MEATHAUS COMICS BY FREDDY FEGRÉ LECLERC

by Ariadna Zierold

Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground
Freddy 
Fegré Leclerc makes very different illustrations . His inspirations range from Robert Crumb to Walt Disney.

Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground

His influences are clearly seen in this series. The strange figures on the artwork contains elements familiar from classic Disney characters . For example, the gloved hands that you see also in Mickey Mouse. The big difference with Disney in this case is the fact that you do not see normal characters, you see several cartoon characters cut up and merged into a surrealistic whole with lots of arms and legs.

Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground Freddy Fegré Leclerc, cartoon, illustration, comic, gloves, upper playground

Ray Bradbury, RIP

fahrenheit 451 605x1000 Ray Bradbury, RIP RIP ray bradbury

An excerpt from Bradbury’s finest novel, Fahrenheit 451. The author died yesterday, June 5.

“When did it all start, you ask, this job of ours, how did it come about, where, when? Well, I’d say it really got started around about a thing called the Civil War. Even though our rule-book claims it was founded earlier. The fact is we didn’t get along well until photography came into its own. Then — motion pictures in the early twentieth century. Radio. Television. Things began to have mass.”
Montag sat in bed, not moving.
“And because they had mass, they became simpler,” said Beatty. “Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books levelled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me?”
“I think so.”
Beatty peered at the smoke pattern he had put out on the air. “Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending.”
“Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (you know the title certainly, Montag; it is probably only a faint rumour of a title to you, Mrs. Montag) whose sole knowledge, as I say, of Hamlet was a one-page digest in a book that claimed: ‘now at least you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbours.’ Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there’s your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.”
“Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click? Pic? Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What, Where, Eh? Uh! Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom! Digest-digests, digest-digest-digests. Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man’s mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters, that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!”
“School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”
“The zipper displaces the button and a man lacks just that much time to think while dressing at dawn, a philosophical hour, and thus a melancholy hour.”
“Life becomes one big pratfall, Montag; everything bang, boff, and wow!”
“Empty the theatres save for clowns and furnish the rooms with glass walls and pretty colours running up and down the walls like confetti or blood or sherry or sauterne. You like baseball, don’t you, Montag?”
“Baseball’s a fine game.”
Beatty went on, “You like bowling, don’t you, Montag?”
“Bowling, yes.”
“And golf?”
“Golf is a fine game.”
“Basketball?”
“A fine game.”
“Billiards, pool? Football?”
“Fine games, all of them.”
“More sports for everyone, group spirit, fun, and you don’t have to think, eh? Organize and organize and superorganize super-super sports. More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience. Highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere. The gasoline refugee. Towns turn into motels, people in nomadic surges from place to place, following the moon tides, living tonight in the room where you slept this noon and I the night before.”
“Now let’s take up the minorities in our civilization, shall we? Bigger the population, the more minorities. Don’t step on the toes of the dog-lovers, the cat-lovers, doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, Mormons, Baptists, Unitarians, second-generation Chinese, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Texans, Brooklynites, Irishmen, people from Oregon or Mexico. The people in this book, this play, this TV serial are not meant to represent any actual painters, cartographers, mechanics anywhere. The bigger your market, Montag, the less you handle controversy, remember that! All the minor minor minorities with their navels to be kept clean. Authors, full of evil thoughts, lock up your typewriters. They did. Magazines became a nice blend of vanilla tapioca. Books, so the damned snobbish critics said, were dishwater. No wonder books stopped selling, the critics said. But the public, knowing what it wanted, spinning happily, let the comic books survive. And the three-dimensional sex-magazines, of course. There you have it, Montag. It didn’t come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time, you are allowed to read comics, the good old confessions, or trade journals.”
“Yes, but what about the firemen, then?” asked Montag.
“Ah.” Beatty leaned forward in the faint mist of smoke from his pipe. “What more easily explained and natural? With school turning out more runners, jumpers, racers, tinkerers, grabbers, snatchers, fliers, and swimmers instead of examiners, critics, knowers, and imaginative creators, the word ‘intellectual,’ of course, became the swear word it deserved to be. You always dread the unfamiliar. Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally ‘bright,’ did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn’t it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man’s mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me? I won’t stomach them for a minute. And so when houses were finally fireproofed completely, all over the world (you were correct in your assumption the other night) there was no longer need of firemen for the old purposes. They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior; official censors, judges, and executors. That’s you, Montag, and that’s me.”
Beatty knocked his pipe into the palm of his pink hand, studied the ashes as if they were a symbol to be diagnosed and searched for meaning.
“You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can’t have our minorities upset and stirred. Ask yourself, What do we want in this country, above all? People want to be happy, isn’t that right? Haven’t you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren’t they? Don’t we keep them moving, don’t we give them fun? That’s all we live for, isn’t it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these.”
“Yes.”
“Coloured people don’t like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don’t feel good about Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Burn it. Someone’s written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too. Five minutes after a person is dead he’s on his way to the Big Flue, the Incinerators serviced by helicopters all over the country. Ten minutes after death a man’s a speck of black dust. Let’s not quibble over individuals with memoriams. Forget them. Burn them all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.”
“There was a girl next door,” he said, slowly. “She’s gone now, I think, dead. I can’t even remember her face. But she was different. How — how did she happen?”
Beatty smiled. “Here or there, that’s bound to occur. Clarisse McClellan? We’ve a record on her family. We’ve watched them carefully. Heredity and environment are funny things. You can’t rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That’s why we’ve lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we’re almost snatching them from the cradle. We had some false alarms on the McClellans, when they lived in Chicago. Never found a book. Uncle had a mixed record; anti-social. The girl? She was a time bomb. The family had been feeding her subconscious, I’m sure, from what I saw of her school record. She didn’t want to know how a thing was done, but why. That can be embarrassing. You ask Why to a lot of things and you wind up very unhappy indeed, if you keep at it. The poor girl’s better off dead.”
“Luckily, queer ones like her don’t happen, often. We know how to nip most of them in the bud, early. You can’t build a house without nails and wood. If you don’t want a house built, hide the nails and wood. If you don’t want a man unhappy politically, don’t give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the Government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of ‘facts’ they feel stuffed, but absolutely ‘brilliant’ with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide-rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won’t be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely. I know, I’ve tried it; to hell with it. So bring on your clubs and parties, your acrobats and magicians, your dare-devils, jet cars, motor-cycle helicopters, your sex and heroin, more of everything to do with automatic reflex. If the drama is bad, if the film says nothing, if the play is hollow, sting me with the theremin, loudly. I’ll think I’m responding to the play, when it’s only a tactile reaction to vibration. But I don’t care. I just like solid entertainment.”

From The Citrus Report

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Stones Throw x Madvillain “Madvillainy 2″ Box Set Comic Special

CD BOOKLET INSERT 16 1 2 605x300 Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

Seeing that our friends at The Citrus Report spend their Mondays featuring all that is good with Madlib and his universe, we can’t believe they missed the new Madvillainy 2 box set featuring this incredible 12-page mini-comic. As Jeff Jank told Juxtapoz this morning, “comic was done by James Reitano who did the Madvillain “ALL CAPS” video. The concept here was to continue the next episode where the CAPS video left off cliff-hanger style. We went all out with ’70s-80s comic book details, a letters page with a real letter, 8 track tapes, etc. The album itself is Madlib’s personal version of the album. The LP comes with 2 records, the comic, and digi download card.”

CD BOOKLET INSERT 16 1 3 605x301 Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

CD BOOKLET INSERT 16 1 7 605x302 Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

MADVILLAIN Madvillainy2 605x605 Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

madvillainyrmx 3book Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

madvillainyrmx 4book Stones Throw x Madvillain Madvillainy 2 Box Set Comic Special Madvillainy 2 Madvillain Madlib jeff jank comic book

The Citrus Report x IPaintMyMind for New York Comic Con

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The Citrus Report, in conjunction with IPaintMyMind.org, are Media Partners for New York Comic Con x The Cultyard, which took over the Jacob K. Javits Center in New York City this weekend. With the likes of Zerofriends, Tara McPherson, Erick Scarecrow, and more, there’s been plenty to check out. Here’s our 1st batch of photos from Day One of NYCC, check back for more photo-updates throughout the weekend and into early next week.

We also were able to interview Tara McPherson who is being featured as a member of The Cultyard, a section at New York Comic Con developed by Jonathan Cathey of The Loyal Subjects and Jim Crawford of StrangeCo. The Cultyard started in 2004 as an unofficial/official coupling of like minded companies and has grown into a formidable presence at NYCC. More from Jonathan and Jim as well, stay tuned…

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Print and comics are making one last stand

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Two different comic book editions, according to The Moment, are making a grand statements in the physical print world. “Absolute Planetary,” Volume 2, comprises the last 15 issues of Warren Ellis and John Cassaday’s series, and “The Dave Stevens’ Rocketeer Artist’s Edition” collects all 119 interior pages and seven covers depicting the artist’s pulpy hero. Our point, Comic Con is coming up, and the niche, cult followers like their physical world after spending an entire 364 days before Comic Con on the Internet on forums of nerdery. We were there with that, so we know.

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Harvey Pekar, RIP

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A sad day in the comic world, as American Splendor’s Harvey Pekar has just passed away at age 70. He had been working on a new project with fellow comic artists at the Pekar Project, and just had an interview in Juxtapoz. We just talked to our friend at Jux who did the interview who passed the word on.

Here is the Cleveland Plain Dealer’s nice write-up.

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Seattle Cancellation

Hello friends.
Due to a family emergency, I will be unable to attend the Emerald City Comic Con this weekend in Seattle. I was scheduled to be signing on Saturday, March 13 from 1-3 at the Zerofriends booth. Unfortunately, I will NOT be there. I apologize for the inconvenience.
Thank you in advance for your understanding and continued support.
Thank you.
Alex