James Bama, American Illustrator & Artist, 04.28.1926 - 04.24.2022

 

                    Bantam paperback of The Man of Bronze with James Bama illustration, re-issued to                               coincide with the 1975 George Pal produced movie, Doc Savage: The Man of Bronze* 

James Bama, one of my favorite illustrators/artists, passed away yesterday. He lived 95 full, rich years, and his work inspired legions of illustrators, artists, and writers - that's what vivid, dynamic imagery does. 

As is plainly evident, Mr. Bama was every bit a master of light and shadow as an artist can be, and created eye-catching, imagination-stirring covers for hundreds of books and advertisements until he retired to Wyoming and devoted himself to the creation of paintings featuring contemporary visions of the west.

His work can be seen in multiple art galleries, including (luckily for me) the Denver Art Museum.

*Model for the cover was actor Steve Holland

Banshee Winds

 When the wind is howling like it is at the moment

                 It is not hard to imagine why our ancestors thought

           It was the screaming of a spirit that portended doom

    For the denizens of the home that were of noble bearing

The Comedian's Confession

He said it was, for him, the equivalent of a junkie's first heroin rush.

The laughter, the real laughter, the kind you not only heard but could actually feel, like a sonic wave almost knocking you off the stage.

That's what he had been after ever since the very first time he had killed an entire room. Men, women, old & young, laughing uncontrollably, grabbing their sides, falling off their chairs, clutching at the sides of the tables.

It had happened probably at least five times that first year, then at least once a month thereafter. 

And each time it happened he was hit with that same rush. That same intense feeling of really reaching people, making them smile, making them enjoy being alive - intensely enjoy being alive, even if for only a few minutes.

Weird thing is, it was never with the same joke. He could hit with a joke in front of a small crowd on a slow Thursday night and then retell the joke to a larger crowd on a Saturday night and just die.

Being a comedian was all he had ever wanted to be, it was what made him feel alive and worthwhile, and valuable.

And that was it. That was why he did it.

The Subtle Insult

Of all the small slights that I should be able to just let slide, the one I absolutely cannot is the accusation that I am a workaholic.

That may seem like a silly thing to find insulting, but it isn't.

I have been told by a number of people that I would rather be at work than have to spend time with them. 

Which is as big a falsehood as one can state about my work habits and what I'd rather be doing with my time.

Work is what I do to keep food on my table and a roof over my head, for now and for the future. 

I did not grow up in a situation where those two basics, food and shelter, were a guarantee. 

In fact, it was quite the opposite. My Mom and my five siblings, we lived the epitome of hand-to-mouth.

That level of insecurity does something to a person's psyche.

I cannot imagine what life is like for people who have never had to scrape by, who never knew the fear of losing what little you had due to one bad week, who never had any type of safety net - no well-off parents or grandparents or other assorted relatives who could and would bail you out if times got rough.

Because those things - that's the only life I ever knew.

So I work, and I work a lot, at more than one job. Not because I enjoy it, but because I have to.

It's that simple, yet it astounds me that I know people who are oblivious to that simple fact.

Again, this may seem like a petty issue to many people out there, but it isn't to me. 

Some people reading this probably have no idea how being accused of working too much can ever be interpreted as an insult.

It's actually very simple when you factor in that the accusation usually comes from people who have never actually had to work hard to keep ahead of the game. 

Not because they don't know how to work hard or won't work hard, I'm not saying that, I'm saying that they've never actually had to.

Had to, as in having to work hard to survive. 

They've never experienced life with the threat of actually living in their vehicle or on the streets being real, tangible.

They've spent their whole lives like trapeze artists who walk a fat wire with not just a safety net below them, but a couple extra back-up safety nets and a few of those large airbags below them to catch them if they fall.

Working, being able to work, being able to earn a living, is a serious thing to me.

It's also something I feel very fortunate to be able to do.

I admit I work a lot, and I can get too busy, and on occasion I get too tired to want to spend much time with other people.

I've actually ended relationships with people who have stated; "Oh, don't give that 'I'm too busy' excuse - no one's that busy, that's BS."

Well, yeah, I am.

That's just how it is for me. 

Man...I'm really not a lot of fun right now. 

But it's not because I'm overworked.

Without An Oar, Without A Rudder

 

Unauthorized Withdrawal

 

Three Easy, Surefire Steps To Failure (Statistically Speaking)

 In these here United States, there is a Bureau of Statistics. 

Because people in the United States love statistics - that's why professional sports were created, to add to the joy of keeping track of occurrences and stuff.

Aside from knowing how likely a specific third baseman is going to strike out in the 8th inning with runners at the corners and facing a left-handed Pitcher with a wicked slider, the pitch-count being 2-2, statistics come in handy for predicting trends and behaviors, and probabilities. 

From that, certain rules can be formulated, such as the following three rules for failure. 

Now, these rules are not guaranteed to work for everybody, there are always exceptions, but the numbers show they bear out for most.

1) Do not graduate from High School. To really improve your odds of failure, drop out in 9th or 10th grade.

2) Get married before you are legally allowed to drink alcohol. If you can get married before your twentieth birthday, the odds of failure are even better.

3) Have a kid before you get married - that really ups the chances of failure right there.

Now, some of you may be asking "Hey, what constitutes failure? How is failure defined, statistically?"

Being poor, of course, living in poverty. That's how losing the game is construed in these here United States.