Photo Shoot

I get it. Trump is a bastard. But The New York Times is a newspaper, not People Magazine. This image appeared on the front page, above the fold today.

The caption tells us that this Muslim girl is studying at her family's home in the Bronx.

What it doesn't tell us is why she chooses to have such a menacing image of Trump, the current front runner and leading Islamophobic on the screen while she studies.

Photoshop or photo staging, this is shoddy journalism. Total bullshit.  

Friday is Just Like Any Other Day Lately

Life on the dole is a curious existence. On the one hand, you desperately search for gainful employment, while on the other, you have time to do things you didn't have time for when you were driving one hour one-way to sit in a generic office building in a cube, pumping out copy for taskmasters more suited to pushing a broom in a warehouse than making strategic marketing decisions. (And even then, I'm not sure I would trust them to sweep correctly.) Here's some of what I've been up to.

Presented a series of logos to a Jacksonville-based company, which is funny, because I'm not a designer. They actually loved one and are already using it on their in-development, internal site. I didn't charge them, since they're friends. And yes, I impressed them with the much-maligned (and deservedly so) faded reflection feature. 

Went on a job interview down in Tampa. Met with the lead person, who said, "My team would like to sit with you and discuss some things." In walked 11 people, who proceeded to tell me about the company and pepper me with questions such as, "What superpower do you wish you had?" "What animal would you be?" and "Pirate or Ninja?" (I swear.)

Took delivery of a 50" Sanyo Plasma. (Long story, but it was a prize.) This thing is imposing. Our "old" TV is now in the bedroom, a 42" Sony Bravia. I am now Winston Smith from 1984, trying to escape the giant visages screaming at me about healthcare reform from every room.

Presented a very cool idea to my favorite grocery chain. It was received well and is now being passed up the ladder, where it will likely meet its death in committee. Currently it remains a secret, but if and when they adopt it, I will be its loudest and most constant promoter, to the point that you will say, "I wish he'd shut the hell up about that stupid f-ing grocery chain." I made the pitch in Powerpoint - and yes - I am ashamed of that.

Got an up-close, inside look into how homeowner's insurance works. Basically, you make a claim, based on the recommendation of a professional whose job it is to determine these things, and then you watch as the insurance company spends thousands of dollars to fight your claim. I understand the need on their part to guard against fraudulent claims, but when you approach a long-standing policy holder as someone trying to get one over on you, then you pretty much suck in the customer service area. Are you in good hands? Now there's a feel-good slogan that doesn't mean a damn thing. Fuck you, All-State.

Went to a home-brew party at the neighbors'. They're Americanized Brits, the husband being some sort of mad-scientist for a defense contractor. I think he makes lasers that shoot out of cats' eyes. He also makes a great beer, or three. I came up with about six names for his concoctions with accompanying label designs, which again is funny, because I'm not a designer. But to a physicist like my neighbor, if you're "in advertising," then you can do that thing with The Photoshop, right? And when a physicist tackles a hobby like home-brewing, the results are very impressive. I am pushing him to "Take it to the Next Level!"

Added actual ads to this site. Am I a sell out? Yes, but it doesn't pay off until you have actual traffic. 150 visitors a day is not going to fetch me any serious coin. Also added a "featured video" in the sidebar, which will rotate with stuff from my YouTube account when I get around to it.

I have been living like a European, riding my bike each day to the market and loading up an old child carrier / trailer I found on Craigslist with the day's groceries and the evening's dinner. So far, no stalks of celery or baguettes sticking up out of the bags in that grocery cliché seen in the movies. I'm even using those damned reusable canvas grocery bags. I justify this disgusting transformation in me as "exercise with a purpose." We need groceries and I need exercise. Ya know, two birds. I'm sure people think I'm being "green," when actually I'm just trying to get in shape for the Apocalypse.

It is estimated that as many as 75% of American homes have within them a guitar. Granted, that guitar may be stringless and in the attic, but it is still there. It is also estimated that as many as 80% of all American males have attempted at one time to learn to play the guitar*. I knew how not long ago, but life has a tendency to get in the way of such luxuries. Dusted off the dobro and greased the strings, trying to remember where to put my fingers to make it sing like it used to.

* Both estimates based on pure fantasy with no data to prove them.

And I Thought I Sucked at Photoshop

A commenter on my recent post, wherein I attempted to make light of digital art and the Tea Party movement all at once, failed to see the humor. OK, Tim. Whatever. Relax a little, bro. I guess what I thought was funny and obviously tongue-in-cheek did not register with some. Maybe I should endeavor to be more mainstream henceforth and curb my appetite for the bizarre and off-the-wall, the better not to confuse and bewilder my more literal-minded readers.

But if Tim wants to cast stones at people who suck at Photoshop, he can look no further than this ad, a full-pager from yesterday's New York Times Magazine, in which a golfer is lining up a putt while a massive, not-at-all-Photoshopped alligator lines up on him. 
(Click image for larger.)

Super Saturated Street Scenes - European Tour

In association with Google Street Views, Where's My Jetpack? presents the fourth in a series of one-of-a-kind, super-rare-find artistic compositions.

Suitable for framing, (and you'd be a fool not to) a guy fixes a traffic light on Via Francesco Martinengo in Milan, Italy. Remind me someday to tell you what happened in Milan.

This print is titled "Don't Walk" and is available for purchase through select brokers. By appointment only. Prices upon request.

Big Picture

Jack-O-Lantern^TM, Threatening Sky^TM and Major Mike Adams^TM sold separately.

Yeah, I'm kinda obsessed with Google Street Views.

He's Just a Really Good Friend

Still being mesmerized by old issues of LIFE over at Google Books. This odd picture used in a 1957 ad was sort of perplexing. The man in the yellow car has apparently backed his vehicle to the water's edge and is dressed in a suit. He's either a child molester cruising the beach, or he's about to give the cabana boy a lesson 'bout messin'.


Since child molestation is not funny at all, I've captioned with the latter possibility. (Click image to read. Duh.)

Lab Coats Don't Lie

The collection of old LIFE magazines on Google is becoming what I was afraid it would; a distracting source of odd images to mess with in Photoshop.

Double Scoop

OMG, That Was Sooo Hard - A Course in Journalism

The Fringe Right is becoming the New Right, and the "journalists" among them (namely WND, the nauseating, faux-Christian brainchild of Joseph Farah) are bent on proving that Barack Hussein Obama is the Muslim love-child of Malcolm X or a Kenyan Superman engineered by the Illuminati to bring destruction to Liberty and Freedom in order to pave the way for the One-World Government that will rape your women and take your guns and put you in jail to become the lobotomized, branded slaves of the Antichrist. (The raping, of course, will be done by bio-engineered Super Negroes. 666, don't ya know.)

They like to claim that Obama has no right to be President, since he, according to them, has not produced a birth certificate that passes their scrutiny, and most of them are experts in old documents and antiquities, of course. So it only stands to reason that any law that Obama passes is not law, since he is an illegitimately elected head-of-state. Soldiers do not have to carry out his orders, since he is a fraud. These people have come to be known as "birthers," and they are not going away anytime soon.

I'm not a journalist, but I can do a Google search and very quickly find the following August, 1961 birth announcement in the Honolulu Advertiser. Maybe the fine citizens waving flags and shouting shit should go home and do some research, instead of getting all of their "facts" from echo-chambers of like-minded fear-mongers pretending not to be racists. ("Don't call me a racist! Some of my best friends are black!")

click for the larger

I of course can already predict that the birthers will call this a forgery as well; some hastily manufactured, Photoshopped fake ordered by the fast-acting spin-doctor tools of Obama and the One-Worlders.

So maybe, just maybe, there is a dusty old copy of this rag in someone's garage, basement or attic in Hawai'i. How about it, ancient Hawaiians or children/grandchildren of Old Islanders? (White Kansan wives of guest-student Kenyans accepted.) We need to put these idiots out of their misery and let them find a new rumor to hang their hopes on.

Losers never looked so sore.

UPDATE: As expected, the WND Birther Brigade says the above announcement proves nothing.

Simple Weight Loss in the New Economy

About 8 years ago, I invented a very simple and effective diet/health regimen. I called it "Poverty" and I lost all kinds of weight. It was AWESOME. I'll give you the basics here and you can try it. If it works for you, send me some cash.

• Eat only when you're really, really hungry
• Turn a normal sandwich into two meals by cutting it in half
• Ride a bicycle everywhere you go, regardless of the weather

That's about it. Lemme know how it goes!

I was inspired to reveal my weight loss secrets by seeing this fat lady turned not-so-fat lady banner ad. She looks pretty healthy now. (Thanks to the Photoshop "make me skinny" filter, notes a commenter.) There's nothing like a visual testimonial.

Today's Cool is Tomorrow's Retro

HighJive pointed out in the last edition of this comic what I couldn't figure out about my hack Photoshop work; that Major Mike Adams looked as though he was standing in a trench. So now he's seated to deliver another lesson to the always attentive Credenza Brothers.

Surely by now you've figured this part out; that when you click the image, it becomes legible.

The Invasion of the Giant Doctors

Minimally invasive? Hmmmm. Three monster doctors of Mount Sinai Medical Center in Miami storm the city in this juvenile Photoshop disaster.

This Blog's Brand

Got a nice email today from Gordon, a longtime reader from I don't know where, who noted how often I change the banner at the top of the blog. He said the feet in the grass version wasn't doing a good job of conveying the concept of "Where's My Jetpack?" I had to agree and took his advice to change it back to the 60s-era astronaut standing in the water of some idyllic Tahitian resort.

I have a Photoshop document that consists of over 70 layers just for that banner and I change it as often as I wash my jeans, which is to say about once a week. One thing that remains a constant in the banner is the inclusion of Major Mike Adams, an Air Force test pilot who died in the California desert in 1967. (You can see the original image here.)

There is a nonchalant cool conveyed in that photograph and Adams seems impatient to be posing. He almost sneers at the photographer as he stands with his weight on one leg. There is something very American about that picture. It's got attitude, rebellion and patriotism all at once. It speaks to me of a healthy discontentedness with the way things are and a desire to make them better. It pretty much shouts, "Where's My Jetpack?"

Jammakane Says "Psyche! I'll Debate Ya!"

Much has been written, spoken and shouted with insane partisan vitriol about the thinness of Obama's resume, and to reply with "He was a community organizer!" is a pretty weak retort. Obama's resume is extremely thin, but one thing Obama isn't is a knee-jerk, stunt-prone, crap-shootin' drama queen, like The War Hero Straight Talking Maverick Man of Action, John Sydney McCain III.

We've just been through eight years of a cock-sure bastard of a spoiled frat-boy President, and fully one half of this country is ready to replace him with another. Obama displays grace under pressure, whereas McCain acts on impulse, often looking petulant and borderline insane. Call it politics, but picking Sarah Palin showed a giant lapse in judgment, as did his recent "I've got to go to Washington and put my country first" bullshit ploy.

Turns out Ole Man will be at Ole Miss tonight for the big debate, now that he got his photo-op where he was pretending to be involved in the Wall Street bailout while pretending to suspend his campaign. I probably agree more with McCain on the issues than I do with Obama, but the man's severe lack of integrity, while loudly proclaiming what a man of integrity he is, makes me unable to take him seriously. With apologies to anyone who likes him, I think this guy is an absolute piece of shit, and I'm pretty sure I still have the right to think that in America.

I propose a new drinking game for tonight's debate:

• Every time McCain says "My friends," do a shot.
• Every time he says, "Here's some straight talk," do two shots.
• Every time he refers to Vietnam or brings up being a POW, do three shots.

You will be wasted in five minutes.

Speaking of Ole Miss, how do they get away, in this day and age, of calling their team "The Rebels"? That old Southern Pride dies hard. Not that I am in favor of revisionist history, but Rebels? Really? Why not the Slave Holders? Or Racists? How about Lynch Mob?

And lest anyone doubt that this election is tinged with overt racism, there is an underground element at work that will never in a million years consider voting for a black man. I received a mass email last night, forwarded who-knows-how-many times to countless individuals. The text of the email said, "This is tooooo funny!!!!!" Below that was a Photoshopped image of Obama shining Palin's shoes. The original photograph can be seen here, and the photographer from Australia is not amused.

The Autumn People

Sitting out back tonight, waiting for some pork chops on the grill, I was tempted to run inside and grab the camera, as even here in Florida, the arrival of Fall can be felt. There was a golden moment that lasted for only half a minute, where light and depth seem almost stereoscopic, as if you're looking at a multi-layered PSD and the saturation has been cranked up. Had I run inside to grab the camera, I would've missed it, so I just enjoyed it for the brief time it lasted. Autumn is magical to me.Jason Ertel of New Jersey, who I found through James Helms of Dallas, does the Autumn thing quite nicely. He uses a Nikon D50 and then does something in Photoshop to give his images a surreal quality that reminds me of Ray Bradbury stories. It's easy to get lost on his site. And just like when I watch a great guitar player doing his thing and feel unworthy to ever touch a guitar again, Jason makes me feel like I do not deserve to own a D50 myself.

Another fine photographer who I found linking to this site is David Torrence of St. Louis. He's available for advertising and editorial work, I'm pretty sure.

Yeah, there's something in the air
It's like Autumn all the time
Where the world's 3D and layered deep
Clouds marching for the shoreline like they're walking in their sleep

- Telegraph Canyon

Jesus Supports Your Agenda

For my 1,000th post here at Where's My Jetpack? - a simple Photoshop hack-job in honor of Patriot Day. He makes a fine Republican, doncha think? But he's still two years too young to be elected President.


(This is actually Dick Cheney's official portrait, with the classic Jesus painting head stuck on.)

Meanwhile, Back at The Farm

A comic, homemade the old fashioned way, through drawing and then coloring in with Photoshop.

Because "Bathroom Tissue" By Any Other Name...

...would still serve the same purpose.

Besides, it's not fun to call someone a "bathroom tissue."Go ahead and ridicule my P-Shop skills, but just so you know, I used "inner bevel" to piss you off on purpose.

And if anyone can locate this old SNL skit featuring Nick Cage, lemme know.

100 Meter Butterfly

An Aussie visitor to one of my websites once observed: "They disrupt the everyday and the opinionated links we make between words (& art & music) and experience; the links that speak as if the world were easily translatable into a common language and experience that we all share." I rather liked that assessment, heady though it was.

Here's some more of that disruption of common language and experience. Or perhaps it's really just Middle School humor I still can't shake.

Classic Rock Mailman

It'll get bigger if you click it.

If there's one noise that can send me straight for the "off" button, it's the sound of the band Boston with their stupid fuzzy guitars that always sound the same, no matter what ancient and lame song they're playing.

You could avoid playing most classic rock acts ever again and make 90% of the country happy. (Some bands, Zeppelin comes to mind, stand the test of time and get rediscovered by later generations.) Unfortunately, there are enough classic rock fans out there to keep at least one classic rock station on the air in most major markets. (They are REQUIRED in small markets.) And the playlist will always have way too much Boston on it. (And REO Shitwagon!)

The mailman here at work is always cranking it up to 11 as he drives up to our mailroom. He inspired this silly image, using the head of classic rock guitarist Luther Dickinson, who does not fall into the unlistenable category by any means.

I think this could be an SNL skit.

Giant Man Plays God in Photoshop Nightmare

Northwestern Mutual, what are you doing here? The man's worries are golfing, fishing, photography and relaxing in an innertube on a lake?

OK, so weird and incomprehensible is your ad that I will actually read the copy in an attempt to understand it. Nope. That didn't work. Guess I will have to go to your website, letyourworriesgo.com and figure this out.

Oh, now I get it.

No, I don't.

I'm in a beautiful landscape where I can choose a rocket, a balloon or a submarine to launch my worries away. (I cannot, however, choose to turn off the incessant and annoying birdsong loop.) My "worries" are again represented by people whom I drag into my vehicle of choice. (Fun: drag them high in the sky and let them go and watch as they fall to earth.) OK, vehicle finally loaded (damn, that was tedious) and off they go! All those people jettisoned into space, never to be heard from again!

Finally, the "explanation" for all this silliness. Northwestern Mutual is interested in eliminating "societal worries" like hunger, natural disasters, financial security and retirement planning. They have $1 million to give away.
Wow. That was such a long and disjointed journey. But now you know that Northwestern Mutual cares about you and wants to alleviate your worries. Seriously, that's why they are in the business of wealth management. Because they care.

Red and Blue Polyester Coordinate States

I don't know what it means. I just stuck their heads on an old Sears catalog ad. Something about the tough expressions contrasting with the "please kick my ass" clothing that makes me laugh.