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.

Tuesday, December 09, 2003


My whole entire last week was a wreck which accumulated with me coming down with the flu (a lot of the country has been succumbing to illness and some are not making it back alive! THE GERMS ARE LOOSE!!) With forty just around the corner from me, tension reigns high in whether I should be getting flu shots or not. I'm not usually one that gets sick a lot- maybe a ballpark figure of once or twice a year. I think I may have one of the best immune systems ever devised by Mother Nature- they are some days that I know I can tiptoe through a black plague because of my constitution and if my memory serves me my reputation as a germ warrior hasn't been vanquished for a period of six year at one time- back when I was purchasing manager for a vitamin distributor in Solana Beach, Ca But now that ugly forty is creeping up I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing or has helped me in the long run. I think I should start tinkering with my immune system, invest in some nutrition plan and get back to a daily regiment of salads, smoothies, and garlic tablets; because lately, I feel like a fucking mess. Regardless of having no visible wrinkle or lines on my face and I still have a full head of hair of which is always shoulder length - there are those out there placing bets on how long is my luck going to last.

John Lindsay's passing still bothers the fuck out of me to the point that I think I may have experienced some serious anxiety attacks and I have to chalk it to my unimposing position of trying to wear three hats - that of a small press publisher and writer, a MIS Computer Operator for a major motion picture company, and now back to a where I left off being a purchasing manager for a small mom and pop operation . I mean, it fucking gnaws at me, that the doctors gave the poor guy too much anesthesia and they let him choke on it throughout the night. All through the ten years since I've known the guy, we may have been at each other's throats about political and religious issues and he could be hypocritical without even realizing it - the most fun I could ever have was to always catch him contradicting himself and then he would get all pissed off about it and there would be days I would wind up being kicked out of the store or told to go get my comics someplace else. But we always managed to kiss and make up. I think we both had some silent mutual respect for each other- I think he understood that I'm finally doing what I've always wanted to do and that was to express myself creatively through the Deposit Man and I've come around to the way he wanted to run things (most of our brawls revolved around the carrying of independent titles on the shelves) which was to do nothing but sell Pokemon cards. Who can really stay mad at a seventy year old guy who in hop in a tournament with a bunch of teenage Yu-gi-oh card players? But this thing with the doctors- I wouldn't want to wish this on my worst enemy. The day I heard John died, I was just debating with my co-workers on affronting $450 for the Motion Picture Medical Fund that I'm supposed to sign up for through my union. What good is health care if the doctors are accidently going to tuck you in for the big sleep anyway?

I'm hoping for is for this comic book store to change hands so that maybe I can get back some money that I helped put into the place and take that money to put it into the production of my next Deposit Man installment.

So, here I am today in front of the keyboard, armed with my cold virus defenses of Cold-Eeze, A Dr. Robek's Coldbuster smoothie, and a box of tissues. Oh, can't forget the Theral Flu- I'm so doped up on cold medication that even nekkid pictures of girls on the web is having a negative impact effect on me.

If anyone actually reads this- you should drop me a line at my e-mail address: and let me know if I'm doing a shitty job or not at keeping this blog . I should mention that with every entry that I post on here. I also have a yahoo group, but fuck, if I'm too lazy to cut and paste it right now.

In the news: The second act of my new Deposit Man opus, The Last Great Gate of Mortality is now being worked on. Larry Nadolsky has the first three pages in the can and will be lending some of the finishes down to Oliver and Mas, my two local homies - so I can free up Larry to catch up on his other overdue projects. Case in point: Larry's Race Yukon character appears in the Janurary 2004 issue of Heavy Metal- it just came out last Tuesday, so there should be plenty of copies to squander from your friendly newsdealer.

I've got confirmation that the new book will be solicited through FM International next month as well.

I've bought space at APE. That won't be happening until February of next year. All I know at this point is that my application has been approved and my check has been cashed. Usually when a check is cashed before the application deadline, that's a good sign that I'm in.

Steven Grant, who writes a column for took the Deposit Man out for a spin- although I should note the correction to him that it is titled the Deposit Man and the Last Great Gate of Mortality Act One and not the Deposit Man # 1. For the simple reason that I've already published two books called the Deposit Man Kaleidoscopic Medicine Freak Show and the Deposit Man Survival Guide to the Afterlife. People may find this a little off-kilter; but...I don't believe in numbering my books. I look at it as each book being an installment or a chapter of a ditzy magnum opus - plus I like paying homage to the way Peter Gabriel used to release his albums- They were four albums all called Peter Gabriel until a new record contract with Geffen put the ixnay on it and started putting stickers on the shrinkwrap with the title Geffen came up with without Gabriel's approval. Since then they've been all remastered and now have been repackaged under new titles: Car, Scratch, Melt, and Security .

Anyway, waltzing off my prog rock tangent, here's what Steven Grant had to say in his November 19th edition of his Permanent Damage column that's featured weekly on :

<< THE DEPOSIT MAN #1 (Landscape Productions; $2.95)

Wow. I've got to think this is what would happen if Quentin Tarantino decided to do a comic book. Lots of characters, lots of dialogue that's occasionally interesting in its own right but virtually always dead ends and has nothing to do with the story for reasons that quickly become obvious, lots of fixations on things like homosexuality, and (here's the reason I was talking about) no story. Larry Nodalsky produces some nice fannish artwork, but, man, here's the bad news for writer Cary Coatney: this is one bad comic book. The good news is there's something gloriously bad about it, and I'll take my hat off to that. Say what you want about THE DEPOSIT MAN, at no time does Coatney ever wimp out. It's bad, but it's a genuine accomplishment nonetheless.

I was literally both virtually speechless and mortified when I first glanced at it- for two reasons: A.) Someone actually took the time to read the book and wrote some constructive criticism about it- which is something I've practically been searching my whole life for. For the last two books, I've gotten mixed bag of e-mails- some praise and some nays - but there's nothing worth pulling out to share -
or to quote in advertising I mean how many times can one say, 'hey I thought this book was fantastic or this book sucks?' It doesn't really tell me much; if it was fantastic- what made the book fantastic for you? Was it funny, did you find the storyline reverent in comparison to what's going on out there in the real world? Could one be more analytical, especially considering the fact in Survival Guide, that I logged in a lot of research in the deceased celebrity guest stars and some of the gay issues that is running rampant throughout the story. In Survival Guide, my basic premise was here's the guy stuck in this environment he doesn't really want to be in and is a pubic hair away from having the only ruminant of his identity stripped from him. He decides that his pride in being gay, his individuality is not going to taken from him and he's going to take action even if it means making rash decisions. And if the book did suck, could you be more precise? Was it the art? Was it the writing? (of course- who else would take the blame?) Or could it have been the shoddy production? I mean, in this biz, I gotta know what I'm doing right or wrong. I thrive for it. B.) Like my comic, this is the most bizarre little capsule review I ever read for anyone, including myself. Steve points out that it is a bad comic book (on my part) but awards me points on the genuine conception presentation. I sure hope it shows - I did pour a junkload of money (and sigh...I'm ready to do it all over again over the next couple of months ) into it as compared to my last two efforts. As for the no story comment, well I have to admit to Steven, I gave him a copy of the new Deposit Man thinking that he was not going to read it and gave it to him as a courtesy as that we're both Delphiforums members. If I had know he was going to read it, I would have given him copies of the previous two books - then he might have a inclination that maybe something is going on rather than setting him up to walk in the middle of something. Maybe Steven saw it or not, but I did put a story synopsis of what had gone on before on the inside of the front cover.

But that doesn't dispute the elation that there's finally a review out on my book!
I was so excited that I read Steven's entire capsule review - out loud at the Thanksgiving dinner at my house when it came time around the table to say what one has to be thankful for.

It took roughly seven years for my creation to see fruition. I'm finally thankful that's there's some recognition for my imagination, good or bad.