Artwork
Exhibitions
Web-log
Comic strips
Animation
About page
icon4 icon19 icon7 icon10 icon16 icon19 icon25








Questionable artwork and pedantic miscellany
May 24, 2017
James the Red Engine was notable as the first book to be illustrated by C. Reginald Dalby, perhaps the most famous of the Railway Series artists, and certainly the most controversial.


My father James Thomas Cunningham is dead. And has been for a month. Well it was supposed to be a month, which actually would have been marked yesterday. Well WELL at first this was to be within the first week but hrm hah urm. I had difficulty writing something readable on the topic. Nonetheless I have embedded appropriately inappropriate messages within the images for if you hover your mouse cursor over them, like always.

Ever since it happened, or at least the first two weeks, I occasionally wrote a little note about it, in the hope of making a proper public post on the topic. But it never came together, because I did not want it to be depressing. I already make the positive updates depressing! But I do not feel like this was a good death, either. He deserved better, from me most of all. From November 1998 onward I did not speak to him, or in any place where I thought he could hear me. Not out of hatred, but simple, or rather complicated psychological blockage. And people generally did not accept this. I could not explain how it worked, and how their suggestions for how to fix it were totally non-applicable. And I would say now, looking back, it drew directly from the absence of fundamental human decency I experienced at the school I attended at that time, Cedarhurst in Hamden Connecticut curse them to heaping heck. And gradually through the years following, owing to one illness and illness treatment side effect after another, the quality of my father’s life declined. It was only after I returned from an apartment I had in New Haven, and became his more or less constant in-home companion that the guilt from not talking began to overpower whatever force kept me from speaking, succeeding at last maybe in mid-2015. He did not even have two years remaining. And by that point he was almost more obligation than parent to me. Our relationship was healing, finally, after far too much sadness, but I do not feel like we finished the job. It was hard to be with him without resenting the job to some degree. I tried to ask him things nobody else would ask, and understand what he went through, and do things for him that nobody else would think to, assuming he had little time left. But I thought I would have more notice than I did, since the reduction of his physical abilities had always been gradual. One day he could speak, eat and move through the house with some level of assistance, and the next he could do nothing at all, confined to a hospital bed with tubes down his throat, on account of his myocard infarcting. Not even related to the prostate cancer, cerebral ataxia, immobilizing tremors, rib and spine injuries, but those things meant that he was not expected to survive heart surgery. There was no chance to take inventory of what we never got to and deal with it. No time to do something as simple as ask what his favorite movies were so that I could get copies of them and let him watch all that stuff instead Bones and Law & Order reruns he had already seen 4 times apiece. He was legally alive another two weeks, but not in a consistently coherent state, owing to more weird medications and stress, presumably, and not in a place that I would call comfortable.


We could even have finished watching Breaking Bad; we had the dvds, and had started to watch it, with my mother, also. But eventually their schedules diverged, and by the time they verged again we also had the Game of Thrones dvds and those had the higher pointless death to minute of airtime ratio and therefore took precedence.

Yes so we shared that, but the show wasn’t finished, was it. Presumably there will be closure in that somewhere, eventually.

Somebody in East Haven, Connecticut, actually wanted to pay my father to make methamphetamine. He was a chemist who could make stuff other people couldn’t. Certainly I don’t think he aspired to be a Walter White sort of person but he appreciated the subject matter –he liked to identify the element symbols used in the opening credits– and to some degree I have to think related to the character more than most people would, including having cancer and not being appreciated for his skills; he started a business with a partner who eventually cheated him out of it, and there are ASPECTS of the television character which might be seen as fantasy fulfillment.


I wondered if I should mention this on the internet at all. It is important to my life, and affects, and has affected what I do, but I hate dealing with people reacting to it in a rote manner. At the funeral wake thing, one after another people I barely knew approached me to say “sorry for your loss.” Why? Who are you? Why are you sorry for MY loss? The poor man whose crushed bone dust is in the box over there lost more than I did! I do not know what to say to people except “it is alright, it was not your fault.” Or “eh it is part of life. And death, I suppose.” Most of them probably did not want to say the line to me, but they SAW me, and thought: “oh pringles we made eye contact. if I don’t say ‘sorry for your loss’ to THAT one now it will blab to the people here that I actually need to like me.”
I appreciate that persons want to be helpful, but I think very few of them sincerely do.

It is the same reason I keep my birth date a secret on the internet; I hate dealing with rote reactions from those whom I barely know, and then feeling like I owe each of them a unique, non-rote response, and then worrying that I now owe them unique birthday wishes when the time comes, and I do not have the energy for it. And I would be even worse at condolence-issuing. Fortunately in person nobody can see that I already gave the same reply to the person before them, so that at least I kept under control. The funeral scene is not for ME. The death was six days ago by that point, and I had grieved before then, before the death occurred, even. Afterward, getting the funeral to happen and visitors coordinated and met and all that, plus local family grieved with and reassured and all that, I was gosh darn exhausted by the time of the semi-public event. And then that was not even the end of it since there was a large dinner gathering following it, and people who had traveled to attend all this were still around a few days following that. However much I surprisingly enjoyed their company, it was tiring. I do not want condolences, just a break.


But until then wishing me well is meaningless, especially if it comes, as it did plenty, from somebody whose life would be no different were it me who was dead. And I am not demanding special attention, either; I just wish we all could spend less time pretending.

And less money on mopey parties for people to pretend at. Did you know that even a non-frilled cremation costs over three thousand dollars? And somehow having a little ceremony for it, a newspaper notice and a box to put the bone dust in costs $2000 more. And it isn’t even a FANCY box.
We could have bought a fancy urn but there was concern about being permitted to bring it on an airplane if we wished to transport the ashes someplace else. Obviously this is because you could easily hide three ounces of water inside one.

We should not force ourselves to be sad because we think etiquette dictates it, and we certainly should not dive deeper into debt for the opportunity. I am terribly fortunate that whatever arbitrary force made my parents feel like they had to put all their children into Catholic schools was not in effect by the time half of them were dead and it allowed us to have a traditionally incongruous karaoke conclusion.


This is the picture that got placed on the ash box. It is a good picture, and it occurred during our 1989 visit to England, my father’s native country, but I have no idea whose dog that is.

Perhaps my foremost regret is that I never communicated how important he was, or had been, in introducing me to some of my favorite things.


Even if I did not always like the same things; I never liked futbol, Harry Potter or fish+chips, but definitely stuff that I knew of on account of him stuck with me my whole life following their introductions. For example, Rupert Bear books had been sent by my English grandmother to my family for several years in the 1980s (and for longer to my father’s brother’s family, who were a bit older), and I never got rid of them. I enjoyed John Harrold’s artwork, and it inspired how I drew a few things, long after the books’ initial acquisition. I am told I even once had a sweater with Rupert pictured on it that this grandmother made for me, but I have no evidence of this.

My appreciation for classical music started with my father. And I hate to condense centuries of artistic expression and styles into a single “genre” but that is beside the point for now. On his last day of open communication, Friday the 21, when he was done with life support and yanked all the tubes out, so at least he could speak and take liquid sustenance again, I quickly set up a playlist of music that he had used to listen to that I had always kept track of –he asked only for “Beethoven” and I knew precisely what he meant, and he seemed glad to hear it, and sadly I did not get through the list before Jeopardy came on


(Jeopardy! I still watch that), and he was still calling out answers to the end, and afterward he preferred the quiet. But being able to share that back was meaningful to me. I didn’t get to Smetana’s Moldau, one of the primary pieces, with Beethoven’s sixth symphony and Holst’s Jupiter, among others, that remind me of my father. Or rather I started it, but since the beginning is so subdued I think he didn’t recognize it, or maybe he did, but it reminded him of the Canals of Mars level in the NES version of Toobin’. So rather than try and jump to the distinct part I skipped it entirely.


That was a joke, but my appreciation of certain video games, Dragon Warrior and Romance of the Three Kingdoms foremost, two of the slowest, more inaccessible titles on the NES ever to be localized, I saw my father playing first, and eventually took a liking to, and I thought I was quite a bit smarter than anybody who thought those were boring, and this led to continuing fascination with that sort of thing. I even at some point read the original [translated] Three Kingdoms novel that inspired the video games, which is to date the longest thing I have read. I believe I also first saw him playing Landstalker (or trying to), my perhaps favorite sega genesis game, but that is only appropriate to mention with regard to a screenshot I ended up putting in this entry too late to be relevant to this paragraph. My father’s general Britishness struck me, as a small child, as being in some way superior to common American habits, and even if that was not accurate, it helped me to look outside a box I might otherwise not have. I even said so on one of my earliest terrible but preservable web pages back in whenever that was.

And I have alluded to all these things on numerous occasions throughout my years of frivolous website production, and I think my father, of all people, might have appreciated it, especially when I was not able to speak to him –So many of the strange quotes I adorn my entries with and that surely confound of those who attempt to read the dumb things, come from strange old movies that my father would have on the television, or the stranger advertising– but by 2001 or so, before I was writing regularly, and long before I was writing half-competently, he no longer wanted, or no longer could use a computer and certainly would not have had time to read my rubbish weekly. And it was never my way to impose nonsense on others. I wouldn’t go and print out pages and pages of this and assume it had a purpose. Occasionally when I had art prints I might show those, but a great majority of my drawings have never been printed, and my sketchbooks are messy and incomprehensible, even for me, who does not require spectacles.
Indeed for the most part my father probably had no idea what I was doing. And he was supposedly proud of me anyway. That does eat at me inside: He was content with me being totally worthless and I never got to prove that I wasn’t!


One tribute to him, in a sense, that I am sad to say he did not know about, and that to my knowledge nobody else did either, even though I drew it just over ten years ago, is the way the creature “kumquat” types on its computer device is based on how my father did back when he could still use a computer. One finger at a time, alternating. Even by early 1998 (prior to my problem) when we first had home internet, my father’s coordination was not stellar. It was not long before he was asking me to type out replies for him when another user of the AOL trivia whatsit accused him of lurking in the game for long enough that the questions looped around. He had me explain, in considered detail, that while he had observed that behavior in others, he would not do such a thing, and he knew the answers he knew because of this this and that, but the person had already logged off, not concerned with whether they were actually right (and, I have to think, probably lost the trivia game due to THAT tendency) and in those days that meant you just plain could not send a message to the person. Argh what a scumbag! My one opportunity to fight for my father’s trivihonor and I wasn’t fast enough. My only hope is to make that incident into a bit of useless trivia itself.


In fact, that I recall, I do not think I ever drew anything for my father, except a really crummy photograph imitation watercolor painting of a pelican. In 2012, before I could speak to him in person, I had become able to speak over the telephone, and I asked what his favorite animal was, thinking that I could imitate photographs of animals in physical media in a way that is pleasing, and that would be easier than any other thing my father would possibly want art work of,

based on my experience with this manner of product. I had not considered that I chose this picture not due to there being birds in it, but rather to its suitability to the task of imitation by me, due to an abundance of vague but colorful details. The pelican scene featured complicated but specific feathers, a limited range of colors and a view of the sea where the light reflection made it seem mostly white, but the imitation to look like I have a fundamental, pre-school-level misunderstanding of what water looks like.
It was so bad that i never showed it to its intended recipient until that last Friday, in the hospital, since I had such massive guilt about what I just told you. A bit later somebody had propped it against a wall in the room with the wrong side up. That is how bad it was. I became the classic delusional artist joke, where two people take turns turning the canvas around to try and determine which orientation is correct. The stuff that I knew how to draw well I was always embarrassed by. Nobody in my family has a “fursona.” And thank goodness but for people who do, it is at least much easier to figure out exactly what to draw, and usually not very difficult.


February 26 of this year, the last time my father went to a restaurant. Zhang’s Madison, the closest restaurant to our home, since he did not like to travel at all by this point. But his sixty-fifth birthday had been on Tuesday, the 21 of February. “Oh two, two one, five two,” as I heard enunciated as clearly as he was able in countless doctor waiting room visits. often multiple times the same trip since the people in that building don’t communicate, and don’t realize you already proved your sanity once to them today. Anyway, something moderately special seemed called for. He is seen here drinking his customary “Coke…. NO ice,” with the latter part usually appended just as the server is leaving. In fact he preferred Mountain Dew, but through the magic of corporate contracts those two are mutually exclusive offerings in any food service establishment. I think he possibly learned that habit from me. Before I stopped speaking, he took me to and from therapist appointments, and I remember stopping at the McDonalds on the highway and ordering the then new “crispy chicken deluxe,” and with none of the customary unspeakable goop on it, which the employees could handle, and a large coke with no ice, which they could not handle. With no ice because nobody can drink ice, but I could drink a lotta coke, and you can fit more in there without the ding dang ice. Presumably the ice is to save THEM money on soda, even though that is probably the cheapest to produce thing in the entire store, a category in which there is fierce competition at a McDonalds. And sometimes servers aren’t mentally equipped to process “no ice” and assume, through what seems to me a more strenuous stretch of logic, that I must have meant “no sugar,” and I end up with a huge undrinkable cylinder of diet coke, just about as undrinkable as the ice in there with it. This all seems to be mostly about me, but I have few coherent memories from when I was on good terms with my father and he could actually do things. Everything afterward has regret attached, so I will take what i can get.

I am fortunate that the recent deceased got to 65 years; many people lose parents at younger ages, and without even the little amount of awareness that it is coming which I had. Not everybody has a father, and some have no parents who love them at all. This could have been worse. Much as this entry could have been much longer; I removed or did not attempt to implement several parts that seemed attached to a different narrative, and perhaps I will see those later.


But right now I need a break! Preferably to do something non-depressing in.


Thank you for your time and consideration in these matters.



May 24, 2017
In 2009, the super-wealthy achieve immortality by hiring “bonejackers”, mercenaries equipped with time travel devices, to snatch people from the past, just prior to the moment of their deaths, for use as substitute bodies.

Howdy. I am trying to write something important to go here, and suspect that continuing to spend time on filler updates was, in fact, spending time, rather than saving it for me, so I think putting up this extremely lame update in 5 minutes rather than a moderately lame one in two hours is more conducive to me getting the important one done. Once it IS done, my less important ones ought to be more functionally unimportant.



May 16, 2017
In spring we train real hawd, so we look good on our baseball cahds


page 22 of part 3 of whatever this is.
Not only does this page not accomplish anything, it was almost impossible to draw. And i worried with all the brown it would be very boring to look at, but I like how the colors worked out.
There are two more like this; maybe I will paste in the frames I just used and only change the relevant parts. It will still take a month and be a complete redraw but I will not have to worry about forgetting to include anything.



May 8, 2017
At a village-wide party where the Ewoks and Rebels celebrated their victory in the battle, Wicket danced and fraternized with R2-D2.[1]


A reminder to all you retcon-resenting star warfare enthusiasts out there


that George Lucas never got around to removing Sebastian Shaw from the 1997 comic book Star Wars: The Last Command issue 1


in which Princess Leia gives birth and looks like this.

Although on that note if I were force-sensitive I would be wary about doing anything near a window, knowing that a giant creepy judgmental ghost Yoda could be watching me at any time and that I would never be able to stop it or prove to anybody else that it happened. Hey, Yoda, Ben is a family friend but none of the people in there even KNOW you.


In fact I have been generally concerned about Yoda’s mental state recently.

All good? Great, I trust you.

Also, this is besides the point, but all it takes is another kid at school armed with a “va” to ruin Jaina’s life for several years. And Mr. Solo, do you NEED to wear your cowboy vest at ALL TIMES? Come on, I mean it’s the year 9-ABY already, get a new look.

Beside the point but I take issue with this comic book for exaggerating Mark Hamill’s acting skills


although I praise the depiction of his elegant fingers.



May 2, 2017
The following individuals were at one time considered Wack Pack members; however, in 2015, they were excluded by Stern and his staff from the Wack Pack


Not my best work! Not even the best of my bad work. I drew this in a hurry for somebody in twittor who liked pog a lot back in 2009 or so, but by the time of this drawing and whatever comment from them instigated it, maybe in 2014, seemed to be over it, and then I forgot about it. But I didn’t have time to draw anything else last week, so I was fortunate to find it. Life has been very tiring. And it will be different in the future. Not necessarily better. I will explain later, definitely. Maybe not elsewhere but here I will. This site may be trash, but it is trash that I trust. Whatever the case my drawings will remain stupid! On this occasion I primarily added the weirdo on the stairs, who is plainly not drawn in the same manner as anything else and is far too in-focus. And I did not want to REDUCE its detail level to make it fit because when I do something well I don’t want to mess with it, even if it totally breaks the immersion, and that is the simple tragedy of my existence. But all this is consistent with the creature being a weirdo. I reckon that thing thinks it is VERY respectable, dressed like that, so much so that it thinks it is entitled to break the laws of optics. It is not and shall be disciplined as soon as I have an opportunity to enact that. I am done putting up with this sort of nonsense.



April 25, 2017
From what I observe, he’ll eventually die at the hands of a common man.


An attempt to quickly make a scene out of four unrelated creature sketches that happened to be near each other in my drawing book. In the past I have only used two. Perhaps I will try three sometime. I have hundreds of these tiny little idiots.
And it did not work very well, which is why i waited over a month to put it here. Usually I only make “artwork only” posts when I have been too busy to finish anything else for this site by my imaginary weekly deadline (which I have missed by several hours the past three occasions). This looks like one of those corny publicity shots Nintendo put out when hyping the early development on the N64, where there would be a cardboard-cutout looking picture of Mario or Rare ltd retconned computer generated Donkey Kong in a corny but fancily-lit 3d environment. But I only drew it in a hurry on that day to meet an imaginary deadline on another website. A surprising amount of my obligations are imaginary! But this week they are real (albeit not to anybody paying me money), so here is one more rushed site post. Perhaps that is just the way it will be from now on! Perhaps I have finally reached the point where life is just plain too complicated to do anything personally meaningful except at the expense of having any place in the world. I had my time, and did not spend it efficiently. In fact I took more than I was entitled to, and I did not win.

Perhaps I draw losers like this because they remind me I could do so much worse!



April 18, 2017
Maslin also found the film to lack in actual surfing content.[12]

page 21 of part 3 of this!
this page accomplishes one thing: it saves me from having to draw a character that looks like a cat in the future. my tolerance for cats has dwindled considerably since I first introduced this character without any attempt at “design” whatsoever.

The sequence that follows does not actually prove anything but i am amused by the script I wrote and the little previews I drew. it is all information that can be introduced later. And I tried to cram it into an absurdly high number of frames on one page, but hopefully restraint will win out and I will make two pages out of it, however little information is conveyed.



April 11, 2017
coming up the dancing dolls are bringing some smurf heat to the dance floor

page 20 of part 3 of this! Except it’s actually just part of page 19 again because I decided 19 was far too cramped, and there was one final frame I wanted to add in, which I was going to then have to put on the next page, which was already ludicrously cramped just in the layout stage, before I start adding in whatever has not even occurred to me yet. Notice how this still feels too cramped, and despite the copious amount of new drawing I have done, it still feels rushed and incomplete, if you want to thoroughly undermine my effort. It was terribly demoralizing to have fallen so far behind on redrawing old pages, so it seemed prudent to start redrawing new pages.

Also, I have been quite sick, my father has been in a hospital with an uncertain fate, and I have been futilely trying to get my service provider to fix my broken email but they inexplicably keep finding ways to prolong the “not reading what I say to them and repeatedly offering the same obvious and wrong solution” phase, while I am also sick and going to a horrible hospital that drains energy out of me that i don’t have because someone else is sicker than I am. I do not request or desire the sympathy of strangers, but I wanted to explain some of that somewhere, because I do not like submitting unsatisfactory work unless I also get to complain about it. However, this is a shorter negative portion than I usually accompany comic updates with, so I may be at last making real progress.



April 3, 2017
Tin Woodman was a hardened criminal so heartless he was sentenced to be placed in a tin suit for eternity. The torture of being encased in the suit had softened him and made him gentle and kind.


Sure to be the most important 80 seconds of your life.
The proper flash vector version can be seen right over here, unless you are using a telephone, since telephones do not like it, and for good reason, I say.
The previous part can be seen at there and the flash version is probably there but I am not going to check on that!
Without meaning to I hoped this would be the release that convinced people I was not just a bum pretending to have some useful skill, which would at last permit me to breakthrough to the next level of unobscurity. It is rough in some parts, due to being made in a strange way in a strange program, also I repeatedly forgot to go back and draw Greegorp’s legs properly in the part where they are visible and strange even though that very part is plainly visible in a previous recent post here, but I think the good parts in it are the proof I sought. In the end it convinced as many people as the snake cartoon, which is to say, nobody who was not already on board, but I think my technique has improved overall, and whatever the case it is was necessary for my psychological state to move forward on this. As always, I need to know I made it more than anybody else needs to see it!



March 27, 2017
The game consists of traveling around a space fortress meanwhile shooting aliens and spaceships. An object called “Bongo” could be used as a defense method.


People laugh at Donald Trump for that McDonald’s commercial he did with Grimace but overlook the fact that Ted Cruz IS 1970s Burger King’s Duke of Doubt. This is important because as a nobleman of a foreign nation, Cruz violated article two of the US Constitution by running for president. We are told to worry about Russian influence on our government but there is an embassy to the Burger Kingdom in every major city.


Which is not to indicate the Duke necessarily pleases the king but he does what he is told as best he knows how.
Apparently I have more to say about this. I presumed I had talked at length about the Duke on past occasions, but there seems no easily-obtainable record of it on this website. Certainly, my preliminary inquiry leads me to doubt that there is.

addender: I showed a picture of the duke in this entry here but did not discuss the matter.



Nobody I know has a website anymore

Mr. Sr. Mxy
Nowhere
Titash
pc72
Pickford
Gilhodes (bah you need a facebook account to see)
video game music database
pacific novelty
Green Lantern Head Trauma

them`s fightin` woids: May 24, 2017
Frimpinheap sez:
If there is anything from the past that you regret, or want to forgive, I would certainly say to...
May 24, 2017
Indighost sez:
Indeed. I also have an increasingly crazy and unhealthy dad who I don’t see a reason to call....
May 24, 2017
Indighost sez:
In that case I want to add to the list of strange paint names that I shared earlier. (Source in...
May 22, 2017
Indighost sez:
I shudder to wonder what sleeping in a bed crafted from the finest finished Dorkwood might be like.
May 19, 2017
Frimpinheap sez:
As unacceptable a color as “dope” is, I became more fixated on “dorkwood”...
May 19, 2017
Indighost sez:
I like the new page. I also was reading something that reminded me of you, so I included it in the...
Less recent posts
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • February 2011
  • January 2011
  • December 2010
  • November 2010
  • October 2010
  • September 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • December 2004

  • May 2007
    April 2007
    March 2007
    February 2007
    January 2007
    December 2006
    November 2006
    October 2006
    September 2006
    August 2006
    July 2006
    June 2006
    May 2006
    April 2006
    March 2006
    February 2006
    January 2006
    December 2005
    November 2005
    October 2005
    September 2005
    August 2005
    July 2005
    June 2005
    Maypril 2005
    March 2005
    February 2005
    January 2005
    Novcember 2004
    October 2004
    September 2004
    August 2004
    July 2004
    Maune 2004
    April 2004
    Febrarch 2004
    January 2004
    December 2003
    Octvember 2003
    Augtember 2003
    Junly 2003
    Maypril 2003
    Febrarch 2003
    Octnovdecjan 20023
    Junulgustember 2002
    Maypril 2002
    This never happened


    old webpages
    Mall Meh...ness
    03-03-2007
    Labyrinthy
    02-22-2007
    Cartoons
    12-10-2006
    Ludicrous
    07-01-2006
    I do not approve.
    06-04-2006
    irrational complaining about my television set
    04-24-2006
    Dennises are dead to me
    04-17-2006
    web-tv
    04-08-2006
    This page is not about shoes.
    03-22-2006
    I hate shoes.
    03-11-2006
    something award related
    03-04-2006
    Bahrg.
    02-26-2006
    Those Green Eyes again
    01-28-2006
    More valid but unfunny Disney criticism
    01-15-2006
    MeSpace
    11-EH-2005
    Biggest Loser
    10-EH-2005
    Mall Blandness
    07-20-2005
    2004 advertisement complaint world championship
    01/05/05
    Belindi
    11/03/04
    Mall Egadness
    09/22/04
    Las Vegas
    07/30/04
    Spiderman 2
    07/20/04
    Jope and Dopes
    06/27/04
    These Green Eyes
    04/24/04
    Friday
    04/01/04
    Wedding
    03/07/04
    Game Over
    03/02/04
    McDenny's
    01/09/04
    Mall orneryness
    01/06/04
    Movies I'm not going to see
    11/14/03
    Back fashion school to
    09/14/03
    Movies Make Me Mad. Moreso.
    06/14/03
    JList
    06/03/03
    France
    03/31/03
    Official pizza of Nascar
    03/16/03
    Browsers
    02/23/03
    Michael Jackson
    2/16/03
    Free Speech
    02/05/03
    Thursday
    01/23/03
    Doofs
    01-whenever-03
    NO
    12/11/02
    Film Critics. I hate them.
    10/15/02
    Coconuts. I hate those as well.
    10/14/02
    Independence Day
    Some time in July 2001
    other things
    Awards this website hasn't won
    mysterious
    The first First Beet segment
    05/28/10
    Embarrassing pictures 1
    09/17/04
    Embarrassing pictures 2
    The same
    Umiliphus (my old derivative megamen sprite comic
    08/15/03
    Hopeless.swf
    11/24/04, (I can only justify this by calling it an experiment, so I shall)
    sandwich.swf
    02/16/05
    FACK
    ??/??/??
    Poetry Page
    The same