Logo Help! Contest ($325 prize)

[Scourge]

I like Clint Eastwood goat too. But he needs to be pointing two six shooter barrels at me.

[YellerDog]

That can happen if it wins, sure.

[Finch]

Guys, stop voting until I submit something!

T___T Dunlap is visiting Compass and Diff-chan and Mode7...

[cigsthecat]

I guess I like the second one best. Of course I could refine the drawings, ink and incorporate the title if you like any of em.

[Scourge]

Ren, Stimpy, and Blue Neck.

[Doc Holliday]

Thanks guy!, Thanks to FuryFox for going all out and thanks to cigs for actually getting it in before the day ended on the last place possibe! When I logged in and saw that 5:51 AM (CST) timestamp, I nearly shit a bit.

So, we have all of our drawings in and their in the OP, so if I could get everyon's opinion on them, that would be great. Poll ends Tuesday and I'll make a desision by Thursday.

[Revoltor]

I change my vote to YellerDog.

[YellerDog]

Me too! I really like that Goat with No Name!

[Finch]

My favorite is YellerDog's as well, with two guns, i wouldn't have to think about it. i like mine the second! They will fight, like this

FAN FICTION!!!!!! i was thinking about this at chick fil a and had to add it to this thread because i'm gay and didn't want to forget it, and also an old cowboy narrates it. Just in case you don't like it, i'll say it's super stupid and gay in advance, so then i can't take credit for it being really bad.

In a quiet town in northern Arizona, a tall, dark man sat by a saloon. As a calm wind threatened to lacerate his hat like a sharp knife through flesh, he played a sad melody on an old guitar. His coat had seen better days, and nights, as had he. The justice that once shone bright in his eyes had long since been stained by the blood of more men than most goats even meet in their dusty lives.

"Pardner."

He stopped playing. He looked up to see a face, leathered by the sun. The other man's eyes were squinted so tight you'd wonder if he could even see, that is, if you couldn't feel his glare cutting straight through you.

"Let me buy you a drink."
The tall man's sunken eyes met the eyes of the other.
"Clint," the tall man's voice was low and weak, but as strong and piercing as a black shadow on white sand, "I never figured i'd see your god damn face for as long as I live."

"Come on in, Billy."

The tall man stood slowly and dusted off his pants. He followed the leathered man into the saloon. The man behind the bar was as big as a bison.

"Sorry boys, I'm closin' early for the day." He turned to meet the two. "Billy!" the grin filled his entire face. "I thought that old song was familiar. My little girl was asking about you, haven't seen you since you scared off those varmints stealin' all our cattle!"

"I've been around, Dug. Could me and my buddy trouble you for one more drink?"

"Of course, Bill." The big man poured something dark into two glasses. "Wish you'd stick around here, my little girl needs a strong man like you."

The tall man took a sip from his glass. "I ain't good enough for staying here."

"Nonsense, you're as good as they come. We always need a good man to keep the peace around these parts.

"Now," he said, nodding to the leathered man, "Introduce me to yer friend here."

The tall man stood up and pushed his stool under the bar. "This here's the best man you'll ever meet. He's the man who taught me what I know, and the only man who could best me."

"Proud to meet you," the big man smiled and shook the leathered man's hoof. "I'm Dug Carson, what name you go by, son?"

"Clint. Clint Doherty."

"Well, Mr. Doherty, I'd be proud to see you visit more often. Any friend of Bill's is a friend of mine."

The leathered man smiled at the tall man. "Seems you've earned your respect in these parts."

"He's always helpin' us out."

The leathered man put down some money, and the two friends left the bar as empty as they had found it.

"They need ya here Bill, they'll miss ya too much."

The tall man was silent as they walked through the empty streets and far beyond the town. He finally spoke, "Clint, I need to pay ya back for everything you've done for me."

"No, Bill, let's just part here and forget it."

"There's no forgettin' about what's happened."

The leathered man looked up to the sky and sniffed.

"I suppose yer right." He was quiet for a moment. "Bill, let's just think this through."

The tall man didn't speak.

"You'll shoot to kill, right Bill? If you miss, yer just tellin' me I didn't teach ya right."

"I'll kill ya sure enough," his voice was tired, his eyes followed the horizon.

"Fine, Bill, we'll do it right. Turn, ten paces, count of three, your count."

They turned.

"One."

"Louder Bill."

"ONE." The tall man was still.

"Bill, let's go back. That town-"

"TWO."

The leathered man sighed while his eyes flitted over the Kaibab Plateau. He thought he could hear the Colorado river rushing by, just a few score yards away.

"Bill,"

"THREE."

Two shots cut the air. And then it was so quiet you could hear the clouds drifting on the breeze.

"God damn it Bill, you hit me in the god damn arm, you know that's not going to kill me."

The leathered man walked over to Bill's hunched figure. "Those people need you, Bill. And now, they're as helpless as all those people you killed."

Bill's took a breath and shuddered.

"Take my guitar, Clint. There's money inside. That's for those drinks."

Clint shook his head. "Bill, the money on your head will buy me drinks for the rest of my life. Why the hell didn't you kill me? Bill, god damn it, I told you to kill me. You're a better shot, you could've hit me before I even touched my gun. You had a life, Bill, all that stuff you did didn't matter anymore."

Clint took his canteen out and gave it to Bill. The tall man raised it to his lips, opening his mouth for a final drink. "It's justice, what you taught me. It's justice, Clint." He drew in a sharp breath. "It's justice."

The tall man sat down and sucked as much air as he could into his withering body. "Justice. Clint." The canteen fell from his hands before the water touched his tongue.

"Bill, Bill, Bill." Clint stood back up, took the tall man's guitar, and placed it in the tall man's arms.

[Drewbacca]

I like cigs' #2 (entry 7). It's pretty clear and clean enough to be a logo. It also has a lot of personality. Yellerdog's entry is a close second. His is more political somehow. Definitely some kind of neo-liberal message worked in that shit he didn't think we'd notice.