You know what would really hit The Spot this night? Some chunks. Boil me up a big bowl of chunks and I’m a happy camper. Or should I say chunker? I believe I shall. And why stop at dinner? Who is to say you can’t pack a satchel of chunks each day and have em for lunch? That’s assuming you aren’t like me and generally chunk-drunk by noon most days. And well gollybollywood they’re already frozen, put little sticks in them and have yourself a handy grandy chunky desert. Benjamin and his esteemed colleague Gerald are not the only ones with claim to the chunk name where frozen confectionery are concerned.
Do not try and unload on me any of what you call “nuggets,” “strips” or “fingers.” Those are childish, perhaps barbaric names for unaffiliated fragments of meat. These aren’t your average every day chunks scraped off the road, these are premium chunks scraped off a stain glass window. We grilled these esteemed distinguished chunks before we dumped them in a sack and froze em.
And florian helmberger do they taste big! These were guaranteed to cause synesthesia in laboratory animals. Now they can taste size, see sound, smell your deepest secrets and feel like wet stringy rubber in your mouth. Good night and good chunks.
another redrawn comic page. Much more orderly dialog than before! And no bauble stems that cross each other, although a few routes are lengthy, which perhaps some day I will decide is even more distracting. Yes yes I do like how the wordage and containers are laid out here. How did i ever think that old way was acceptable? Even if the last seven days of effort gain me no scrap of respect from one other person, I like having so many neatly-arranged colored sentence boxes.
Originally, on this and the next page I just colored under the pencil drawing, with a few touchups, to speed things along, since it was taking me weeks to do them the other way. But I had to do this one like that anyway! Oops. But this only took one week. So with about ten weeks left in the year, I should be able to get the second book printed, provided I do no other things. However, I have to do other things. Gosh I have to get up now to dump extra water into an electric cat water dish that starts to make weird noises if the water goes over a certain point that becomes closer to the brim of the dish as the filter breaks down and needs replacement. But I don’t know where you buy the filters, so I have to order some more, and I don’t want to register my own email address with any of these dubious pet supply websites, identify myself to marketers as a pet supply buyer thereby sentencing myself to junk email about pet supplies until the earth crashes into the sun, nor pay the shipping cost on this that probably exceeds the posted $7.99 price of replacement filters. Because I hate having cats and hate spending my own money on them. But nobody else will do it even though it is presumably for another human’s sake that cats continue to be kept on the premises. So imagine that every aspect of my life is like that. Outside of these lovely dialog containers. I have brought them under my control.
I cannot recall previously being this aware of how absurdly large i had drawn elpse’s feet.
page 18 of part 3 of the bimshwellian comicoid. This sure took long enough to get to, and finally resolves a matter that has been up in the air for too long. And now I must go back to the past to rework old pages because it was my intent last year to have the second small book version complete within this year. I have within this year tended to a number of long postponed matters, and ordinarily would consider that justification for postponing a less postponed project, but I actually printed inside the first book that the next one was “Available 2016″ so that makes it closer to law. Even though I added *hopefully” afterward. Hopefully does not mean “no self-imposed psychological consequences for failure!”
I am so tired and busy that I have only a faceboor post to link at to attempt to explain why that is, roundabout there. It pertains to an art show that I also pertained to last year, for it seemed pertinent to my attempts at being a slightly less illegitimate figure.
There are 63 individual print designs hanging up presently. And that does not include the cheap ones I am going to stick wherever they will fit or the few paintings I had the patience to bring in. I want to over-load people with this. There shall be no chance of somebody glancing in, dismissing it as simple frivolity and getting out of there. I shall force everyone to see how deep and varied my frivolity is.
Website, you know you are very important to me. The fact that you are the only stupid internet trinket I have not updated this week should not be seen as neglect. That means I know you can handle not being the center of attention. It means I TRUST you with RESPONSIBILITY. And I also trust you to not demand additional compensation for the increased expectations I have of you. That is life, website! And you are not truly alive anyhow! You are lucky I gave you anything! Now get in your room and practice! I want to hear those scales! Get in there NOW!
I am SHOCKED and OFFENDED by Donald Trump, suddenly. I was really hoping he was going to put this jerky, misogynistic behavior behind him, but then he had to go and be even worse last decade. I didn’t support him through 2015 by scrutinizing any single thing he ever did or said, after ehhh. If I can’t hold him to a higher standard off camera eleven years ago than I could in plain view last week, how can I ever trust him?
Also, I am withdrawing my support for Jeffrey Dahmer because I just read that he was into necrophilia.
Worse, it turns out that reporters for Hollywood gossip shows are soulless smirklords who will march in any direction they are turned and nudged in. Who would have thought that caring who Angelina Jolie is married to requires a distinct lack of discretion and earthly purpose? Who would have thought that a member of the Bush family will put on any suit of opinions necessary to appease the richest person in any location?
Middle School colon The Worst Years Of My Life might look like regressive uninspired trash but it is in fact based on the writer’s real life experience watching terrible movies about going to school.
In old bimshwel days I would look up who the actual writer was and try and make a point, but I am so detached and frazzled these days I cannot even be certain I am writing this now, which would not be good form when that writer took offense and tried to make me feel bad in my comment section.
Also, I posted this on faceboor last Sunday for some reason:
I saw the Saturday Night Live season premier for some reason I cannot wholly justify.
I think the program is in trouble when its only memorable characters, Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders, are just celebrity impressions and played by actors who aren’t in the cast or any other sketches.
Of course Saturday Night Live has been in trouble for about 75% of its existence, as 3000 nearly identical retrospective clip shows will remind you.
But does the present cast have any hope if all the attention, and presumably most of the money, goes to Alec flippindippin Baldwin?
Gosh is it fair to the actual credited host? Who even was that? I do not remember.
There was a sketch called “political family feud” that was just a mash of 9 different impressions with no time for a point.
And most of the camera time went to Kenan Thompson, who has been there for 13 years, and Darrel Hammond, who I guess just lives in the building now.
There was a Lin-Manuel McHamilton impression that was amusing just because they dared to mock that guy at all, but it didn’t really go anywhere and immediately afterward a notice stated that he is the host NEXT week, which means if that impression shows up again it will be in one of those character-meets-self sketches, which got old before I did, or far far worse, the impression meets real person and apologizes sketch, which should never have even happened once.
This is the kind of garbage MadTV was doing before it got cancelled. I distinctly remember a Buffy the Vampire sketch in which all these different characters had impressions done of them for one line but then just had to stand around dorkily while Buffy talked to Stuart or Ms Swan or whoever.
I realize I said television was “dead to me” a while back and it is. This means I do not watch shows on purpose and no long aspire to be on them or acknowledged by people who are through twitter. This makes an embarrassingly large difference.
I must also give credit to Bobby Moynihan, who joined the show right before I stopped deliberately watching it back in 200x or so, and 1) is also still there and 3) still hasn’t done anything I remembered afterward. The show in general is yet doing the exact same Kristen Wiig-style awkward chatter schtick it was back when I realized I wasn’t enjoying anything. Which would be fine for it if every ad on television and every movie in theaters (and likewise every ad in theaters) weren’t also doing it. And there is no sense to doing Jimmy Fallon-style no joke but the actors are laughing schtick either because he also has an equally non-innovative program on the same channel five nights a week.
Saturday Night Live’s only goal at this point is to stay on the air. It doesn’t have aspirations; it has a LEGACY, and more importantly no viable timeslot competition. It won’t die until somebody shoves a wooden stake through Lorne Michaels’ heart surrogate organ.
Oh deef what is this
Is it fair to joke about something that killed 300 people and destroyed 3000 homes? As long as it hasn’t killed anybody in the US yet, apparently.
Also apparently, it is better than my personal best. Far less depressing!
The hurricane edged me out by 0.13 points.
If you liked this, you obviously hate yourself, so here’s some stuff to help you realize you could be worse off.