If I Could Do Art, I'd Do Art Like Dis.

Had to pass this along. I love this illustration and the style. Dude's name is Matthew Lyons. Check out his blog for more tubularness. This one is from a series he did called Locations. This is "Underground." The rest of the series is equally rad.

Robots are featured in many of his other illustrations, which makes me pump my fist. This Lyons chap is OK.

Gasol sheds Spanish tears of joy. Plays flute.

Gasol definitely showed up and played a monstrous role in Thursday’s Game 7. Indeed, he was a force.

He may have silenced some critics with his performance. But still, I’m sure some will continue to question Gasol’s heart. They’ll question his toughness. All will forever question his neck beard. But I don’t care about any of that. What matters is the one thing that simply cannot be disputed: The guy can totally rock a flute! I mean, have you ever listened to "Living in the Past"? Freaking incredible! And the balance. How does he stand on one leg like that? Why doesn't he ever strike that yoga pose during timeouts while he's flushing down some G2?

Celtic fans, wipe your chowduh tears. Pop in some Jethro Gasull and let the haunting-yet-soothing melodies of a Spanish flautist put you to sleep. You’ll need to rest up if you’re going to be at full obnoxious capacity when Patriots season rolls around.

It's a gloomy day in Bean Town today, but The Champion will assure you of this: Songs from the wood make you feel much better.

And now, more radness.

I just discovered this animator/illustrator called Jack Cunningham. I dig the retro Atari style in this video. And as a supporter of randomnicity, this video hits the spot. It's hypnotizing, it's weird, I don't really get it, I don't know if there's anything to get. It's just buh buh buh buh buh buh POWER!

STUFF & THINGS. from Jack Cunningham on Vimeo.

Fuh-Fuh-Funky

Pretty rad. I wish the favelas looked like this when I was roaming the mean streets of Sao Paulo. That may have helped perk up my mood when ruthless Brasileiro youth were shouting gingerist remarks at me as I walked down the street in my off-white shirt and baggy khaki pants, feeling strange rumblings in my gut from the gallon of tap water I drank earlier in the day.