finds a new and intriguing Free Will Horoscope:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):
Do not under any circumstances burp, fart, and sneeze at the same time. For that matter, Virgo, refrain from leaping into the air while blowing up balloons and chewing gum. And never, ever go out to do nitpicky errands as you meditate on the painful events of your childhood and try to dream up a smarter long-range financial strategy. This week, more than ever, you need to cultivate a one-track mind. For now, tunnel vision is the truth and the way.

Fun, one-track mind this week. What to think about what to think about?

NFL news gets more interesting this week as Randy Moss gets thrown in jail. He can't complain about not getting the ball more often now, he'll get plenty of balls in prison.

So many of us have cell phones and along with those phones, we also have text messaging. Apparently, it's becoming more trendy to flirt through text messages. I don't know about the rest of you, but I never use the text messaging option on my cell phone. Is it useless, or is it just me?

Everyone's favorite childhood book is celebrating an anniversary. I remember reading those things all the time when I was younger. Maybe I should write children's books, but it wouldn't sound so catchy. The Navarrete Cavities. Doesn't sound so appealing does it?

Lastly, science ruins yet another mystery of the unkown.

The deluge of artists never ends. This week I'm drawing your attention to Mr. Travis Charest. As you can see from the images posted below from The Official Unofficial Travest Charest Gallery, Mr. Charest's work is very intricate. The amount of detail is stunning. Every image is filled to the brim with objects, no matter how fantastic, that are grounded in reality. If I had twice the patience that Mr. Charest has, I still don't think I'd be able to match his perfection. Check out the rest of the images on his website to be impressed even further.

Ahhh, a whole 363 more days until my next birthday. I wonder what will happen between now and then? Hopefully a lot. On with some Monday news.

Remember the movie Boys Don't Cry? Well, that story ended in brutal tragedy. However, here is another story of similar deception.

Matter, meet antimatter.

So your friendly neighborhood anarchists are planning a fun scavenger hunt for an upcoming trade summit in our nation's capitol. Funny how after all this patriotism, we can still find time to exercise our right to free speech. Not so funny is how superparanoia has led to not so quiet discomfort over a 'hunt' meant in jest.

Coupled with that superparanoia is the fact that our government may still have had prior information regarding the Septermber 11 attacks. Will this story ever die? As long as former Stanford Provost Condoleeza Rice can say information was "vague," I believe it will be perpetual.

A bit of light fluff. Sunday's Emmy Ceremony Winners.

And finally, Mitsubishi acts as hitmaker. Funny to see how much commercial media has influenced our pop culture. Think to yourself how many times you've seen a commercial and wondered, "What song is that?"

So I'm extra lazy today and decided that I'm not going to post the second part of my story because I re-read it, and it sucks. Horribly. Shall I scrap it or attempt to rewrite? I have no clue. At any rate, I do have some fun fun links today. Enjoy your clicking.

Super Monkey Ball 2
The Day and the Day Before
Eagle F1
Delta Inc.
Pesky
Untitled Document
Wall of Sites
Defenders of the Universe

Some semi-sad news to report. Well, only semi-sad if you care at least. I'm not going to be able to post a story today, since I don't feel that it's quite ready for consumption. I will, however, try and post it tomorrow. To tide you over until then, I'm posting some more lyrics for y'all. Scratch that, I'll post a poem. Enjoy.

JABBERWOCKY
by Lewis Carrol

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wade;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree.
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

42 Haiku.

Already hungry
At so early in the morn.
Will lunch never come?

What about you, Haiku?

Before Mario,
Nintendo made playing cards
Hana Futa rules!

Truthfully, this week is just a set up for an entirely exhausting weekend. Promising? Perhaps, if my Free Will Horoscope has anything to say about it:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):
In the course of human history, many other things have been used as money besides paper currency and precious metals. Among them have been tulips, seashells, cows, velvet, tobacco, elephant tusks, beetle legs, cheese, and giant stone wheels. I hope, Virgo, that these poetic variations on the theme will inspire you to designate a new form of legal tender in the coming weeks. The cosmic omens suggest you'll be exceptionally creative whenever you turn your thoughts to financial matters. Here are some questions to guide your explorations. What useful but undervalued beauty do you produce? Which of your unsung talents are finally ready to generate income? What hidden assets or neglected treasures could you turn into sources of wealth?

Ooh, hidden assets. Maybe this means I'm ready for that lucrative career in song and dance?

On with some news of a sort. An Australian comany is considering brewing alcoholic milk. Does this sound gross to you too? Maybe it'll be like Kalua? Or maybe even a white russian in a bottle? What's next, alcoholic gum?

Not only do we have worm virii on our computers, but now these worms are creating communities. Scary actually. It's like they have a mind of their own and their only thought is to take us down.

Think Kelly Clarkson from "American Idol" has it made? Think again.

The new season of "The Real World" has begun, this time in Las Vegas. What do we think of these people? Straight up Hos.

Want some more opinions? Try a few of these from The Onion on for size. Damn.

Late update today as I'm a tad busy at work. Believe it you must. I'll apologize ahead of time to the good people of Fantagraphics for the liberal 'using' of their images. It is quite necessary since I couldn't find any other suitable artwork to show you all how crazy Dan Clowes really is. I'd describe his artwork as 'funky.' In a timeless sort of way, his everyday imagery is slightly skewed in such a way to leave the viewer with an unsettled feeling. Perhaps it is his realistic depictions of people in surreal settings that is disturbing, but I believe it's the subject matter that is most bizarre. Perhaps some of you have seen Ghost World, which happens to have been based on a graphic novel of the same name by Mr. Clowes. Not only is it one of the more unique films to be released within the last few years, but it also was nominated for an Oscar in the category for Best Adapted Screenplay. This story is an example of one of his least unusual projects, but also one of his most accessible. I recommend it, and if you want, perhaps you can borrow it as well. Check out some of his artwork, and maybe you'll understand what I mean.

Surprisingly, not a whole lot of news to present this Monday. I will say that the weekend saw the return of the Golden Boy, and that I have seen things I can't begin to describe over the weekend. Check out these articles while you ponder that statement.

Quentin Tarantino's next movie, Kill Bill, might end up being the follow-up Jackie Brown should have been. What more do you need than Uma Thurman in a yellow tracksuit?

So the media furvor over "American Idol" has finally died down a bit. The reality talent search contest is just beginning, however. Just ask Jay Mohr.

Technology is amazing. Only in today's day and age can we get the miracle of glowing mice.

Last, but definitely not least, we have the story of cars powered by fuel cells. Fascinating technology that I've worked with in college. The hype on the idea has been huge in certain circles, but unfortunately, the integration of this new technology is painfully slow.

So as you can see, I've posted not one, but two stories. This is to make up for the lack of reading material on the blog as of late. This next one is somewhat special, because it's turning out to be longer than it should, so I'm splitting it up into parts. Hopefully it'll keep you all entertained enough that you'll want to read more. Hopefully.

Tattle-Tale

My latte grew cold as I patiently awaited my transfer. I had been to the Conservatory before, but this was a special trip. One that I hoped would garner me favor with the Corporation and secure a brisk promotion. I’d only been with them a smattering of months, but already I’d burned my name in the minds of several foundation heads with my blunt self-advertisement of ideas and through the maintenance of my presence in their weekly Estate Conferences. A crisp new suit and haircut I felt was the ticket to an even higher profile as well, but making sure I memorized every Adminassistants name was equally as imperative. Without them, how would I ever manage to score those important appointments most of my colleagues desperately sought.

Sipping from my cup, my mind flexed in anticipation. I checked the palmcorder on my wrist for the time and abruptly paced to and fro across the clean, alabaster floor. Throwing my cup away, I peered at my reflection in the ground, I gently smoothed down my hair in fretfulness. The shearing I’d received from the stylist was superb, but somehow I felt naked.

He’d calmly started to pace around the chair as I sat waiting for feedback. “They treat you well over there?”

“Excuse me?” I responded, somewhat perplexed at his direction.

“The Corporation. You do work there don’t you?” He was spot on. “You Transfer-Mediates always get the same pruning before it’s your time.”

The polyvinyl stool stretched underneath, squeaking, as I adjusted my position. “Well, I don’t know if it’s my time just yet, but I hope to be ready if it is.”

“Good luck.”

It seems even the most trivial of acquaintances knew my work, or at least of related ideas of my work. Feigning ignorance over small conversations pertaining to my employment was useless. Citizens knew what you did when they recognized that blank, glossy look in your eyes. A brilliant side-effect of measures the conservatory Admittance men had on my fellow Corporatitions. Mine had long since gone from a cerulean blue to lucid gray years ago, during the early years of Doctrinal Exposure, Reservational Continuity, and Transitional Permanence. “I miss the clouds in your eyes when the sun was out.” My mother would tell me now.

The reminder implant underneath my right earlobe buzzed as my supposed appointment time passed. Conservatory call-ups were rarely on time. Many speculated it was a tactic meant to test and frustrate. Personally, I felt relieved I had those extra hours to avoid confrontation.

I took this knowledge to stroll through the towering outer doors. Frosted glass covering each imposing portal as a reminder that we could see out when others could not see in. Just how we liked it. A taxi scooted by, all three wheels above-ground buzzing across the grassy streetways with passengers I thought I recognized. Its pale yellow sheen glittered in the warm autumn sunlight obscuring them. Another distraction I did not desire as my mind should stay focused on answering dogmatic inquiries. My confidence wavered, but fleeing to the indoor safety would only cause more panic.

Despite the need for focus, I wandered to the nearest commport for immediate informational discharge. Several were occupied at the moment, but there always happened to be one available when necessary. It’s as if the city knew you were craving that media fix and sprouted new commport as needed. Maybe one was born for every 10 new Citizens. Hard to fathom, but conceivable.

Extracting the serial cord from my palmcorder, I numbly plugged myself in and awaited my daily dose. Each commport monitor was encased in a luminescent concave shell that appeared to reflect the mood of the user. Mine turned a fastidious shade of orange, but I wished it had been a peaceful aquamarine. Unfortunately as this crossed my mind, the orange exploded with furious lemon flecks.

It seemed the International Takeover Act was progressing smoothly, with each Media Blitzkrieg enveloping smaller Business Units every day. Third-party entrants without Corporate Political Tech were swallowed whole. Independent Manufacturing Bodies disappeared inside the surrounding Electoral Advertisement Monoliths. Without Corporate Sponsorship, these governing structures rarely were able to tread water.

My implant vibrated tenaciously again, signaling my presence was necessary. Unplugging the s-cord swiftly, my feet turned and brought my body to bear towards the conservatory. Pressing flat soles to the cement, I proceeded through the entrance and reset my attentions towards the imminent exams. A stocky Admittance man approached me.

“It’s your time.” His flat tone did not strike me as odd. His vapid expression spoke volumes about our business. A thick, red armband he wore in concert with his inky uniform was unusual, however. My confusion could not be contained as my voice answered back waveringly.

“Lead the way.” I’d hoped these words would come out strongly, but instead I spat them out as if they’d been a bad lunch within my stomach.

Pointing two fingers as obvious direction, he grunted in agreement. The reply was curt, but rightfully so, Admittance men had more important matters to attend to than to escort young Employees as myself. I only hoped my meeting would go well. No Employee wants to face the Conservatory Bloodhounds, but as I said before, it was my time.

Perfect Kiss

Running, laughing in the rain. Moving freely hand in hand. Brushing drops out of your eyelashes and off of your cheeks. Knowing I want to be with you again through moments like this.

Grey clouds, sagging heavily over rich, green trees. Wet scent of fresh autumn leaves sticking to cement and soil. The soft drum roll of a tearful sky pattering across the breezeway roof beats in time with our breathing. Deep inside your dark, brown eyes, I drown. Wanting to know what’s behind their gaze, so inviting, confident.

Drawing you closer I whisper softly, something for your ears only. Your responsive smile is contagious to my lips. My heart leaps. My thumb on your cheek, brushing back not drops but tears. I feel them hot on my own as your embrace grows warmer. Deeper and heavier I feel you sigh. Contentment and anticipation of something greater hides behind your subtle gesture. I feel your fingers clench mine knowingly with the passing breath.

Small, serpentine stream crawls down the center of a blacktop floor. Singing a song of aquatic dreams as it falls down iron gutters. Calm, sheltering sepia archway feels the breeze whipping softly about its face. Feathery gusts of dampened sky running fingers across the building’s shell. Smattering cries from far-off birds drinking from puddles and playing childish games. Buoyant chirping dancing across ears as I feel your shivering anticipation with my own.

Your hair so dark and wet, I move behind your ears. Tender hands run through my hair, resting and pressing at my neck. I’m beckoned forward, a hungry demand. Our lips meet in sync, soft and apart. Fingers press slightly, asking gently, receiving easily. My hands at your waist tensely want, moving slowly. Your chest meets mine; I let you lean as I succumb. Between your shoulders, graceful beauty, pull you slightly. My hands tremble, your lips so perfect. Rose petals cannot compare. Rapid breaths grow heated, almost angry. Fierce erupting passion can hardly be contained. Burning electricity sends nervous chills down my spine and my knees turn numb.

Crushing drops like sheets of glass pound the cold cement floors and ripple mirrored puddles. Calm leaves come to life and dance whimsically on windy legs; spiral, darting gestures punctuated by each sharp gust. Tall blades of grass softly wrestle with the breeze and rain. Wrapping themselves tightly together, strengthening their resistance, becoming one in their struggle against the elements; entwined limbs grasping desperately, longingly. Lonely, shuddering willows bend to shelter each blade. Pelted by thick drops of wet, but feeding on their moisture, living bravely in its solitude. Knowing its strength will not be undone, but bolstered by nature’s tears.

We pull away reluctantly, knowing it cannot end there, but it must. You whisper back, a returned phrase, echoing the previous sentiment. Leisurely we turn back, faces towards the peacefully dying rain. More in love than we had been before.

"Atchoo!" Haiku:

Patrons catered to
Using rented utensils
To eat waiters' spit.

"Ptoo!" Haiku:

Another teddy?
Her fifth bear this month alone.
Be more creative.

Cheery, cheery Wednesday to everyone. Let's all be happy that we can celebrate our lives today and try not to remember what happened. Try instead to imagine ways in which life is good. Be happy, and read your Free Will Horoscope:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):
It's one of your inalienable rights as a human being to receive a mysteriously useful omen every day. Logic alone isn't sufficient to guide you through life's labyrinthine tests, after all. You need and deserve regular deliveries of divine revelation. Unfortunately, our culture is so hostile to the sense of wonder that it's hard for any of us to get our minimum daily requirement of magic. The good news is that in the coming weeks your path will bring you into the vicinity of more signs and marvels than usual. Just assume that you'll receive a mysteriously useful omen every day.

"Mysteriously useful omen" eh? Sounds intriguing enough for me to start overanalyzing things more than usual. Woohoo!

Newsie news today brings news that George Lucas' latest trial into the world of cinema, Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones, will be hitting the big screen again soon. Not just any big screen though, but the biggest screen.

Nelson Mandela is a great man. Most people would argue that he's the greatest political figure in the world. What's it mean to us then when he hates us? I'm disturbed.

Science news this week brings a startling new discovery. Turns out that an amateur astronomer has found that there may be a new moon orbiting the earth. Fancy that.

Finally, since it's our duty as Americans to depress ourselves today, we have a poignant look on how our life as a nation has changed on today's anniversary

Stay tuned, tomorrow I may have a special treat for you all

The artist of the day happens to be a personal favorite of mine. After reading Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth, by Chris Ware, I was completely impressed with his control of the medium. The surface appears so simple, but further examination may reveal depth of imagination and emotion. Such is Mr. Ware's artwork. Down to the minute detail and painfully deliberate pacing, each panel is constructed with the an air of melancholy. The first read alone may leave the reader emotionally and inspirationally spent. Isn't that what a good artist should do, connect with its viewer/reader? I would highly recommend reading his work, if not just to see what I'm talking about, but also because it's breathtaking.

You know, this week is going to be my third 4-day work week in a row. I feel like a slacker yet at the same time I feel like we should all move to a 4-day work week. Think about how much sleep you would catch up on! Although for some reason I have a feeling this upcoming weekend will not be conducive to sleeping. On with the news.

Hewlett-Packard is not only a budding monopoly, they can now call themselves the kings of micro-devices. They've constructed the world's smallest microchip. Maybe the future dream of a Zoolander phone will come to life.

All of you who may have been living in a cave under a rock may not know what American Idol is, but Time Magazine sure does. They've named winner, Kelly Clarkson, their Person of the Week. It's sad, but I have a feeling that Kelly will drift off into obscurity after her first single sells a kazillion copies. Poor girl, she had some major pipes.

The US Treasury Department is thinking over the idea to mint some new coins. If you think this means minting a $5 gold piece, think again you greedy pirates. No pieces of 8 for you!

Nokia's new phone scares me somewhat. The interface is funky and the screen is quite large, but full color and video features are somewhat enticing. Now if only most people could afford such a thing.

So now that we officially suck internationally at basketball, maybe the new season of the NBA will help us remember that we only watch basketball on our own shores. And then maybe we'll also remember that money has made our competitive nature wane. Well, at least George Karl thinks so.

One new sign that our world is coming to an end.

Lastly, don't forget that before you die, you see The Ring.

Click the links, spread the word. Don't forget your weekly friday helping of Photoshop Phriday!

Andidas
Light of Speed
USA 1.1
Orisinal
Pee-Mail
Kristen Ulve
Plastic Soda
Miss Ping
Erik's Portfolio
1000 Journals
Tired of Thinking
MX Essentials
Her!

So since I've been such a slacker with stories lately (which should be remedied soon once I obtain my laptop) I'm going to do a typical blogger thing and post some song lyrics. Feel free to lambast me for being lame. Don't forget that they'll be at the Palladium at the end of next month (hint, hint)!

Dashboard Confessional - Saints And Sailors

This is where I say I've had enough and no one should ever feel the way that I feel now. A walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises and I don't believe that I'm getting any better.

Waiting here with hopes the phone will ring and I'm thinking awful things and I'm pretty sure that few would notice. And this apartment is starving for an argument. Anything at all to break the silence.

Wandering the house like I've never wanted out and this is about as social as I get now. And I'm throwing away the letters that I am writing you 'cause they would never do, I would never do.

So don't be a liar, don't say that "everything's working" when everything's broken. And you smile like a saint but you curse like a sailor and your eyes say the joke's on me.

Have at you, Haiku!

Thinking with our heads
Besides the ones on our necks.
Damn Y chromosomes.

Et tu, Haiku.

The past stays alive
Never forgotten again
Our history's saved.

Mon dieu, Haiku!

Two or more per car
Is what gets us right to ride
Sacred carpool lanes.

In all my busy-ness today, I almost forgot to update, can you believe that? If I hadn't, you all would have missed your Free Will Horoscope:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):
When I scream "GET NAKED!" I don't mean you should immediately fling off all your clothes. (Though I'm not opposed to you doing that.) What I mostly mean is: Strip away your defense mechanisms; dismantle the armor around your heart; slip off your boxing gloves before making love; remove the shoes that don't belong to you—you know, the ones you were going to walk a mile in but have ended up wearing for a million; shed knee pads you put on so as to kiss anyone's butt; dispose of the chastity belt; get rid of the aluminum-foil hat you donned to protect you from telepathic mind-control experiments; take off the blinders that are diminishing your eyesight, as well as the rose-colored glasses, for that matter.

Mmmm.. I can't tell if it's cynical goodness or optimistic candor that makes this horoscope so enticing. Perhaps it's the aluminum-foil hat I've been wearing for so long, I can finally take it off! Enough of that, on with some fancy news.

Google is not only the world's best search engine, but it also happens to be the most subversive. Since its search engines give people freedom of a sort, the Chinese government has blocked their citizens from accessing the site. Kinda like an internet embargo. Strange.

Some African inventors have revolutionized sex for a new generation. With their hearts in the right place, these inventors have invented the three-second condom. For further explanation, it normally takes the average person 30 to 40 seconds to put a condom on, but their invention dramatically reduces the time in an attempt to make it easier to use for a continent with a severe AIDs problem. Amazing. Just remember to never double bag it!

In the Big Brother world of news, paranoia over the recent string of kidnappings has led people in the United Kingdom to consider implanting microchips in their children. As an alternative, I submit this.

Lastly, and most fascinatingly, we have some quite risque news about a Ms. Britney Spears. Apparently Justin Timberlake wasn't woman enough for her. Reading that article puts bad thoughts into my head, so no more news. Maybe if we're lucky I'll post a story tomorrow. Maybe.

Our second artist today is Mr. Joe Madureira. Madureira's art spawned many a clone trying to latch on to the Anime trend in styles. It's dynamic and beautiful at the same time. He manages to blend western and eastern influences seamlessly in a way few can match. At the same time, he manages to create some of the most innovative character designs imaginable. Unfortunately, the massive amount of detail and his love for side projects slows his productivity. Magazine covers, video game design, and even some work in advertisement has steered his career towards mainstream, but has kept him too busy to complete anything consistent. Maybe some day he'll return to a more stable project.

Since there was no update yesterday due to some Labor Day goodness, I thought I'd make it up to you people with a feature on two different artists with distinct styles. The first of which is Mr. J.G. Jones. Jones' realistic style is striking in its design. Clean lines mixed with his own painting have made for some of the most dynamic pieces in a while, but his storytellying is also clear and distinctive enough for him to obtain a high profile among comic book artists. If only his website would get finished soon. Alas, just have to go out and look for more of his work.