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.

Friday, June 06, 2003


Picking up of where I left off on Tuesday's entry-

Both my aunts back in the mid-seventies owned Volkswagon Beetles ( and they sure lasted a long time- when I went to move in with my aunt Peggy- oops, I mean Aunt Megan-- she had her name changed legally- back in '85, that bug was still chugging along). However, those doors and windows are not securely equipped to handle 250 pounds of hulking beer inebriated muscle. My aunt Megan ran in fear of her life because the ROGER had snapped again. If you did agree with his logic of worldly events, he would usually try to make you understand by lingering intimidation or he was going to beat it into you. His fists usually won the debate. So out the patio window, I could see, and not only could I see, but several kids I hung out with in the apartment complex could see the whole episode on a hilltop looking down our parking lot my crazed out stepfather chasing my aunt around her volkswagons. My aunt finally reached her driver side of the car and rolled up the windows as the ROGER pounded his fists on the windows and had busted the window. My aunt had a unfinished KFC chicken dinner lying on the passenger seat of the car and she took it and flung it with all her might at the ROGER . And it was a good throw too, as she was into mountainclimbing at the time and I'm sure she had put a lot of weight behind it. It had connected with the ROGER's mean scowl, hard enough to make him flinch and release the steering wheel so that she could floor it.She sped so fast that the wheels screeched and spun on the pavement.

But this episode is still far from over. My stepfather ran up and told my mom that she had our dog with her all the time in the back seat of her car. My mom was appalled for once with the ROGER's flailing temper and sided with my aunt. Next thing I know, while the ROGER was about to step foot in the bathroom. I heard a loud smack and then I saw my mom go flying across the hallway and her head hit the side of my bedroom door. And now she was out cold....

So I stood there and....... I'm going to have to continue this on Monday...

Dispense with the drill...



Thursday, June 05, 2003


It's one of those weeks when my immediate life becomes the studio and there is little time for anything else when an entire shitload of paperwork comes crashes down with a dull thud on my desk. I can probably spare an hour here or there tonight to work on some DM or watch one of those shorts on the Animatrix DVD- but I definitely want to pick up where I left off on the RAMPAGING ROGER SHOW. Hopefully tomorrow.



Tuesday, June 03, 2003


Still continuing with my tribute to my misanthrope maniac of a stepfather.

This is absolutely my most favorite memory of the ROGER on a rampage and for once it didn't involve me.

Both my aunts (who were twins) made plans to move out to California (they sort of inspired my exodus to sunny weather climates). One aunt Priscilla made her move in the early seventies as soon as she graduated college- My other aunt Peggy stayed out in New Jersey a while longer until maybe the middle of the decade. She used to hang with my sister and I on weekend nights over at the apartment (which was now upgraded to two bedrooms- we simply moved around the block within the same apartment complex that had two bedrooms- but I had to share mine with my sister), even babysitting us if my mom and the ROGER stepped out for the evening. One day in, maybe it was '74 or '75, she decided to make her move out west.

One of the things that we excelled in when it came to breaking lease policy, was hiding out pets. We had a small short haired terrier and for some forgotten reason, management discoverd we had the dog. We were told to get rid of it, but didn't know who to give it to. So my aunt Peggy said she knew someone who would watch it temporary. We relinquished the dog to her care and for approximately two weeks, the ROGER began to slowly crack up. He was missing the dog that he used to enjoy beating at 3 in the morning when he would come home from bartending. One day my aunt came over to tell us she was leaving for California within the week. The ROGER got ahold of this information and wanted to know the number of the people who were watching our dog. My aunt told him no way - you gave the dog up and it has a new home and they don't want to give it up.

Upon hearing that, I saw something totally unexpected, The ROGER ran up to her and started punching my aunt like she was a sack of flour. He punched her in one of her breast or gave it a GI JOE kung fu grip if I remembered correctly. Then she ran screaming down the hallway to outside to where her car was parked with The ROGER hot on her heels.

To be continued.....

I got to punch out because you know, the fifteen minutes are up,



Monday, June 02, 2003


This week I'm resuming the Stepfather smack Coatney in the Chops week. the grade school wonder years.

I have a very vivid memory of the first time that ROGER fist of juvenile justice sent me sprawling across the room. It was way back in Kindergarden- and I knew, even though I couldn't read at the time, that I was bringing home my very first bad report card from school- so I thought I do one of those adolescent conspiracy theory things- ditch the report card so your parents don't find out or least stall for some time. I think while walking home from school, I conveniently dropped the card in someone's front lawn and attempted to bury it in some weeds or a pile of raked autumn leaves. I thought it was a genius masterplan at the time, but little did I comprehend that the owner of that property simply found the card and returned it to the school. It wound up being mailed to my house, and when my mom confronted me about the issue, I just blatantly told her that it must have fell out of my bookbag or something to that effect- but my mom didn't buy the casual explanation and had made me confess about burying it under someone's raked leave pile. Then the ROGER got wind of it- and even though he was sick in bed with the flu, snatched the report card and started to go over it with me. I remember most of it being in diagram form and underneath each graphic or a depiction of what a student does in class, either being attentive in class by raising his hand, or taking a nap- there was a letter grade. And since I got shit marks across the boards and since I was kicked out of nursery school, costing my stepfather a bundle of money, he wasn't going to hear about it. As he went over the card, he pointed out everything I did wrong and each item he nitpicked about he then proceeded to smack me across the face with the back of his hand and I went and hit the wall a few times, almost connecting with the radiator. My mom came to the rescue until she had seen enough, and told me I was to be grounded in my room. But as soon as I got in my room, I realized my hamster had escape from it's cage and crawled up my drapes. So I figured the only way to get the hamster down was to yank the whole goddamn drapes down from its' hinges. The sound of the drapes being ripped from the wall was enough to break the ROGER's fever. Then I got it twice from my stepfather in one day.

What galls me to this very day was the fact that this guy had no legal right to lay on me- but I wasn't the only immediate family member to feel the wrath of the ROGER.

To be continued - when I have a spare fifteen minutes,