The Purple Pinup Guru Platform

When purple things are pulsating on your mind, I'm the one whose clock you want to clean. Aiding is Sparky, the Astral Plane Zen Pup Dog from his mountain stronghold on the Northernmost Island of the Happy Ninja Island chain, this blog will also act as a journal to my wacky antics at an entertainment company and the progress of my self published comic book, The Deposit Man which only appears when I damn well feel like it. Real Soon Now.

Monday, October 27, 2003

(aka No Deposit, No Return editorial page)

What transpires below is the editorial page that appears in my new book- coming off the printer literally as we speak- (they just called me at work just to tell me that there was a billing discrepancy - somehow I still owe them $16.00 for shipping charges even though the price of shipping was discussed and set upon in my quota.) and I will be seeing the final product for the very first time once I step foot in Vegas. For every book I happen to sling mud with, I usually like to rant aimlessly about stuff that pisses me off in this precious circle we call life. Hopefully some of it will make sense and will make a profound impact in your life - if you're one of those that enjoys getting a jackhammer lap dance from a Caltrans worker. BUT if it doesn't - then you're not really missing much, and just hope you buy the book for the pretty pictures and profanity. I usually call these sections of previously published or unpublished pieces - the HALFASS section of this blog. Please enjoy and revel in my stench of the proverbial unedited version.

Well folks, I'm back after a long hiatus with renewed vigor and hopefully we'll be seeing each other on a regular basis henceforth on. I don't have to point out to you that there have been a lot of changes in the overall look of the book- but I'm pretty much committed to publishing the ten issues I originally wrote a few years back. So the current tally as of right now is 4 down and 6 to go (counting the 'pilot episode' in the 1999 Death Comics anthology, Malice) . And by the time, the final one comes out and if the sales or the character warrant popularity- I'll make more, but I don't necessary know at this point, if I want to continue writing any future installments without assistance (I've still got other four color fish to fry concerning other ideas and concepts).

I tried to get this book out sooner - but as they say in the waiting room to hear news of whether John Ritter made it through the night or not, there were serious complications.

Let's take a little trip back to the summer of 2002-
and in that notoriously wicked summer of 2002, the proclivity to share this dysphorian universe with the likes of a despot accused of manufacturing weapons of mass destruction combined with an equally whacked out Republician president dry drunkingly anxious to press the nulifying button all in the name of Alley Quida, tagged along with a nutcase British prime minister who is consistently under the disillusion that he is more Texan than Anna Nicole Smith is absolutely staggering. Mix and shake well with cold calculating pre- meditating child killers, and pedophile priests with stiffies towards Kathy Lee Gifford's satan spawned offspring and we have a heady brew to leisurely sip on that is more potent than a liquid plumber martini served chilled by a Hilary Duff look-a-like waitress with swaying asscheeks on a rudimentary beach located somewhere in Rosarita as I collide my head hard on the top of a no-host bar in a stupor of imaginary dead-

That was the period I originally intended to release this book- but I figured society had enough going on its' plate without me chiming in with another Excedrin treated migraine conceived from my whining about how politics and religion don't make good bedfellows at a party mixer.

Vacation time is now offically over.

To be brutually honest, a lot of shit has changed since I last released a Deposit Man book. December of 2001, to be exact. Shorty after I released the Deposit Man Survival Guide to the Afterlife, a good friend and former roommate of mine passed away under my watch, then I immediately got into some squabbles with some associates in New York, particularily one inker who imagined himself to be such a prestige editor and deliriously claimed that I stole the publication rights of the character out right from under him ( a usual occurance while under the influence of smoking moldy old socks and since I can't name names in public for the eventuality or a slander suit- all you have to do is compare last issue credits to this issue's credits to find who the true culprit is). In other words, his services were immediately jettisoned.

My last publisher, Mark Capuano had to bail on the book due to other work commitments and had made enough money to move out of the state of California and start up a company doing what he loves to do (although I don't necessarily view that as a good thing). He's certainly had fun in helping me out and wishes you all dear readers the best.

But that doesn't quite change the fact that all this left me in quite the genital warted pickle.

So the time came to hire a new crew to continue on with my 'visionquest' in admonishing all religious fruitcakes and their hypocritical closed minded views and parodying it through the power of words and pretty little pictures, I mean, there's no better time than now in taking U.S. District Judge Myron Thompson out for a little walk and beat some sense in his head with a chunk of that statue that he so fond of. I bet even Moses himself would love to get a whack or two in just for wasting 'dead air' space in the pointless demonstration that this country is just as hung up and brainwashed over silly fairy tales just as much as those across the Mediterranean who lodge pipe bombs with nails in them all in the name of peace and prosperity regardless of whether hapless little children are standing in the way or not.

To be fair, all religious beliefs are under my scrunity, so don't think any of you are getting off easy, even my glorious atheism is prone to suffer- it's just I'm so sick of hearing people sprout an endless shitstream of rhetoric of whether or not my religion is better than your religion every single fucking day of the week- AND THe TIME IS NOW TO TAKE OVER THE REINS!
So, I lock myself in a airtight vault and I disenfranchise myself from the rest of the harebrained society, only to emerge a few times for a breath of stale air and remain fortunate enough to introduce to you to the new kids:

Larry Nadolsky is still here- but after this book, his duties will be minimized to providing layouts - it just isn't a Deposit Man book without Larry's cinematic pacing and kooky looking facial expressions.

Ok, so a lot of folks weren't digging on the positive/negative approach I took in the concepts of the last two covers- so I had to hire a new guy to 'paint' the new covers and give in to the demands of what retailers and readers were clamoring for- just a little dab of color.

That new guy is Masekela Polee- a very, very talented guy that I just happened to meet by chance on a Los Angeles transit bus as he was showing off a 96 page graphic novel project that he himself went and had printed up at a Kinko's. I so was stunned by his unique layouts and inking technique that it took some major coaxing to sway him to my team before someone else snatched him up - now with this first cover, I'm scared that someone actually will retain his services.

Another new guy taking over from Mark is Oliver Simonsen. I first met Oliver back in 1997 while serving as the small press coordinator for the San Diego Comic Book Convention. Back then, Oliver was self publishing a little admired book amongst the committee staff called Captain Zap. I realized that Oliver was a Los Angelo such as myself and kept in touch with him over the years, we even went as far as to collaborate together on one of my 'anti-Christmas' cards that I produce myself for close family and friends who just refuse to see the joke behind such excursions that the holidays do nothing more than bring more unnecessary pain and suffering into their lives. THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS YOU NITWIT! Unless you happen to be Oliver who will come through for you in a pitch when it comes time to fed ex stuff to the printer.

And then there's Alan Sinder, who is at the time as I write this out in Japan doing the hell knows what- but he provided all the pretty logos. I'll talk more about him when he comes back. Probably by then, the next issue will be out.

Hopefully, we'll all reconvene in February when I hope to premiere Act Two.

Cary Coatney

September 15, 2003


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