All posts by Normal Bob

Artist, Atheist, Anthropologist http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/26/nyregion/26union.html?_r=2&

My Zombie Uprising Halloween Display

October 7, 2025 Normal Bob

For a long while I’ve had an idea for a Halloween decoration to sit atop my fireplace mantle for the month of October. In the same way people display Mary, Joseph & Baby Jesus in a manger for Christmas, I wanted to make a somber zombie uprising at the graveyard for Halloween.

Unfortunately my religious mother did not love Halloween as much as I. “Why do people want to celebrate evil, death and ugliness??” she’d exclaim. Reasons could be given but her stance was unwavering, and my idea remained only an idea. But now the mantle is mine, and over this last month of September I began work on my Zombie Uprising Halloween Display – “A Nativity Scene for Halloween.”

My concept was to design several different zombies, have them printed on foam core, individually cut them out out, and propped by little wooden stands. Behind them a black background of gravestones, creepy trees and boarded up houses cut from matte board. The background backlit by a string of red lights to create an ominous horizon. In front, zombies lit by a string of orange, green & purple Halloween lights. I could picture it clearly.

Drawing the zombies came easy. The first one, Sawhead (above), came to me while I was driving to the coffee shop. A couple hours later he was complete, along with the background concept, and their style was established. After that inventing and drawing zombies and other spooky Halloween ideas came easy. The pencil sketches were inked in, later to be filled with Autumny colors in Photoshop.

My first issues came with my attempt to cut the matte board with an xacto knife. Almost impossible! Especially for the size I had in mind. There was no way I was going to be able to carve the details I expected with an ordinary xacto knife. For a moment I found myself doubting whether or not I could make this happen at all. But after looking online I discovered they’re making xacto knives that vibrate now! NeoBlade’s the one I bought, and it’s amazing. It cuts through the matte like butter! With it I made a miniature version of what I imagined. One piece of board cut and folded so it can be displayed and stored easily. My vision was coming to fruition.

Cutting out the giant piece of black board was actually fun! This NeoBlade, at first, I found kinda terrifying. It vibrates at 40,000 times per second (so says their website), which obviously can’t be seen with the naked eye. It only makes a quiet high pitched hum when it’s on. DO NOT TOUCH BLADE! the warning strewn across the instructions. But once I got comfortable with it, I found myself looking for excuses to cut more and expand my idea.

Each zombie, after having them printed and mounted on foam core, was designed so I wouldn’t have to cut around each claw, fang and nose hair. Each had its own unique shape, with simple straight lines, and a black background I hoped, when lit properly, would blend seamlessly into the background I’d prepared. The NeoBlade cuts through foam core with ease. And for each of them I made little wooden stands, painted black, so they could stand on their own.

I got little plastic stick-on hooks that attached to the back of the black background for the red light horizon I imagined. I also cutout grave stones in a separate piece of matte to sit in front to hide the lights illuminating the zombies.

It was October 1st I finally got the entire thing set up. After adjusting the lights and the zombies, my creation was complete. The Zombie Uprising is now haunting my fireplace mantle for this and many more Halloweens to come. I wonder what mom would’ve thought of it?

Art, Freelance, Gone Too Soon, News, Portfolio

Another change

July 17, 2025 Normal Bob

When I came over from NYC it was to take care of my folks until their passing. My father passed 2 years ago, July 27th, and my mother 2 weeks ago, July 30th. It’s all come to fruition, and now it’s just me, here in this house out in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, with a little schnauzer dog. It’s another change of life I’m facing, and I’ve had a couple panic attacks since. But I’m fine. This last decade here I’ve had to do a lot of adjusting, and finding my way around this mostly conservative Christian Trump-loving hood.

Beginning the routine of drawing every day has been my relief. Below are some of my favorites I’ve done over the last couple months. Mostly just pen and ink, but also some toying with colored pencil.

Art, Blog, Storytime

My art looks like prints

May 11, 2025 Normal Bob

I like to go to a coffeeshop and read, write and draw as much as I can each day. It’s a luxury I appreciate, having the time and freedom to do this while caring for my 91 year old mother back at home.
A few months ago I was drawing at the barista counter, and I can literally smell someone looking over my shoulder. It’s a flowery perfume, and it’s strong. Sure enough it’s a wide-eyed girl, and she’s pointing at my drawing.
“That looks like a print!”
“Thank you!” I slide my book over so she can see better.
She repeats, “It looks like a print!”
She’s astonished, and I’m flattered.
“Did you draw that?”
“Yes. I drew these too!” Turning the pages back.
“Know who John Prine is? haha!”
“Haha, who? No.”
“No one’s heard of him. How about David Lynch?” showing her the drawing.
She looked blank. “No.”
“That’s alright. He’s kinda obscure. How about Bill Murray?”
“No.”
I’m shocked. I thought everyone knew who Bill Murray was. A few of the baristas were listening, amused.
“Christ, I’m old. How old are you?”
“22.”
I start paging further back in my book. “Amy Winehouse? Aubrey Plaza? She was in the TV show Parks and Recreation.”
“No, no” shaking her head “I never heard of that show.”
“Kurt Cobain? He was in a rock band Nirvana.”
“No. Never heard of them.”
“Do you know who Joe Biden is?”
“I know who Joe Biden is.” Rolling her eyes.
“Oh, how about David Bowie. Everyone knows David Bowie.”
“Oh! He was in Labyrinth!”
“Yes! That’s David Bowie” as I’m showing the drawing on my phone. “He was also the singer in a rock band.”
“Oh was he?” She didn’t know that about David Bowie.
I’m about done. I knew of no-one more famous than Bowie whom I’ve drawn. In fact I had to sit for a while to think of anyone famous she’d for sure know.
“Taylor Swift.”
“I know her! Did you draw her?”
“No.”
I was done. “So what’s your name?”
She tells me but it’s in one ear and right out the other. I’m still stewing over it all, trying to end the pain.
“Well I’m Bob. I’m 56. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
“If you wanna see more people you don’t know that I’ve drawn” I give her my card. “Come back any time.”
“Oh I will!”
I pull my book back to the page I’m working on, and everyone around is greatly entertained. I bemoan my relevance in this world and have a profound reality check.
And then…

A couple weeks later I’m here at the same spot, drawing, and there’s that smell again, in the same spot over my shoulder. Fragrance memory brings it all back instantly. That I’m-no-longer-relevant feeling.
“Oh hi! I remember you. I forgot your name.”
She tells me again.
“I forgot yours too. Is it, Greg?”
“No. Bob. Normal Bob.”
Then she points and says “That’s my dad!”
I look to my left and there’s a man’s face about a foot away from mine. He’s leaning forward on the counter looking me dead in the eye. “I’m her father. That’s my daughter.” He has an intense glare, face red with forehead veins bulging. Short, neatly cut grey hair like a Marine, or Christian youth leader. And he looked exactly my age, except exceptionally more conservative.
“I’m Bob. Normal Bob.” I turn the pages back a few and show him my Acid Trip Couch drawing.
“That’s what he was working on when I was here last!”
I lean back so they can see. I’m sandwiched between them both. He looks for a long moment, taps his finger on it and says, “Looks like R. Crumb.”
“I know who R. Crumb is!” I proclaim as he walks away.

He goes and sits at the other side of the cafe and looks down at whatever he’s got there. She’s looking at me grinning from ear to ear delighted that her dad and I got to finally meet.
“It was nice to see you again. I’m going to get back to drawing now.”
“Nice to meet you too!” And she goes over to her dad. As she’s walking away I’m noticing for the first time how she’s dressed. She’d been behind me every time. She’s wearing a black mini skirt, heels and a tight top. She’s got tattoos up and down her legs, rockabilly style. Small ones scattered about. And as she walking to her dad he’s there in a chair looking like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown.

Blog, Storytime

Scrubbed

April 20, 2025 Normal Bob

In elementary school I was a fairly popular kid. Popular enough to know most everyone in class. I had friends from the neighborhood there, like Oliver, Chris and Jeff. And I had a best friend too – Tim. He was the first kid in the neighborhood I’d met. Out of all the kids I knew Tim and I hungout the most. Our mutual interest in Star Wars was bond. We collected the action figures and ships, and played everything Star Wars as much as possible through grade school. Things changed for us though when we got into junior high. Being a top dog in 6th grade at Green Gables Elementary was a completely different life experience than being a 7th grade scrub at Carmody Junior High.

Scrubs were what the 8th graders called 7th graders. And Tim and I were definitely scrubs. I was a goofy walking stick, and Tim was short. Together we stood out as scrubbable I’m sure. We’d heard the rumors about getting scrubbed- Swirlies in the toilet, underwear wedgies, or just getting shouldered as you walked down the hall. A scrubbing’s only limit was the imagination of the 8th grader up to the task.

“Hey! Scrubs! Hold up!”
It was Tony Sanfalippo. He had a little buddy with him too.
“You two been scrubbed yet?”
Pushed and teased occasionally, but not actually scrubbed.
“No.”
“No, I don’t think so.”

For the life of me I can’t remember his little friend at all. My memory’s replaced him with that kid from A Christmas Story that hung around Farkus. But Tony, I remember. He was a beefed up metalhead with long hair. His bangs covered his eyes, and he was the only kid I’d ever seen who walked around with his shirt off at recess.

So he told us to lay down on the ground, and Tony came over and took my legs and folded me in half, my knees on either side of my head. And he held me down in this position with an arm.
“Now yer gonna count from 100 backwards and I’ll let you go.”

I swear, before this I’d never seen the guy. He wasn’t in a class, or in the halls, or anywhere. But kids knew who he was. I wasn’t crying. I was just doing the best I could counting down trying not to panic so I wouldn’t burst out crying.
“88, 87, 86, 85…”

And Tim had the same thing going on over there. I couldn’t see them. All I saw from between my knees was Tony’s lower face, hair where eyes should be.
“55, 54, 53, 52…”

Counting backwards from 100 takes a while. It’s enough time to think about things. To think about life, and at times even see it through someone else’s eyes. To reflect. And while I was reflecting on my situation, it seemed as if Tony was behaving less like a guy who was enjoying the torturing, and more like a guy tired of his job. He seemed bored. His friend was laughing and relishing every second. Tony looked like he wished he’d chosen a smaller number, like three.

When I finally reached zero he pushed me down into the ground a little more, then he let me up, and we waited there while they finished.

“Ok, you guys have been scrubbed. If anyone else bothers you, just let us know. We’ll protect you.”
And they walked away.

That was it. We’d been scrubbed and we never spoke of it. I don’t even remember seeing Tony or his buddy ever again. Not at school or the playground around the neighborhood. Although I’m sure if I even got a glimpse I would have turned and gone the other direction. He’s in the yearbooks. High school too. Tim and I outgrew our friendship partway through high school. We said hey to each other in the halls, but that was it. And I don’t have any memory of seeing Tony again until six years and a day later when I got my graduation photos developed.

That’s Tony right behind me.