There's no place like gnome

 

In October 2006 I turned myself into a garden gnome for a post called "Stealing Gnome" in which I encouraged people to steal my gnome and put it in their blogs. I had people reading my blog back then who actually actively engaged with me. It had the feeling of a real community that I could interact with without any real human contact. The introvert in me loved it. I was able to garner positive feedback for what I thought were my creative talents and shut out anyone who didn't like it. It was pretty much a win, win situation. Until all the people reading my blog got bored and drifted away.

But enough of blatant self pity. Here's a 2026 version of me as a garden gnome.

If you are a purist and don't like the painted version here's more more stony version of me as a garden gnome.

What these 2026 garden gnome versions of me is how everything but your nose and ears shrink as you get old.  But it occurred to me while I was creating this post, that, although I did touch on pink yard flamingos, I never put my face on one. That is, until now.

Oh, if I could only fabricate a flock of these for my front yard and really freak out the neighbors.  

Sometimes things Pan out

 

Back in September 2006, I wrote a post called Being Dr. Lao.  It was about the movie, The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao starring Tony Randall and Barbara Eden (of I Dream of Jeanie). I wrote:

In the movie, the seven faces of Dr. Lao are: Dr. Lao, Pan, Apollonius of Tyana (a Greek philosopher and teacher), Merlin, Medusa, the Abominal Snowman, and a goldfish that turns into a sea serpent. The make-up artist for the film won a honorary Academy Award for his work on the film. Tony Randall was pretty impressive playing the characters as well.

I was playing with Photoshop as a tool or brush to manipulate various images at the time, so the image I created at the time technically wasn't my face on an image of Pan, but more the essence of Pan.  I asked ChatGPT to make an image of me as Pan.

I think I make a pretty good Pan if I do say so myself. I especially like the Pan Flute pendant. Not bad for an old goat. 

In the 2006 post I also created an image of me as Medusa.

Here is my 2026 version.

I love my stony stare. In 2006 I also turned myself into Apollonius, a fortune teller.

And speaking of stony stare, here is another Greek statue ChatGPT turned me into recently.

And finally, although I didn't create an image of me as Merlin back in 2006, here's an image of me as a wizard in 2026.

Now that is magic.

Keep clam and carry on

 

In August 2006 I wrote a post about whether or not clams were really happy. I created this image of me as a geoduck to further showcase my creative Photoshop skills. In retrospect it is more disturbing than the Girl with the pearl earring image. I knew ChatGPT could do better.

It does have the look of a Star Wars creature. Creepy none the less. Though not having the horse penis looking appendage coming directly out of my mouth is less creepy than my version. I decided to have ChatGPT turn me into a happy clam, too.

I'm not sure how ChatGPT pictured me smiling. I don't think any of the photos I've uploaded to it have me smiling. So far 2026 hasn't been very funny.  The shit storm passing through our country makes me want to clam up. Oh, for the good old days.

Come to think of it, the good old days weren't that great either. We had Nixon, Reagan and the Bush presidencies. Though they were all better than what is going on now. So I will remain clam.

But we must remain strong. 

Eventually all will be right with the world again.

Remember I can share pearls with you, but you have to create the necklace.

More Pearls

 

In July 2006 I posted this image of me in a post called Sometimes I even freak myself out. And I imagine this image would have freaked out Johannes Vermeer, too.  The post just had the photo and some lyrics from Michael Jackson's Man in the Mirror for some reason. Who knows what I was thinking

Since I'm retracing my Dizgraceland roots and redoing history, I asked ChatGPT to create an image of me in the style of Vermeer's painting Girl with the Pearl Earring. I half expected it to tell me it wasn't allowed to, but it came through.

It is a bit more tasteful than the one I did in 2006, but I have matured a great deal and I don't tend to pose for photos as if I am Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade too much anymore. In fact, I don't pose for photos at all anymore (except for self portraits to produce this crap).

Victoria's real secret

 

Back in June 2006 I started flexing my Photoshop muscles (and lifting my skirts) with a post called Victoria's Secret. There wasn't much text because I was convinced people would just be impressed with my newly honed photo altering skills and the humor of me as Queen Victoria. I was also pretty sure I could get traffic from teenaged boys searching for photos of underwear models. It never occured to me then (or now for that matter) why I wanted to increase my blog traffic with hits from teen pervs looking for porn. I don't think it worked then and I don't think it will work now.

But I was curious how ChatGPT would respond to me request for an image of me as a Victorian era monarch with a crown (because if I just asked for an image of me as Queen Victoria, it's internal censors would have likely kicked in and said it couldn't create images altering real celebrities).  Here was it's first response.

Now granted, this is a pretty bitchin' cool image of me as a monarch, but I'm trying to recreate my earlier crude Photoshop experiments to demonstrate how far we have come (and how little progress I've made in how I spend my spare time).  So I thanked ChatGPT because I treat AI apps with the same dignity and respect I show any service people (with hopes that I'll get good service and they won't spit in my food). Then I asked for an image of me as Victorian Monarch Queen.

Now that is more like it. I do think the pearls were a tasteful touch but I would kind of like the crown to be a bit more dainty, but at the same time that would probably make my head look even bigger than it already is.  But in the original 2006 post I also created an image of me as Annie Oakley from the Wild West Show era.

So I went back to ChatGPT (who fortunately doesn't seem to get overly judgey about my requests) and asked for an image of me as an Annie Oakley-esque character complete with cowgirl hat and boots. It responded immediately:

I thought ChatGPT did an admirable job of capturing the spirit of my experiment, but I do think it made my calves look a bit too thick.  And the way the skirt drapes makes my butt look a little too big. Because in real life I don't have a big butt. I don't have much of a butt at all. But all and all, it is a very tasteful depiction of a Wild West Show character who knows how to sport a cartridge belt. I do think the lace sleeves are too much. Maybe more fringe. I didn't want to push my luck with ChatGPT.

Now all of this greatly amuses me, but similar to 2006, I don't have a widely recognizable face. In fact, I went in for a haircut a couple of days ago and the person who cuts my hair (and has for about a year now) walked right by me as she was coming to work and didn't acknowledge or recognize me. I imagine if I had been dressed like Queen Victoria or Annie Oakley people might pay more attention to me.

If only people knew how funny I was, they'd remember me. 

Or not. 

Am I blue?

 

This was an early Photoshop effort of mine back in May 2005 in a post called Blue Guitar. Young, pudgy face. No beard. Brown (blue) hair.  Gainsborough probably would have shuddered.

Now let's move forward in time.

Gainsborough would have probably nodded in approval for this version and acknowledged this was a portrait of an aged (not elderly despite ChatGPT's programming) gentleman.  Though if I did indeed wear this outfit in some parts of the country, I would not come out unscathed. 

This earlier version ChatGPT created makes my head look huge so I like the full length version the best. 

I think I'll stick to t-shirts and blue jeans. 

Talking through my hats

 

It is National Hat Day and I posted this image back in September 2006 of a younger me with my face on a beach busker in Mexico. The post was about me literally wearing many hats. So this is the next image I'll recreate with the now me.

I asked Gemini to create this one and Gemini is much more literal than ChatGPT and less creative if you ask me. ChatGPT generally adds a background and does some touching up of my face (even though it talks out loud while developing images and sometimes refers to me as an elderly man as it draws images of me despite my protests that I find it insulting...no one uses the phrase elderly anymore).

ChatGPT generally doesn't address things when I point out potential flaws in its approaches. When it does, it says things like, "Thanks for bringing that to my attention because I really value your input." This is much like the things I write as part of my work when people complain about ad campaigns I'm running. 

Let's face it, no one really values your input. Everyone, including AI apps, would rather you just chill because nothing you say will change anything anyone does in the long run. People spend way too much time thinking their opinions matter. As the old saying goes, "Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one." I'm curious what the AI apps would say if I asked them for a design for "Opinions are like assholes." ChatGPT would probably just use an image of my face as the asshole. ChatGPT has a quirky sense of humor like that. That's what I would do if I were an AI app.

Looky there, another hat!

The return of Free Willie!

 

Back in August 2004, I posted my first image of me as someone else. It was a post called Free Willie and it was a brief one about Willie Nelson and some not so kind comments about his singing but acknowledging his place in music history. I feel bad about my comments about his voice. I have come to think it is great so I'm not so sure what my problem was back in 2004 other than I was still in that phase of thinking it was funny to make fun of what other people liked. And I greatly admire Willie and recently purchased an autographed photo of him. He is in his 90s now and unfortunately probably won't be around too many more years.

Regardless of my digressions, the image above was me dressed up as Willie Nelson for a skit I performed at a going away event at my place of work. The engineer who was retiring liked Willie Nelson, so in honor of him, I dressed up like Willie and performed a version of "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" rewritten as "My Heroes Have Always Been Engineers."  It was a time before my total aversion to wearing costumes kicked in and to this day I can't believe I played my guitar and sang in public. But I did it as Willie Nelson. And I posted the photo on my fledgling blog.

Now, as I embrace AI and have obviously launched images of myself as famous characters to the next level, it occurred to me that I should go back and recreate some (if not all of the images) I created or posed for using the miracle of ChatGPT.  So my first harkens back to me as Willie.

I do look like a meatier Chip off the Old Willie if I do say so myself! 

I have a hunch, or "Sanctuary!"

 

I didn't realize that when I asked ChatGPT to use my image to recreate Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, it would have to do very little touch up. This is how I look on an average morning when I roll out of bed. It did a pretty good job of giving the hint of a hunchback in a very politically correct fashion because Victor Hugo described Quasimodo as having:

• A massive hump on his back

• Facial asymmetry

• A twisted posture

• Deafness

• Limb irregularities

The deafness was probably due to his job as bell ringer at Notre Dame. But the distinctive hump was something he was born with. And ChatGPT suggested that if Quasimode walked into an emergency room today his chart would probably read "Severe congenital kyphoscoliosis with secondary craniofacial and auditory deformities. But Victor Hugo's novel wouldn't have been very marketable if the title was The Man with Severe Congental Kyhoscoliosis of Notre Dame. 

ChatGPT does go on to say that Quasimodo wasn't a monster but  was physically different in a world that confused difference with evil. There is an irony in that considering what is going on in America today.  Trump and his goons are trying to round up anyone who is different from them. It's to the point that those of us on the liberal side should be scurrying in churches and crying out, "Sanctuary!"

But I suppose that doesn't mean anything to most of you. You would have to be familiar with Victor Hugo's book or one of the early movies done with either Lon Chaney Sr. or Charles Laughton (okay and the Disney cartoon version).  

And this isn't the first time I've played around with the concept of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I created this version a couple of years ago for a t-shirt but it was pulled down from Teepublic because the University of Notre Dame claimed an Intellectual Property violation. 

And since I have never liked censorship, I created another version that didn't violate their Intellectual Property rights (like Notre Dame is know for intellect and academics and not just football anyway). 

No one complained about this version.  But Teepublic of course cancelled my account soon after anyway and I haven't tried selling this one in my Printify store because there isn't a big market for Hunchback puns. Not that there is apparently a big market for any of my designs but I keep them punning. 

Maybe someday, one of these will ring a bell for someone.

Plodders never win, and winners never plod (or why I stopped reading books)

 

"Small have continuous plodders won
Save base authority from others' books"
--William Shakespeare, Love's Labour's Lost (Act 1, Scene1)

When Shakespeare wrote that line, he argues that people who do nothing but read (plodders) only learn what other people tell them, rather than thinking for themselves. 

Now grant you, I don't have anything against reading. When I was younger I devoured books. I worked in libraries for years and fantasized that one day a book I wrote would be in one.  But a some point in my life I stopped reading books. It kind of started when I switched from reading physical books and started reading on a Kindle. Or maybe it started when I got my first satellite dish and started streaming endless streams of crap television. Eventually I stopped reading books even when I commuted (and switched to watching TikTok videos of cat's being introduced to aluminum foil). The pandemic ended even the sporadic reading I did on commutes. And now I only read things on screens.

The reason for this post (other than finding an excuse to post an image of me as Shakespeare, who BTW, really just wrote for people to view his works as plays, not read) was a trip to Barnes and Noble with my school librarian wife yesterday so she could return some books. As I waited for her I scanned the row after row of books carefully displayed in what I'm sure are professionally curated fashions to maximize impulse purchases.  There were a multitude of biographies, autobiographies, and best sellers with flashy covers emblazoned with bold headlines: SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE! And there were a plethora of self-help books (the ones I detest the most) screaming how they would change your life and make you stop trying to please other and do what is best for you (which is ironic coming from a stranger who is only writing about what theoretically worked for their unique life and wouldn't necessarily apply to yours). And there were umpteen classic books with flashy new covers to maximize profits and push sales based on people's guilt over never having read those great books (that really weren't all that great and would sit on their bookshelves unread except by guests who were supposed to be impressed by their high-brow library).

Barnes and Noble was packed to the gills with people browsing and sipping Starbucks while they desperately browsed for an escape from the world, mass media and very likely their mundane selves. Because what is more fascinating then the biography or autobiography of a 23-year old former Disney child star who lived on the streets and now works in a flower warehouse in San Francisco?

My epiphone was that I stopped reading not because I no longer liked reading, but I stopped reading because I gave up on self-help books decades ago, realized I didn't need to read about famous people's destructive habits (at least pay to read about them) and could do research and learn much more from ChatGPT (with a grain of salt) than I ever would from the hyper-marketed books at Barnes and Noble.

I was disgusted that there were also still multitudes of what we used to refer to as Harlequin Romances on display, still flashing long-haired, muscular and bare chested men embracing swooning women.  The market is still there even with the books on display within steps of books about women's rights.  

Hypocrisy abounded in the displays at Barnes and Noble. And I also have to admit that I was just a smidgeon jealous and deflated that none of the books on display were written by me. But I quickly overcame that emotion as I realized that even if a book I wrote were there, it would be sitting there screaming loudly at passersby to "buy me" masked by the voices of the thousands of other obscure books screaming for attention (kind of like my blog has for almost 22 years). 

"A reader, a reader, a reader for my blog!"

Phantom of the Copra

 

Apparently Copra is the only word that truly rhymes with opera. Copra is the dried meat of a coconut, so it really doesn't make any sense to be a Phantom of the Copra, but that has never stopped me before.

The world is my oyster.

Coincidently, it is National Oysters Rockefeller Day. But I suppose I should really say, "The world is my coconut."  BTW, the phrase "The world is my oyster" was first coined by Shakespeare in The Merry Wives of Windsor when a character says, "Why then the world's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open." I don't believe Shakespeare ever said anything about coconuts. Though it would have been interesting to see Hamlet speaking to a coconut instead of Yorick's skull in the cemetery scene. 

"Alas, poor coconut, I knew him well."

That was one of my better digressions if I do say so myself. I really just started out trying to justify using an image of me as the Phantom of the Opera (which I think I pull off pretty well as long as I'm heaping on self-compliments). After all, since I feel invisible most of the time I might as well romanticize it as being a phantom. 

Not so sure about the Phantom of the Copra, though.

A master piece of work...

 

It is almost scary how easy it is to have AI plop your image into a famous masterpiece.  When the Internet was young and I was younger, I took great pleasure in crudely manipulating masterpieces and putting my face on them. It would usually take me an hour or two but it was fun. Now the hardest part is to think of new ways for ChatGPT to make me look regal and important. And it is always so gracious about telling me things like, "It reads like someone who's worn a few different kinds of armor over the years and finally figured out which ones were worth keeping."

I enjoy it, at least now while it is still kind of a novelty, because I can become different things without wearing makeup or costumes and looking like a total fool.

When I was a senior in high school I did this project for Advanced Humanities. I think it was about Cyrano de Bergerac or Victor Hugo. I forget. But I created this cheesy costume that was supposed to be from that era. I cobbled it together with things I had but purchased a few things like a sword and vintage clothes that I doctored to look like a musketeer. I turned old rubber boots into the high boots they wore in that time. And I rented a hat with a plume from a costume shop.  Then I paraded it in front of the class and immediately regretted my decision.  I was jeered and teased unmercilessly. What did I expect? It was high school.  From then on, anytime I put on a costume and went out in public I felt like a fool. But having AI recreate me helps heal that old wound and let me indulge my fantasies of recreating myself.