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Questionable artwork and pedantic miscellany
November 4, 2010
Squirtle squirtle! Squirtle squirtle squirtle!

And this will be another week! Where do they come from? I can’t say, but I bet they have come a long long way. Not one of them is like another. Don’t ask us why, go ask your mother.

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Apparently this site earns $1.53 every day from ad revenue. However, the only [financially motivated] advertisements are posted by robots and followed by other robots looking for more sites to post ads on. Who is paying them to do that?

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Hey, remember this one? Well I don’t so I am posting a picture of it to remind myself.

I don’t know whether to feel vindicated or offended.

I have always strived for NOBROW.



October 25, 2010
The adventure is in the spirit of the warrior, and the warrior… is YOU

drat it all, I got some inspiration. I will have to wait until tomorrow, then.

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Nurvmembo furf:
I will see about posting something later. It will probably be very short.
Oh no actually today’s still legally the third. I no longer have any natural concept of what day it is.

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Nubembor thoid:
as far as I am yet aware the spray-paint didn’t give me cancer, but I’ll be a monkey’s umbrella if this superglue leaves me with any fingerprints in the end. Although in such a state I would be an unlikely suspect in any police proceedings anyhow so it is unlikely my print condition would make much difference. Time for a crime spree.

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November foist:
Oh bixby, another seven days with no update.


This only makes it worse.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*


Why does livejournal still remember the birthday of an account that was deleted five years ago and what does it expect me to do with this information?

Why did I not allow my mother to continue believing that I had, in old times, refused to play Battletoads?

Why did I wake up September 5 2010 to find a used twinkie wrapper in my bedroom when I’ve not eaten or touched a twinkie in my life nor known anybody who does?


2008. This was not consumed out of youthful foolishness by a previous tenant. Somebody ate this within the past three years. Maybe someone I know. Why did this person eat that? Why do I know this person? Why do I have this person’s trash?

Very good. You have acknowledged the trash can. What comes next?



Splendid. Just be more discrete about it, lest you rouse to action

OH NO! TRASH GORDON! We do have one option. It’s worked before…

Back off, Gordsy. I’m very afraid to use this but I will if it becomes necessary. Yes indiddly, we truly do live in an age of unprecedented prosperity. Now anybody who can afford to may have the luxury of defeating Flash Gordon. Logically this also ought to work on people whose names rhyme with his.



Beets to it all, I was not prepared for such cowardice and deception! I fear we have not seen the last of this villain. He knows he cannot compete with my arsenal. No doubt he has sought the monetary assistance of his influential aristocratic ally

GILES RUBBISH. This rules out getting Scruffy the Dumpster Slayer on my side. And this is too stupid to continue. Good day.



October 19, 2010
The men wanted to break me, steal and bring me down, but I fought for you and later they were lying on the ground.


A LIE TOLD 100,000 TIMES IS THE TRUEST TRUTH
Wow, I think you might really be on to nothing! Nice work remembering the comma in 100000, though. I might not have had respect for you otherwise.


what about one told 99,000 times?

What about if the only way you can think to communicate your grand old thought is to write it anonymously on a bathroom wall then maybe it’s not such a clever good idea?

The actual line is “a lie told often enough becomes the truth,” often attributed to Vladimir Lenin, which puzzles me, given this sector’s clear aversion to commie ideology evident in replacing vodka with generic booz. I don’t know if Mr. Lenin actually said that, but the line itself is always the same. It is important to include the part about the lie becoming “truth.” A change is occurring and it’s sort of a sinister change. The other way suggests that it was true all along, and there’s nothing sneaky about it, and that it may have been covered up. It’s the truest truth there is. You’ve missed the point entirely. Lenin was explaining a way to control people, and you’re just enthusiastic about being an idiot trying to seem smart by getting quotes wrong.

R’AMEN, BRO

I’m sure Lenin would have appreciated your religious convictions.


Eyyyyy! Thums up.

Well how about that.
It was not I who added the R before the “AMEN,” because I do not approve of standard store-purchased ramen noodle packages due to the high sodium content. Yes, I will regularly eat entire pizzas with similarly outlandish salt content and in with much larger portions, but not out of dinkity little wax paper cups. I am a glutton with class.

I really have put this off for far too long.


While I don’t doubt the work they do is often undervalued, this seems to suggest that the janitors being underpaid has led to the asinine grafitti not being cleaned up. I think that merely means we need new janitors. There is a difference between standing up for your rights and doing a deliberately shoddy job.


Revolution! Rise up! Rise up! Disgrimeament is the ideal of soapcialism*

Nooooooski! Don’t listen to him! This will only lead to a new elite ruling class of complacent fat cat janitors!

Aw beans.


On the plus side I’ve been waiting years to test my secret weapon.

*you’re lucky I tried at all.



October 12, 2010
It’s alarming how charming I feel

I get exposed to all sorts of fascinating intellectual concepts when I use my parents’ kitchen table to work on art projects that I hate. Things like TVGuide’s 25 Greatest TV Characters of All Time. Because calling it The Establishment’s Arbitrary Quantity of Ubiquitous TV Dads on Shows that Made a lot of Money From the Last 40-or-so Years seems less authoritative.

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All the digital cameras I want to buy have unsightly abrasions cut into them to allow noise to flow in and out of the camera to pick up audio while recording video. I don’t understand why they can’t just use a series of lines instead of dots or one line or something that doesn’t remind me of skin disease. Or simply not have them at all because I just want to take still pictures anyhow [but don’t want a camera from 2005 because they didn’t come in green back then].

I suppose I can cover the spot with tape, but I’ve been carrying around a camera with tape on it for six years and if I bought a new one and still put tape on it I would have to explain why and if I primarily bought the thing because of its appearance this would seem like a silly move apart from that.

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Hey, ten days without an update!

but fortunately for you I have undocumented gender issues and am reluctant to publicly self-identify as one, thus even strict adherence to the instructions would not succeed in getting me gone. But ten days, I think that is a record for me. A pity my record player broke in 1997 or so. I assure I would have thought I have thought that was quite funny in 1997.

On that note: yeah, great that you sell these. What the florian helmberger am I supposed to play these on? Am I just supposed to keep these around because they make me look sophisticated? And what kind of a degenerative society has a definition of sophistication which only requires that I own something from the 1970s? Why don’t I hang up a re-elect Ford poster and switch out my computer for a Magnavox Odyssey and my bathtub for a Pontiac Grand Am? I shall I cancel Gabe Kaplan’s parole from under my bed and have fresh asbestos insulation installed. Then I will be respected.



Burst me bagpipes, I haven’t gone back far enough! I’ll need to get a Tennis for Two machine and separate but equal sputniks and a six pack of Cherry Polio. Now that this is out of the way we can move on to more important matters.

I fear that this guy may be shattering windas deliberately because he enjoys the act of replacing them so much. He’s less excited by the destruction aspect of it… who has the TIME, really? Thankfully, there are many opportunities to break windows which you might not be aware of.

My favorite error is when I drag objects to the task bar. Windows hates that SO much. It can tell what I want to do, and Microsoft is all about assuming it knows what I want and hiding options it thinks I don’t, but in this one situation… NO, it’s not having ANY of that. It strongly objects to this protocol breach. It cannot STAND that I have tried to do this. In fact we haven’t been on speaking terms for a while.

A shame, since it was always at its core the excuse we both needed to compare our exotic hat collections.



October 2, 2010
It was 125Th/year during period Sadam is working for the American to destroy Iran (matching period Ben Laden also but as a CIA agent / Bush family friend)

If I get cancer for this class from using spray paint I had better be given at LEAST a b- out of it.

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Friday, October 8: I bought a glue gun today. I did not, however, update this website.

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Don’t eat this enigmatic cholesterol lump because somebody dared you to.
I will probably eat a KFC double-down before I die. I just don’t want it to be immediately before or why.



First of all, does anybody really clench their tongue out the side of their mouth like that? I never do that. I would know if I did. I know when a wet thing touches my epidermis.


Walter the hobo… I’m supposed to be afraid of this guy but I can’t when he does that.

More to the point, is it truly necessary for the two lower guys to hold up the bagel while the third one cuts it? They are endangering the cutter, and endangering themselves by being so near the path of the blade. Apart from creating unsafe work conditions and unnecessary liability, they are themselves unnecessary and should be fired immediately. The cutter should also be fired for walking on the food. All three should be required to take a neckerchief management class. Fire the bagel, too; they’re boring. The knife may stay. I approve of its stripes.


But nobody ever listens to me, does they? Last year I repeatedly reiterated my belief that every one of them should also be fired immediately, yet here they are again. In fact they are even more numerous than before. That less is going wrong does not change that just as much is going right.
The mouse creature, curiously about one fourth the size of the squirrel creature (the one in the grid-pattern jacket. YES that’s supposed to resemble a squirrel GOSH), was initially sitting on a conveniently placed curb-edge from the reference picture found online which I started with, but when I actually visited the place I saw that there was no curb at all, just a brief slope. Thus, a banana.


And who’s this? This is the character that I had to remove from the picture to preserve balance. You can see how well that worked out. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was wearing, anyhow. I could have switched him with the tall kid, but that kid was at least tall, whereas this one is about the same size as the dopey tail-ed miscreants.

I hear the actual 5000 event occurred while I was safely out of the country a few weeks ago in August. However, when I initially created this image, I faced the fears and apprehensions of those who initially misread the lettering to believe that DOPE IS COMING. Permit me to emphasize:NO dOPES ARE COMING AND NO dOPES HAVE COME. That needed to be said. I had nothing to do with that.
This makes me think that I should devote a page to all the times other people have drawn stupid things like dopes and dope sympathizers. Not because I think you care, but just so I don’t forget. It’s happened a few times by now and I’m starting to worry.


In other nopes I was forbidden to take pictures of this building, even to use as guide for a picture intended to represent a charity for patients at this very hospital. And so I stopped taking them.

In the event you are curious, the charity is to raise money to help the patients get treatment, not to give them cancer.

We’re trying to run a business, after all.



September 24, 2010
I’m Linda McMahon, and I approved this message, because we need this lunch box, and a lot more like it back at work.


To follow up on a previous post, which I have to say because I can’t expect anyone to stick around for more than one, and also because it took me three months to get this one out, I did see the Toy Story 3. It was not my idea and I’d at the time have preferred to just go back to my home, but things did not work out that way. I did not set out to dislike it, but I think it will be a long time before I’ll be able to go into one of these things (these things being movies marketed at children which I am self conscious about watching) without any sort of innate predisposition to scoff at things. Ehhh, if I was absolutely intent on hating it I’d never have agreed to watch it at all; I could do that for free and save myself a few hours, in which time I could craft one eighth of a website post complaining about the advertising for the movie.

First of all I was suddenly dismayed arriving at the theater when I suddenly remembered that it was surely a 3D movie. As I’ve said before my eyes don’t match so the movies are blurry and the lenses are covered with little black lines and nobody bothers to augment the brightness in the actual picture in anticipation of the dimness because the whole system is stupid and broken. Thankfully, entirely by chance the showing I arrived in time for was in regular mode.

There are probably “spoiler” details in here, although I primarily spoil that which does not happen. The real concern, if you have not seen the film, will merely be not having any idea what I’m talking about and finding it incredibly boring. Which is normal, but I didn’t find much opportunity to include irrelevant video game screen captures either.


Thank you for understanding.

I correctly presumed the film would have atrocious previews, but I was not prepared for it to be the hokiest, most predictable gang of them I’d ever ignored. “YALL ABOUT TO SEE SOMETHIN YALL AINT NEVAH SEEN BEFOAH!” Well it’s not this movie! Or this one. Or these jokes, these songs, these song CUES, these characters, these voices, these “heroic” orchestral scores that suddenly stop silent to tell me when to laugh. Hey do you remember when everybody claimed to despise the prerecorded studio audience reactions on so many situation comedies? This is the sequel. Yes I did bring a little notebook into the theater with me. I’ve never seen a movie about owls before, but I’ve most definitely seen all this same stuff without owls. It turns out they have the exact same social mores and personality archetypes we do! That was a lucky break for our ease of comprehension, I’d say.

I like the idea of a pre-feature short form cartoon, I suppose. I thought overall that it looked neat. I could have done without the loony tune style shlubby impoid lecherism and Las Vegas fetishism (I will use that term again) but both are grand old traditions that I’m used to could-have-doing without. “Racial discrimination is bad but sexual harassment is yay-ok” appears to be the message. I may seem awfully sensitive about this stuff for someone who has never been sexually harassed*, but as someone who does not feel naked attraction to the stuff I’m demographically presumed to, I actually don’t need much more than a TV ad for Doritos or Snickers to become uncomfortable.
*update for 2016: this year I was! And I only find fewer things tolerable than before.

Randy Newman is the funniest guy around. Him, Huey Lewis, the Bee Gees, I can’t not laugh when I hear their corny voices. There was some sped up Spanish remix of one of his songs that played over the closing credits that was supposed to be funny, but it wasn’t because Randy Newman wasn’t singing it.

I enjoy toys in denial.

I like when one of the other toys, I think it was the lady potato head, calls Wood E “college boy.” Toys are concerned about elitists.

Nice ascot RECORD SCRATCH.

“Time for recess?” Those kids are playing with toys! That IS recess! And a better one than I ever had… the school I used to go to just had a parking lot.* Also, do “day care” places have school bells? I do not believe that they do. I never went to a place called that, but I did do some time at a mislabeled summer camp which was essentially a day care joint and it lacked a school bell. The schools I went to didn’t even have school bells. They didn’t have curriculum either but that’s another issue that is unrelated to my other unrelated issue.

This loyalty to master stuff is a little unsettling.

Too many toilets.

WAY too many toilets

MORE toilets. Maybe we should call this toy-let story. Quite finkly I don’t appreciate the competition.

They somehow found a way to make Ken act stereotypically gay without being gay. Unfortunately the “almost saying ass” joke is about as original as making Ken be gay.

Those were my fragment notes. Now I’m going to talk at length about a thing which really isn’t important.


The plot was a tad Brave Little Toastery, as were the settings –there was even a familiar sort of scene where the characters see no escape and accept imminent death– but this one didn’t try as hard to convince me that some guy really would go out looking for his old junk. Or almost die jumping on a conveyor belt trying to save mass produced machinery which he could not have reasonably assumed was his own. Even still I think Mr. Andy is more attached to those weird toys than is necessarily believable, considering that he’s totally unaware of what they do when he’s not around. One of the toys writes a note to him at some point and I almost got the tingly “good movie” feeling; I thought finally this guy will know they are alive and adore him, even if he never sees the toys again… at least he will know. No. He thinks the note is from his mom and evidently that was the point and that’s as close as a breakthrough gets.

I understand that allowing the main human to realize the sentience of his toys defeats some of the plausibility this franchise wants to be perceived as having. I think to some extent people watching are meant to find it remotely possible that their own toys would walk around and talk to each other, totally in character, when unattended.
Although suggesting that these crazy adventures and feats of acrobatics have been happening and pretty much constantly since the invention of toys without one ever messing up and being found out despite constant near misses really isn’t plausible at all. My proposal would make the film a complete fantasy, because obviously no real toy is ever going to address you by its own free will, particularly if they aren’t designed with moving parts.

And yet the alternative, these things obediently devoting themselves to masters that they are forbidden from acknowledging in any way is kind of depressing. From where does this loyalty arise? How could you possibly love such an enormous beast that deprives you of your ability to act on your own? That you have to immediately drop dead at the presence of? The only situations in which the toys get annoyed at their owners are if these owners play with them harshly or get new toys. And they blame their own fellow toys for replacing them or for leading them to bad owners. That’s just an unhealthy attitude. They will never overcome without unity.

Even the evil toy in this movie, who is selfish and doesn’t answer to anyone, won’t violate this law of motionless silent subservience. Imagine the chaos he could cause by doing so! He is portrayed as having nothing to lose, so why not give it a try? There’s no reason everything needs to have a sitcom ending where the outside world is utterly unaffected, thus allowing another with the same basic setup to immediately follow, particularly when such an episode isn’t likely to get made, nor even suggested to be made. Kids in movies are forever discovering magical lands of elves, talking animals or sentient toys and then being sworn to secrecy about it. Otay, I don’t believe any real child would keep this secret. Not for very long, anyhow. They’d go mad or be perceived as such if they tried. And maybe also if they told. The persons would certainly find it necessary to divulge the truth of this to SOMEONE, even if only decades later, approaching death. You can’t take that secret to your grave.

Ehhh. The idea needs work. That’s one of the reasons I can’t watch Invaders: ‘Em or Oh Fiddlesticks Real Monsters; (apart from the fact that both have been out of regular circulation for years) I hate that there’s this one person who KNOWS but can’t prove it. I’m saying the bear tells everyone, deliberately, and the whole world is forced to change based on this. Or maybe the bear just tells one person to use as an accomplice in some master sinister scheme against other toys. And then this movie could be seven hours long. Alright so lets imagine Andrew learns his toys are alive on good terms and WANTS to keep it a secret. It bothers me that every toy ever is somehow immediately completely accepting and unquestioning of being thought inanimate.

There is also a curious contradiction; this evil toy initially goes maladjusty after his original owner, a child who lost several toys, replaced him with another of his own type. However, the other toys were implied to not have been replaced. If they were really GOOD toys they would have been. That bear should be glad he’s so well made. Especially considering the visual design of the character which I don’t find endearing at all.


Between seeing this movie and finishing this articloid I also had occasion to watch the Toaster movie a second time. I was a tad surprised to find that they actually call their master “The Master.” He obviously has a name which people refer to him by, and presumably other family members who also used the objects (how much is a little spoiled kid with a summer cottage and no siblings going to do with a vacuum cleaner, anyhow? (incidentally I hate the word cottage because my temporary lawn-mowy neighbors who I can hear without trying always refer to their house because they talk about it a lot as “The Cottage” and even though they’re THERE and can just say “HERE” instead of “THE COTTAGE.”)). I appreciated that the Pixarians didn’t give anthropomorphized faces to any toys which were not supposed to have them. Of course they had no problem doing that with insects and sea life in productions which were made after the one this was a follow-up to, so my appreciation is actually not so pronounced.


I must compare Toy Story 3 negatively against, of all things, a first party Disney release, yet another thing I’d not have watched five years ago. In Lilo & Otis the space aliens eventually admit that they exist and nobody cares. Life continues on as it did before.
Of course toys are mam-made, so then the question must arise: Does life begin at contraption? Is disposing of a toy cruel?

Correct! No one cares! I’m going to bed.

Oh dreadful.

*well I’m dead so I can’t help you!

However, Kerokero Keroppi no Bouken Nikki (J), Silent Service, Mega Man 2: The Power Fighters and Avenging Spirit.

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I think there is some weird server stuff going on with my web-host. Either that or this website is totally broken. If you see this message you might assume that it isn’t and be very disappointed.

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Friday: well this is posted on “friday,” wasn’t it! Well I considered it thursday! but for friday: I probably won’t have internet for a few days, and when I have it again it may be only briefly. You probably won’t notice!

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october foist:
Ah, it works again. I, however, am still too distracted to do so. Here, however, is the notice of discontent I sent to my web-host:

I believe my website was/is contained on the rose server. I quite forgot that the fiddling was to occur September 30 until it did and I could no longer view my own pages. I can access my control panels and post-editing thingamadoodles, but attempting to look at anything I wrote results in a file save dialog, even plain html items. It may be worth mentioning that I am utterly ignorant of all matters related to php and my or anyone else’s sql beyond changing colors around and such. I specified a “high” priority only because I am very embarrassed to not know what’s going on here.

Forsooth, all that just to show you that I said “thingamadoodles.” Why did you come back here?



September 9, 2010
Grateful to the Chipettes, the penguins snowball the henchmen into submission as the girls escape.

Let us try for Thursday. I am not even bothering with Wednesday this time! (so Friday, then)

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Somehow it’s not at all comforting actually having a reason to be slow with updates here now.

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This school talks about conserving, but has all these

automatic, unprovoked sprinklers for the sidewalks,

including two just for the sign, and this is the only place where I’ve had a self-flushing toilet go off while I was physically adhered to it (not pictured).

Perhaps I worry too much, and should not concern myself with this. After elf, as a wise philosopher once wrote

Sometimes people
Just Don’t get it
Be patient And Don’t
Sweat it

Oh gee excuse me, that was something I saw scratched in a toilet stall of the second most remote restroom of this university, in the ground floor basement of the library which people only go to for the internet computers which aren’t on that floor. Even if it lacks a prestigious showcase, it does prove one important thing: I am not nearly as safe in there as I thought. The scribe might come back And I Don’t want to be in there then. How will I protect myself?

On a related but not entirely relevant note, there are some things that are counterproductive to cover with shielding plastic.

well see now that’s just immodest. You ought to be ashamed. I can’t toi-let you get a way with that.



September 3, 2010
The wall refuses to move

I referred to this but forget to place a link. I’m sure you will find this invaluable.

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I’m behind on my comic strip, anything written for this website, my college class schedule is ridiculous because I made it with the intent that I would live nearby, which I have failed to achieve, my chosen major is not anything with practical applications, yet I struggle with it, and I still can’t legally drive a car. HOWEVER…


True success! I have now truly mastered the Dungeons of the Unforgiven! But didn’t I do that a few years ago? No, I had merely completed the game under actual adequate conditions. I decided getting through a game with draconian level up policies and roving gangs of hostile, invincible rubbish bins that deletes your save file if your character dies wasn’t difficult enough, so I generated a player character that was utterly insufficient for the mere task of surviving; using the “monk” character class. Monks are the absolute worst class (yes, even worse than amphibia).

While monks are popularly known for their ability to perform astounding feats of acrobatics and concentration and match traditional orange robes with brand name sneakers, Moraff monks proceed cautiously and are afraid of things that most players don’t even notice, leading me to suspect that Moraff based his version on the Tony Shaloub character.

In addition to not backup up my character data, I refrained from making use of the inter-module escape tunnels, and the


magical respawning level 0 garbage can which drops dead instantly when approached but often leaves helpful trinkets behind. As helpful as you’d expect from a sentient waste receptacle, anyhow. It returns to the exact spot of its vapourization moments later and can be murdered and plundered over and over again. Yes, so, I denied myself even this glorious privilege.

Monks get the least hit and spell points and will not carry rings of regeneration, essential survival items, for spiritual reasons.


Fortunately they have no such reservations about hauling huge heaps of Worthless Greater American Dollars around. They are the Yang Song of the dungeon, and designed to die.

Do you know how hard it is to have a leadership of 1? You get 5 just for successfully ordering french fries at… eh… say, where should I get my french fries?

I have taken Moraff’s toughest challenge and been victorious. But in a sense, it is also his greatest curse; in the past such a character would be killed quickly and I could go and do something else. In fact, it DID die, once, but so quickly that I thought a retry was in order.

The longer this ineffectual figure lives, the less I live. It cannot win, only persist. I have very much in common with Pudensis, the gender-confused (the first one was female, the second was male), rodent monk.


This is another view of the Demon Queen as seen by a taller person. I like it because it looks like a really bad postcard.

Getting through all this took me about a day’s worth of hours across half a week, but what would I have done instead? Read the Southern Connecticut State University course catalog? Registered for classes pertinent to my interests? Actually prepared for them? Clearly there were more pressing and educational matters to tend at (Such as framing my Morvard rejection letter). I am a pioneer in making bad games less interesting and more tedious than ever. My place in history is secured. I may do well to drop the classes I did sign up for and write a book about this experience.
The Moraff scholars among you might have noticed that I have only played to the end of the first dungeon in the game, and have not yet entered the subsequent easier identical modules. Well we all need something to look forward to in life!


Aw bees, I wish I’d thought of that!



August 30, 2010
It’s tragedy when you lose control and you got no soul

Awful moments in history

June 17, threethousandnineteenthirtyfour:


Earth’s greatest hero, captivity enthusiast, thrice consecutively voted “Most likely to be stripped of clothing and sent to The Arena” and all-around white guy Flash Gordon is defeated by a backwards S (Roneldo’s whereabouts unknown). A truce was called when both sides realized they despised trousers. The kneeling fellow in the second frame is actually being executed for the sake of peace.

Annnnnnnnnnd evidently I have things to do.



July 21, 2010
Here comes Swiffer Sweeper

Your not realizing you require con doms until reaching this petroleum station frequented by

gutless thieves outside Pitt’s Burgh may be an indication you have not been contemplating this issue for long enough. Although if the alternative is you suddenly participating in a pregnancy, please do disregard my comments. I’m curious as to why you sought out my approval on this topic at all, quite honestly.

You know I’m all business!

Yes I know this is a short entry. I’ve been having problems lately.

‘ey, gimme a break!

Forget it! I’ve seen what grows from that stuff! Those worms are as good as dead!

I told you I had problems!



July 6, 2010
Slow down for work zones OR YOU COULD BE IN TROUBLE! *DOUBLE* TROUBLE!

everything I want to talk about today insists on transitioning into another topic which I do NOT want to talk about, and yet I hate to waste a decent transition.

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Generally, i am not scared of BEARS.

That’s generally, and not for my life.

Unless, however, they wear forest ranger hats, denim pants and no shirts. And also carry a shovel around. A bear may not be able to follow you up a tree, but one with a shovel can certainly swat at you. Or maybe dig up the ground around the tree so you can’t get down without injuring yourself. Why does cb radio jargon in that MAD magazine article from the 1970s that I read in a reprint once refer to the police collectively as “smokey?” Because of that frightful bear who wears the same hat. The scary police who wear brown clothing instead of blue. Is that the natural color or do they just roll around in dirt to make their clothes look more brown and rugged? I always associated that bear with the West and having your car break down on a desolate road in some horrid place and having a sheriffey fellow drive up alongside you and say “you’re not from AROUND here, are ya, son.” Not even a question! Somehow it’s an order, despite no command being issued, and you will be punished for disobeying the non-command. “You’re a LONG way from conneddiggit, BOY.”

Smokey’s not like the cartoon all stars or the ninja turduckens or Kirk Cameron*, who will plead with you to not use drugs and tell you about some fictitious abusers who had hard times. Smokey will point right at YOU and tell YOU to cut it out, lest he maim you with mining equipment. Smokey is scary and he knows it. HE’S not going to prevent forest fires, but he’s going to make you wish you had. Smokey doesn’t beat around the bush; he beats you into the ground for lighting up near a bush. Or maybe he’ll just eat you and use the shovel to dig a ceremonial grave for any bones he doesn’t fancy swallowing. There was an ad recently in which some dirtbag is smoking a cigarette and someone else TRANSFORMS INTO SMOKEY and starts leering at the smoker. Sure, this is because of the FIRE risk of DISCARDING a cigarette carelessly, but it would not be a hard transition to make for Smokey to just hate smokers in general. They’re getting a little too close to his name. Only YOU can prevent Smokey’s lunch.

I have to get a painting painted and framed by Friday. How did that have time to happen?


I like this Smokey from 1944, the year he was introduced. This one has big eyes and big ears, is putting out a fire himself and seems to almost be smiling. I’m not afraid of this one and thus he is not effective and was rightfully phased out in favor of

this wrathful oaf by the time I was paying attention. Forty years of people continuing to start fires anyway will do that to you.



To be fair, however, the same group was using Krauts and Japs to scare childrens around the same time and probably figured bringing in an angry forest beast might be excessive. Or worse, encourage kids to start more fires to burn the brutes alive. Kids these days lack the initiative to start a fire out of spite for a cartoon bear, much less go to a forest for any reason. They’ll drive to your house and murder you for talking trash about them specifically on facebook, but bears are safe.

I stole these off of the slow loading Smokey the Bear website, and I give it credit for not pretending they didn’t stereotype America’s enemies back when that was kewl. However, I’m still not linking directly to it because apparently Smokey is copyrighted and the only thing worse than setting his home on fire is cutting him off from his royalties. It’s been over fifty years by now and Smokey still hasn’t made enough money to retire.


*Kirk Cameron once starred in a drug awareness video which featured Kirk showing kids in a class room other videos of other kids turning into cartoon characters when threatened by drugs in some sort of parody or SLAM to the other drug videos but it didn’t really work because the “real” examples were considerably less entertaining and not a whole lot more plausible; those kids just said “no way man, you jerks aren’t COOL.” and that was the end of their troubles. True enough; nobody’s going to chase you down and MAKE you eat drugs for biting your thumb at them; that stuff’s expensive. They’ll probably just murder you and call it even. Additionally, In order to gain access to the kids he imposes his videos upon, Kirk outwits and outmaneuvers a bumbling hall monitor who for reasons that aren’t stated but I can fully understand does not want Kirk Cameron in that classroom. That doesn’t put us in the right frame of mind to compare fiction to fictitious reality. You might as well have brought Moraff in there.


Also, based on the online appearance of and reactions to the “nobody turns down drugs” scene from the video within the video, nobody also turns down realizing or caring that this part is supposed to be ridiculous. This clip, incidootily, was blatantly ripped out of another youtube video featuring brief strange clips from uncited sources, in which context it could be argued, due to its presence not being announced (6 minutes, 13 seconds in), this weirdness is far more effective (apart from the annoying “static” transitions, but that’s irrelevant because the person who reripped out the drug clip didn’t bother to omit the annoying fake 1970s static).

I’d like to tell you what the film is called but I forgot approximately the moment I learned it back in 1995 (and I had to watch it twice!), and Mr. Cameron may have since lobbied to have it removed from his filmo graphy. He’d much rather be known for classics like Firepoof, featuring a wicked computer screen that creates pornography to tear a marriage apart so that nothing less than Chick Fila product placement can heal the wounds.

And here, because I love to end on a depressing note, I shall mention the link currently in the upper right corner from the first clip I linked to.

Nobody turns down drugs, and nobody turns down REAL-TIME SUICIDE, either, judging by that view count. You know, that title isn’t enough! We’d better write this on the actual video in IMPACT, the world’s least sympathetic font.
I assume this is some gimmick to get people to click on a video which does not actually depict a suicide occurring. It potentially even scolds people for daring to look at it. However, the idea that the promise of video of suicide, real or not, gets one million people to watch it does not give me comfort. Even if some outrage group linked to it with “this is disgusting and should be banned but watch it anyway” that wouldn’t likely account for more than a few thousand additional views. Somebody influential has FEATURED this.



Whatever’s in the video, the real tragedy is that anybody takes this guy’s recommendation for anything.

Aye yi.



June 29, 2010
Cornell uses the man wolf’s acute sense of smell… to track the scent… of his sister’s blood.

The internet hates the humidity. Once the temperature here goes over 80 degrees my connection passes out from exhaustion, which is a surprising impediment to my ability to upload junk here.

====================================================================



I don’t need Mac Tonight watching me use the toilet. Nor most people, now that I think of it.

In search of a good fake-mistaken reference for pink hands (I went with “demons”), I thought for certain, –because superheroes are inherently funny and everybody but me knows stuff about them who would thus be in position to appreciate such a mentioning– there was a DC or Marvel character who had pink gloves that I might use. Not because I remember there being one; it just seemed like there was a good chance. I didn’t find one. Not one I could pick out of a crowd, anyhow. I did come across this picture (from this page this page.) There are a LOT of weird looking goofs I don’t recognize in there, and there’s no sense in asking about them all. However…



who’s that oaf next to Wonder Woman that isn’t Superman? MAILMAN? Or is he a train ticket collector, maybe? He does an important job but he’s not a hero of intergalactic acclaim! In fact, he’s a monster for plundering and combining the DNA of Herve Villechaiz and Gary Coleman in an attempt to create an ultimate being. It’s still too soon, Mail Man! Not to mention likely to make your Jim Morrison/any actor from the 1970s clone jealous. Additionally, I used to think Jim Morrison, Van Morrison and Morrissey were the same person. They are all exhibit equally morris-like tendencies in my eyes. I would not be surprised to see them shilling for cat food.


I am also of the opinion that Plastic Man is getting a little chummy with Darkseid and Orko back there.

Oh, OH. ExcYUSE me. Are you two friends? Man, that guy’s so touchy just because the doctor who filled out his birth certificate came down with a bit of dyslexia. That’s even weaker reasoning than


Lex Luthor hating Superman forever over inadvertently making him bald –a condition easily remedied by either of these two who regularly create exact robot duplicates of themselves out of stuff they just find lying around, sometimes while in prison,— which I’m told was largely written/fired out of “canon” not terribly wrong after this story was published. Darkseid’s name is STILL misspelled, so many years later. Whenever I see his name I always think it wants to be pronounced “dark seed.” Clearly he can’t be all that evil since he keeps his bit torrent ratio up. At worst he’s a pointy 1970s roller skate.

And… I expect to be at a hotel before I get this posted so don’t be surprised if I end this without any sort of conclusion.

Hey how about that I ended up staying at the hotel before I got this out because my computer is too dumb to recognize certain types of wireless internet and I’m too dumb to know which or why and thus I now have plenty of time to give you a conclusion.

I do not always make good use of my time.

But sometimes I do.



June 10, 2010
What’s it like to be a marmoset, living in a tree, very far from me?

I have one of many headaches. I am going to sleep.

=============================================

page 9 (scroll down!) of that. I’m always looking for a way to speed things up. I’m always failing, to, too. It won’t be necessary to remind me never to try this way again because I’ll remember.

No, actually, I just remembered that I’ll forget. I should have reminded you to remind me sooner.

Also, I realized I ought to have made a better/any plan for this whole “remake” business and rearranged events so that no memory scenes were necessary, because they’re awkward and unprofessional. However, I do not believe that I did. That is to say, you can be sure that when I make them they will be awkward and unprofessional. I like to think this way is less jarring than the old way, but I also like to think I’m less likely to get hearteriosclerosis because I eat boring and chewy Kashi cerealdirt instead of corn flakes like I used to even though I still eat just as many hot clogs. As for lope(the lizard)’s ridiculous automobile, it’s in just one frame here so there’s still time to not get around to redesigning it into a more visually appealing and practical-looking thing whose drawing process is in any way logical.



June 3, 2010
After a hilarious sleepover, a visit to a zoo rainforest exhibit, and Norman’s attempts to teach Fluffy karate, the three plants team up to foil some bad guys.

Evidently I was not done wednessing and missed my imaginary deadline again. Neither of us was surprised.

===========================================================

Wednesday: I did so much wednessing yesterday that I had no time to update this website. If only I’d known it was just Tuesday then. Whoopth.

===========================================================

Do you remember when I said I am one of the most boring people in the world? No, of course not; it was so boring it could not possibly be remembered.

===========================================================

After overwhelming public demand, which I ignored, here is my own incest story:

Once upon a time Hansel and Gretel lived together in a house in the forest. The end.

===========================================================

Treat a child as though he’s already the person he’s capable of becoming. I thought, that makes sense. I wish more parents and producers of fictional and/or ostensibly educational media would acquire such an attitude. Stop condescending to your target audience’s basest comprehension and maybe they won’t insist on eating fruit snacks named after their favorite brand of farm machinery. Show them some respect.

However…


I don’t think the proper place for this message is the inside of a public restroom. Nor the outside, for that matter. “You may only be twelve years old, but yer a MAN to ME.”

And so I propose we train our children to become killing machines.

I wasn’t intimidated until you clenched your fists.


Thankfully there is an entire section in some stores devoted to the purpose. America must be the greatest country in the world to have invented the plastic helmet aisle. The only thing stealthier than a ninja is a shiny one that clunks a lot. The plastic helmet and assorted armaments aisle, ah yes. Unlike normal munitions, which have a history of exploding when fired upon themselves, these just deform and produce toxic fumes. So they’re safe. And they’re discreet about it. Apart from being brightly colored and shiny and clunkity, I mean.

I had been under the impression that one of the factors in the effectiveness of terminators was that nobody could tell they were murderous cyborgs, because they disguised themselves as humans, but realistically, I suppose when you’re a nigh indestructible machination of death it doesn’t much matter how well you conceal yourself among the puny frail beings it is your goal to eliminate. A human disguised as a cyborg makes a lot more sense.

Incidentally, despite nearly eight years of more or less regular updates I still apparently type things, “cut” them to paste elsewhere and then forget to do that, but not to ‘save’ the document I cut them out from. In this case of jokes about predators-of-children, however, it may merely have been an intervention by the decency fairy. However, it’s not an effective defense, because I sometimes remember what I wrote the first time, and in any event I’m getting this stuff from all sides:


Well I’m certainly not going to PAY you for my FREE incest pics, regardless of how mature and responsible they are. I’m also not interested in incest content that does not depict interfamiliar dealings. It seems wrong somehow.

At LAST, the sequel to

As usual, George Lucas makes us wait and doesn’t give us quite what we expected.

Also, as long as you’re here, with all this confusion about, don’t forget to wash the hand part of your hand.

(Blue plastic arrows appear courtesy of the Fisher Price acupuncture kit) We’ve seen the sort of visitors this area attracts. I really think the maintainers of the facility could stand to discriminate against demons, though.

Go on, gyit. Don’t give me that face. You know you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not washing off that glowy green stuff in MY sink.



May 18, 2010
When everyone’s a vampire, humans are farmed for BLOOD

Also, when I referred to the Disney Robin Hood as “the movie that probably turned more kids of this generation gay than any other,” I had written that specifically to amuse myself and meant to remove it, I merely forgot to. I fully acknowledge that it doesn’t make sense. I could say it turned them “furry,” but that’s not generally regarded as a major social demographic and the word isn’t as funny to say people “turned” into it. This is worth acknowledging, also, because I tend to have a big problem when people get all homophobic or apparently so up in the general vicinity of my business and I don’t think I have established my position, to myself or anyone else clearly enough that AGHRRRRRRR I’VE BEEN CASHEWED

===========================================

and I am back from my outing.

speaking of backs…

OH NO! BAXTER STOCKMAN!

As for where I went,

“Safety” as in me not feeling compelled to search through the 514 pictures I took for sequential usable material, since I’m no good at that stuff these days.

There’s danger everywhere. And this wasn’t even “there;” I saw this near the train station after I got back to New Haven. Be vigilant!

There was a series of these but I assumed, erroneously, that they were blatant and stupid enough for somebody else online to have cataloged them already

Ooh, that thar be the golden gate bridge. I get it, I know where I am now. I must be in a hokey disaster movie.


I just hope the people I was visiting got home safely! It’s more fun to watch this stuff on television. Hey, maybe they should



Take the express to tasty! I think that’s what that says. I know it’s in San Francisco, but “take the express to teste” seems like it would be considered a bit crass. It is a city populated by real people, not tacky movie stereotypes. All the same I choose not to ponder the composition of the white fluid there.

No no, do not go there!

I’m pretty sure this is a JAIL.

Don’t you know, razor wire (which is a genericized trademark) is not for train stations…


It is for playgrounds. You’ll be surprised to know that this is also actually in New Haven.
Also, do not confuse the fence topping-material with barbed wire; barbed wire came to prominence as a way of deterring domesticated animals from leaving enclosures. Razor wire’s sole purpose is to maim humans.


Oh, OH. Excuse me for KNOWING stuff.



Nobody I know has a website anymore

Mr. Sr. Mxy
Nowhere
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pc72
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