250 Words on the Colbert Questionert: Part Two

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Talk show host Stephen Colbert sometimes asks his guests to take the “Colbert Questionert,” which he says is meant to reveal a person’s soul but is mostly for fun. Since Colbert’s “Late Show” ends on May 21, I’m giving it a go here. I answered half the questions last week; here are the rest. 

Favorite smell? Cinnamon rolls rising on Grandma's fireplace hearth.

Least favorite smell? Mercaptans, because if you can detect their sulfurous rotten-egg scent you’re probably near a dangerous gas leak. 

Flat or sparkling? Flat is fine, but I’ll take sparkling if offered.

Most used app on your phone? Texting and Facebook are my boring answers. My less-boring answer is Flightradar24. 

Window or aisle? Window. No matter how often I fly, soaring over the clouds is always a thrilling miracle. 

You get one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what is it? Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, all four movements. That counts as one song, right?

The one thing you own that you should really throw out? Artifacts we dug out of the ashes of our fire that have been sitting in bins we haven’t had the heart to open.

What number am I thinking of? 137.

Describe the rest of your life in five words? About the same but better.

I am a fan of Colbert’s, and I’d be sadder and angrier about his show’s cancellation if I weren’t sure he will soon be doing something even greater. Best wishes to him and his staff. 

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Comics 4 All Podcast

I had a great time Sunday afternoon doing a LIVE podcast for Jameson Rohrer's "Comics 4 All" show. Jameson is a librarian with a passion for comics in general and graphic medicine in particular, so we took some deep dives into those subjects plus pretty much my entire life as a cartoonist. 

Two notes: 

1. The Australian psychiatrist whose name I couldn't remember at 24:40 is Neil Phillips. To be fair to me, I haven't seen him in nine years. To be critical of me, I bought two pieces of artwork from him, so I probably should have been able to conjure his name.

2. I didn't realize until I watched some of the replay that I was blinking weird. I just want to reassure viewers that my twitchiness is not due to an undiagnosed neurological condition, but because I have terrible hay fever irritating my eyes right now and my choice was to either blink weird or claw at my corneas with my fingernails. I think I chose wisely.

Thanks to Jameson for the invitation and his time, I appreciate it!

No Kings Day 2026

Karen and I getting into position for the start of the march. My "Antifa" sign got some attention from people who said they'd also had relatives who served in World War II and had partly come to honor them, as I did. Grandpa fought fascism; I figure I owe it to him to do the same.

Karen and I made a little good trouble in Santa Rosa, Calif. this afternoon. Our daughters were also with us, but I only post photos of them (as adults) with their permission, which I definitely didn't have. Demonstrators gathered in two areas and then converged on Old Courthouse Square in the center of the city. 

Police estimate attendance at 6,000; the local newspaper says 12,000. I honestly lean toward the lower end of that range, but will say that I've been in that square for a lot of events, including a past demonstration that drew about 5,000 people, and it was much more packed than I've ever seen it. Like a summer Saturday at Disneyland. 

This stream of demonstrators, which included us, approached from the south. Another stream approached from the north. We converged in the heart of the city.

A giant bird marionette in Santa Rosa's Old Courthouse Square. Contrary to common belief, the building with the clock tower in the background is NOT the old courthouse, which was razed decades ago. However, that building, which is called the Empire Building, does make a cameo in Hitchcock's "Shadow of a Doubt," so I like to include it as a landmark when I can.

As always, demonstrators were good-natured good citizens. Karen and I both thought that the march wasn't as well organized or policed as past marches. There was some poor traffic control and confusion. Organizers needed more people shepherding the crowd.

Quibbles. As our family discussed afterward, the real value of these things isn't imagining that the four of us made a real difference. It's being part of a community. Letting each other know we're not alone. Being a pebble in an avalanche, a snowflake in a blizzard. 

That's worthwhile--at least it's worth a couple of hours on a nice Saturday afternoon.

I ran into two good old friends, Jana and Bill. Nearly forty years ago we were all chemists working in the same lab. Bill in particular was sort of a mentor to me. Now none of us is still a chemist and we meet up at demonstrations. Two of the smarter and better people I know.

I liked this.

A slightly higher, standing-on-a-planter-box angle on Old Courthouse Square as it filled up.

Mom's Cancer in the Press Democrat

My hometown newspaper, the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, published a feature today about me and the Mom's Cancer Anniversary Edition. Writer Dan Taylor has been a real champion of local arts in general and comics in particular, and it was good to talk to him again.

Dan also interviewed my friend MK Czerwiec, who did me the favor of writing a new foreword for my book. I wasn't surprised that Dan quoted MK, since I asked her permission to give Dan her contact info, but I was surprised he also reached out to librarian, teacher, and graphic medicine wrangler Matthew Noe, who luckily for me also said nice things. Thanks to them both!

Two quick stories about the photo. Photographer John Burgess, who is a pro's pro, came to my studio and tried to wring some liveliness out of me. He was joking "Work it, work it!" and got me laughing, until I said to him, "Here's the thing. I don't want to look like I'm yucking it up promoting a book about my mother's cancer." John immediately switched gears. "Got it. Mona Lisa smile." Click.

Second story about the photo is that in the top left corner you can see an out-of-focus stained-glass hummingbird hanging in my studio window. Mom made that, and my sisters graciously gave it to me after the fire. If you'd like to interpret that as Mom literally watching over my shoulder, be my guest.

PNW

Karen and I are home from a vacation in the Pacific Northwest to celebrate our anniversary. We spent three days in Seattle and two in Victoria B.C. I figure you don't really want to hear a long travelogue or see my 200-photo slide show, so just assume we saw and did all the things, got lucky with the weather, and had a great time.

Instead, I'll tell three stories in two photos. First is a spray of glass flowers by Dale Chihuly at the base of the Space Needle. Karen and I agree that the Chihuly Garden was a breathtaking highlight of our trip, a guaranteed must-see. 

Second is two stories in one photo. Story 1: there's a great bookstore in Victoria called Munro's that had one copy of the "Mom's Cancer Anniversary Edition." So if any readers in the vicinity want an autographed copy of the book, Munro's has one. I didn't stealth-sign it; I asked a clerk (I'm always astonished that when I say "I wrote this book, do you want me to sign it?" nobody ever asks for I.D.) and they put a sticker on it, so it's official. 

Story 2: We discovered a neat little hat shop in Victoria called Roberta's, where I finally found a hat I like. I've been looking for one for a long time, but choosing a hat is no simple chore. It's more like the hat has to choose you. So I explained to the clerk that I used to have a fedora-like hat I loved but lost years ago, and I've been looking for one since. I tried on the one I'm wearing in the photo and said, "I like it, but I don't want to look like Indiana Jones."

She replied, "Oh, I don't think you could ever look like Indiana Jones."

To which I said, "Thanks, that's very nice--HEY!!"

But she was good-natured about it so, despite the insult, I bought the hat. 

Good trip.

250 Words on the Colbert Questionert: Part One

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Talk show host Stephen Colbert sometimes challenges his guests to take the “Colbert Questionert,” which he says is meant to reveal a person’s soul but is mostly for fun. Since Colbert’s final “Late Show” episode airs May 21, I will never get the opportunity to have him quiz me (as if I had a chance otherwise), so I’ll share my answers here. 

His questions vary, but have included: 

Best sandwich? Reuben, although I could make a case for classic grilled cheese.

First concert? In high school, I took my friend Andrea to see Victor Borge. We were nerds. He was great.

Scariest animal? The spiny candiru fish of the Amazon, which reputedly swims upstream into human urethras, although scientists say those claims are exaggerated. 

Apples or oranges? I like both but if forced to choose: apples.

Cats or dogs? I have loved both but if forced to choose: dogs. 

Earliest memory? I remember climbing out of my crib.

Exercise: worth it? Absolutely! That doesn’t mean I will do it.

Have you ever asked someone for their autograph? Apollo astronaut Dick Gordon signed a model of his command module for me. Generally, autographs don’t mean much to me. I’d rather have a conversation. 

What happens when we die? I think we are the sum of the thoughts, personality, knowledge, and memories contained in our brains, and when our brains are gone, so are we. There's beauty in that. 

Favorite action movie? “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

More Colbert Questionert next week!

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250 Words on Reframing

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

I once read about a foreign diplomat who met with the elders of a remote village and was offered a cup of tea. The tea was a revolting, nearly undrinkable sludge, but it would have been a grievous insult to refuse. 

“Then,” he said something like, “I found that if I didn’t think of it as tea but rather as soup, it was actually pretty good.”

That stayed with me. Adjusting your perception of a situation can entirely change your feelings about it.

For example, we’ve all had a driver speed past us, weaving dangerously through traffic just to get a minute ahead. “They must be a surgeon on their way to an emergency operation,” I joke to anyone in the car, but I’m half-serious. I remember driving through the city at 2 a.m. to get to my wife in the hospital before my daughters were born, and strictly following traffic laws was not my top priority. 

Yes, the driver in that careening car is probably an angry, rude, arrogant idiot. But I don’t know that, or them, or what’s going on in their life. I might have looked exactly like them racing to the hospital in the middle of the night. Since I can’t do anything about it anyway, reframing the situation is a good way to get on with my day a bit less stressfully. 

I don’t know you. You don’t know me. Nobody’s always at their best. Let’s try to afford each other a bit of grace. 

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Book Launch by the Bay

Evidence of how beautiful a day on the Bay it was. This was on the ferry to San Francisco (if you're not familiar with the geography, the skyline of S.F. is just out of frame to the left). Alcatraz is on the right and the Golden Gate Bridge is in the background. Clear skies to the horizon.

Had a pretty good event at the Book Passage Bookstore in the San Francisco Ferry Building yesterday. Turnout was light--fewer than a dozen--which the store manager warned me might happen. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day in the City, and she explained that in her experience people would rather enjoy a blue-sky afternoon on the Bay than in a bookstore. 

Still, I got to take my new Mom's Cancer: Anniversary Edition talk for a spin (verdict: solid!), sold a few books, and met some good people. In addition, as my friends and readers may recall, yesterday was my daughters' birthday so we made a whole family day out of it.

Stack of books by the door. Book Passage actually stocked copies of ALL my books for people to buy, which is unusual. They went the extra mile.

My introduction. Most photos by my wife, Karen (thanks!).

Cartoonist/teacher/fellow-Abrams-author Justin Hall showed up to interview me as part of the program. I’ve met Justin a few times but don’t really know him, but his questions were so good and thoughtful, and our discussion so lively, it was like we’d planned and rehearsed it for weeks. I wish I could take him everywhere. Thanks so much, Justin! I owe you.

Justin Hall really did a fantastic job with this Q&A. As a cartoonist himself, he asked all the right questions and built thoughtfully on my answers without getting too deep in the weeds for "civilians." I could have talked with him for hours, and wouldn't mind a chance to do that sometime.

Book Passage had a nice display of Abrams books, which I was happy to see.

When you write a book like Mom's Cancer (or A Fire Story), you meet some extraordinary people in the signing line, and yesterday was no exception. My last was an older woman who’d just happened into the store while waiting for her ferry, and explained that her daughter had died of cancer three months ago and left her to care for her two grandsons. She cried, I almost cried, and she bought the book to help explain to the kids what had happened to their mother. 

Other graphic novelists don’t make those connections.

Thanks to Book Passage and Justin for a good launch on a great day.

The Book Passage store is inside San Francisco's historic ferry building, which for several months has been guarded by a giant woman made of steel and chicken wire. This sculpture was controversial when it was installed but I think people have come to appreciate her. I do.

Here's how hard my day's transportation was: the ferry that we took from Larkspur Landing to San Francisco, the "Mendocino," is on the right. The Book Passage store, as shown by the sign above the pedestrian walkway, is on the left. That's a short commute. When we were done we had dinner nearby and then caught the same ferry back toward home.

Happy Birthday, Pooters

Their first birthday party. More parties followed,
including one later today. They're neater eaters now. 

The Ides of March have had a bad reputation since 44 B.C.--thanks, Caesar!--but at least for me the date was redeemed when my daughters were born on it. Happy Birthday, Laura and Robin. Thank you for making me a Dad!

See You at S.F. Book Passage, Sunday at 2 p.m.

S.F. Bay Area Friends! If you find yourself near the San Francisco Ferry Building this Sunday, March 15 at 2 p.m., I'd sure appreciate it if you'd drop by the Book Passage Bookstore, listen to me talk, and maybe even buy a copy of Mom's Cancer: Anniversary Edition. I can think of worse ways to spend a beautiful day in a beautiful city! Thanks.

https://www.bookpassage.com/event/brian-fies-mom%E2%80%99s-cancer-anniversary-edition-ferry-building-event

The Intellectual Life #28

A Peek into the Intimate Intellectual Life of a Long-Married Couple, Part 28:

Me: "Can this serving spoon go into the dishwasher?"

Karen: "Yes."

Me: "I never know which can and which can't."

Karen: "Two of them are stainless steel and can go in the dishwasher. One is silver-plate and shouldn't."

Me: "I can't tell them apart."

Karen: "They're very different."

Me: "Not when you're only looking at one of them."

Karen: "The sliver-plate spoon has a daffodil pattern."

Me: "Now I have to be a BOTANIST?!"

Karen: "It's pretty obvious."

Me: "I'll just keep asking to be sure."

This has been a peek into the intimate intellectual life of a long-married couple. 

Review: "I Felt Myself In It."

Here's an insightful review from writer Susan Palmer, shared with my thanks. Nobody's opinion of Mom's Cancer means more to me than that of someone who's been through it themselves. 

"I didn’t understand until I read Fies’s book the kind of deep skill it takes to bring the right words and the right images together. His mother’s journey was quite different than mine. Yet I felt myself in it. For anyone in any stage of that landscape, I imagine the book may have that effect."

250 Words on the Next Guy

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Rebuilding my home taught me one nearly universal constant: no matter what trade you’re dealing with—concrete, framing, electrical, HVAC, tile, flooring, painting—the next guy you call in will tell you that the previous guy didn’t know what he was doing.

(I’m using “guy” generically, recognizing that both men and women can be skilled professional tradespeople, although my experience is limited to men.)

“Who put in this 20-amp circuit breaker?” asks the first guy. “Were they trying to burn down your house?” He puts in a 30-amp breaker.

“Who put in this 30-amp circuit breaker?” demands the next guy. “Were they trying to burn down your house?”

You seldom find such staggering levels of confident incompetence as you do when building a home. We did have a good prime contractor, and what made them good was that they recognized the work of bad subcontractors and corrected it fast. We also learned quickly ourselves.

It’s hard not to conclude that documents like the National Electrical Code or state Building Code, which to a layperson seem like detailed engineering manuals with explicit regulations for every situation and contingency, are matters of opinion and debate. More guidelines than rules, really.

I’ve mentioned my observation to a couple of tradespeople we've hired to do work for us, and every time they seem unamused and deeply insulted. And then they take a look at whatever the project is and say, “Whoever did this didn’t know what they were doing! Good thing you hired me!”

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BOOK EVENTS AHOY!

I wanted to announce three upcoming book talks and signings for the release of the Mom's Cancer: Anniversary Edition so you can put them on your calendars. Heck, why not attend all three? (Nobody but me should do that.)

March 15 at 2 p.m. I will be at Book Passage in the San Francisco Ferry Building. That's next Sunday already! Book Passage is one of the great West Coast independent bookstores that big-time authors make sure to hit when they're in the Bay Area, and they've always been good to me. 

April 9 at 7 p.m. I will be at the Copperfield's Books store in Montgomery Village, Santa Rosa, Calif. Copperfield's is another great indie chain whose support has meant a lot over the years. They're a real champion of local authors, with terrific managers and staff. 

May 16 at 2 p.m. I will be at the Charles M. Schulz Museum, also in Santa Rosa, Calif. I've attended and participated in so many events at the Schulz Museum that it feels like my home away from home, and the ones they held after the 2017 wildfires are personal and professional highlights for me. 

The last two events are not yet on their respective hosts' event calendars, but trust me: I'm booked.

I have other podcasts and interviews in the hopper, which I'll be sure to announce as they emerge. I have no real book tour planned. Those are a lot harder to come by these days. However, if any bookstore within the sound of my electrons is interested in hosting a talk and signing, please let me know!

Career Fair Day

I just spent four hours at a local high school's Career Fair with my pal, cartoonist Lex Fajardo, who is the creator of the Kid Beowulf comics series and editor at the Schulz Studio. Here's why I think that was a good use of my time:

1. Talking shop with Lex. 

2. Offering an alternative. We were surrounded by cops, firefighters, soldiers, engineers, grocery store managers, and many other career choices that there is nothing wrong with except they aren't cartoonists. We had several students and even a couple of teachers who thanked us just for being so different.

3. Approximately 37 out of 38 students couldn't have cared less that we were there, but that one out of 38 lit up like a sun. I would move mountains for the 38th kid.

4. Related: Lex and I agreed that if two people like us has been at OUR high school career fairs, we would have rooted to the spot and absorbed all we could. When I was a kid, I met people who did things I dreamed of doing, and realized that it wasn't magic; they just worked hard and did the things. If they could, then I could. Now I get to be one of those people for someone else. 

5. Free cookies.

That's a good afternoon. 

Review: Near Mint Condition

Here's an extraordinary take on the new edition by a YouTuber who reviews comics under the banner "Near Mint Condition" (I know his name but am not sure he wants it public). 

In more than 20 years of having my work scrutinized, I don't know if I've received a review this detailed, thoughtful, and compassionate. The reviewer read the story closely and brought his own life experience to it. That connection is what writing and reading is all about.

Thanks to my friend Chris Sparks for bringing it to my attention. If you have 13 minutes and are interested, I think it's worth a look! 

A Book Launch Q&A

Timed nicely with yesterday's launch of my new anniversary edition of Mom's Cancer, here's an interview with the Substack pub Autobiographix. This was a Q&A I did a few weeks ago with Amaris Ketcham, who I thought asked some good questions on topics I don't usually get asked about, such as my origin story and stylistic development. For being relatively brief, it goes pretty deep!

Thanks to Amaris and Autobiographix! It's a nice way to mark the occasion of putting a new (or at least updated) book into the world. 

250 Words on Paths

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Countless stories explore the idea of paths not taken, and how different some other direction might have been. Life can turn on a single choice, particularly when it eliminates other choices. You can’t help but wonder.

Existence only seems like an inevitable chain of events leading to Now in retrospect. At the time, it’s chaos. I can recall many seemingly trivial moments that changed the course of my life in ways I didn’t understand until much later.

Once, when I was a newspaper reporter, my editor bellowed across the newsroom asking if anyone wanted to take a weekend junket to cover an electric utility launching a high-tech energy storage project. Nobody else spoke up so I volunteered, and wrote a full-page feature on it. No big deal. Many years later, I applied for work as a science writer, and that article was the only thing I’d published that was relevant to the job. That began a new career for me, which led to freelance writing, which led to full-time cartooning. 

If I hadn’t been in the newsroom just then, or if someone else had spoken first, or if I’d made other plans for that weekend, I might have had an entirely different life. 

It’s natural to speculate on where that untraveled path would have led. I wish I’d handled some choices differently. But the way I see it, I can’t regret anything before my daughters were born, because every decision led to them and any different path would not have. 

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T-Minus One Week and Counting

Friends, very rarely do I post for naked promotional purposes, but my new/old book--the 20th Anniversary Edition of Mom's Cancer--is being released in exactly one week, on March 3. If you have any interest in owning this update of my first graphic novel, now with 32 more pages of content including 22 pages of new art, this would be an excellent time to order it.

As always, I encourage everyone to support their local heroic independent bookseller. Failing that, it's also available from the usual multinational corporations, and I won't think less of you. Make sure you get the new one with the pink spine. 

By way of encouragement, I'll repeat my offer of mailing a free signed bookplate to anyone who asks. Just send me your postal address (brianfiesATgmailDOTcom should do it), tell me how/if you want it inscribed, and I'll pop it in the mail. Honestly, I haven't yet received the bookplates from my printer, but I will soon and they'll look like this. Meanwhile, I've started a list.

I have some book signings and podcast appearances coming up, and will be sure to mention them as they get closer. 

Many thanks!

250 Words on Squaring the Circle

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

“Squaring the circle” is a geometry problem so infamous that it became a metaphor for an unachievable task. The challenge: construct a square with the same area as a given circle using only a compass and straight edge. It’s impossible because the area of a circle is a multiple of π (3.14159265…), a number with an endless stream of digits that can’t be translated into a square with those tools.

Nevertheless, centuries of crackpots have tried to square the circle. Including me.

A similar problem is trisecting an angle: it has been proven impossible to divide an arbitrary angle into three equal parts using a compass and straight edge. 

I can’t tell you how much time and paper I wasted trying to trisect an angle until I satisfied myself that it was at least impossible for me. 

Perpetual motion is the ultimate futile challenge. No device, no matter how you arrange its weights, pulleys, magnets or gears, can run forever without putting energy into it. Friction and other thermodynamic waste grind every machine down until it stops. No system is 100 percent efficient.

I know that. I believe that.

And yet the number of times I’ve thought, “But what if . . .”

For as long as I can remember, whenever someone told me something was impossible, I set out to prove them wrong, or at least prove to myself they were right. At worst, it provides light mental exercise. At best, there’s a Nobel Prize in it for me.   

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Robert Duvall

I've seen many fine and touching testimonials to the late actor Robert Duvall, with mentions of his great performances in "The Godfather," "Apocalypse Now," "The Great Santini," and more. But very few have mentioned this, my favorite scene of his ever, from the movie "Secondhand Lions." 

If you haven't seen it, it's a good movie with a great cast, and even a bit of artwork by "Bloom County" cartoonist Berke Breathed. Recommended.

When I began my "Last Mechanical Monster" webcomic back in, oh, 2012 or 2013, I thought of two actors whom I'd love to portray my old mad scientist, Sparky, if anyone ever wanted to make a live-action movie of it. First was Christopher Plummer. Second was Robert Duvall. Both are gone now, and since nobody's clamoring to make that movie I guess I lost my chance. 

Sparky in action. See if you can imagine Duvall in the role.

250 Words on Stuff that Isn't for You

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

One of the milestones of maturity is realizing that not everything is made or meant for you. 

Other people can love music, literature, entertainment, food, or sports that you find inexplicable, confusing, repulsive, inane. It’s fine! Believing that is a big step in accepting you’re not the center of the universe. 

Too many argue the opposite: “I hate it, it’s bad, and anyone who likes it is stupid.” How small-minded. 

Take Taylor Swift.*

Early in her career, I was dismissive. Lightweight pop. But as her career grew, so did my appreciation for her work and work ethic.

Swift’s songs weren’t made for middle-aged men like me, and I wasn’t living the lives of kids to whom her lyrics spoke. She was an artist for them, not me, and while I’ve come to like some of her songs, I could never love her like they do.

She also seems like a decent person, a refutation of the axiom that there are no ethical billionaires. Millions pay money to hear her sing. I see no crime. 

I try not to judge any art as “good” or “bad.” De gustibus non est disputandum. I prefer Roger Ebert’s standard: Does the work achieve its intended purpose? If so, it’s a success. The strongest criticism I’ll level publicly is, “It’s not for me.”

Of course, the corollary of “Not all art is meant for you” is “Your art isn’t meant for everybody.” Accept some audience indifference and trust that the right people will find you.

*Or Bad Bunny.

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Lost and Found on the USS Hornet

Here's a neat TV news story from my daughter Laura's aircraft carrier, the USS Hornet Sea, Air and Space Museum: a museum volunteer poking around some compartments of the ship that have been locked up since the Hornet was decommissioned in 1970 found a sailor's old high school class ring. The ring provided enough clues to identify the sailor and locate his family! 

Aside from the heartwarming story, I love the idea that there are still deep recesses of the ship that have yet to be fully explored. An aircraft carrier, even an old one like the Hornet, really is like a small city at sea.

250 Words on Thunder and Lightning

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Thunderstorms are my favorite meteorological phenomenon. The flash, the boom, the gut-thrumming rumble. The familiar world is transformed into something alien and frightening. You are small and nature is immense, but indoors you’re reasonably safe and can enjoy the show. 

Thunderstorms are rare where I live now, in northern California not far from the Pacific. We don’t have the violently colliding air masses and geography to create them. But I grew up in South Dakota, where the smell of ozone in the wind was a herald announcing their imminent arrival. You could see the front advancing toward you, black clouds gathering over the horizon, lit from within by arcing sparks. 

Ball lightning is an unusual phenomenon that scientists aren’t even sure is real, but my grandparents always swore they saw a cloud of sparkling light float down their chimney and dance around the living room before evanescing into the air. I’d pay good money to witness that.

Probably the most awe-inspiring natural phenomenon I ever saw happened one night I was flying out of Dallas during a thunderstorm. Our plane broke through a deck of clouds to find another deck above us, with rain filling the gap between them. Every few seconds, lightning flashed between the decks, illuminating distant funnel clouds connecting the layers above and below us, like pillars in a vast and empty warehouse. 

We quickly broke through the top deck into clear skies, but I’ll never forget that vision of Hell or Heaven, I wasn’t sure which.

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Viva Bad Bunny!

Bad Bunny with Lady Gaga

So I guess I'm a Bad Bunny fan now.

I'm not compelled to speak out on all the passing controversies of the day, but I had some thoughts on Mr. Bunny's Super Bowl performance I haven't seen anyone else express.

First, no, I don't speak Spanish. That's not a deal-breaker for me. I don't speak Italian, either, but I'd still go to an opera. Plus, the sound quality in Levi's Stadium was such that I doubt even native Spanish speakers understood many of his lyrics unless they already knew the songs. 

I was impressed by three things. First, the propulsive energy of Mr. Bunny's performance. It reminded me of Bruno Mars's Super Bowl show in 2014. Before that I was aware of Mars, of course, but he attacked that performance with such joyful intensity that I instantly became a fan. Same with Mr. Bunny yesterday.

Second was the stagecraft. He and his team built and then disassembled a Puerto Rican cane field, a casita, a bodega, an entire community of musicians and dancers and street vendors and power poles, in the middle of a football field during a break in the game. The choreography was astounding--everyone had to be in exactly the right spot at the right time, from a bartender who handed Mr. Bunny a shot glass to a kid sleeping on a bench (who a lot of people are saying was Liam Conejo Ramos, the boy in the blue knit cap who was kidnapped by ICE, but it wasn't him). 

Third was the storytelling. I didn't know the words but I certainly understood the story Mr. Bunny told of community, tradition, hard work, family celebration--you know, all the classic American values. The entire show was as wholesome and, dare I say, as conservative as could be, right down to the real wedding performed in the middle of it and his "God Bless America" (in English) at the end of it. 

I found it all much more interesting and entertaining than the usual band standing on a stage singing their greatest hits. As a storyteller myself I admire and appreciate masterful storytelling from others, and Mr. Bunny delivered for me. Your mileage may vary.

250 Words on the Secret

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

Occasionally I’m asked to critique someone’s writing or cartooning, and give them advice on how to build a career.

I’ve learned to be wary.

First, nine out of ten people who ask my opinion don’t really want it. They want to be told their work is fantastic and they don’t need to change a jot. So the first thing I try to figure out is whether I’m talking to one of those folks, or to the one out of ten who genuinely wants feedback and is professional enough to take it.

Sometimes people want to know “the secret”: the password, the trick, the right person to approach with the right pitch. Once in a while, they’ll even ask me to do it for them—make the connection, grease the wheels, get them in the door to make a deal.

Of course the real secret is that there isn’t one, and I don’t have the influence they think I do. Even if I wanted to, there is nobody I can call who would offer them the “Standard Rich and Famous Contract” that Orson Welles gave Kermit the Frog. 

Every successful creative person I know has a different story about how they made it. Their way probably won’t work for you. Sit down, do the work, and put it out into the world however you can. If anyone likes something you did, do more of that. Get rejected. Get experience. Get better. Get noticed. Get paid. 

That’s the only secret I know. 

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LumaCon 2026

An overview of the main room at the Petaluma Recreation Center. Other vendors and events were set up in surrounding rooms and outdoor spaces.

I had to take a quick spin through my favorite little comics convention in the world this morning, even though I couldn't commit to tabling this year. Librarians put on the LumaCon Comic Convention for Youth in Petaluma, Calif. to support kids' creativity, promote reading, and give young creators a chance to mingle and mix with professionals. It's free and has a bake sale. What's not to love?

I did a lap, said Hello to lots of friends, bought some books, and then headed out to the rest of my busy day. I'm glad I made the effort. It's a great event run by great people for all the right reasons.

Cartoonist Tom Beland greeted me as I entered the big room.

Nearby, Andrew Farago from the Cartoon Art Museum, his wife cartoonist Shaenon Garrity, and their son Robin.

Comic book artist extraordinaire Brent Anderson.

Cartoonist and Schulz Studio staffer Denis St. John, autographing a book I bought from him.

Another Schulz staffer, editor and "Kid Beowulf" cartoonist Lex Fajardo.

Maia Kobabe, author of one of the most banned books in the U.S., "GenderQueer." We had a nice conversation about graphic medicine.

I also ran into Schulz Studio head and cartoonist Paige Braddock, best known for the comic strip "Jane's World" and her new series for kids, "Peanut, Butter & Crackers."

Down a hall from the big room was space set aside for people who just wanted to sit quietly and draw. It was full. Another example of why I love this event.

Keywords/Keyimages

From the mailbag: my copy of a new book titled Keywords/Keyimages in Graphic Medicine, edited by Lisa Diedrich and Briana Martino, which Pennsylvania State University Press was kind enough to send me because I'm one of about 60 cartoonists, professors, and deep-thought-thinkers who helped write it.

This is an academic book, aimed at people teaching or working in the field of graphic medicine. I wrote three essays for it, titled "Metaphor," "Space/Time," and "Subtext," all illustrated with art from Mom's Cancer. 

The assignment, as I understood it, was to take an interesting image from the text and analyze what its intent was and how I used the unique tools and tropes of cartooning to achieve it. Some of the literary analysis dives pretty deep, and it's fascinating to hear cartoonists explain their thinking in their own words. Lisa and Briana have been working on the book for several years, and I think it's a really neat approach to understanding comics in a way that's reminiscent of Scott McCloud's work. 

I'm happy and proud to be a small part of this thing, which I think will be an interesting and useful contribution to the field for a long time.

250 Words on Pre-Electric Entertainment

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

I’m fascinated by mechanical contraptions and entertainment media created before the harnessing of electricity. For example, I think a pendulum clock is just about the most wonderous device humans have ever conceived. 

I love old-timey record players: Edison cylinders, Victrolas, etc. We used to have a Pathe Freres Actuelle spring-powered phonograph from about 1920 that came down through the family, and I played 78s on it quite often. It transported me to a time when a wooden box brought all the music of the world into your home. What a revelation it would have been!

I also have a niche interest in stereoscopic images. Think of the classic Viewmaster toy, but a hundred years earlier. Almost as soon as photography was invented, clever people thought of shooting two photos side by side and placing them in a lensed viewer so that the left eye saw one image, the right eye saw the other, and an illusion of depth was achieved. 

A well-appointed turn-of-the-century parlor might have had hundreds of stereo cards, neatly filed in elegant cases, for visitors to amuse themselves with for hours. Three-dimensional tours of the Holy Land and other exotic locales were a popular subject for people who could never visit them themselves. 

These days you can buy a good-quality antique viewer for less than $100, and cards for $5 to $10 each. I particularly like to find vintage stereo views of places I’ve been. Between them and phonographs, Victorians could experience the world without leaving home. 

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Unboxing

I'm not cool enough to shoot an unboxing video, so how about an unboxing photo? "Mr. McFly! Mr. McFly! This just arrived! I think it's your new book!" said Karen when UPS dropped it off, because that's the ritual in OUR house. 

Presenting the 20th Anniversary Edition of Mom's Cancer, soon to be on bookshelves near you. In has 32 pages of new content, including 22 new pages of comics that tell what happened after the original book ended. It's the ultimate, definitive edition!

It should be in stores in early March. If you have any interest in buying a copy, it would be a big help if you'd pre-order it now, either from your local bookstore (preferred) or online retailer. Pre-orders tell bookstores and everyone up the chain to the publisher how well they can expect the book to do, and it's important to make a good first impression.

Plus, I will renew my traditional offer of mailing a free signed bookplate to anyone who wants an autographed book and sends me their mailing address. (Honestly, I haven't ordered those bookplates yet, but it's top of my to-do list!) Such a deal!

It's always a great day to hold your new book in your hands. They smell wonderful. Mom would've loved it.

250 Words on Jury Duty

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

I’ve been called for jury duty often but selected only once, when I was in my mid-20s and working as a newspaper reporter. I thought my job would disqualify me; it didn’t. I served about a week on a rape trial. 

That trial had a “Perry Mason twist” dramatic enough for television. The defense attorney tried to shake the victim’s credibility by claiming she couldn’t even describe where the attack took place. For example, she said it was in a car about half a mile from a highway, while other evidence suggested the distance was more like 40 yards. Then the prosecutor stood and asked:

“How far apart are you and I right now?”

“A hundred feet,” she answered. 

After lunch, the prosecutor produced a tape measure, stretched it between them, and asked her to read the length: 12 feet. 

Everyone on the jury instantly got the point: the victim was an unusually bad judge of distance. That didn’t make her a liar or impeach the essence of her testimony. She just couldn’t look at something and tell you how far away it was.* 

We deliberated thoroughly, giving the defendant the benefit of every reasonable doubt. Everyone took the responsibility profoundly seriously. Then we found him guilty.

People moan when they get a jury summons, and strategize ways to get out of it, but I think everybody should serve on a jury at least once. I left satisfied and proud, with more faith in my fellow citizens and the system.

.

* I still think about what a gamble that was for the prosecutor. It seemed like a completely spontaneous and unrehearsed question on his part. What if she’d answered it correctly?

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