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.
I shall honor the recently dead Christopher Lee by posting these pictures of him laying down the law while clutching a ridiculous over-sized vegetable pod and some manner of questionable imp looks on. If there were pictures of me in the same situation I would want people to know while I was still alive, however.
I do not think there is anything sad when a world famous celebrity gets dead at the age of 93, however, especially ones that have appeared in over two hundred films.
If Casey Kasem’s death was sad, it was because there was an unresolved dispute in his family, and the man’s final days were probably stressful, with lingering stress for those who could not fix the problem. It is NOT sad because it made Shaggy “Norville” Rogers, who is a fictional character, cry Mountain Dew Baja Blast-colored tears, when he went to some oddly sparse cartoon graveyard where nobody else is buried.
Much stranger are scenes showing just Scooby Doo weeping at the weird cartoon grave, as if the voice actor dying means the character is dead, even though four people apart from Casem have voiced Shaggy since 1998 in [wholly unnecessary] newer cartoons, and the initial Scooby Doo voice Don Messick has been dead since 1997, with Frank Welker doing the replacement, and he also has always provided the voice of Fred. It might be appropriate to show Fred rubbing his hands in treachery as he plots to take over more of the cast. In a weird cartoon graveyard.
With Messick’s death predating deviantart, I was sadly able to turn up far fewer creepy drawings of his gravestone, which is nonetheless a considerable achievement considering that he was cremated. Kasem meanwhile was buried in Oslo, Norway because his wife was crazy, which as far as I know is accurately depicted in the crude green-carpeted voids seen in these drawings. In another twist, Shaggy is alive again.
Just kidding, they are both actually dead. Gosh it is almost as if cartoons are not real people and thus are neither dead nor living and this sort of illustration has very little reason to exist.
A true mystery: Shaggy and Scooby at Casem and Messick’s imaginary graves, but this time there are two additional graves whose inscriptions cannot at this time be read. Is the implication that man and dog are next, with no reason to go on never-having-lived? Or has this person who couldn’t even be bothered to crop the digital camera picture of this lightly-stained ten minute drawing so that it is at least the center of attention put more effort into rendering a populated graveyard than any of the people who sprang for crayons?
My favorite shows Scooby Doo AND Bat-Man –who of course know each other; this partnership is not in itself notable– at a Kasem grave, Kasem having voiced Batman’s assistant Robin in Hanna Barbera cartoons. Even though those versions of Robin and Batman were based on the ones from the 1966 non-cartoon television series, which starred Burt Ward as Robin, who is not dead yet. Meanwhile, Olan Soule, the first voice (and my preference) of animated Batmen, has been dead since 1994. And once again the live Batman, Adam West*, yet lives. All the while, creepy oversized ghost heads float nearby with contented expressions showing they are oblivious to or quite proud of the suffering and confusion they have caused.
*West himself took over the animated Batman’s role later, but he and Scooby were no longer on speaking terms.
In other news, Ken Spears and Joe Ruby, the writers who actually conceived the Scooby Doo concept and characters, and presumably introduced Scooby Doo and Batman to each other, are also both still alive. Maybe they can get a pair of typewriters to cry at their hastily engraved resting places later.
There were a staggering meepload of these for Robin Williams. But in a week/month/year of tributes to a supposed comic genius, the hardest I laughed was coming across this, cartoon characters at a grave for a man they can’t plausibly have known existed, who was cremated, and didn’t actually voice them. Shouldn’t the grave say something like Cloppin Fillyums on it, given the alternate allegorical stupid horse-pun-based universe they inhabit?
That is true; otherwise this scene is completely serious and logical. But according to the image description, which regrettably was written, and regrettabler glanced at by me, the person who posted it didn’t even draw it; the person just assembled the elements from other drawings from other people, and only accomplished this much. So even if we are lost enough to imagine these characters are real and an acceptable vector for our own emotions on completely unrelated topics, at best they are faking it in front of a green screen on some other occasion. The animated franchise with the greatest potential for instant dork fame after spending the least amount of time learning to draw like it, and this person couldn’t even manage that, and still gets more recognition weekly than I ever had for almost any one thing my entire life. I felt bad making fun of the artists earlier, who clearly were not getting much respect as it was, but this kind of self-sustaining garbage is hard to coexist with calmly, even after five years.
But at least Robin Williams gets some scenery and a stylish mound, and a cheerfully inappropriate font.
That was rather odd, but could we possibly get a bootleg pikachu leaking Tide detergent onto a creepy cartoon grave that you stuffed five dead people into, four of whom certainly never had anything to do with Pokaymon plus one I never heard of?
I knew I could count on you.
I think these originated with Mel Blanc’s death and a widely-circulated drawing of Bugs Bunny and the et als, whose most distinguishing traits are the myriad ways they show no respect to anyone, looking mopey beside a spotlit microphone with the heading “SPEECHLESS.” To this day, prints of it are sold as if they haven’t been being cranked out for 25 years for apparent profit for the Time Warner company to people who would gladly pay to remember someone who made them glad with something that wants to force them to be sad. It seems the only thing better than institutionalized misery is spending money to take part.
This one for KC Case ’em at least makes a dorky joke on the topic that clashes with the intended air of reverence.
When Leonard Nimoy got dead I saw online remarks from people saying things like “I was driving when I heard and I had to pull my car over and cry for a while,” like this was someone they had met and knew very well, who had made a direct, personal investment in their lives. I am told he participated in his cult fan-dom, and had a fatherly aura, but he hardly left a great deal of business unfinished in his life. This level of attachment to celebrity is lost on me.
I remember when George Carlin did it, there were months of tributes to him, and I did not really see the prolonged public justification. But I accepted that; I did not seek out standup comedy, generally, and most of the tributes were from people who had worked with him or seen him perform who just happened to have high-profile television jobs but didn’t feel like doing him any favors while he was alive. I also remembered that when Bernie Mac went dying there was hardly anything within my radius, but I accepted that I mainly watched shows with mainly white people on them. Steve Jobs, alright, I never liked Apple-computer-brand stuff. Even my i-pod, which I did like, felt needlessly hard to use just to seem innovative. Literally, Apple’s slogan of the period was “Think Different.” No need to think better, just arbitrarily turn practical 2-direction control into a wheel and give it a plug that nothing else already uses or potentially will ever be able to use. And try to force me to reconfigure my operating system outside the i-pod while you are at it.
But with Robin Williams: he himself, not just people who knew him, was in films, and on television, stuff that I saw, and the effect of his death on me was about the same as any others I mentioned. I saw tributes from people of my approximate social status to the effect that they felt like they lost a family member or a piece of themselves forever even though the stuff he did has been preserved in the exact same form it was first encountered in (unless you saw him perform live, which none of these people have (maybe they WANTED to, and now know they cannot ever, but much emotional difference does that make?)). So now I know I do not belong. It was not the society-wide media-mandated mourning of the World Trade Center attack, but this was just one person, who had made quite a bit of money and, at the very least, knew he was about to die, and not a few thousand done in without warning.
In this country. Who cares if hundreds of thousands die or are driven from their homes somewhere else? Nobody is expected to care about everyone else in the world; it would probably kill any of us if we tried. But certainly we should take stock of what we are losing our marbles over. I have breakdowns all the time due to very personal things; in fact they rarely involve any unconnected figure’s hardship. I could not mentally afford that. It would never let up. I can’t even handle birthdays.
I was wondering what yet-living public figure has made the biggest impact on my life. But they, at least the ones we make celebrities out of, almost always work in groups, and rarely produce a totally unique, non-imitated/imitating product, and no singular product sums up my life, or would cease to sum it up if one of the people who made it stopped living. And I say that as someone with very little social contact, who theoretically should have all the more reason to fill my empty life with far off Hollywud
Back to Williams, it WAS sad to me, because it was a suicide, and in fact I never had any ability to relate to Williams prior to knowing he had a depression issue –yes, I have also acted like an idiot for attention, but with far less encouragement– and could barely stand him at all until he took on a more subdued persona post-heart surgery, but he will not quickly be forgotten if we don’t rush to say he won’t be.
And Leonard Nimoy has contributed to about 536 Starry Trek-related productions, probably enough where if you watched them all in order you would have forgotten the first one by the time you got to the end and you could start over. He lacked the potential that Robin Williams had to take on future significant projects, and hardly needed it by the time of his not-quite-deadness. And I am not advising to forget the creations and participations of people who appeal to you, but to quote somebody I hated during My Childhood, take a chill pill, get a grip.
In fact I did not see anybody freaking out over Christopher Lee but apparently I deleted this text from an earlier post, presumably the one I just linked at, and this seemed like my best chance to use it. For the love of MacGuffin, if you like something somebody did 20 years ago, please tell them before they die, because afterward that is going to be a lot less important to them, and undoubtedly someone else you know could use the attention more by that point. And please don’t put me in a box in the ground in a sad grave. ESPECIALLY if you like what I did while alive, don’t ruin your or anyone else’s day unless you truly have to. Put me in one of those cadaver museums or feed me to needy owls, or something useful.
page 3 of this we are up to! After all these years, FINALLY at page 3!
The future of the automated comic display system is currently being evaluated then, and thus I have not done it yet.
This page SEEMS useless, but it re-establishes for this “chapter” that lope is a nuisance, and that elpse is a nuisance, that the hat does not like, and solves the problem of my re-establishing that elpse hates robots on the previous page without sending the story off in a more interesting direction than I had planned before i thought to put the robots there. The robots had solved the problem of elpse being about to murder lope for having hit nemitz with the car earlier than that. And this re-establishes that nemitz and elpse forgive each other for their mutual nuisancical qualities (even though I have personally advised elpse against this forgiveness).
For the first time in a while I made up the colors instead of pulling them out of previous pages. It seems to have been an improvement, though the previous pages now appear very dull by comparison. And of course these will be re-dulled when they are printed, so it is probably better to keep doing it the other way even if that looks worse on a computer screen. But we both know that I am contractually obligated to find the most complicated, inconsistent and unintuitive way of doing all tasks.
In other news, the dumb lizard is so pathetic, sometimes it doesn’t even have a mouth, and just has a nose. This thing is incredibly fortunate I need two months to get out a new page. It has no idea how many dumb things it is not doing due to me being held up. And neither do I! Stupid things just HAPPEN when I put it on a page.
Why don’t you just shut up, nemitz. nobody has any interest in ANYthing you have to say. you might as well NOT TALK. Have you forgotten what I threatened to throw at you four years ago? Or have you remembered and here thrown my throw threat back at me? Neither of those is excusable.
Somebody who cannot read or does not understand english might look at this comic strip and think nemitz is saying something, when it IS NOT. 100% or more of what nemitz says is RUBBISH. Why do we, as a nation, put up with nemitz? I have had enough. Good NIGHT. Unless you are a brightly colored imp, in which event I wish you a very BAD night. You are so frustrating, I was distracted and inverted my capitalization scheme.
Or Disgracy’s Angstgiving Malaise, if you prefer, but why would you?
Do you remember when I used to write stuff? Well I have forgotten and that is why there have been so many of these lately.
It was meant to be a response to that because I talk to myself. However, I rarely listen, so it was rather a bit over a year before it could be shown. Ordinarily, people would have stopped caring by then, but fortunately nobody cared to begin with. The only thing I got right was the bland layout.
It may strike you as decadent for one character to hog the rope belt AND the single suspender. Are you going to put up with that?
Through no deliberate thought by me the central figure (“dope”) is the most dignified looking idiot here through not having made any botched attempt to appear dignified.
And now that I have made this, what do I do with it? It has no purpose. There is no reason I should have spent so long on it. I lack even the motivation to update this page’s banner twits. The secret to online fame is to acknowledge and pay reverent homage to stuff that already exists, but that doesn’t work if it’s your own stuff, unless you referenced other stuff prior to referencing your own, and chances are people will be annoyed that you didn’t just reference the stuff you usually reference.
I didn’t say so in the past but generally these things conceal links to larger, more clear versions of themselves. I don’t actually believe that this conveys any information here on the page. I don’t believe the full size conveys much more, but it’s slightly more and that’s the amount I intend.
Most of the development for the background occurred before I had merged it with the characters, because at the image size of 20000×7000 pixels it was irritating having to deal with constant delays while I added large amounts of blurry computer paint (the fourth row is just a temporary mock-up that I have saved for some reason). Having multiple layers, then, made the situation totally unbearable. Then at some point I realized nobody would notice or care if I reduced everything to 10000×3500 and after I did, it became feasible to merge them and development escalated, now (then) that I could see where things were in relationship to each other better. The result was still an unsightly, muddy mess, but and I’ll think up a justification later.
This was removed from the space where the yellow creature eventually was placed because the character is sort of boring, and I thought it worth incorporating alternate modes of improper dress.
This was earlier removed from the same position not for looking too stupid, but I imagined this thing would not be pleased that others challenged its bow tie supremacy and would refuse to stand with them. At that point I had considered having the center dope also wearing a bow tie, which further complicated matters. I drew a new one into the background because I forgot I had made one already.
The creature elpse is mildly allergic to stripes, and so appears to merely be sneezing, rather than protesting. In fact this sneeze would have seemed to be directed away from the dope out of courtesy, which I cannot allow.
This pose was too interesting.
Of course I’m kidding. Most of these characters need to be in trash AND jail.
Also, my internet is still awful. Transmission of necessary data is decreasingly possible.
In my mind, “my name is earl” and the show about the guy who moves to stuckeyville and buys a bowling alley had merged and I suspected I was best off keeping them that way. Then a few weeks later I remembered the second show was titled “Ed” and I became depressed.
I forgot completely that bimshwel’s birthday was on the eleven of may. This is probably for the best. It is only nine years old but the sooner it gets used to people not remembering its birthday, the better for it, I think. That also allows me to more easily forget the date permanently, thus averting such awkwardness in the future. This is good in additional ways because I have also not yet permanently forgotten that I specifically chose the 11 because that was the same day my Spam luncheon meat book informed me that Spam luncheon meat was invented on. That sort of thing was important to me ten years ago. I said nine up there but the first year didn’t count. Most people can’t at such an early age. On to more urgent business:
I’m tired of nemitz pretending its name is just “mitz.” It is LYING to you. I can’t stand it. It thinks putting “mitz” into a fancy serifed font makes that factual and official. Guess what, iditwit! Your name isn’t just mitz! In French I might if I understood it say “tu ne mitz pas.” (more accurate would be “tu n’est mitz pas” but it doesn’t look like it should be, does it! (and most accurate would be “tu n’es pas mitz” but I didn’t know that)) I use the informal tu instead of vous not because we’re friends or but because I outrank you. It also does not mean that there are tu nemitzes.
For some baffling reason evidence that there isn’t even one nemitz yet eludes me.
Ne indicates that the statement is negative. As the negativity has already been established it would surely be redundant for pas to also indicate negativity so that must just mean that nemitz is not my father, and so I shan’t be honoring it in June. Its absense on a counterpart occasion in May also proves that nemitz is not my mother, although it possibly then is my older brother, who doesn’t find such arbitrarily declared holidays worth his time. But at least HE has a job and some marketable talents. Nemitz is a worthless layabout with no skills and just as many excuses for not paying homage in buffet form to the being that gave it life. ME. I am your mother, nemitz. How DARE you.
Mitz. MITZ. Do you think you’re Odo of Metz? Odo is a dumb enough name for you to think is good. Incidorkally, Odo is the earliest known to wikipedia architect born north of the alps.
Come now, do you honestly think that helps?
Understand! I’m not mad because you’re getting the better of me! I’m mad because you aren’t but you think you are! And now I will talk about something else!
I have nothing to say to you.
I started to write something about skeletons, but then I was attacked by mummies.
I’m half a day short of being out of that house and in my apartment for a full week and every time I hear a sound of certain pitch I still momentarily worry it’s the cat and he’s found me.
Learn how to draw cartoons from somebody who can’t!
This looks like somebody printed out sprites from Mike Tyson’s Punch Out!! and traced over them. Well it’s not manga reasonableness, I suppose. They had to call it something once How to Draw Webcomics circa 1998 stopped selling. 40 Basic Lessons. Lesson 1: Don’t start at Barnes and Noble. Lesson 2: Don’t buy a book by a Canadian. In recognition of my own upcoming book about not getting awkward, probably a bit sensitive allegedly professional artists to sue your website I reveal my own first lesson which is to not type their names into google and then not to place links to additional art of theirs you find online. He probably has enough problems if his site is half on Angelfire and employing eXTReMe trackers.
I saw that book in a store “last week”
and got a bit annoyed at it, but I can’t say I’m surprised that it exists or that people might have bought it.
“Furry” as a gimmick copied out of a book is stupid. I can understand, again, with reservations, why you’d want some cheap and hacky shortcut to drawing pirates or giant robots, but “furry,” by this book’s implied definition, just means a regular, average, unremarkable person with an animal head and also a tail for some evolution-ignorant non-reason. The only reasonable reasons are “it’s cute” or “it’s silly” or “it’s stupid,” and not meant to be taken seriously, because it’s fantasy and made up. People are SERIOUS about dumb old furries. So look at real animals, and real people, and figure it out. Or cartoon people and cartoon animals. But for frog’s sake you shouldn’t need a whole book to tell you to make mix-em-ups.
You can see, or I imagine that you might, that this is directly beside books professing to instruct on how to draw dragons, fantasy creatures, generic super heroes, specific copyrighted Marvel characters and MANGA ANIMALS. It’s all rubbish.
Also present, Drawing Vampires, How to Draw MORE Pirates and Erotic Manga: Draw Like them Experts.
Ehhh. If “furry” isn’t a trendy gimmick, market forces would welcome it becoming one. I say it already has, with junk like Avatar and Bolt (which are enough alike for this context despite not really being all that much alike) getting major pushes / watched. Draw Furries: the Junior Novelization is merely filling the gap between “I can draw cartoon animals” and… the erotic manga book, I guess.
People should realize that these books are the artistic equivalent of those Atkins, South Beach, Pork ‘n Styrofoam et ew diet books. They won’t, but they should. I don’t doubt that there is actual good advice and occasional bits to take inspiration from, but that stuff is easy to find for free if you care to look for it or ask sensible people without a financial stake about.
On the topic of “fursonas,” none of these dorks are mine because none of them do anything that I do and only one has fur, besides. I am very boring. However, I also like a lot less dumb things than they do.
Like them, for example.
I mean, don’t like them at all.
If I made a character to represent myself it would probably be a ferris wheel that got shut down after somebody fell off it. Or a potato. Or a scoop.
I can’t access bimshwel.com at the moment, so that means I can’t… oh, hey, what do you know. Dee, I wish I’d noticed that sooner. Well maybe I’ll write something tomorrow, then!
On the subject of corporate attempts to de-evolve internet video, here are some more ads I’ve seen while dealing with that. Yep.
“Double pits to chesty,” which is about the worst name I’ve ever seen for anything, and also
This, I don’t understand. Always in the capital letters, like it’s important or a thing otherwise worth being said. Clearly, none of these elaborate constructions do anything but fall apart as they are being pushed into a river. Why would anybody participate or watch this? Much less for free? Why work to build something that just breaks? This is like something that only drunken morons would watch, yet Red Bull has no alcohol in it. The company has patented a liquid stupidity with no intoxicating effects that it can market to kids without pretending it isn’t. Like the beverage equivalent of Christian rock: all the shoddy lack of merit as before with a side of self-righteousness. This self righteousness has not, to my knowledge, been put into use by anybody, but I know they’re thinking it.
And these fluggity things, it’s not as if they are all that INTERESTING to watch break; I’ve been seeing related advertisements for a few years and for all I know it’s been the same footage every time, because it’s just the same thing happening over and over. It’s like any athletic competition, except it’s not athletic or competitive. It’s just morons pushing heaps of wheels and papier mache into water, and, I presume, leaving it there.
Supposedly there are judges who rate things and the objects are required to be made of “environmentally friendly materials.” Well I still don’t like it! My remarks to the contrary of the data I just supposed were secondary to my main point that I dislike the advertisements and the impression they give me of the thing they are promoting. And twenty [or so] years of America Idahhhhhhh in my business haven’t convinced me that the presence of judges proves that garish freaks are committing entertainment.
I’m not above posting a dreadful image and telling you how dreadful it is, but nobody will be paying me for the privilege of recapping it later and I’m not pretending I think what I do is about anything but myself. Ooh there’s not even a joke on that one, that must mean I’m serious!
If I said that nobody would care because any idiot can say that, and I’d literally be any idiot. I strive to be the main idiot, and I am serious.
But I am feeling better now.
That suggests the caption only applies to one of them, and the chances are I won’t even be in the picture, since I’m a psychotic introvert in addition to my other qualities.
You have to be the center of attention, don’t you!
You know where to find me, guy. And also orange hats.
You agree with me that 1 am is way too late for the idiots a block over from me to be blasting corny music all over the place, don’t you?
Dear loyal bimshwel customers: I’m deadHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH APRULFOOOOUHAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHG I’VE BEEN SHOT
HA HA NO I HAVEN’T!GOTCHA THAT TIME AYPRALLL FOOOOOOOOHHHHHHNOOOOO I’VE BEEN SHOT AGAIN!
NOPE NOT REALLY! HA HA HA HOOOGOSH DEAR FLOOPITY I’VE LAUGHED SO HARD I’VE CAUSED MYSELF MORTAL INJURY NO I HAVEN’T
HA HA HA HO NOW IS THE TIME WHEN I LAUGH NO IT ISN’t YES IT IS HA HA HA H
And now I am sad.
YES INDEEDNO NOT REALLY
Some morning radio DJs are missing their sidekicks. Listen in to WHUH every weekday morning from 5 to 12 where Captain Porch and The Humidor will be playing Summercation Buck$tacular all through the month of June! Be the lucky caller and win something that can’t possibly justify listening to this rubbish every day of your life for hours!
Is this a breast book by Dr. Susan Love, or does Dr. Susan just love breast? To such a degree as to feel inspired to write this huge book? And am I seriously confident that I’m the first person aware of this book’s existence to make such remarks?
I recently encountered a large automobile with a “horse enthusiast” license plate. Is it really necessary to say that? Why else would you have a picture of a horse on a permanent accessory of your vehicle? Why do you even have a car? Why don’t you just ride a horse everywhere?* Do you even know if you can feed a horse bananas? As the saying goes, you can lead a horse to bananas, but you can’t lead bananas anywhere. And you shouldn’t, because that would make them led bananas, which would make you quite sick if you ate them. It’s not a very good saying.
*not because you think continually placing your full, domestically conditioned weight on and ordering movement of the animal might be a source of annoyance, of course. Why would that ever occur to you?
These people are WAY too excited about Werther’s “Original” Unspecified Object. Here is a thing to ask yourself if you think you might be too excited about the one who Werthes: “Did the thought occur to me that I might be? Nevermind the too, am I excited about Werther’s Original in the slightest? If I have to ask these questions, is my personal sense of judgment adequate that it is safe for me to be walking around in public? If that is not the case, can I even trust me to provide the answers?”
Ehhh… I know a person fairly well who likes these things, in fact, but surely even he would agree that the exuberance on display here is in excess. We must do something exciting to justify the already initiated withdrawal from our glee reserves.
The war on non-curled hair has been just as spectacular as you’d expect. I’m so charged and inspired I could just about refill my salt shaker.
My back hurts.
The Geico “cave men” series of advertisements depends on the viewer understanding that these people are themselves endlessly, hopelessly surrounded by Geico ads. That, to me, is the more tragic aspect of their un-relievable plight than that they can’t quite get respect as human beings. Even if they weren’t second class citizens they still couldn’t get away from Geico. And the Geico company itself has no problem with its ads being depicted within themselves as inescapable sources of dismay with no regard for the people they continually discriminate against.
TRY! Lean Pockets quesadilla. That’s awfully considerate of Hot Pockets brand Lean Pockets to plead for me to be open minded at this point, after I’ve purchased the item and removed it from its home. Always the chance exists that I will buy an item, take it out from its packaging and then decide I don’t want it. Perhaps I never intended to eat it. Maybe I have a hopeless addiction to opening boxes and non-resealable plastic bags. I could not possibly return the item for store credit at this point. Lean Pockets has already made the sale, and yet still it wants to make sure I eat something. Please, just try it. You have to eat! Just one bite, at least. Do it for me. Think of it as a science experiment. You like monoglopxide mccarbonuke, don’t you?
Here, eat this piece of my head that I just sliced out so I could have a mouth. Don’t be concerned with the fact that by the very nature of where it was, it was essentially in my mouth; I did not have one at the time. You might better devote your thoughts toward how I have terrible eyes or a nose or a body. As to how I put a shirt on over my enormous head, you are mistaken; I do not wear a shirt. I am simply badly burned across my torso. Thanks for your sensitivity, by the way. I do, however, wear flesh colored pants and gloves. By the way, Lotta Melon isn’t my actual name. It’s just some weird thing concocted to sound like “watermelon” so that the sugary drink-product I represent can hint that it is flavored in such a way. What baffles me is why I was chosen to endorse it. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to… you say my head looks like a what? How dare you!
GRABADA! I HUNGER! FEED MY RAGE! I SHALL TASTE THE PAINBOW! GIVE ME ONE GOOD RAISIN NOT TO! YOU CAN’T STOP THE EAT! THE TOOTH HURTS! I’LL SWALLOW YOU ON TWITTER! CHEW FIRST, DIGESTION LATER! IF I, WANNA TAKE A LIME, HOME WITH ME TONIGHT IT’S NONE OF YO CITRUS! YER PLUM OUTTA LUCK, YOU SONOFA PEACH! YOU GOT BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN MELONOMA!
I never could write endings.