San Diego Comic Fest!

April 19th, 2018

Hi Family, Friends and Fans (and those of you who are both)!

This weekend I’ll be appearing at the San Diego Comic Fest, one of my favorite shows. I’ll be on lots of panels and will be signing and selling my publications at my tables. It’s a terrific low key event that’s pretty much only about comics (except at this one we’re also celebrating the big anniversary of the publication of Frankenstein and the Frankenstein movies, too).

See you soon, I hope!

Raven News: There isn’t any. He’s hasn’t left anything in my bird bath for a few days now. I hope he’s OK… I left some glass jewels and fine sparkly objects for him. He might have thought those items were from another raven, so perhaps he bowed out of the competition, feeling he couldn’t compete. I hope not!

Saga of the Raven: Part Five

April 10th, 2018

No gifts yet today. I set out some colorful glass jewels for the raven.

Yesterday he left me the meat part of a burger. The day before that I received a chunk of cooked chicken breast.

In researching owls, I could find no mention of the weird sounds being made by what I thought was a great horned owl. I assumed it was a great horned owl because that’s the species I’ve been mostly seeing (we had barn owls in the neighborhood a long time ago) — and it eventually lapsed into the who-hooing sound I was familiar with. According to my research, the owls that live in this area and make weird sounds like I heard are the elf owl, barred owl, spotted owl and short-eared owl. If I had been able to see the owl, knowing its size might have helped in identification. Hopefully, it will return and I’ll be able to see it.

Saga of the Raven: Part Four

April 7th, 2018

No raven gift yet today. Yesterday the raven left me the top of a hamburger bun (with sesame seeds). My grandson Jesse said, “Too bad he left it in the water.”

Two nights ago at about 11:30 PM or so, I heard a hideous screeching outside. It repeated a number of times. I thought it might be a coyote, screeching to attract a dog. I went outside to investigate. I ran into my new neighbor Danielle, who was walking her little dog. She had stopped to try to determine what those cries were from and where they were coming from.

The cry rang out again, like nothing I’ve ever heard, sort of a cross between a demon, a hawk and a medium-sized dog. Really creepy! I determined it was coming from the top area of my neighbor’s tall Atlas cedar tree. Then the call transformed into something familiar.

“It’s a great horned owl!”

I couldn’t see it it but I heard its “Hoo-hoo”. Mystery solved, except for figuring out why it was making that really weird call before its hoo-hoos.

Saga of the Raven: Part Three

April 5th, 2018

Yesterday my raven gift took the form of half a peanut butter sandwich (on white bread).

Today I discovered an alligator lizard head, vertebrae and forelimb with paw in my front yard birdbath.

The weird thing about that gift was the lizard head. Somehow, the raven was able to remove the skull and jaw bones of the lizard while keeping all of the head’s skin intact, making it look like a miniature lizard hand puppet. I don’t know if I could accomplish that using fine dental tools, much less a large, heavy beak and sharp foot claws.

I’ve been leaving peanuts for the raven but the squirrels here get to them before the raven arrives. I want the raven to associate me with being the source of the peanuts so that he will feel more comfortable in my presence. Wish me luck!

Saga of the Raven: Part Two

April 3rd, 2018

Today’s gift to me from the raven was a piece of pizza (pepperoni).

I left him some roasted-in-the-shell (and unsalted) peanuts — and some clean water in the bird bath.

In the coming days, I’m going to try to train the raven to fetch peanuts from my fingers. I did this with a scrub jay, teaching him to land on my forearm and retrieve the peanuts from my fingers. Amazingly, it took me only a few hours to train the jay to do this. He also began to perch on top of my easel each day and watch me paint, offering unsolicited critiques from time to time. I nicknamed him “Scrubby”.

Saga of the Raven

March 30th, 2018

We have a lot of wild urban creatures in my Pasadena neighborhood: coyotes, raccoons, squirrels, skunks, the occasional bear and bobcat, lizards and a variety of birds. That last category includes hawks, owls, hooded orioles, mockingbirds, cedar waxwings, western bluebirds, black phoebes, scrub jays, crows and their cousins the raven.

About six months ago a couple of huge ravens began being regular visitors to my front yard birdbath. At around the same time, I noticed some strangeness. Large chunks of French bread began to appear on the rim of the birdbath, with a few pieces ending up in the water as well.

That meant that each day I had to hose out the birdbath and refill it with fresh water.

Then other stuff began to appear, such as fast food wrappers. I figured a neighbor (as a not so funny joke) or someone strolling through the neighborhood was using my birdbath as a trash dump.

Then the daily deposits began to get weird. One morning I found what looked like the remnants of a dead lizard in the birdbath water. On closer examination it proved to be a mostly devoured rat carcass. The next day I indeed received most of a fence swift lizard. Then a sparrow’s head. Then alligator lizard parts. And a chunk of squirrel. Pretty weird. I was being kind of grossed out on a daily basis, so I put on my deerstalker and began to investigate.

The culprit(s) turned out to be the huge ravens who had begun visiting me on a daily basis.

To thwart their actions I emptied out the birdbath and flipped it over. After two weeks I righted it and filled it with water. The ravens got the message and never reappeared.

Shortly after that, I watched a documentary on crows and ravens and read a fascinating article on corbids (the crow-jay-raven family) and their remarkable intelligence in National Geographic. One girl had amassed a a large and varied collection of crow or raven gifts.

It made me realize that what was being left in and around my birdbath were presents from the ravens in thanks for the fresh water I was providing for them each day.

I felt awful.

I related what had happened to my family. My innocent yet wise seven-year-old grandson Jesse suggested the following explanation: “Maybe the ravens didn’t know what kind of presents you liked, Grandpa.”

This all made me incredibly sad. I kept the birdbath filled on a regular basis but the ravens never returned. They have amazing memories. They also pass on to their fellow ravens and young ravens which humans are nasty (or nice) to them. I feel that the neighborhood corbids had been alerted to my ungrateful nature, as I scarcely saw them in front yard ever again.

I even left pennies and other shiny objects on the birdbath in an attempt to lure the ravens back.


Until a week ago.

Chunks of French bread and fast food wrappers began appearing in or near the birdbath. Then the stripped carcass of a dead rat. Then another one. Today I found the front paw of a rat in the water.

I began dutifully cleaning out and refilling the birdbath with fresh water. I also started keeping an eye on the birdbath.

Sure enough, I spotted a huge raven visiting my birdbath around the same time each day, often with gifts in tow.

I cautiously appeared a few times in my front yard, speaking in soothing tones so that the raven could see and hear me and realize I wasn’t going to harm him.

I asked my wife to pick up some raw peanuts in the shell to leave for the raven.

I’ll let you know how it goes but for now I’m a pretty happy guy with an optimistic attitude in regards to reestablishing the bonds between me and my pals the ravens.

Good News, Bad News

December 24th, 2017

Bad news first:
My friend Pat DiNizio has passed away at age 62. Pat was the lead singer and writer for the New Jersey band The Smithereens.

Pat called me out of the blue one day to offer me a job — but more importantly to chat about all of the things we both loved. Pat and I connected on so many levels; our love of classic monsters, Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, EC comics, pop music of the mid to late 1960s and the general popular culture of that time period — which is kinda funny, since Pat was six years younger than me. A lot of what we said to each other could be considered a kind of shorthand, as we had shared so many interests we didn’t have to explain the context of what we were talking about.

Like me, Pat loved his fans. He came up with what I consider one of the coolest ideas for tightening that fan connection. When The Smithereens toured, Pat would contact key fans with this offer: While The Smithereens were in town, for a small fee fans could hire Pat (and often other members of The Smithereens) to come to their homes to give a very personal acoustic concert in their living rooms. Fans pooled resources to make this happen in each city. What a brilliant idea!

Pat hired me to create two Smithereens CD covers. My first was for an entire CD of songs from The Who’s Tommy (the band had previously — and quite successfully — recorded their version of the entire Meet The Beatles LP). I created both the front and back covers of this CD:

The second was a take-off on the movie poster for 12 Angry Men (I think it was going to be titled 4 Angry Smithereens).
The original image:

My take-off:

That’s Pat, far left.

To Pat’s enormous disappointment, the rest of the band rejected this cover. Always the gentleman, Pat personally paid me out of his own pocket for the work I had done.

Now there’s a hole in my heart, and its name is Pat. Rest in peace, my kindred soul brother….and rock on.

I would ordinarily save the good news for another day, but my L. A. friends, fans and family might be pissed if they missed a chance to pick up today’s Sunday Los Angeles Times.

The lead Section One front page story today is “Bones to Pick – Archaeology as blood sport: How the discovery of an ancient mastodon near San Diego ignited a debate over humans’ arrival in North America”.

I’ve known about this discovery for years but had been sworn to secrecy until the public announcement. The gist of the story is this: During a road-widening project in San Diego County, parts of a mastodon skeleton was uncovered. This is rare but not truly unusual. What was special about this find was that indications of early humans were discovered in the site, pushing back the appearance of humans in North America by over 130,000 years! I was sworn to secrecy because this discovery was so extraordinary that it was certain to ignite a huge debate among the archaeological and early man scientists. The scientists studying this find wanted to make sure they were on solid ground, as they knew they would be savagely attacked if every “i” and “t” had not been dotted and crossed. They were brutally attacked anyway, of course…there’s a lot of scientific turf and reputations at stake here.

So, I was pleased to read this thoroughly engaging article. I was totally blown away, however, when I turned from page A1 to page A8 (the second page of the three-page story) to find a huge full color reproduction of one of the Pleistocene murals I had painted for the San Diego Natural History Museum! And fully credited (Thanks, SDNHM!).

Merry Christmas, indeed!


November 14th, 2017

I’m looking forward to seeing all of my friends and fans out at the Bakersfield Comic Con this Saturday (10:00 AM – 6:00 PM) and Sunday (10:00 AM – 5:00 PM). I’ll be there all day Saturday and for the first half of Sunday.

It’s at the Kern County Fair and Events Center, Buildings 3 and 4. It will be my last 2017 public appearance.

Let’s get together and have a great time!

Dark Delicacies Signing Today!

October 29th, 2017

I’ll be signing The Art of Horror Movies today at Dark Delicacies.
4:00 PM
Dark Delicacies
3512 W. Magnolia Boulevard
Burbank, California 91505

See You There!

Hugh Hefner 1926-2017

September 29th, 2017

I worked briefly for Playboy in 1972 (on Little Annie Fanny with Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder) and occasionally visited the Playboy Mansion with Harvey in the ensuing years. I met Hugh Hefner at the Playboy Mansion.

The supposedly sexist Hef (he insisted everyone call him “Hef”) primarily staffed his magazine with bright women, giving them opportunities and responsibilities in the publishing business that were very difficult for women to achieve back then. I saw Hef donate generously, often and early to feminist charities. Hef may have been sexist. If so, he was the most complex sexist I ever met.

Despite what his critics have said, Hefner never denied that females can be sexual their entire lives. One (but just one) of the the key focuses of Playboy in regards to women was on beauty, an ephemeral quality that greatly adds to its very preciousness. I personally find women beautiful at all ages (my beautiful wife is 70) but there is no denying the special attractive qualities of youth, both female and male. They have been celebrated by artists almost since the creation of art began. The cosmetics industry thrives on this quest for youthful beauty.

I was never fond of Hef (I only met him once) but I admired aspects of him from a distance. I had strong issues with the way he manipulated Harvey. I was fascinated, though, by what he had achieved and how he had achieved it and, especially, I admired his honesty and frankness in regards to himself. In service of the truth, he often publicly painted (or allowed to be painted) a seriously honest, unflattering picture of himself (see the Hefner chapter in Gay Talese’s book Thy Neighbor’s Wife; he comes across as pretty pathetic).

Kurtzman told me he loved to bring my wife and I to the Playboy Mansion because he found it boring on his own. What was the Playboy Mansion like? To me, the Mansion was kind of theme parky. I found it fun to swim naked with Harvey and my wife in the infamous Grotto. I was very surprised by the quality of the paintings hanging on the Mansion’s walls. I was expecting Leroy Neiman — not Salvador Dali. The aquarium/zoo was fascinating to me, as I love observing exotic creatures. I realized that this zoo was just a Hefner purchase, though, when I asked him some specifics and discovered he knew almost nothing about the creatures he owned. Did I see movie stars? Yup. I was pretty immune to the charms of celebrity by then, having worked in the film business. I did get an early glimpse of what we now know as the real Bill Cosby back then. Harvey was well aware of Cosby’s sexual proclivities and despised Cosby for his acts, attitudes and hypocrisy. I made a disappointing mental note, then forgot about it until the recent scandals surfaced.

Hef and I shared a deep passion for music. I love the blues; he loved jazz. There are lot of cross-overs between the two musical genres. I sent him a copy of my book Legends of the Blues and received a nice hand-written note of appreciative thanks from Hef in return.

Many reporters have written snarky Hefner post-death columns with extreme tunnel vision, skewing it solely to paint Hefner with one brush using a single color: He was a sexist. Now that Hefner has passed, apparently they feel it is safe to denigrate his memory which, to me, seems a bit cowardly. A little more research on their part would have revealed sides of him that many who never knew or met Hef might have admired.

In the future, I hope that journalists will look a little harder for the truth and all of its facets. That is what the public needs (now more than ever) from journalism today.