Cult artist/illustrator/underground cartoonist Robert Crumb will be 67 next Monday. Since I will be traveling that day it did not seem all that wrong to post this tribute now. Crumb and his work have been described as no less than twisted, disgusting, heroic, transformative, monstrous, sexist, misogynistic, anti-establishment, misanthropic, socially autistic, genius, and visionary. There is no question he is offbeat and his work frank. I am not an art critic or a comic book collector, I was not alive to enjoy the reign of Creem, but ever since a friend introduced me to Crumb’s work I have been drawn to it in a “this is fascinatingly disturbing and brilliant” way. His outrageous characters (whether you love them or hate them they are that) are bold and uncensored. Some seem like they fell off of a drug induced trip that sputtered down a back alley far too long before a disturbing end. He is the visual partner to Bukowski and Kerouac’s mad road trips to hell and not all the way back.