I saw a drawing of the american flag but instead of the stars on the banner it was the mcdonalds and pepsi logo. It was so subversive I had to take off all my clothes and kill myself
Ok but Rob Liefeld now draws better than rcdart, and much better than he used to
because unlike rcdart he actually took the criticisms to heart and started working on shortcoming in his art.
Holy shit Rob Liefeld can feet?
They’re a little wonky, but yeah. He’s gotten a lot better on all levels. I mean, look at Domino back there. She’s not 90% leg.
Same thing happened with B^Uckley. actually. He also started really training his art skills and CAD is no longer a flash-based sprite comic.
They moved aside for the next generation of shit artists.
REAL TALK THOUGH, Ctrl Alt Del has made so much progress through it’s art style. The man doesn’t copy and paste the same assets anymore and he’s somehow sometimes original with less videogame humor. I have no idea how the man did it but I’m kinda proud of Tim Buckler.
What the fuck
Reblog to give credit to formerly crappy artists for learning from criticism and becoming non-crappy.
I had a dream that unless the teacher told us class was over, we were forbidden from going out the door. Our teacher was very forgetful, and maybe even malicious. After being forced to stay past sunset many days, my class decided we were going to break out every night. Eventually our attempts led us to discovering rifts in space-time where we could warp. So we never used the door. Checkmate.
the window
what? you going to critique my dreams? my subconscious creations, that I did by accident, while asleep? the chemicals in my brain? are you going to use your foul eyes and dissect all of the plotholes in my dreams? you going to critique the weather? harass the clouds? make fun of thunder for being off key? remind me to come to your house and shred your shoes
Every Wednesday I walk a river walk trail from my work to rowing, and there’s this sculpture on the trail:
Pokemon Go affectionately refers to it as “The Hollow Man”, and it’s kind of cool on it’s own. Except, when I normally walk the trail, it’s after work, at night:
This thing is SEVEN FEET TALL and the actual title of the sculpture is “The Unkillable Human.”
IT’S TERRIFYING.
it became so beautiful to me after learning the actual name of it.
“This would be deleted off the SCP wiki in a day for being too cliche” is my favorite kind of real thing.
we as a society have travelled in a full circle and ended up smack dab in 2007 “I can has cheezburger” territory.
Remember Longcat, Equalistmako? I remember Longcat. Fuck the picture on this page, I want to talk about Longcat. Memes were simpler back then, in 2006. They stood for something. And that something was nothing. Memes just were. “Longcat is long.” An undeniably true, self-reflexive statement. Water is wet, fire is hot, Longcat is long. Memes were floating signifiers without signifieds, meaningful in their meaninglessness. Nobody made memes, they just arose through spontaneous generation; Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull.
You could talk about them around the proverbial water cooler, taking comfort in their absurdity. “Hey, Johnston, have you seen the picture of that cat? They call it Longcat because it’s long!” “Ha ha, sounds like good fun, Stevenson! That reminds me, I need to show you this webpage I found the other day; it contains numerous animated dancing hamsters. It’s called — you’ll never believe this — hamsterdance!” And then Johnston and Stevenson went on to have a wonderful friendship based on the comfortable banality of self-evident digitized animals.
But then 2007 came, and along with it came I Can Has, and everything was forever ruined. It was hubris, Mako. We did it to ourselves. The minute we added written language beyond the reflexive, it all went to shit. Suddenly memes had an excess of information to be parsed. It wasn’t just a picture of a cat, perhaps with a simple description appended to it; now the cat spoke to us via a written caption on the picture itself. It referred to an item of food that existed in our world but not in the world of the meme, rupturing the boundary between the two. The cat wanted something. Which forced us to recognize that what it wanted was us, was our attention. WE are the cheezburger, Mako, and we always were. But by the time we realized this, it was too late. We were slaves to the very memes that we had created. We toiled to earn the privilege of being distracted by them. They fiddled while Rome burned, and we threw ourselves into the fire so that we might listen to the music. The memes had us. Or, rather, they could has us.
And it just got worse from there. Soon the cats had invisible bicycles and played keyboards. They gained complex identities, and so we hollowed out our own identities to accommodate them. We prayed to return to the simple days when we would admire a cat for its exceptional length alone, the days when the cat itself was the meme and not merely a vehicle for the complex memetic text. And the fact that this text was so sparse, informal, and broken ironically made it even more demanding. The intentional grammatical and syntactical flaws drew attention to themselves, making the meme even more about the captioning words and less about the pictures. Words, words, words. Wurds werds wordz. Stumbling through a crooked, dead-end hallway of a mangled clause describing a simple feline sentiment was a torture that we inflicted on ourselves daily. Let’s not forget where the word “caption” itself comes from: capio, Latin for both “I understand” and “I capture.” We thought that by captioning the memes, we were understanding them. Instead, our captions allowed them to capture us. The memes that had once been a cure for our cultural ills were now the illness itself.
