Wednesday, March 21, 2018

What I'm Funding Is Literally In the Website Name

Sorry, guy, but Brutus is a little strapped for cash this month due to some sort of furnace issue so he doesn't have the money to I know that people do crowdfund themselves but are people this blatant about it?

I mean, I want you to help support my writing and research either through Patreon or Ko-Fi or by some other means but I save those requests for here or the occasional social media post.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Birdies Are In the Air

Oh good. Spring is coming so we're going to start seeing a lot more golf comics. I am so happy. So very, very happy. Luckily we don't see Brutus look anything like this:

Like what you see and want to support my writing and research? Head over to Patreon or buy me a cup of coffee.

Monday, March 19, 2018

The Second-In-Command To Tea Cozy Magnates Are Hurting Too

Millions of Americans are one paycheck away from living on the street. Most people are already saddled with thousands of dollars in debts whether it's student loans, mortgage, auto loan, credit cards, or what have you. Only 39% of Americans say that they could cover a $1,000 medical or household problem. And no one who has the power to change that cares.

Anyway, to help bring in extra money this month, Gladys will have to take a second job stripping working fast food.

Like what you see and want to support my writing and research? Head over to Patreon or buy me a cup of coffee.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Supercomics #11

“The All-American Corps?” Alix sneered when Dmitri told them the team’s new name.

“This was the least offensive name on the list the Pentagon gave me,” Dmitri shrugged. “They acquiesced on everything else you requested. The name shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“It’ll be fine, I guess,” Alix said. “Who are the new people?” Alix thumbed to two women sitting in the back.

“Since we’ve lost America, we recruited two people that we’ve been watching for awhile. If you two would introduce yourselves.”

The older of the women stood up. She had long red hair and big glasses. “I am Jean Senne, or Fire, for obvious reasons,” she raised her arms up over her head and flames appeared underneath. “I can shoot them, glide, and encase myself for protection.” Jean extinguished the flames and sat back down.

The younger girl stood up. She looked Asian but spoke with a British accent. “I am April Weatherby or, Chimney Girl,” she put on the top hat she had on the table in front of her. From the top, it started smoking.

“Do we really need another smoke-based team member?” Alix asked and went to clap Vanessa on the back but stopped halfway through.

“I’m more than just smoke,” she said. “Come here,” Alix shrugged and went over to her. April’s skin turned into brick and she threw a punch at Alix. Caught off-guard, Alix went down.

“All right. I stand corrected,” Alix said and looked at April as her skin went back to normal.

“The Pentagon agreed to move us out into the world. You can come and go as you please. We will give you communication bracelets if we need you and you are encouraged to be a contributing member of society,” Dmitri said.

“We can have a life now?” Miguel asked.

“And friends?” asked Brandon.

“Don’t thank me,” Dmitri held up a hand. “You can thank your new All-American Corps leader, Alix ‘Superkitten’ Kincaid.”

Alix’s mouth dropped. Miguel slammed his hand down. “What? How?”

“Matthew--America--recommended her when he left. She showed great leadership and heart during the wrath of Kon. He agreed so I decided to take a chance and let her show us what she can do.”

“But I’m older. I’ve been training and learning to be leader for two years,” Miguel said. “No offense but Matthew only recommended her because they were sleeping togeter.”

The team gasped. Jean and April looked embarrassed as they looked at Alix. “Matthew didn’t mention any of that. We talked about her leadership and self-sacrifice during the last few missions and how her powers are more conducive to a leadership role,” Dmitri explained. “If you want to talk more about this, we can go to my office.”

“No,” Miguel stood up. “I’m gonna go be a contributing member of society,” Miguel walked out of the room.

“Sorry about that. Meeting’s over. You’re dismissed.”

Everyone got up and began leaving. Brandon walked up to Dmitri. “Dmitri, how long have you been holding onto that ‘wrath of Kon’ bit?”

“Quite a while. I’m glad someone noticed.”

The Corps had been set up in an old brick school building that had been abandoned for about a decade. It was a three-story school with one floor at ground level and partly underground. The lower level had been rehabilitated into an armament and database library. The second floor, the one everyone entered the building to, became apartments and offices for the team. The third floor was the new training facility.

They were now headquartered in Phillipsburg, Maryland, a small town in western Maryland. The original plan was to locate in Baltimore or Alexandria or somewhere around D.C. but Dmitri wanted a smaller city where the team could stand out and help out. Agent Spider stood out on the balcony on the third floor and looked out over the city. There were no buildings for him to swing around on. The tallest building was a grain elevator near the river and the water tower, the next tallest thing was a five-story hotel downtown. There weren’t any buildings tall enough to swing around on in D.C. either but he was ready for big city work.

He jumped off the balcony and shot some webbing toward a church tower that was down the street. He landed on the top of the church tower and looked out over the city again, not being able to reach the next tallest thing, the hotel. Agent Spider was originally from New York City. When he was growing up, the streets were his playground despite his parents being worried about something happening to him. When he discovered his powers, the buildings became an endless jungle gym in his playground.

He sat down on the edge of the church tower and sighed. In the distance, he heard the squeal of tires and kids scream. He looked around to find where the noise was coming from then saw a car racing down Park Street. He jumped off the tower and shot webbing as best he could through the trees to swing over to the street.

The car hopped the car and tore through the park. The car was aiming right for a little girl playing in a sandbox. Agent Spider swung as fast as could underneath the trees. He grabbed the girl just as the driver of the car yanked the steering wheel to the left. The car started to turn but flipped over three times, landing on its roof.

“Are you okay?” Spider asked the girl.

She nodded her head.

“Why don’t you run home? You’re okay,” he put her down on the ground and she started running. Agent Spider went over to the car and opened the door. “What are you doing?” he shouted as he bent down.

“What do you think?” the man driving slurred.

Agent Spider flipped the car back onto its wheels. The man unbuckled and attempted to get out of the car. A police siren could be heard approaching. Agent Spider grabbed the man by the shirt collar. “Why are you driving while drunk?”

“How else am I supposed to get home?”

“Get a ride from somebody. Walk. It’s a small town, you can get across town by foot in fifteen minutes. You nearly killed a little girl.”

“I tried to miss her,” the man tried to shrug.

“But you wouldn’t have. Not if I hadn’t been here,” the police showed up and an officer stepped out. “I oughta break your face but I guess I’ll just give you to the cops.” He threw the man onto the ground.

“What’s going on?” the officer asked.

“This drunk hopped the car and nearly drove into a little girl,” Spider said then swung off back into the trees.

Hattie Shave Club

Since about 2002, I have been wanting to write a book about the family that included their history but also the history of that part of Douglas County which, to me, is vastly overshadowed by the history to the north in Lawrence and Lecompton but is nonetheless important. I've been in touch with other people who have been able to piece together more of the Miller family history and I feel that I am now in a position to start on the book and close the rest of the gaps that I have. Keep your eyes open for updates here and on Patreon.

A special thanks to all who read and support my writing and research. If you would like to contribute, consider becoming a patron on Patreon or buying me a cup of coffee on Ko-Fi.
Ko-Fi ------->

I find it hard to believe that Hurricane Hattie hasn't seen Brutus with beard stubble before. I mean, she's over at their house 7, 8 times a week and usually talking with Brutus. At least Brutus can tell Hattie as he is throwing her out of his house that because he's a guy "cursed with a five o'clock shadow" that explains why he has no hair on top of his head.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

It's Just Irish

If that's just a cup of whiskey then Gladys didn't need to ask what he was drinking, she should be able to smell it. Also, Gladys isn't wearing green so now she'll spend all day getting pinched by a drunken Brutus. That's not a fun day.

Cemetery Saturday: Half-Day Cemetery

Half-Day Cemetery is located along NW 62nd Street in northern Shawnee County about a half mile southwest of the small town of Elmont. Elmont was founded in 1886 and was established on a gently rising hill, lending to its name. Elmont was hit by a flood in 1902 and a tornado in 1917. The town is situated on the east bank of Half Day Creek, which was named for a Potawatomi Chief. Today, Elmont consists of a couple dozen residences and Elmont Elementary School for the Seaman Unified School District.



OCT. 25, 1897
FEB. 5, 1899


Sep. 22, 1825
Aug. 10, 1884


Dau. of
June 1, 1880
10 Yrs. 8 Mos.
5 Ds.

AUG 15 1895     OCT 13 1968


Wife of
Mar. 27, 1883
24 YRS. 2 MO & 4 D.

Sep. 12, 1831

June 2, 1912
1843 - 1924


1877    1934

Friday, March 16, 2018

+ - x /

Why would he be in trouble with the teacher for flunking a quiz? That's a great motivator for kids to do well.

The other night, we tried to help my son with graphing quadratics or something. It did not go well. My math skills end at about sixth grade with some carryover into seventh and eighth. The only reason I (barely) passed seventh grade math was because I had a really cool teacher at the time who tried to work me through it.