Star Nosed Mole

An article I read described the star nosed mole as one of the least appealing creatures on the planet. I can see why. The wormy snout! The beady eyes! The claws!   It makes a vampire bat look cuddly.

As a challenge, I tried to design a character that was clearly a Star Nose Mole, yet wasn't nasty.

I came up with these two.

The one above lost some depth and energy when I added the inklines and color.
Compare it to the "pencil" layer.
If anyone knows what I'm doing wrong, please fill me in.

Just added- a quick copy of the original sketch (darkened) and painted, as Linda suggested.

Humpty Dumpty's Greatest Falls

When I taught preschool, I disliked the safety materials.  They were the "Sammy the  Squirrel Plays Safe" variety.  They  ignored  what happens when you didn't  play safe. That would make a lasting impression, but how do you sanitize it for preschoolers?     I had a hunch something like "Sammy the Squirrel gets Hit by a Car?"  would cause problems.
  How could I show the kids the consequences of  recklessness without giving them nightmares?

Humpty Dumpty was how   Every kid knew he was the egg who fell of the wall and broke.   Picture books showed him cracked and oozing!



I got out the magic markers and drew a series of  Humpty Dumpty cartoons.
Each came in two parts.  The first picture showed him doing something stupid: jumping from the swings, playing on railroad tracks, fooling with matches etc...  I'd tell the kids "Oh no, look what he's doing now!  What could happen next...?"
The kids would speculate, eagerly anticipating part two where Humpty got his comeuppance.
The second picture had him cracked, flattened, splattered, or poached.  "Uh Oh!" I'd say.  "Look what happened  Now he's broken!"  The kids loved it!
"Do you want to be like Humpty Dumpty?" I'd ask.
"No!" they  said.
"Are you going to wait until the swing stops before you get off?"
"Yes!" they'd promise.
Those kids are adults now.  As they  were growing up, did any of them ever face a dangerous situation and choose to be safe, thanks to Humpty Dumpty?
Or did the kids just look back and think Damn, that preschool teacher was warped!

He Who has the Dough Makes the Rules

You may have read about the bakery in Salt Lake City called "My Dough Girl" who was bullied by Pillsbury into changing its name on the grounds that "My Dough Girl" sounded too much like their trademarked "Dough Boy." 
I could understand a problem if the bakery's logo or advertisements resembled Pillsbury's mascot (they don't), or if they sold similar items at the supermarket (they don't).
Yes, I get that it's in the best interest of a company to protect  trademarks.  Had the bakery been called "Doughboy" or "Pop 'n' Fresh," I'd be on Pillsbury's side.  But "My Dough Girl?"    Sheesh.

The Devil and the Fool

Someone takes the last cup of coffee without making a fresh batch.
Jerk! I think.
Someone in front of me in the five-items-or-less line has seven cans of Fancy Feast, a bag of Ruffles, a box of  Ding Dongs, and  two bottles of soda  her cart.   
Dummy! 
 Someone carelessly bumps into me at the coffee house, sending the top inch off coffee over the rim of the cup and onto my jeans.  Bastard!
Ask anyone who's been annoyed, inconvenienced, or endangered by someone else and they'll be quick to label the offending party.  Either he's a  "bad" person (selfish, greedy, mean, or pain evil), or "stupid" (careless, reckless, clueless, or crazy)  It's like our lives are a story and we need true villains and fools to explain how we've been treated.
Of course, most of these cads probably don't wake up with evil or crazy plans.  It's possible that these heinous deeds were, in fact::

• Honest Mistakes (for example, maybe the gal with the loaded cart didn't see the sign)
• Part of a More Complex Situation (She may have been in a longer line for some time and was invited to the quick check when it opened)
• The Exception and not the Rule (She's normally conscientious about 5-item etiquette but you've caught her at the one time she's slipped up)
• Misunderstanding on our part (Whoops, it wasn't a a 5-item line I was in!)

I should be glad that my annoying encounters aren't (usually) the result of evil and stupidity, but the part of my brain that hacks together my daily "story" is horrified.
"What!?" it  responds, "You mean I'm not the valiant Good Guy,  doing the Right Things in my daily battle with The Bad Guys and The Fools?   You mean  the whole lot of us are just flawed people with flawed perceptions?  What evil foolishness is this!?"

JetSki Banjo Pig

For Dueling Banjo Pigs.
(If you haven't checked it out yet, take a look.)

Pyrrhuloxia

"Pyrrhuloxia" isn't a disease picked up at cheap motels.  It's the name of a cardinal-like bird from the North American southwest.   The  Latin name is  Cardinalis sinuatus.  How'd  they get stuck with a common name more complex than the scientific one?
They don't have them in Los Angeles, where I live.  Too bad.  I think they're cute.
Look at the sincere, determined expression on this Wikipedia photo:

Okay, I'm anthropomorphizing...
...but I bet he sincerely thinks the seed block is his and is determined to keep it that way.

Blue Footed Booby

The Banjo Charmer

Another offering for Dueling Banjo Pigs.

Yellow Bellied Sapsucker

There really is a bird called the "Yellow Bellied Sapsucker."   Some name.  It sounds like an insult.  Break it down and it's a string of smaller jabs: "yellow," "sap"  and "sucker."   It could have been named "Gold Breasted Woodpecker" or "Masked Stifftail,"  but "Yellow Bellied Sapsucker" it is.
Who came up with this name?  Was he mad at them?  Did a flock peck up his orchard? 
Maybe he was simply blunt: "It's got a yellow belly, doesn't it?" he might have said.  "It sucks sap outta trees, right?"
Imagine if this guy had been in charge of naming other birds:

Owl:  Flat Faced Mouse Muncher

Pelican: Sack-Jowled Fish Scooper

Hummingbird:      Needle-Nosed Necter Nibbler

Duck:                    Web-footed Dinner Dabbler

Vulture:                 Ball-headed Carcass Craver

Seagull:                 Squawkmouthed Dumpster Diver

Turkey:                 Pin-Headed Pending Poultry Product

Hawk:                    Rust-Feathered Rodent Reaper

That being said, I wonder if he had something to do with naming the Blue Footed Booby...

Soul Scan

(this is fictional but I could see it happening...)

  It was a cartoony machine- a large screen perched on a wavy stand with two eye like scanners that bobbed like day old helium balloons.    "See your soul for a nickel!" the sign said.   A poster  showed the possibilities - a  a dumpy woman looked at the screen and saw Venus rising from the sea..  A scrawny kid with a bad haircut became a god shooting lightning bolts from a mountaintop.  "What strength and beauty lies within YOU?" it asked.
I inserted a nickel.
"Hold still, please" the machine said.  The "eyes" floated over to me and looked carefully, as if searching for concealed contraband.    On the monitor, a fuzzy picture emerged.
I wasn't expecting a goddess or a glistening, ethereal form.  Even a angel or fairy figurine- the plastic glittery kind sold in drugstores-  would be a stretch.  Still, I thought  a cute bobblehead doll  or a windup toy were real possibilities.
Then my result appeared.
"A rubber chicken?" I said. "That's my soul?"
"Yep," said the machine.  "That's you..  Funny, but neither useful or original."
"I want my nickel back!"
"A cheap rubber chicken," it continued.  "The plastic kind where the eyes and wattles are crudely painted."
"Stupid machine,": I said.
"A rubber chicken is thin skinned." the machine said.  "A shallow, empty headed prop. A novelty that wears off quickly and becomes annoying..  Self centered and self absorbed, yet oblivious to-"
"I'm not self centered!" I said.
"If you're not self centered,  maybe you'd have noticed there's now three other people waiting to for their reading, while you're holding up the line." it said.
I stormed away, avoiding eye contact with the others.
In retrospect, I probably should have asked if there were any constructive steps  I might take to upgrade my soul to a rubber duck or a lawn flamingo. 
I still want my nickel back.

Digital Drawing Board II

Here's an update of the picture I posted earlier.  Dialog (and some details) have been toggled off so I don't spoil the story in advance.

Pow!

Another Dueling Banjo Pig offering.

Digital Drawing Board

(click picture for larger view)
Even my digital desktop gets cluttered sometimes.

Bad Dreams

What's up with these nightmares?  My life is easy.  I've never been traumatized.  Never done mind altering drugs.  Yet  every night, when the dreams roll in, they're bad.  
This week I was chased by  a swarm of batlike things.  Batbugs or Mothbats.  There was a switch in the room to turn them off but I couldn't find it because they were biting my arms, shoulders ears and cheeks.
Then I found myself wandering up a sidewalk, after dark.  Rain fell.  I could taste the drops.  Gloomy jazz music played and a narrator chimed in "abandoned by her friends and family, she was never seen alive again.  Her savagely beaten and strangled body was found in a ditch..."
Where does this stuff come from?

The next night I dreamed that I hadn't slept for three days. Then I looked out the window and saw flames and smoke topping a nearby hill. I went outside and discovered distant flames in each direction, miles away but getting closer.
Stupid fire season! I thought.It gets worse every year!
I tried to comfort myself that I'd "only" die from smoke inhalation before the flames reached me.  Then I figured a blaze this big was  hot enough to roast me from a distance, the way a campfire gloop-afies a marshmallow without touching it.  Was I doomed?
Wait!  There was a way out, to the southeast.   I scampered up  the road to safety.
BOOM!
A fifty foot plume of flire rose ahead of me, blocking my escape.
"Someone's doing this on purpose!" I yelled.

Crazy dreams!

Hot Tub Banjo Pig

(Click picture for larger image.)
My latest  submission for Dueling Banjo Pigs.

Koala Chicken

Here's something I did for an acquaintance who needed a picture of a "Koala Chicken" and didn't have one handy.
The double thumb isn't a mistake- koalas really do have two on each hand!
I drew and colored this in ArtRage.  I wasn't too familiar with the brush I used to color it, so it turned out a bit flatter than what I had in mind.

Bacon Banjo Hula!

High Note off the Hog

Created for Dueling Banjo Pigs.

Nightmare at Fifty Feet

My friend Frank* went to a street fair with his friend.  They hopped on
 a ride called "The Zipper."  It's something like an oblong Ferris Wheel.  The  cars
 swing and flip (you can see one in action here).
It started out great," Frank recalls.  "Music was playing, the car was rocking and there was this incredible view as we rose higher and higher."
"Then the car leaned backwards.   Suddenly, this fire hose of vomit sprayed down from the car above.   There was a safety grid but it let everything through.  And it kept coming!  We tried to move out of the way but there was nowhere to go."
"So it's all over us and we're going 'Stop the ride!  Stop the ride!'".
It didn't stop.

"The operator guy saw what happened!"  Frank says.   " I'm sure he heard us too, but he kept the ride going anyway!  We were trapped in a puke-spin-cycle for another three minutes.  Or maybe it was longer.  I think he let us ride a few extra rounds, just to be a jerk."
"Finally the damn thing stopped and we got out.    We were soaked!  My friend punched the operator.  Meanwhile I'm running  the fair, stripping off my shirt and pants and shoes and looking for a place to wash them.   It sucked!"
"Ever have a moment go from perfect to pure hell in seconds?"


*name been changed

Tail o' the Hack

I was proud of this blog for a long time.  I didn't think it was the best one out there, but I thought it was amusing.  Funny pictures!  Smartass observations!   Look how  clever I am!
Then this occurred to me: If the blog was really that special,  it'd have way more visitors, way more returning visitors, and a Technorati authority higher than one.  Ha! I scolded myself.  You're a self-absorbed hack.   You can't draw, you can't write, and you can't draw a crowd.  Nice work.
Then I got a surprise.
My visitor counter recorded a sudden influx of visitors, all from a network of people I know.  What was this about?   Was I being rediscovered?  Maybe my blog wasn't so bad?
Then learned this.  Minutes earlier, someone had shared an app which lets you deface (a snapshot of) any website you choose.   They were picking this site so they could blow holes in it and splatter it with blood!
Well, I'd always wanted to entertain a larger group, right?

Another Preview Pic

Another picture from my mini comic, drawn with ArtRage.   I'm having fun drawing it but it's taking longer than I planned! 

A Bear for Punishment

My home computer has been mangled by a spyware and my laptop won't connect to the internet, so I haven't posted anything new.
In the meantime, here's a Warner Brothers cartoon I like.
When I was little, I couldn't understand why Paw was so cranky. As an adult, I think he's the most sympathetic character.

Those !!#@%^! Dolls.

Troll dolls are supposed to be cute, but I think they're ugly:  The headlamp eyes, the matted hair, the orangeish skin...   ...and that cloying "pwease be my fwiend" expression! Yecch!
 I've seen cuter stuff floating in formaldehyde.
Who the heck buys these things?
Obviously, lots of people do.  They've been a big hit since the 1960s. 
Then this occurred to me:
Troll dolls = hideous things
Troll dolls = loved worldwide, iconic.
This blog = not loved worldwide (only a small percentage of visitors return), no iconic status.
Therefore his blog is more awful than those !!#@%^! dolls.

The troll dolls have something I don't.
Bastards!

More Work in Progress

Click image to see a larger version.
Here's a near-finished version of the comic panel I posted earlier.  It won't make much sense out of context.
Looks like I need to fix some spelling too.  Where's my left brain when I need it?

Oranges and Lemons

Just a quick 'n' silly illo I did to try out my new painting software.
It's me vs. marauding citrus fruit.
This didn't turn out as dynamic as I'd hoped.  Then again, if this were a "real" project I'd posed for  reference photos.

Stuff I'm Bad At

I'm not bad at everything.  I can draw (depending on whom you you ask)..  I can rotoscope hair, throw my voice, and solve 3d puzzles.   I can usually coax a toy out of the crane machine.  But what fun is boasting?
I'm bad at stuff too.   I can't really catch a ball or throw a Frisbee.  If my age were my bowling average I'd be dead.  My handwriting is a mess and I can't grip the pen properly. 
A lot of things on my "bad at" list are stuff I don't like to do anyway.  I can always blame lack of interest or practice on these things.   Not so with the Big Three.  The things I've always liked doing, yet do oh so badly:
Singing:
I love music.  Folk songs,  jazz, rock,  even opera.  I can read music.   I can identify instruments and tell you that a vuvuzela squawks a b-flat.   Might I add that it squawks a b-flat way better than I can.   I first heard a recording of my singing voice in fifth grade.  Listening to it was like being slapped. That off-key dolt was me!

Dancing:
 Nothing's like dancing to a fun song.  The problem is what I think I'm doing and what I'm really doing are laughably different..  I'm uncoordinated, miss the beats, and am about as graceful as a rhino falling down steps.  I display "doesn't she realize how stupid she looks!?" moves.
Acting:
This is a real shame because I have a strong imagination. and can keenly picture myself anywhere.  As a kid I adored pretend games.  Acting enchanted me and I tried to weasel my way into any play I could.    I vividly imagined I was a naughty kid, a member of the royal court, a fairy etc.., yet  stomped through each role like Godzilla, sounding as sincere as an automated "overdue materials" message from the library.   Never good get the volume right either- I was always too loud or too quiet*

But "didn't you see the bumper sticker?" Some may ask.  "You gotta sing like nobody's listening and dance like nobody's watching!"   Yeah, right.    Whomever came up with that glurge would quickly change the "like" to "when" if they saw me in action.  Some things are best done alone.



*A problem I have in real life too.  Both the volume thing and the stomping like Godzilla.

Works in Progress

Here's some panels I've been working on. 
 Painter 8 isn't perspective friendly.  This floors me because it's supposed to be a drawing program.   Where's the diagonal guides?*  Where's the precision?  And don't get me started on that klunky "perspective grid" it offers.   I'm getting nostalgic for my T square and triangles.  
I found an inexpensive drawing program that offered way better tools,  but there were graphic card problems (a first for both of my machines). 
If you know any drawing programs that let you make guides are diagonal and vector based, or anything that's perspective smart let me know, please.

*I made diagonal lines for reference, but I can't snap anything to them.

"I Take the Stairs!"

When I learned my new office was on the sixth floor I thought I'll take the stairs!  I'll get a workout!  I'll get in shape!
Then I learned that "getting into shape" involved discovering how out of shape you were.
Some people sprang up the flights like gazelles.  Not me.
The first flight or two weren't bad, but by the sixth floor I'd be staggering and gasping like I'd been mustard gassed.   Hopefully I'll get better at this.
My shame at being such a wimp was tempered with pride.
No elevator for me I thought.  I take the stairs!
Soon I caught my self wedging this boast into every conversation.
"Beautiful weather, today" someone says.
"Yes," I'd say.  "I saw the view in the stairwell windows on the way to the top!"
"There's donuts in room 1313!" someone says.
"Oh boy!" I say.  "I think I'm entitled to one, since I make myself take the stairs each time."
"A meteor the size of a bus struck my office!  Help!" someone texts.
"Hope there's a good fire escape.  If I a meteor the size of a bus hits my building I'll have a chance 'cause I know where the emergency exit is, being that I take the stairs every day."
Okay, I made up the last one.
Say, did I tell you I took the stairs today?

Love and Loathing

The box held four chicks: two yellow ones, one buff one, and one the color of crackerjacks.  I got permission to handle the latter.
I scooped him up and cupped him securely in my hand. It snuggled down without fear.

 I'm  not sentimental, but the chick had powers.  Suddenly it was the most  adorable creature: So sweet.  So innocent.  How could I put it down?  Could I smuggle it home?

The thought of explaining the "live chicken running loose in my apartment" situation to my landlord gave me second thoughts.  Then there was the threat of having "chicken trafficker" on my permanent record.  I put it back in the box.

I thought about the chick all afternoon.  The soft down, the unconditional  trust....

Then this occurred to me:

The Fortune Teller.

Guest blogger- Pico

I should have never gone to that party.  The food was stale  It smelled of mildew and dragonclaw glue..  The music kept breaking, and there was this weird lumpy thing floating in the punch bowl.
And there was a fortune teller.

Madama Farfalla was the fakest thing I ever saw.  Her head feathers were fake, her eyelashes false. The heart-shaped beauty mark   had come loose and hung like a shingle from her cheek.  But everyone else was at the party was lined up to get their fortune so I got in line too.
As each guy came up, she'd look them in the eye, than down at her foggy mirror, and give a cornball prediction:
"By this weeks end/ meet a lost friend"
or
"When spring rain falls/good fortune calls"
or
"First sunset in May/love comes your way"

Then it was my  turn. She looked at me, than into the mirror,
"On future's track/Your ..."  she stopped as if splashed with water.  Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew large.    It was like she saw the most gruesome, horrific fortune ever.   Something nasty.    She held still, transfixed, perhaps, or frightened  that moving would somehow suck her into the vision.
"What!?" I said.  "What happens?"
No answer.
"On future's track, what?" I said, trying to hide how freaked I was.  "My skull will crack?   A bear attack?  The torture rack?  Machete whack...!?"  My friends behind me cracked up laughing.  They couldn't see her expression.
She looked up at me  as if pulled from a bad day dream.  "On the future you'll get... ...along just great"
 "That's not what you saw!" I said.
"Get away from my mirror," she said, as if my presence was contaminating it.  "Other people are waiting."
"What did you see?"
"You'll be just incredibly fine and good" she said,   It was the only answer I could get out of her.

Oh boy, what fun's in store for me!.    Except she was fake, right?

Oh my...!

"Auf Wiedersehen"

Ever heard the song "Auf Wiedersehen" by Cheap Trick?  It's three minutes of caustic bitterness, screamed to a catchy beat.  "There are many here among us, who feel their life is a joke," we're told "So for you we sing this final song for you, there is no hope!"  The song is further peppered with morbid references "So long!  Sayanara! Hari Kari!  Kamakaze! etc..."
I can't figure out if the song is serious or a parody.  It is rather catchy, considering all the complaining that's going on.

Lampshade (Sorta)

"I'm on a Ride and I Want to Get Off"

"I'm on a ride and I want to get off" is a my favorite line from the 1980s nonsense song, "The Reflex" by Duran Duran. I picture something like this when I hear it.

The Goose, The Monster and the Secret of Life

(By Guest Blogger Ganderdalf the Goose wizard )

Creatures from the 1313th Dimension are extremely intelligent and wise, but a lot of folks don't notice.  The Creatures look like monsters.   They get screamed at.  Or shot at.  No wonder they rarely come our way.
I met one once, briefly, at the Port of Pikooby.
I introduced myself and asked if he'd be kind enough to tell mere goose (me) the Secret of Life.  This way he (or she, or it) would  know I  accepted him as a fellow, if not superior creature.  And I wanted his wisdom!  Two minutes of his advice could be the equivalent of years of study.
I couldn't believe he agreed to tell me!  I looked up in amazement as he floated like a jellyfish, turning different colors and looking at me with his green eyes.  They were the size of grapefruits and stacked on a stalk rising from his head.  His tentacles waved like silk banners in a breeze.     His voice was strange too.  Sounded like he was underwater.  When he chuckled, red and orange sparks rose from his three nostrils.
Then his shuttle came and he was gone.  I stood there, marveling at what had just happened.   A Creature from the 1313 Dimension had just told me the Secret of Life!  And the secret was... ...well what had he said anyway?   I couldn't remember the details.  His alien-ess had completely distracted me.
And that's how I didn't learn the Secret of Life.

Jumpy

I startle way too easily.  Tap my shoulder when I'm concentrating and I'll leap from the chair.
"I didn't mean to startle you," the embarrassed (or annoyed) party says.  I fear the subtext is: That shouldn't have startled anyone.  What's wrong with you!?
Friends and family are used to it.  Strangers think I'm nuts.   Actually friends and family think I'm a bit nuts too.
I first noticed this in high school.   One day the bell rang and I jumped.  I've been jumping ever since.
Intellectually I know bells, shoulder taps other surprises are harmless.  A more primitive part of my brain must  have other ideas.  "Loud noise?" it reasons,  "Mortal danger!  I repeat, mortal danger!  Dispatch the adrenalin!"
Maybe someday some sense will someday trickle down to the part of my brain that hits the panic button.
Until then, I'll  be jumpy.

The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall (Busted?)

When I was a kid, I loved books about "true" ghost stories, even though they freaked me out.  Two stories were extra scary.  One was about a zombie-looking ghost of a murdered woman who appeared in a junk shop basement.  The other tale was famous- The Brown Lady of Raynham hall.
Raynham Hall was built in Norfolk, U.K. in the 1600s (It's still here today).  According to the legend, by the 1800s, visitors sometimes spotted a ghostly lady in brown brocade (sometimes satin) dress.   She'd show up at the bedside or in the hallway, carrying a lamp and "grinning diabolically."   And some said she had "gouged out" eyes!   That was scary enough for me, but there was more- the ghost books had a photograph of her!
Here the photo:

It's an icon of ghostlore.   I took it seriously when I was a kid.  It gave me nightmares!
As an adult more suspicious.
I don't believe in ghosts, but assuming I'm wrong, this serene figure looks nothing like the menacing, disheveled specter from the legend.
A few have noticed the shape looks something like a Madonna statue.   Could it be a double exposure?  Had the  photographers snapped a picture of the former, then captured the staircase on the same plate?
I tried to recreate the process.
First I found an internet photo of a Madonna.  Here's one from a church (also in Norfolk, but 40+ miles away from Raynham Hall):

I digitally cut out the figure, turned it black and white, blurred it a bit and superimposed it  into the famous photo:

Hey!  It fits.
Here's another version, with the Madonna scooted off to the right:

Look familiar?  They look like near duplicates, with the "ghost" facing a a slightly different direction.   I bet the photographer was pulling a fast one using a similar statue.  What do you think?

Google Maps: Hit Pole Here

At a slippery spot, Google Maps thoughtfully shows your route into a pole.

Mission Hot Link Smuggle

My Mom was in the hospital earlier this week (she's out now).   Her roommate  was  entertaining.  More engaging  than anything on daytime T.V.
Luci was awaiting  surgery or some sort of procedure.   Most of her time was spent on the phone.  She wanted food smuggled in.  I secretly transcribed her conversations:

"Pick up!  Pick up the phone!  I know you're there.  Y'all should be ashamed of yourself!

...Now bring me some food...   ...Hot Links and potato salad, and banana pudding...and bring me some socks!  My feet are freezing...  ...No! I don't wear those hospital booties.   Bring me socks...!
...Is that Penny?  Put that fatass on the line...!
If you don't bring me something to eat up here I'll tear up this hospital!
Who?  She's got no say in what I get to eat!  Tell that %!!# to shut up!  I'll tear her tail up right over the phone!"

In addition, someone brave enough to visit Luci in person was informed she was ready to "knock his #!@@ right out of the ^@!!! window" if she didn't get those Hot Links.
Mission Hot Link Smuggle was a success.  The last time I saw her she had a take out-container full of biscuits, potato salad, fries, and Hot Links. 

(The Other) Treasure Planet

Long ago, I read the book Treasure Island and saw the 1950 film version. Both times I thought It'd be totally cool if this was set in space! It could have aliens and craziness! It could be called "Treasure Planet!"
Years later I learned something terrible- Disney was making a movie called "Treasure Planet!" How could they? Didn't they know this was my idea?*
The 1999 Disney film turned out a bit different than how I envisioned it.
My version would have been more goofy and cartoony.  No gorgeous steampunk ships sailing through the ether.
For example, early in the book the Jim (the kid narrator) runs into a blind cutthroat who grabs him, pins his arm behind his back, and threatens to break it.  I'd picture Jim as a mallard. The thug is a tentacled alien.  Three mangled eye stocks rise from his head.  It's gross.  It's scary.  More importantly, it's silly.
That's my kind of cartoon.
I suppose it wouldn't be nominated for an Acadamy Award (as was the Disney version).  The critics would think it was stupid.  Maybe everyone would...
...but I'd love it!


*Actually I bet a lot of people have thought, Let's put "Treasure Island" in space! over the years.