I picked this sketch card up in November and just finally got it scanned in the past week or so. I have a page dedicated to She-Hulk sketch cards, but I dunno if this one will go in it. I am close to blowing by my single page limit since licensed Shulkie sketches seem to be a relatively inexpensive get these days (at least compared to everyone else I collect), so it might not matter in a couple months anyway. But anyway, this is an odd bird and a few questions are begging to be asked-
Why are She-Hulk and Luke Cage fighting in the first place?
Since She-Hulk is at the very high end of the super strength spectrum on her worst day and the the artist formerly known as Power Man is at the very low end, how is she even noticing that punch?
Err, that is Luke Cage, isn’t it?
Why does She-Hulk have short hair and jeans?
Why do I miss Luke Cage’s ridiculous original Power Man costume so much?
Oh well, it’s still a nicely drawn card, and weird enough (and juuuust cheap enough) that I happily added it to my collection.
That’s all for this post. I’ve got three more sketch cards to post from last month, and 9(!) more between my COMC shipment and eBay winnins for December, and amongst other things, I hope to post virtually all of the entire 104 total cards over the next few weeks. First I have to scan them though, which I’ll start as soon as finish babbling incoherently on here.
As always, thanks for stopping by!
Business is about to pick up…
…is my art.
Drawing is probably the one thing I enjoy above all else.
Deciding to draw again may have even saved my life when I was at my lowest point.
In the here-and-now, drawing relaxes me and is all-around helpful to my emotional wellbeing.
I don’t think there’s anything more essential to me.
Losing anything else, it may hurt forever, but I’ll deal.
But even if I’m a laughably mediocre artist (and in many aspects I am), my art makes me more whole than I’ve ever been.
If anything I do ever becomes a thing, my art will still be important to me.
It centers me…
It heals me…
It completes me…
When I draw, it’s as close to deeply passionate about something as I ever get.
That passion is why I have to consider it my ultimate nerdy thing.
Thank you for stopping by.
Until our next…
No matter the canvas, an artist gotta art. And so begins The Junkwax Revitalization Project, where I take worthless junkwax era commons…
…like so, and transform them into magnificent *cough* works of art. Now let the transformation commence!
Bob Sebra digivolved to… Tim Raines! This is actually the fourth card I’ve transformed (Frank Thomas on a 1990 Topps Ron Karkovice was my first, teehee), but bumming around the card blogs a lot ever since I got my new computer just over a week ago has me in the mood to blog again and Rock is fresh, so here you go. If I get to blogging with some degree semi-irregularity again, maybe this will become a regular segment. Me drawing on old junkwax is going to keep happening regardless.
This card is available for sale or trade. Feel free to throw a little cash and/or some cards I like (lots of various wantlists on my sidebar, and I’m looking for quality over quantity right now) my way if you’d like this beaut or wish to commission one of your own. I’ll even draw on a junkwax star or something older or newer (provided it’s not glossy) if you’re feeling particularly kinky. ;P
That’s all for now. Thanks for stopping by!
(Oh wait, also a quick shout out to the Legend hisself for being the only person to vote on the twitters when I put who to draw on this card up for the choosing)
Until our next…
I don’t know if I still remember how to do this, so let’s just keep it simple. Here’s a few recent eBay arrivals without much fuss or muss. Less talk, more rock! So have a looksie, if you weeeell…
There. How was that? Sorry I didn’t have anything worthwhile to add. But hey, kids… A post!
I’m miserable and cranky and pissed off about so many things I don’t even know where to begin, so I’m just going to show off a 12-pack of card porn to lighten the mood, because the mood definitely needs lightened. So let us take refuge in the cards… These are all mine, picked up by various means over the past few months. Yes, including that beautiful beat up Billy Williams RC at the top of the post (cost: $3 on COMC on Black Friday 2013).
This was also part of the trade with Shot Not Taken. It didn’t make it into that post for the simple fact that it was still in my backpack and didn’t get scanned until around two weeks later.
This came out of a random discounted fat pack I stumbled across towards the end of last year.
Possibly the earliest pickup here. Cool printing plate with a sticker auto stuck on it of perhaps the single most underutilized woman in the history of TNA’s Knockout division. And that’s saying something, when they also severely underutilized Ayako Hamada, who might be the single most talented lady wrestler in the world, and of course my girl Sarita, who has gone onto to bigger success in both Mexico and Japan.
The back compares him to competent game manager Alex Smith. I don’t know how to feel about that…
It is the realest shame Panini ran this concept into the ground so fast, because this card, much like Cat herself, is absolutely spectacular.
Here’s a fearsome and fantastic addition to my fledgling Girlrilla page, which is now up to TWO.
More Billy Williams! This time it’s super beat up vintage food-based oddball goodness.
I’ve been jonesing for a new addition to my Shin-Soo Choo page for awhile now, and this is what I came away with.
The desire to break 100 cards with another player does not preclude me from getting more cards of future Hall of Famer Aramis Ramirez. This was one of a half dozen newbies of him in my latest COMC shipment. They may crop up here & there over time.
Whine about lack of logos all you want, you big babies. This card just oozes class. ;)
Closing out this post with my favorite wrestler of all-time! Booker T autos are extremely hard to come by cheaply (dog tag auto aside), but I managed to secure this bad mamma-jamma on COMC for $8. It’s even an inscribed version. Unlike every other WWE reject, Booker never won the TNA World Title, but they did create a brand new vanity belt (later renamed and became their midcard title) specifically for him. So I guess he’s got that going for him, which is nice.
That’s all for now. Time to go work on some half-baked novel writing or some such. Thanks for stopping by, and we’ll be seeing y’all again real soon.
Until our next…
So I just woke up from this crazy dream that seemed to mix all the things processing through my mind in recent days, in a bizarre, semi-coherent post-apocalyptic setting. It was cards, the fact that collecting keeps me broke, but also sane, yet is probably ultimately pointless, and possibly of the pointlessness of life in general, Amiga longplays on Youtube, desperation to get out of this godforsaken place I live and see the world cropping up again… And rather than just talk about it, I decided to try and turn it into a little story. I dunno, I can’t really make much sense of it either way.
Also, I wouldn’t count on it, but if it sticks with me long enough, I may try to add some illustrations to it at some point. But anyway, enough jibba-jabba. It’s storytime! (Oh, fair warning, I am really bad at writing short, succinct sentences.)
In a series of cave-like structures rising out of the desert somewhere on the barren husk of a planet its inhabitants once called “Earth”, a pair of young scavengers bring in a new box of artifacts for the caretaker of this place. Several long stone slabs in this place are dedicated to them. The caretaker meticulously catalogs the tiny rectangles of (mostly) cardboard with pictures on them, before sticking each one in an individual-sized hard plastic containment unit. Then the old archeologist or historian of a sort affixes them to these massive stone slabs. Not that any unit of time has much meaning when the clock on the life of humanity rapidly dwindles to zero, but it would be fair to say he has done for this decades now… Ever since he ended up at this place when he was a small child.
He thought it a hobby, but maybe it was an obsession. It kept him sane as the world died all around him, and had kept him fit some 30 years after the fact. Knowing he wouldn’t be around forever, he taught the younger scavengers who found their way here the craft and why he used to believe it was so important.
“This is the story of our history!” the kindly caretaker would beam. “Even if it is lost to us, maybe someone will someday find this place and have some idea of what we were all about.”
The caretaker used to go out into the world to forage for supplies and artifacts with rest of them. He was hopeful and often even exuberant in his quest. But even he couldn’t feign hope forever in a world that no longer seemed truly capable supporting life as we knew it, and indeed one day the light finally extinguished in his eyes. From then on, he buried himself in his legacy. The cards.
But these days even that couldn’t mask the hopelessness and despair consuming his heart.
‘What good have I actually done?’ he often found himself wondering when he allowed himself the time to think.
It was hard to lie to himself about the emptiness he felt. The seeming pointlessness of this monotonous endeavor. It kept him sane for the longest time, but that was it. There was nothing more to it, no legacy or actual importance. Just some old man attaching these little colorful pictures, mostly depicting the sportsmen of their day, onto giant stone slabs.
He was so jaded but he never let it show. To the other dozen or so residents running around this half-buried little monastery-like structure in the shifting sands, he was still the kindly old caretaker, full of homespun wisdom and a warm smile.
The old caretaker pulled down the hood of his ragged robes and ran his fingers through his long silver mane of hair. He adjusted his glasses examined his latest wall of work. Finally he knelt down before the latest box, but stopped before opening it.
“I want you fellas and your sister to do this,” he looked at the young men, smiling.
They stared down at him, confused.
“This is a young person’s game,” he dragged himself back up. “It is not in my heart to do this anymore.”
They seemed confused and tried to protest, but he raised his hand to silence them.
“Now I taught all of you how to do this at one point or another,” he spoke more gruffly than usual. “You can still go out in the world to hunt. I did both until I became an old man myself.”
“You know the process, how it all works,” he reassured them. “It is time to start the next slab.”
He spoke softly as he walked passed the duo, one of whom was fighting back tears, “Please keep up my work for me wall I’m away.”
After informing the others of his decision to leave the encampment and offering his words of encouragement and saying his goodbyes, he packed up his few belongings an the few days worth of food and water they could muster, hopped a windjammer (think surfboard + sail + small engine), and was never seen again. No one at the underground compound would ever know what exactly happened to him, but he somehow managed to kick around out there in the desert wastes, surviving for many years.
The old man was many mostly, but not constantly, lonesome adventures and thousands of miles away from his place in the cards by the time his ancient and weary frame had finally fallen into such disrepair that he could no longer continue his journey. Through the dissipating remnants of a raging sandstorm, he saw two big bright lights in the sky nearby loudly jet away.
Desperately he called out to the lights as he futilely dragged his broken body towards where they had been. The old man collapsed atop the ridge in the crater whatever was connected to the lights had caused in the burned out land. He gracelessly slid and rolled and tumbled and crashed and burned down to the center of the surprisingly deep crevice.
“Ow…” the ancient explorer deadpanned after laying face first in the sand for a moment.
At last he summoned the strength to drag his broken carcass up for what he knew was probably the final time. He couldn’t believe his eyes at what stood before him.
“A… a potted plant?” he stared in amazement.
He wondered if he was hallucinating, but the aroma the flowery, bushy, fledgling tree gave off was too real to be mistaken. He hadn’t smelled anything like it since his youth, when the dying world he inhabited was still modestly capable of creating life. It was just so out of place, a bizarrely innocent reminder of somewhat less hellish times.
All the broken down old man could do was laugh riotously as his strength faded and his body gave out. His manic laughter sputtered into pained wheezing and he collapsed over the pot holding the plant, willingly giving himself up with joyful tears in his eyes…
Some millennia later and you can feel it all around this lush and beautiful world the original inhabitants once called “Earth”. From the Tree of Life that reignited this lonely little planet with the enrichment of one little spark, to those now meticulously preserved old caves full of cards thousands miles to the south and east. To everything in between and far, far beyond…
Strange beings now inhabit this world. They aren’t quite human, but not quite those that left that silly little plant all those eons ago either. They seemed something of an amalgamation. Their head and ashen skin tone were more like that of the extraterrestrial interlopers, but they had smaller, smoother, less angular bodies like humans were believed to have had. An odd mix indeed, and very few, if any, of either original species is believed to still exist. Their conflict is what nearly destroyed both of them anyway. But hey, this world lives again. And I guess that’s something. Right?
I don’t even know…
I am currently semi-laid up after tweaking my back a couple days ago and then, after getting back to 80% or so good, re-injuring it yesterday morning. But I had some scans that would make for an easy post (or three or four) that really just needed editing, so fortunately for you, dear reader, that means you get a blog post today.
I have picked up a few repacks since the beginning of the year, and while all but one had redeeming quallities that grew on me over time, all but maybe one on the opposite still fall firmly in regret territory. So let’s take a look at some of them, shall we? Today we’ll take a look at the little basketball cubes, probably the least regrettable of the regrettable repack purchases.
Each cube came with 1 pack of 2008 Press Pass, one rookie from the white border 2007-08 Topps Rookie set, and one random scrub hit. Normal price these turds are $6.99, but they were on sale for $3, so I grabbed all five Target had at the time.
Old LeBron Oden is likely bound for the Pacific Northwest, but the rest are available. Checking their stats, Mike Conley Jr. is a legitimately good player, and Brewer & Hawes are both capable of averaging double figures when they get a chance. Better bunch than I realized.
The best I can say about any of these guys is at least three of them are on teams that I have trading partners for. Well, no that’s not fair. They’re all pretty worthless hits, but you could fairly claim everyone except Frank Williams, who never got a fair shot, were all serviceable players at various points in their careers. And of course Livingston got gruesomely injured right as he was starting to come into his own. But as hits, pretty scrubby. Childress was also dinged up.
The packs are where it’s at with these things. That draft was absolutely loaded, and so the set not only looks good, it was also full of stars.
These packs are what made the cubes a only minor regret. I probably wouldn’t even regret them at all if the D-Rose insert hadn’t been dinged up. Press Pass inserts have a long history of freakin’ pwnage, and 2008 was no exception. I guess everything but the D-Roses are available. I know there’s a UCLA collector out there in the blogosphere.
Well, that’s it for this one. I don’t know what’s coming up next, or when it’s coming. Probably either the baseball repack or some stuff from COMC. But whatever/whenever it happens, you’ll be the first to know. Thanks for stopping by!
Into the night…
Finally pulled the trigger on another trade with my most frequent trading partner, Shot Not Taken! Lot to get to, so with relatively minimal textual commentary clutter and just pure card porn, here is what came my way. Roll that beautiful bean footage:
It is kinda hard to tell, but that Booker T base card is actually a bronze parallel. The normal foil logo on the base cards is red.
Roger & Angelina were consolation for a card I inquired about that wasn’t available. I’ve been wanting an Angelina Love auto for awhile now though, & Staubach will be made available for trade. He should net me a nice return and turn this into a technical three-way deal, if one comes along.
This card is so much more gorgeous in person. So much so that I decided to acquire a full page of Panini’s Black Friday Lava Flow parallels. This goes on the Trout page, but I’ve already acquired Bryce Harper and Kevin Durant for the Lava Flow page. So just a heads up that I’m looking to trade for some more if anyone in the blogosphere has any.
I also picked up a Nomah RC shortly after this arrived. Now if I could just trade for or find a good looking sub-$15 to buy (well, when I’m not completely broke again) for a possibly all-time record speed trifecta acquiring.
Awesome way to close this post. And that be that. Even my attempt at sparse commentary turns out to be not all that sparse. Thanks again for being a prime time trading partner, Ray!
Until our next…