Sometimes the Old Bastard lets the side down. But other times, he exceeds beyond even his own art. Allow us to explain. Consider the collaborations of Lewis Carroll and Tenniel, or Joyce and Matisse, or any number of authors and the immortal N. C. Wyeth. Even though Robert Louis Stevenson had no hand in Wyeth's illustrations for "Kidnapped," he must be given some credit for having the rich imagination that proved the inspiration for the Renderer of Needham, and so surely takes some measure of the praise for the richness of the resulting work.
Jack (as of yet!) doesn't have the benefit of an illustrator. The mind tumbles with glee at the very prospect, and should one need amusement, for example on a long car trip or on a raft in the ocean or while taking a slow-burning dump, one would do well to imagine some B-grade artist crooked over the drafting board, putting Gina Gershon Erotic Fan Fiction into pictures. One of those prospects that could occupy the mind for weeks, like the old Zen koan about "what is the hottest kind of salsa that's still a salsa and not just, like, acid or a fire?"
But the point is this - much as a writer inspires an illustrator and should be considered part-author of the result, Jack inspires the Internet ads that appear above his site. And as of our most recent look, one of the ads is for a website that teaches you about menstruation and the other is for medicine that cures pinworms. Kudos, Jack.
One hates to reduce high criticism to mere pedantry, but there was a spelling error made by Jack recently, and a right humorous one at that. In lieu of website, he wrote "webiste," which is of course the French for what he himself is.
********SPOILER ALERT***********
Our Spy reports that at some point in the very near future, Jack may include cartoons on blo'! Wouldn't that be something - our Jack a regular Bill Waterson! Let's hope he's not as much of a fuckass.
ATTENTION SCHOLARS:
One hoping to make one's name in Clinomania scholarship might do well to toil in this particular patch of the Jack Vineyard: The character of Eben. One of the earliest posts on the weblo' concerned the devious nature of Eben in keeping our man from touching the tates of a former Dunster cunnie. A few months later, the two are comrades in arms.
Thesis: both the friendship and the animosity between these two is fueled by the same double-headed snake: booze and titties.
Some further considerations on our discussion from yesterday, with regard to Jack's development as a prose stylist during his career at the world's oldest &c. humor rag. It was our pleasure to know Jack well in those days, and indeed had we followed through on our frequent boasts to make a collection of his sayings from that era, we would have one more volume for our little niece to sit on when her chair was too low for her to fork plum pudding into her mouth from the table.
But more importantly, it was in the pages of that crapsheet that one could first spy certain traits of Jack's prose style: namely longness and the use of funny words. Also, vulgarity piled upon vulgarity to humorous effect. Also, a crazed verbose rage at certain types of jackass, and a love of titties.
On a more important issue, we think Jack deserves better than his current predicament! From reading his latest writings, the situation seems like that of a skilled performing bear put to work, NOT PERFORMING BUT MANUFACTURING SOUP CANS! Economic inefficiency of the first order.
One of the rules of criticism is not to get too involved with one's subject, for fear he might spill paint on you or something. But we here have had enough, and are today beginning a subscription to GET JACK OUT! Our first event will be a fun run to be held June 28 in Alaska.
Readers, apologies are tendered for our recent failure to post with any regularity. This is due to several reasons: our difficulties in remembering our Blogger password, sloth, and frequent travels on matters of business - namely flying to and from the desert to stand around with a with a modestly famous person, a guy in a bear suit, and an airplane. Would that we were exaggerating. One day we found ourselves driving for 45 minutes to the desert with said famous person, then standing around as we filmed this character yelling at a cactus. We were assigned the task of protecting our modestly famous associate from the snakes of which he is terrified. Don't think, however, that this time has been wasted! For we got off a good jape by throwing a small pebble at our associate's feet and alarming him with thoughts of copperheads!
But back to our main mission - keeping alive the flame of Clinomania criticisim.
Two quick thoughts - the Old Bastard was rather hard on himself in re: his work for the world's o. c. p. humour magazine. Most of the editorial board here has stapled to their cubicle a cartoon of his devising which ends in a picture of the stork of mythology inhabiting "a land of great pain and misery."
Further: Jack's boyish charm seems to have been displaced of late, and replaced by a bitter and wrathful attitude. One hopes either a) a fitting fate befalls his employer, or b) he is cheered somewhat by having his apartment to himself for a week, allowing him to indulge in the grossest and thoroughist jerking off.
