Cox and Forkum recently linked to this chart that graphs the price of gasoline in the US over a 25 year period, as paid by one particular consumer.

It’s fascinating, because what it says is that when inflation is accounted for, we’re paying less now for gasoline than we did at the height of the 1980 “energy crisis.” Granted, it’s just a hair less, but it’s still LESS. There was gasoline rationing back then. You had to wait in line at the pump, and the attendant would sometimes check your gas gauge and if you still had half a tank or more, he wouldn’t let you fill up.

I got to thinking about that. I remember back when gasoline was $1.20 per gallon (ca 1985-1986). What else could I get for $1.20? Well… I could get a double-cheesburger, an order of fries, and a drink. At least I THINK that’s what I remember paying.

Last week I paid $2.79 for a gallon of gas. I haven’t had a double-cheeseburger value meal lately, but I think they’re around $2.80.

This probably explains, at least in part, why Americans aren’t curbing their driving despite higher pump-prices. Or maybe it explains why so many of us eat at McDonalds.

Yesterday I was super productive. I scripted, then pencilled, and then inked six days of Schlock. Usually I don’t take something through more than a couple of stages of creation in one day… it felt good at the end of the day, looking back and realizing that at 8am I had nothing — no scripts to pencil, no pencils to ink — and by 8pm I had a week’s worth.

Today began with a pile of coloring on my plate. I’ve gotten none of it done. I also have a huge knot of neck pain.

The good news is that I got some exercise. I played my first round of Disc Golf this season. I shot really, really well once you take that into account — 3 over par (with some fudging for one missed mandatory we were too lazy to take the drop on), which is about as well as I ever did last season.

Of course, the exercise wiped me out. I’ve had something like three hours of naps so far today. I’m thinking that yesterday morning’s energy drink was sort of a time-warp-in-a-can, allowing me to borrow today yesterday.

Maybe I’ll get some coloring done this evening. If not, there’s still tomorrow. I don’t run out of colored-and-uploaded strips until… um… Sunday.

On a lark I bought a “Monster Energy Drink” last night. It’s the low-carb kind, and I figured I’d try it at breakfast instead of my usual fat-burner pill.

(Note: the comments form is not a place for you to shower me with criticism for eating this way, so don’t start.)

Like the other energy drinks I’ve had in the past, this one tastes like cold, carbonated soup made with a variety of !food. No surprise. Anyway, I sat down at my PC and found that my glass from last night was occupying the space I wanted to put the can of energy drink into. This problem has two solutions:

1) Carry the glass to the kitchen.
…or…
2) pour the energy drink into the glass, and then throw the can away.

I’m a geek, and a lazy one at that. I took option two, because it conserves energy.

I shouldn’t have done that.

In fact, the first words out of my mouth after pouring the drink into the glass were “I shouldn’t have done that,” punctuated with laughter.

You see, “Monster Energy Drink” looks EXACTLY like urine. Specifically, it looks like the deep, yellow urine you get when you’ve been overeating rich foods, and have not been drinking enough water. You holistic urinalysis types know what I mean — it’s the pee that says “you’re not eating right,” and suggests you pound liquids for half a day or more.

I’m going upstairs to show Sandra my glass of pee. If we’re lucky, she’ll blog about it too.

–Howard “I probably shouldn’t do THAT, either” Tayler

I just got back from a little airplane ride, generously provided by my friend Dan.

Dan, for the record, is my number-one fan, and nobody can take that title from him. You see, he was the first person ever to buy artwork from me. His last name, for the record, is Strohl…

Anyway, airplane ride. I understand that some people love aerial tours. It was nice seeing things I recognized. We circled my house, and I could even tell that Sandra and Patches were in the front yard (I called before take-off and told them to expect me). But the turbulence — even wee little drops and nudges — scares me clear to the core of my obviously yellow belly. Intellectually I have absorbed the fact that bumpiness is not indicative of “impending plummet.” My hind-brain, however, refuses to get on board.

So… it was a tame tour of the valley instead of an extended tour up the canyon and back. Still… I got pictures of my house from 1500 feet up.

–Howard