drawings and such stupid comics and whatnot
I should get a header image that is not season-dependent if I am going to change it so infrequently!
Meeplesworth and Associates

February 28, 2009
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry


Clothes on the floor beside a toilet in a public restroom? Ohhh, that’s not good. But in Grand Central Terminal Station, with places to be, I cannot pass up a free rest-room toilet booth, even when one of the more crazy-looking/smelling people I have encountered comes out right before I go in. Hey, if the toilet’s exterior is dry and its interior is devoid of colored matter, I see no need to pass judgment on any of its recent clients. I should have, but I could not have. I also think the two police officers should have been able to tell, that both fully clothed and bathed I was not the homeless, garment swapping vagrant they were looking for, but they could not. Sometimes things just don’t come together properly. Such as the logic of sternly, noisily ordering me to open the door before I was finished with the toilet and then getting indignant that my lower fastenings were less than secure. But see, if I had been beaten by society to the point that I was stealing clothes to change into in a bathroom, it is unlikely I would be able to legibly protest the unfair illogic of that, so I understand. I also felt bad for the megadork janitor who reported the vagrant to the police; he was afterward chastised for doing so, and while not yet homeless, he was, the same, too much of an awkward fretful ubernerd to adequately protest that while I was not necessarily a homeless vagrant, one most definitely had occupied the same space moments earlier.

Elsewhere in The City:


You first. I had a pen and considered writing that here, but for all I knew the police had already been notified I was attempting to use another restroom, so I thought it better to be out as soon as I could be.


When the only person who will consider your argument is the stall wall in a toilet chamber of a combination Roy Rogers’-Nathan’s in Pennsylvania Plaza beneath the second of two enormous FOX NEWF banners, perhaps if you are not beyond reasoning you at least would appreciate some solitude. Really, I’m just impressed you were able to pluralize “similarity” without adding any apostrophes. I’m even willing to overlook your usage of { and } braces, just because you are aware of their existence.

Verily, this country could use some fixin'(s). I have occasionally wondered if this means the bar was invented by or at least had its invention attributed to somebody named fixin, or if there is more than one fixin and they are represented at the bar, and the ‘ is merely to draw attention to the lack of a G, suggesting that “fixing” is a noun of some sort. Because I need more real problems.


Gosh, I didn’t think I did, but you found such a distressed and clueless looking picture of Mr. President that now I have to really wonder about it! It does not ask WILL YOU REGRET VOTING AT SODA HEAD.COM?… The soda head is run by intelligent folks and they understand that such a question would invariably lead to sensible people not voting at all, with the resulting overabundance of “no” votes reflecting inaccurate data. If you believe that, you probably don’t realize I just made fun of you for writing on the wall in the bathroom.

Making your ads vertical doesn’t make me any less likely to put them on my page. Just so you know.
DOES OBAMA HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO LEAD AMERICA? Hmmm, that’s a good one, that. While certainly I am free to answer yes or no, somehow your inclusion of a darkened American flag, big capital letters and a hard-hatted head perched upon an ASS A BUDGE sign makes me suspect that Obama does not, in fact, have what “it” takes to lead america. Most damning of all is the intense picture of Obama himself pointing at my neck (or in this case ear) in regard to the importance of a soda head poll. I am glad you brought this to my attention. See, I was going to wait until he’d actually led America for a while before I formed an opinion on how he was doing and going to some other website I’ve already expressed a dislike for to vote in a poll that affects nothing stating as much. This is the President, not Howie Do It. If I left my house to choose him over the other guy, I’ll get no cathartic release from doubting his ability at this point. Or so I thought!

It still greatly amuses me that to some people, the biggest potential Obama worry prior to the election was that he might eat arugula in the White House. He’s just so elite. He’s so elite he’s elitist. He may even be l33t like the tile ghostwriter mentioned above. ”j0 dooDz plz email me fisXal poliCy r0mz.” I wish Obama had been in the 2000 election so that joke would only sort of make no sense and be totally forgotten by now.

Oh, well as long as you’re alright with it.



February 24, 2009
He’ll fix your computer, then he’s gonna make fun of you!

I spend a massive amount of time making things which have no purpose. Some of them I don’t even put here.

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Ohhhhhhhhhhh busybusybusy.

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The Tonight Show W/ J. Leno, January 19 2009: Jimmy Fallon films his own head for “webisodes” despite multple stable professionally operated official NBC cameras already filming him better. It should be noted that he said “webisode” at least seven times so it is safe to assume he has reviewed the terminology and found nothing wrong with it.

You, world, never got me to say “podcast” or “blog,” I suspect webisode will meet a similar fate. Specifically: everyone else disregards my protests because my opinion actually has no bearing on anything.


Look, he has the preview thing open despite not being able to view it. Decadence!


Do we really need two annoying, internet video dependent desk show hosts who call themselves “Jimmy?” Can’t one be James or Seamus? At least the two Craigs agreed to work in shifts and only one insisted on “Craiggers.”
Do we also truly require more videos of just immobile heads in little boxes saying stuff at us? Is anybody really so entranced by mouths? I put up with that during my first half in King’s Quest V and Faxanadu, but shouldn’t we have made some progress since then? All we’ve succeeded in doing is making the heads larger and needlessly better animated. I’m weak of mouths.


Of course I wasn’t expecting to be “friends” with somebody named GPSHyphenFitness, but I get so few “friend” notices, even junkety ones, that I always look over their pages with the slightest, most naive hope that maybe this ambiguously named entity I’ve never heard of really does want to be me best pal. Perhaps, even if it is a robot, it is just as lost and confused as I am. And maybe I really did in fact know a bunch of Russian live-journal users and I just forgot about it. But anyway, whatever disappointment I deserve for my foolishness, it ought not to come in the form of this human fragment yelling at me about fitness the instant that section of the page finally shows up. If you want to sell me on fitness but really just don’t have the space to pan out, at least show me an arm or something. All this proves is that your clothing is starting to merge the frame.


If he doesn’t want me to see his Slim Goodbody suit, he should have worn something else.

Hello.


Hey hey, somehow Jay Leno mentioned “you got married since the last time you were here,” sending Jimmy into a totally spontaneous rehearsed bit about the crazy characters you meet at weddings! Which required him to stand up and walk across the stage several times as different people his mimicry skills were inadequate to distinguish. When this was done Mr. Leno asked if Mr. Fallon intended to deliver a nightly monologue, and yes! Jimmy does! He also stood up again, to give an example, and got bonus applause for standing up, and then proceeded to say much the same sort of things as in his pre-plotted interview. Only while standing.

How does Fallon expect to stand out after two hours of talk shows on his own channel, nevermind with more and more viewers straying from nbc anyhow, when he’s still relying on the same phony setups in his own guest appearances? He also mentioned that he plans to have a personal band and I’m past the point where I wonder if he’ll have a desk. How long before he acquaints himself with Electric Lincoln?

Jimmmmmy has said on several occasions that the band is called “The Roots.” Like this matters (although it is a better name than Toby). I’ve seen bands on these shows and they all do the same stuff: noisily waste time with varying degrees of tolerability. Mr. Ferguson forgoes one (though probably only for budget reasons), and while it does deprive him of a consistent on-set target for abuse, I don’t see why this necessarily needs to be a musician beside a bunch of other musicians who don’t get to say anything. Regarding strictly music-related matters, disregarding its necessity, as a home viewer I can’t tell the difference between live music and the other kind. As an in-studio audience member, however, I preferred the pre-recorded music because it wasn’t as loud.


Jimmy again, with Conan O’Brien, standing again, reading off a little card again. This occurred the night I was in the audience. It’s hard enough to pay attention to the designated chat space when you can see the whole room, why did they have to bring out a guy I had written annoyed things about before I had posted them? How am I expected to appreciate the parts that went well when it is necessary for the waiting website entry’s completion that I maintain a contrary attitude until then? Do you even think? Jim only said “webisode” once, though, so maybe there is hope yet.

Regardless, prior to then I assembled this totally unnecessary, overbloated sega cd-looking animated gif of Jay Leno tossing water on Mr. Fallon. After about the thirtieth time I watched it I started to feel bad about talking trash about Fallon, even though the act only happened once and Jimmily poutily swiped the mug off the desk afterward, almost hitting somebody with it. But maybe if I find film of every person who sort of bothers me suffering misfortune and I watch it a lot I will become a less complaintive person overall.

Be aware, however, that the dope is not a “person.”



February 20, 2009
Nice guys finish last, when you run out of gas.



I recently reported being astounded by the classiness of a McDonald’s restroom relative to my lowest possible expectations. However, my moderate-to-high opinion did not extend to some of the food items offered.


While I try to be as good an anti-meat advocate as I am capable without appearing hypocritical, and I applaud Big Mick’s support of the cause, I think there are good enough meat substitutes that we need not endanger the lives of America’s origami chicken supply. One could almost think this is intentionally being done to be counter-productive. SABOTAGE!


No, sir, I assure you that I quite intend to pay for that question mark in full.


This is at Denny’s place, but look! Automatic soap with manual-operation sink. Let me tell you, there is no more pleasant sensation than going to wash your hands and grasping a slimy faucet handle. Knowing that it’s “only” soap makes surprisingly little difference. Also observe that the soap dispensers come in pairs, suggesting that you should goop up both hands simultaneously, further reducing the likelihood of getting water without dripping ooze on the control mechanism or touching pre-oozed sludge.


Yet elsewhere: even the hand-drying machines are automatic these days. Because if there’s one natural resource we’re exhausting our supply of and need to take every precaution to preserve, it’s exhaust. Don’t bogart the hot air, man! (let us ignore, for a moment, the electricity required to generate the hot air, because otherwise I have nothing, and in such a context my use of words like “bogart” will seem particularly regrettable). If it turns out these were primarily invented for my convenience, I suggest, as a potential next step in their design upgrades, to have the things actually turn on when I put my hands in the area that the warmed oxygen is intended to come out of.

But I guess it takes a long time to get here from the fortress. What else are you hiding, JAke?

Oh. Well in that case, carry on. Nobody needs to know about this.



February 17, 2009
Ooh, I’m turning red, Who could this be?


Mysterious!

Somebody in Pittsburgh who seems to have access to a type writer –I assume it is the ghost of Frank Gorshin, as he supposedly came from Pittsburgh and ghosts often possess antiquated composition equipment– considers me a thing which the internet tells me refers to a beggar-type person who attempts to maintain an air of refinement in spite of that (I accept such a critique from the owner of a bowler hat). Essentially, a parasite on society (maybe he thinks I ripped off his laugh?). I must say it’s nice to have written correspondence with like-minded people. Even ones to whom I cannot actually write back due to their lacking return-addresses, possibly as a result of being non-corporeal beings with no need for a specific place of dwelling. That’s probably, actually, for the better, as I often struggle to reply at messages, and this saves me the trouble of writing most of a response, getting stuck, and forgetting about it until it passes from relevance. Schnorrin’ ain’t easy, as they (some people, surely) say, so I appreciate my phantom menace helping me out in such a way. This is also the closest item I received to a valentine card.


Ehhh, if I do not include the imaginary face book toilet paper granted unto me by an imaginary face book friend. And I do, but only in my mind. It needs to be wiped occasionally. For example, the thought which caused the previous sentence would have benefited, I now realize.



February 13, 2009
New direction for Midnight Pumpkin Trucks

The sudden twitching of my right-side, more efficient eye’s lid, and subsequent revelation that the only treatment is surgically removing muscles from it or killing them with botox are things I find incredibly worrisome. Yet thinking about it makes me laugh uncontrollably. The fact that a recommendation to get more sleep is the primary alternative, when I already sleep too much to be accused of having responsibilities makes it more “hilarious.” This is unrelated to me not updating the website.

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Do not take love advice from Pepe Lepew. Or anyone who spells out their accent.

Oh those banner ad people. They never know what they’re talking about. Why do I let them upset me so? It’s certainly not as if this is an official “canonical” work of the Wib animation department meant to be regarded alongside masterworks of plausible wackiness such as Space Jam and Looney Tunes Back in Action. This was just made in three minutes by whatever poor schmuck was assigned the task.


Yes, yes. This is what I need.


Even better. I love it. You took some cartoon character from the 1930s who has to live in a dumpster due to its abhorrent stench and made gave it a big fancy apartment and a tacky modern telephone to send text messages to another character who hates him but now not only doesn’t but in fact has gone so far as to intentionally set off his white paint fetish. (I didn’t get a picture of that. I can tell you’re disappointed.)

Here are the reasons Pepo Lepo was supposedly funny: everybody in the world was afraid of him. The cat was particularly afraid of him. He was too dumb and confident to notice.

Perhaps you are of the opinion that in these days of increased awareness of and sensitivity to jokes about both cultural differences and sexual predators, it’s not really “funny” to have a bad smelling Frenchman chasing around and forcibly fondling a non-consenting female, is it. Even though they’re cartoon animals (which scarcely resemble their real life counterparts. A white-faced skunk? Seriously?). However, if you take that away, all that’s left is another smug squinting supersleaze sending trite messages through a telephone to a vapid swooning ditz-deluxe and we have plenty of those already. We certainly don’t need to be reaching back 70 years to find a suitable couple only to utterly disregard the primary reasons they were interesting. Even our most distinguished masturbatory webcomic authors know there’s nothing funny about pairing those two, as we now have them, with each other. If you want to have demographic appeal, Pepe has to live in an apartment with three lovesick cats and totally ignore them.


Even if we get past all that, still remains the underlying message that the most romantic thing you can possibly do at valentime is to type sentence fragments at the object of your affection. I may be a eunuch but even if I can see that’s not an act that proves anyone’s devotion to anything other than the stupid phone itself. At least… it might if you have fat, round inadequately numerous cartoon fingers, but it is my understanding that the target consumer typically does not.


Wow, matching mail in rebates? We really are soul mates!

Worst of all, as former MCI pitch-creatures the merry melodists’ loyalties should rightly lie with The Other Telephone Company, Verizon. Who is Michael Jordan going to call on his yellow cartoon phone now? It’s one thing to toss their character traits in a trash compactor, but how can I respect fictional animals who are bought so easily? I cannot tolerate such an attack on our most sacred American institution, the corporate sponsorship.

True enough, Peppy did not appear in the MCI ads, and it seems reasonable to assume factions may develop among the various characters, but if mortal enemies Tweetypie and Sylvesterpie can both agree that 5 Cent Sundays is the bee’s knees, surely another cat and a skunk that can’t tell a cat from a skunk shouldn’t be too hard to sell on it. Yes, yes, 10 years have elapsed, and 5 Cent Sundays is an utterly obsolete calling plan, plus probably not that good to have begun with, but these aren’t characters who are renowned for their ability to review circumstances and change their foolish, antisocial behaviors accordingly.

Or are they? Maybe I should be glad that for once it’s not an old tiresome gag being rehashed. That one’s relationship with another has improved. Maybe things really are changing, and for the better. Why, just last week I went to a McDonald’s with a relatively nice bathroom.


They even varied the fake marble texture on alternating tiles. Things might just be looking up.


Still, for the time being I prefer to remain as far below them as possible.



February 10, 2009
Put on your giggle turban, we’re off to Laughganistan

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At least this many.

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How many more of these can I fit in here?

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LATER…
11 pm-ish:
That was an educational experience. I don’t know if it was worth $60 in train fare, 10 hours of time and reaffirm-ment of my own insignificance, but the whole point of education is to learn things you did not previously know.

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Anybody coming to this site for the first time should strongly consider not trying to read this entry.

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Unless something goes wrong (and it has every right to) I will be visiting the Late Night With Conan O’Brien program during one of its final exhibitions on Wednesday. I applied for tickets, not expecting to even be acknowledged, and so did not consider the various factors that would keep me from enjoying a multi-hour event in an environment I cannot intermittently excuse myself from and where somebody will check my belongings before I go in.

(Alas, this is a long one.)
Aw naw!



February 8, 2009
Rat found in green beans “again”

nemitz y elpse: whither be they now?


There. They are in a sketchy grey void right now. I hope this helpse.

Back in the old days I would upload these in groups of twelve. There are only four today, but they occupy roughly three times as much space on the screen.


Look at how you’ve dismayed the poor fool! How could anyone be so cruel?


Here’s someone with manners. Oh, please, don’t let me hold you up. By all means, tend to your pumpkin. Stupid animal. Who would call that thing?


You know what, I’d rather not know.


This is called an impasse.


This is called a scene from a CBC presentation of a presumably redubbed film known only as L’Impasse, whose English title, if applicable, I have been unable to determine, due in part to Carlito’s Way also being retitled “L’Impasse” when translated to Canadian. It is a documentary about Lambert, a high ranking unjammer of printers. Sony obtained the rights to a video game early on, but due to the film’s poor box office performance, which surprised everyone, through a highly unusual set of circumstances Lambert was changed into an anthropomorphous sheep trying to make it big in a rock band for the Playstation adaptation. There’s your scoop, then. Cherish it, for you may not get another.



February 4, 2009
Jeffersonville warns of scam involving trash cans


Fortunately, I remembered that I had this character hate puns in time to save myself from a remotely satisfying resolution to the script alteration I felt it necessary to make.

\/\/\/\gyk/\//\/\/\\\.\\/\/\/\/\\/\/\\/\/\\/.,,./

So that Pope today is ordering a recently recommunicated bishop, Richard Williamson, to hurry up and acknowledge that the world war II natsees did indeed employ gas chambers.

Why do people doubt quote unquote The Holocaust? Nobody doubts The Alamo or the Bay of Pigs, unfortunate war events of lesser scale but with names which would presumably be more easily denied. There aren’t people in Japan who doubt there was an attack on Pearl Harbor. And this guy is British and born in 1940; he doesn’t even have a disgraced relative or mortally wounded national identity to cover for. He’s just a racist anti-semitic conspiracy frootlooper. Even if he suddenly and inexplicably changes one belief he’s held for over twenty years it won’t change the others. Williamson claims he is not anti-Semitic because he is open to the possibility of Jews who render themselves worth not hating by giving up being Jews, and besides, he attacks communists and Freemasons, too. No, no, you don’t understand. I hate lots of people. He believes there were concentration camps and that mass amounts of people were murdered in them but by his scholarly reckoning it was in the hundreds of thousands rather than millions. Oh, okay. I can understand stickin’ to your guns for moral reasons or because somebody stashed their used gum in your holster, but who does it possibly help for you to be speaking up about that topic? Unless you’re defending yourself from Jason Vorhees, if you kill one person at a camp entirely on the basis of being eligible for the camp, you’re probably an evil so and so not worth questioning historical records in favor of.

Bishop Williamson was intially excommunicated for being, along with some buddies, made bishop by an arch-bishop, Marcel Lefebvre who, in essence, disagreed with what the newer Popes were saying, just in regards to church stuff. His new club, the Society of Saint Pius X (which I initially mistook for an algebraic equation), was of the opinion that The Church just wasn’t being churchy enough. It wasn’t angry enough at non-Catholics, its new mass services weren’t arcane and redundant enough, it was no longer strictly asserting that every passage of The Bible was an absolutely historically accurate account of a thing that really happened (unlike the “Holocaust”). The Second Vatican Council members were just a gang of easy-going liberal hippies. And this was in 1970. The Holy Seedoo we know today is a decadent, prancing, umbrella-drink sipping version of that.

I will spare you the usual jokes about the current pontiff’s ruby slippers and red cowboy hats. Because it’s easier to just say that.

But the real trouble was only after eighteen or so years of disagreeing with The Pope, doing things without The Pope’s permission and not apologizing to The Pope, this Lefebvre person ordered some new Bishops in June instead of May. That’s all it was! (ehhh, as far as I can tell) Which might just prove his point about the challenge level, I suppose.

So then, despite all this, Mr. New Pope Benedict Ixvy un-ex-communicated the bastard bishops, without checking to see what sort of nutty things some may have been up to since not stopping in 1988. Things which I would not be surprised to discover included writing website urls next to toilets.


So was Cats.



February 2, 2009
This ain’t Hollywood. This is a small town.

I still cling to the delusion that my page is only officially ugly once I start embedding video clips on it.




Do they love me, or my frogger? A question for the ages, which we all may find reason to ask ourselves at key points in our lives.

The frog from Frogger, presumably also named “Frogger,” escapes from the publicity and hype surrounding the smash megahit video game “Frogger” by playing Frogger. A secret copy of Frogger, no less. If anybody would be expected to own one, it’d be that frog, right? Thus we are introduced to a world of intense inner conflict and private, shameful obsessions. “It’s a challenge, rribbit,” laments Frogger.

Additionally, there is something altogether unsettling about an anthropormit frog wearing several layers of coatery but no pants asking if people love his “frogger.” It must be noted that the one who speaks “ladies first,” presumably a lady, only lacks shoes, as far as standard gendereal clothing prescriptions are concerned. I suspect a gay orgy took place. By the way, you’re all invited to my ninth birthday party, 3pm this Saturday at the highway McDonald’s. I’ll have to ask my mom which side.

It may be argued that many configurations of legs and hind regions preclude the applying of the standard run of presized leg-wrappings, but not merely drooping fabric, and in that case I don’t understand why they can’t all wear drooping fabric. Surely it is more prudent to violate non-applicable human dress style norms than to wear nothing at all, itself also rather a violation.


You do not count because you are an imbecile.

Odd fashion and dumb lizards aside I still prefer the troubled, introspective frogger to

the rubber frogger,


the douchey frogger


and the scary frogger.

This will be all the more so if it is revealed to me that the three non-preferred froggers are in actuality a single ultra powerful non-preferred frogger.


I assure you I have enough problematic frogs in my life already.


They demand our nation’s supply of gummy worms as tribute.


Our children may be at risk if we disobey.


Yet, alas, it is nothing new. Frogs have had it in for us for millions of years. Is there anyone who can stop them?


NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! h



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


them`s fightin` woids:
October 21, 2014
Frimpinheap sez:
What a schmoozy robot!
October 21, 2014
iron desert hack sez:
I drop a leave a response each time I especially enjoy a article on a site or I have...
October 17, 2014
Frimpinheap sez:
latso: I do not necessarily expect anyone to understand. I do not necessarily understand....
October 17, 2014
Charmlatan sez:
It’s a shame your family react to your plights in such a non-understanding manner. Most...
October 17, 2014
Frimpinheap sez:
That seems dangerous. I hope you at least wrap them separately, so to avoid damage prior to...
October 17, 2014
Charmlatan sez:
I ship elpse with the Adrenocorticotropic hormone, vital in the production of rage.

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    old webpages specifically about video games

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    too late to make a difference
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    before the one above it
    Super Games Galore! Doy!
    mysterious