I didn’t forget, I was just really, really disappointed. And quite busy, also
killing Osama bin Laden.
Legally, my notice about the disappointing post happened on May 1.
I will post something on May 1! It will probably be disappointing!
That’s just irresponsible. This should not be encouraged and we should not be excited about it.
I really don’t feel safe. The mango level is out of control. It has become a danger to itself and those around it. Medieval restraint devices have been brought out. We couldn’t possibly just call this “mango flavored iced tea”, given the circumstances.
It is not at all sensible. It is not moderating its own actions.
Beside the point but no more sensible.
Now we’ve given them guns! This is not the way to help them!
That’s safer, but still not addressing the problem.
I like your enthusiasm and elbows but this isn’t helping either.
Can we not recycle or eh resume in a responsible manner?
And should we really be enrouraging people to use so much junk that the bin is philled up?
To be fair, one’s sex attraction is not typically filtered through logic or reason.
In the interest of vertical balance I will post the wordy part of my madness spree later, with less pictures.
I’m sure you’re excited to know there’s more where this came from. With that said I will refrain from commenting on the shape of Phillup’s waste adornment.
So, I found a curious image of a piece of waste being flushed down the toilet lying around in the coffee shop the other day. I have no idea where it came from, but I thought perhaps you might want a copy of it for some reason. It seems like the sort of thing you’d enjoy.
This is a colored and disgustingly over-processed version of a drawing that I did for another person during the 2010 anthro-con-vention of Pitt’s Burgh, United America. However, I was not actually within the convention premises and the recipient just happened to live in Pittsburgh and was not attending the event at any point. Then this might have been weird!
Lest I seem hypocritical for denigrating a toilet enthusiast and then posting this, I point out that he draws/arranges for others to draw things on toilets and I have drawn something in a toilet. Far less gross.
That signature in the corner is probably unnecessary.
I suppose this is part three of a series. A year ago I would have stayed up all night making sure they were all in one post. Ha ha, I was such a loser then. Now I have 600 watchers on Fur Affinity. I am hot stuff. That’s almost half as many as the guy who draws popular cartoon characters on toilets. By the way, he thinks your fetishes are weird.
Donkey Kong’s trouble with premature gravity reminded me of another ad type from past years, the “game” that orders me to do some misanthropic act which I should never do in the hope of earning a reward which has no possible connection to the deed. There is probably a proper retrospective of them somewhere. Me not looking for that and inevitably having a problem with it will help ensure there is no part four.
There was one, though, that instructed me to “SLAP SANTAS BELLY! YOU LOSE!!!!!!” Whenever “I” “lost,” the creature representing me, and I know it’s me because it says “you” on it, was flung forward, apparently painfully, for no reason. That’s not important, I suppose. What matters is that I LOST at SOMETHING and therefore my pride is impugned and I am an inferior being. I must play until I WIN. I don’t particularly need a ringtone because I prefer my device in vibrate mode but after watching that animation I have become strangely opposed to the idea of vibration. “Participation required.” It doesn’t even imply that my participation is required to win the prize. My participation just IS required. It’s like Stations of the Cross when I was in Catholic School. Nobody knows why it happens or who it benefits or who demands that it happens.
Or even WHEN, apparently. You’ll never see it coming. It’s like Bat-Man. All we knew for certain was that we couldn’t go home until 3 pm instead of 2:30. We all had these corny books from the 1960s with these illustrations of kids carrying grocery bags while the priest’s posse inched around the room ringing creepy bells while others took their time taking turns standing at a podium giving verbosely worded and completely emotionless accounts of Jesus having a lousy day. It took at least an hour, and happened three or four times roundabout this point of the year. If you didn’t go to Catholic school then you’re probably exactly as confused and bored reading my vague allusions to it as I was living through it.
Slap Santa’s intestinal shell or be physically abused! Clearly there is some sado-masochism thing going on. Much like with how fun Christmas should be, Santa and Jesus have differing opinions on the merits of being assailed with polearm weaponry by way of pre-ordained destiny (and it is arguable whose got the better video game) and when Santa doesn’t get his precious pain he inflicts it. That explanation would almost amuse me, except there is no animated object that appears to be flinging the character that I remind you is “you” who is me. It is propelled entirely by the shame of losing this strange contest to the rival Santa’s team. I assume if I actually participated in the ad-game the other character would eventually be punished, and… how did I get myself into this? This goes against so many of my personal principles.
Obviously this one doesn’t even have the rival santa which either means I misremembered or somebody thought this idea was good enough to rip off. What kind of a world do we live in where I have to hope my mind isn’t working properly?
Oh, jolly good. Except this is a totally different santa-slapping apparatus.
Hey kids, set Santa’s head on fire! He’s in no financial position to tell you not to! He spent all his money on
Too many people spent way too long painting these.
But how many watchers does it have?
Page 43 of this. It still has no name.
This is one of those pages where I’ll have to come back and edit stuff later. Don’t look at the orange picture right here until after you looked at the link. Unless you don’t care about the comic, but if that was the case I don’t imagine you’d care about its construction phase, either. Not in a sincere fashion that it would be worth my trouble to accommodate, certainly.
I added the letters this time with a dippin’ ink pen. I’m sure this is reflected in the improved legibility of the text. The pen ran out of ink really fast. I didn’t try to render the creatures with it. I may need to switch paper types again. Not right away, though; I want to savor my last remaining excuses for unsatisfactory quality.
Intially the creature was held like this and so the alarmed expression made more sense. however, then the way it hit the wall didn’t. The way it looked smiling with its body upright but its head pointed downwards was so deliciously stupid that everything else had to change to match it.
Also, I just realized that my most animated and dynamique character is a chair with arms. And I still don’t know what “dynamic” means. However, the “still” suggests that I did not in fact just realize the latter fact that but have been aware for an extended period gosh I can’t believe I always struggle to fit words into panels.
I should not openly disparage the graphics in early Rare-brand games because some of my earliest bad comics were about guys in armor standing on icicle covered platforms with diamonds floating around them who only didn’t look like Kuros
of Wizards and Warriors because I was incapable of drawing them that way. Also, the sequel Iron Sword heavily influenced how I drew clouds for years and some of that is probably still evident.
It also helped me get through Catholic school because it affirmed, for the time being, my hope that there was fried chicken in heaven.
I can say about Ironsword, however, that it was made by the Plok people and not the Battletoad people so it might not even count.
Also, I consider my ability to complete this game on a real nintendo machine one of my few decent video game accomplishments, and this was before I had useful facks from the internet
I shouldn’t have to make such a choice!
Well sometimes that’s just the way it goes, sonny mah boy!
I’m through being taken advantage of!
Wait does this mean I’m not, then? That’s not even funny. I have the saddest April fool pranks.
Second-saddest then I guess. No eye [‘d be] MAD if I was one of the people who pays money to use the deviant art site and this was the best they could come up with. As a freeloader I am just disappointed.
Also sad is that I somehow got six paragraphs out of this topic. They are hiding from me at the moment. That is their prank. I created them and thusser they learned prankcraft from me and thus they aren’t very inventive at it.