Welcome to the web log of illustrator, cartoonist, writer, motorhead, and future Wal-Mart greeter Lou Brooks. I've gone cold turkey blogless for the last few months, and let me tell you, friend, it hasn't been easy! Have you missed all your old familiar pals?... Balloon Face, Typositor Tom, Mr. Irresponsible, and those endearing rascals, The Ass Puppets? Well, to be honest, they're not here, and they're never coming back. But lots of others are just waiting to make all this worth your while, so let's get going! Shall we?

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot... check out my newest Internet brainchild, The Museum of Forgotten Art Supplies, where tools of the trade that have died or have just about died a slow death are cheerfully exhibited -- Over 300 of them and counting (all submitted by folks like you!).


Labor Day, September 5, 1944. I remember the day I was born. I suddenly noticed there was a lot more room, which was nice. There was a radio on. Then a man in the room said, "Jesus Christ, that nurse talks too much!" That would have been my father. I didn't know who this Christ guy was, but as life went on, my father brought his name up a lot. My mother would occasionally call out, "Jesus Jenny!" I have no idea who that was either. August 6, 1945. Things had been going pretty swell. Then there was this sadness, and everybody seemed to get real quiet. Beginning that day, the world seemed different. Like I was put in exile or sumthin' for no reason. April 27, 1962. My father still wouldn't give me permission to smoke in the house. I told him in the kitchen that I wanted to spend my life as an artist. He smoked Camels and blew out one of those quick sarcastic smoke puffs, you know, the kind they blow out the side of their mouth and it makes their one eye squint and gives them this really scary half-grin besides. "What are you gonna paint," he said, "FLOWERS?"


Let's get down to... MONKEY BUSINESS!

Courtesy Grand Comics Database www.comics.org

Check out Lou's book of tongue-twisting limerick madness for kids of all ages! Visit the Twimericks website now or die!

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Merry Christmas Eve!

© 1931 by Dynevor Rhys and Delineator

What better image to capture the feeling of the night before Christmas? I suddenly have the urge to dress for late dinner, make a pitcher of martinis, and walk Asta. I found boxes of these some thirty years ago while driving back to New York from Maine in a little roadside one-room store.

Hardly anything is still remembered about Delineator, one of the smartest most fashionable mags of that most fashionable era, and even less is remembered about Dynevor Rhys, the illustrator who painted this cover for the December 1931 issue. It's reassuring to know that most all of us won't be remembered in 75 years either. So, why worry? Walk Asta, hoist that martini while looking into Myrna's eyes, and here's to Dynevor Rhys, Delineator, and many more Christmas Eves to come!

Reader Comments (4)

Love the Christmas Photo. I remember my mom and I were used to decorate our Christmas tree. I miss my mom.

Have a Good One Lou!
Have you tried contacting Mrs L. P. Eletnodpe of Crown Point
to tell her you located her misplaced issue?
It would be a nice Christmas gift.

December 28, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterFisher

I did try, Mark, but she said that she didn't care if she EVER laid eyes on another copy as long as they kept pasting her label upside-down. I also tried telling her that the magazine went out of business in 1937, but she didn't seem to care.

December 28, 2011 | Registered CommenterLou Brooks

I LOVE The Delineator! That said, I won't forget becoming engrossed in a story and turning the last page only to discover it was "to be continued!" So now I just focus on the pretty pictures. I'll never know how that doctor/nurse love story ended and it's still bothering me.

April 27, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterMichelle Teall

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