"They love Drunky."

And we knew it was steam up the ass, that is, we knew no one out there really *loved* Drunky. We knew he was a salty boozehound and there was never much room for him in the prime time line up. Then again, steam up the ass feels pretty good, so we kept on. But here's the amazing part: we pitched Drunky as claymation. So in this brief courting process, we not only wrote scripts and treatments directing Drunky's paranoid rants, but we actually went to the art store and bought claymation clay and, as they say in the biz, brought that little shitpant to life. The prospects were awesome. We even had a new-technology insight that would have revolutionized claymation! Maybe!

But you will be hard pressed to sell soda pop and cell phones when your character rallies against these exact corporate evils, and we had no idea how long it was going to take, much less cost, to make claymated shorts (and they weren't paying much). So it was steam up the ass and a bad idea and a potential nightmare, and in the end, prolly best for all, they never got back to us. In love with Drunky or not (or 'Janky and his cousin Drunky the Hardboiled Egg', as it became), this was not his time to shine.

Hell if I know. I just know time is a circle, and when you are 22 you're all, "Fuuuck yeah! This shit is crazy! I'm gonna shit in the punch bowl!", and 7 years later, you are at the same party looking around going, "Someone shit in the punch bowl? Let's go back to the crib and do headstands" and the world doesn't change, you change, and you notice this against a background of cyclical rebirth and death, of reincarnation, of resurrection, of molding a big clay egg in boxer shorts and thinking of your middle school dog and your old journalism teacher and the endless internal monologue/self-interviews and the life of the ancient samurai and you realize that just like every nightmare you've had where you wake up encased inside a giant sausage, that you are going to have to punch your way out and do your best not to fall asleep ever, ever again. And that, my friends, is the future of your face, that is the squiggly path of the mosquito larvae, that is the stiff wind of change. So huff away.

Bi-Annual Investors Report and Proxy Statement:

Mean Girls tore shit up at the box office. That's two #1 movie websites we've done. And that means literally millions of people have been reading Chuck V.'s faux teenage girl blather on the official promotional website. Isn't that creepy? Way to go, dudes.

Now we have Team America in the chamber. All we can say: it is awesome. 40 bucks says that goes to #1 too. We must be like the best fucking website company in the universe.
[ed note: it turns out TA did not in fact go #1, as I predicted. Luckily, no one took me up on the bet. However, this does not change my position on us being the best fucking website company in the universe.]

And like I said, we've got teevee shows in development (like, getting paid to develop that shit, which is way better than doing it for Nathan), more interstitials, some more short films, slowly gearing up to get a feature together, maybe some advertising work, and so on. All homies raging, last I checked.

Sakebomb has weathered the financial diarrhea of the last few years and is on the shiny side once again, so we are pretty stoked. We are still revolutionary nerds. Hold on a hot minute and we are going to blow your ass out of the water.

In the meantime, priority number one: chilling. Getting high on life.

Getting really, really fucking high on life.

Getting completely fucking fucked up on life.

-Shewchuk

: home
: sakebomb archives
(home page and below photos from Paul and Adam G's recent trip to Shanghai)