Artwork
Exhibitions
Web-log
Comic strips
Animation
About page
icon4 icon19 icon7 icon10 icon16 icon19 icon25








Questionable artwork and pedantic miscellany
May 31, 2017
This serves to warn the player that if Arthur does not find a way to get his armor back, the next hit from an opponent will be fatal. This usually turns him into a skeleton, and the game ends.

Concurrent with the 512×512 pixel matter, I offered drawings at smaller sizes, with 100×100 resolution being the most common request. I did not realize what a big deal it was to be able to draw like this until I realized how many people could not. Eventually they started paying me to do it. Not enough that I could feel like I had done something with my life, but at present I can buy more pizzas than I can eat, which feels important.


Icons that I initially used for myself. None is especially excusable.

Fastest gun in the wasp, November 2013
A character called Miso for a person called Miso but who presumably does not look like this, stuffed into a tiny 100×100 pixel box but not at all deterred. This was before I gave people many/any options so theoretically I could come up with a better pose than this.


You shall meet with my raccs, 2014 or sooner
Relaxingdragon wanted these at some point. Rare examples of the 200×200 size, which is still small enough that I do not totally lose my mind with it, although I did not develop the habit of losing my mind on pixel-level work until 2016, so that may be a presumptuous statement.


Icon see you’re upset June 9, 2016
pengosolvent recently inquired about a new representative 50×50 pixel symbol but something alarming has occurred. These are smaller, only 50×50 pixels, because the deviant-art website restricts user representations to that size. And I drew four because I usually give people 2-4 different layouts to choose from, but need to color them in, to some degree, for them to be legible, and on this occasion colored in all four fully without being asked to.


The pickax papers, December 17, 2015
A newer Miso, also for Miso. I had been asked to make an icon similar to the old one, and took that as permission to be equally boring with the poses. And again I could not restrain myself from finishing all example versions! The upper left is the one we went with, and therefore it is slightly more “finished” than the others. Appropriately enough it is considerably more proud of itself. The creature this is derived from is called a tawny mining bee, and I took THAT as permission to add mining implements, including an all important flannel shirt, even though those are more stereo-type associated with logging, because it seemed unlikely somebody would send a logging bee my way any time in the near future.


Clippity-clopsicle October 20, 2016
For kinn-katze, a horse creature named Ryno ponders something likely unrelated to being named after a different species, since that is the type of thing you generally have to sort out early in life.


who do lu think lu are? November 17, 2016
100×100 and 50×50 pixel icon robisions of a flagrantly asymmetrical creature called Lulu known to Fairyartery
I just realized I use that “finger touching mouth” gesture way too often. Although I always give people the opportunity to request a different gesture!


is that who i think tiz December 8, 2016
Ah yes, ’tis Tiz, from something called Bravely Second, for boooey.
After this I decided every icon I make should have something resembling a backdrop, even if the buyer personally uses a version that doesn’t, because some sites are very stupid about transparency. And some sites aren’t but stuff looks bad on them anyway, hint hint.


robb from the pix to give to the four, December 22, 2016
a hoofless yet horsely creature named Robbie, unrelated to Ryno’s horsely creature, in fact for boooey again. The hair changes its mind based on whatever eye it feels is more fashionable to show at any moment. Also, after examining the previous two items, it became conscious of the possibility for vision problems resulting from prolonged obscured vision of a single eye.


hotel kotel holiday inn, January 5, 2017
for Kotel First is a bat creature also called Kotel, with and without wings, and a more opussummy figure called Obeah whose enthusiasm has been taken out of context to pertain to the winged bat’s error, potentially a consequence of trying to escape from a 100×100 pixel space.


therefore four hares, January 19, 2017
100×100 pixel icons of a hare creature named Lewis for Arito, who was pleasant to work with; I wish I could say the same for this devious dirt-dweller.
After THIS point I realized that flat colors were inadequate for “something resembling a backdrop.”
A progress video of a sort, showing approximately how I colored this


goat tell it on the mountain, January 26, 2017
A goatly creature called Lutka, pixel-styled for trufours. Seems to be having a rough day.


let that synx in, January 26, 2017
another pixel drawing for :icontrufours: of Xiu, who is a synx, and apparently there are more synxes in the world than I thought! Initially there was somebody called Chimerasynx who came up with and drew these things and they have no spines and can twist in silly ways and have more teeth than is reasonable, and at some point they got franchised out, I suppose. This one looks friendly enough, fortunately.

I hope you are not getting sick of these; there is another bigger one coming!


well-financed flop, February 2, 2017
More pixelry for arito, this time of Shani, an apparently easily-worried saber cat. Plus a rinkity dinkity background I added quickly at the end for reasons already cited! Of course I don’t have a video showing this, the one part people have expressed to me sincere bafflement at how to produce.


do the rat thing, February 16, 2017
For kjorteo. There looks to have been some disconcerting events recently! And then this happened.


rats and beans, February 16, 2017
also for kjorteo, whose requests’ shape necessitated separating it from the other one! This looks to be alarming news for the protagonist. Although clearly it had been seen from quite a way off!


tanuki tea look-see, April 20, 2017
For perikaryon, showing a raccoon-dog investigating a hot drink. It is probably coffee but there is a chance it is tea. Possibly there is a better tool to use in determining the drink’s nature.

Amitz all this people started asking me for animated icons, which take 4-8 times as long to make, but I can charge 3 times as much for them without potential buyers recoiling in horror and abandoning the idea! That is real progress. Still less time than it takes to put one of these website entries together, but nonetheless I am done with this one for now, and hopefully for some time afterward, and so I shall exhibit those here on another occasion.



May 24, 2017
James the Red Engine was notable as the first book to be illustrated by C. Reginald Dalby, perhaps the most famous of the Railway Series artists, and certainly the most controversial.


My father James Thomas Cunningham is dead. And has been for a month. Well it was supposed to be a month, which actually would have been marked yesterday. Well WELL at first this was to be within the first week but hrm hah urm. I had difficulty writing something readable on the topic. Nonetheless I have embedded appropriately inappropriate messages within the images for if you hover your mouse cursor over them, like always.

Ever since it happened, or at least the first two weeks, I occasionally wrote a little note about it, in the hope of making a proper public post on the topic. But it never came together, because I did not want it to be depressing. I already make the positive updates depressing! But I do not feel like this was a good death, either. He deserved better, from me most of all. From November 1998 onward I did not speak to him, or in any place where I thought he could hear me. Not out of hatred, but simple, or rather complicated psychological blockage. And people generally did not accept this. I could not explain how it worked, and how their suggestions for how to fix it were totally non-applicable. And I would say now, looking back, it drew directly from the absence of fundamental human decency I experienced at the school I attended at that time, Cedarhurst in Hamden Connecticut curse them to heaping heck. Initially I stopped speaking there, and my father had the job of bringing me to various doctor appointments and one hospitalization that those monsters forced me into under threat of custody revocation, and without deliberately meaning to I transferred my speech prohibition to any time I was in his company. And gradually through the years following, owing to one illness and illness treatment side effect after another, the quality of my father’s life declined. It was only after I returned from an apartment I had in New Haven, and became his more or less constant in-home companion that the guilt from not talking began to overpower whatever force kept me from speaking, succeeding at last maybe in mid-2015. He did not even have two years remaining. And by that point he was almost more obligation than parent to me. Our relationship was healing, finally, after far too much sadness, but I do not feel like we finished the job. It was hard to be with him without resenting the job to some degree. I tried to ask him things nobody else would ask, and understand what he went through, and do things for him that nobody else would think to, assuming he had little time left. But I thought I would have more notice than I did, since the reduction of his physical abilities had always been gradual. One day he could speak, eat and move through the house with some level of assistance, and the next he could do nothing at all, confined to a hospital bed with tubes down his throat, on account of his myocard infarcting. Not even related to the prostate cancer, cerebral ataxia, immobilizing tremors, rib and spine injuries, but those things meant that he was not expected to survive heart surgery. There was no chance to take inventory of what we never got to and deal with it. No time to do something as simple as ask what his favorite movies were so that I could get copies of them and let him watch all that stuff instead Bones and Law & Order reruns he had already seen 4 times apiece. He was legally alive another two weeks, but not in a consistently coherent state, owing to more weird medications and stress, presumably, and not in a place that I would call comfortable.


We could even have finished watching Breaking Bad; we had the dvds, and had started to watch it, with my mother, also. But eventually their schedules diverged, and by the time they verged again we also had the Game of Thrones dvds and those had the higher pointless death to minute of airtime ratio and therefore took precedence.

Yes so we shared that, but the show wasn’t finished, was it. Presumably there will be closure in that somewhere, eventually.

Somebody in East Haven, Connecticut, actually wanted to pay my father to make methamphetamine. He was a chemist who could make stuff other people couldn’t. Certainly I don’t think he aspired to be a Walter White sort of person but he appreciated the subject matter –he liked to identify the element symbols used in the opening credits– and to some degree I have to think related to the character more than most people would, including having cancer and not being appreciated for his skills; he started a business with a partner who eventually cheated him out of it, and there are ASPECTS of the television character which might be seen as fantasy fulfillment.


I wondered if I should mention this on the internet at all. It is important to my life, and affects, and has affected what I do, but I hate dealing with people reacting to it in a rote manner. At the funeral wake thing, one after another people I barely knew approached me to say “sorry for your loss.” Why? Who are you? Why are you sorry for MY loss? The poor man whose crushed bone dust is in the box over there lost more than I did! I do not know what to say to people except “it is alright, it was not your fault.” Or “eh it is part of life. And death, I suppose.” Most of them probably did not want to say the line to me, but they SAW me, and thought: “oh pringles we made eye contact. if I don’t say ‘sorry for your loss’ to THAT one now it will blab to the people here that I actually need to like me.”
I appreciate that persons want to be helpful, but I think very few of them sincerely do.

It is the same reason I keep my birth date a secret on the internet; I hate dealing with rote reactions from those whom I barely know, and then feeling like I owe each of them a unique, non-rote response, and then worrying that I now owe them unique birthday wishes when the time comes, and I do not have the energy for it. And I would be even worse at condolence-issuing. Fortunately in person nobody can see that I already gave the same reply to the person before them, so that at least I kept under control. The funeral scene is not for ME. The death was six days ago by that point, and I had grieved before then, before the death occurred, even. Afterward, getting the funeral to happen and visitors coordinated and met and all that, plus local family grieved with and reassured and all that, I was gosh darn exhausted by the time of the semi-public event. And then that was not even the end of it since there was a large dinner gathering following it, and people who had traveled to attend all this were still around a few days following that. However much I surprisingly enjoyed their company, it was tiring. I do not want condolences, just a break.


But until then wishing me well is meaningless, especially if it comes, as it did plenty, from somebody whose life would be no different were it me who was dead. And I am not demanding special attention, either; I just wish we all could spend less time pretending.

And less money on mopey parties for people to pretend at. Did you know that even a non-frilled cremation costs over three thousand dollars? And somehow having a little ceremony for it, a newspaper notice and a box to put the bone dust in costs $2000 more. And it isn’t even a FANCY box.
We could have bought a fancy urn but there was concern about being permitted to bring it on an airplane if we wished to transport the ashes someplace else. Obviously this is because you could easily hide three ounces of water inside one.

We should not force ourselves to be sad because we think etiquette dictates it, and we certainly should not dive deeper into debt for the opportunity. I am terribly fortunate that whatever arbitrary force made my parents feel like they had to put all their children into Catholic schools was not in effect by the time half of them were dead and it allowed us to have a traditionally incongruous karaoke conclusion.


This is the picture that got placed on the ash box. It is a good picture, and it occurred during our 1989 visit to England, my father’s native country, but I have no idea whose dog that is.

Perhaps my foremost regret is that I never communicated how important he was, or had been, in introducing me to some of my favorite things.


Even if I did not always like the same things; I never liked futbol, Harry Potter or fish+chips, but definitely stuff that I knew of on account of him stuck with me my whole life following their introductions. For example, Rupert Bear books had been sent by my English grandmother to my family for several years in the 1980s (and for longer to my father’s brother’s family, who were a bit older), and I never got rid of them. I enjoyed John Harrold’s artwork, and it inspired how I drew a few things, long after the books’ initial acquisition. I am told I even once had a sweater with Rupert pictured on it that this grandmother made for me, but I have no evidence of this.

My appreciation for classical music started with my father. And I hate to condense centuries of artistic expression and styles into a single “genre” but that is beside the point for now. On his last day of open communication, Friday the 21, when he was done with life support and yanked all the tubes out, so at least he could speak and take liquid sustenance again, I quickly set up a playlist of music that he had used to listen to that I had always kept track of –he asked only for “Beethoven” and I knew precisely what he meant, and he seemed glad to hear it, and sadly I did not get through the list before Jeopardy came on


(Jeopardy! I still watch that), and he was still calling out answers to the end, and afterward he preferred the quiet. But being able to share that back was meaningful to me. I didn’t get to Smetana’s Moldau, one of the primary pieces, with Beethoven’s sixth symphony and Holst’s Jupiter, among others, that remind me of my father. Or rather I started it, but since the beginning is so subdued I think he didn’t recognize it, or maybe he did, but it reminded him of the Canals of Mars level in the NES version of Toobin’. So rather than try and jump to the distinct part I skipped it entirely.


That was a joke, but my appreciation of certain video games, Dragon Warrior and Romance of the Three Kingdoms foremost, two of the slowest, more inaccessible titles on the NES ever to be localized, I saw my father playing first, and eventually took a liking to, and I thought I was quite a bit smarter than anybody who thought those were boring, and this led to continuing fascination with that sort of thing. I even at some point read the original [translated] Three Kingdoms novel that inspired the video games, which is to date the longest thing I have read. I believe I also first saw him playing Landstalker (or trying to), my perhaps favorite sega genesis game, but that is only appropriate to mention with regard to a screenshot I ended up putting in this entry too late to be relevant to this paragraph. My father’s general Britishness struck me, as a small child, as being in some way superior to common American habits, and even if that was not accurate, it helped me to look outside a box I might otherwise not have. I even said so on one of my earliest terrible but preservable web pages back in whenever that was.

And I have alluded to all these things on numerous occasions throughout my years of frivolous website production, and I think my father, of all people, might have appreciated it, especially when I was not able to speak to him –So many of the strange quotes I adorn my entries with and that surely confound of those who attempt to read the dumb things, come from strange old movies that my father would have on the television, or the stranger advertising– but by 2001 or so, before I was writing regularly, and long before I was writing half-competently, he no longer wanted, or no longer could use a computer and certainly would not have had time to read my rubbish weekly. And it was never my way to impose nonsense on others. I wouldn’t go and print out pages and pages of this and assume it had a purpose. Occasionally when I had art prints I might show those, but a great majority of my drawings have never been printed, and my sketchbooks are messy and incomprehensible, even for me, who does not require spectacles.
Indeed for the most part my father probably had no idea what I was doing. And he was supposedly proud of me anyway. That does eat at me inside: He was content with me being totally worthless and I never got to prove that I wasn’t!


One tribute to him, in a sense, that I am sad to say he did not know about, and that to my knowledge nobody else did either, even though I drew it just over ten years ago, is the way the creature “kumquat” types on its computer device is based on how my father did back when he could still use a computer. One finger at a time, alternating. Even by early 1998 (prior to my problem) when we first had home internet, my father’s coordination was not stellar. It was not long before he was asking me to type out replies for him when another user of the AOL trivia whatsit accused him of lurking in the game for long enough that the questions looped around. He had me explain, in considered detail, that while he had observed that behavior in others, he would not do such a thing, and he knew the answers he knew because of this this and that, but the person had already logged off, not concerned with whether they were actually right (and, I have to think, probably lost the trivia game due to THAT tendency) and in those days that meant you just plain could not send a message to the person. Argh what a scumbag! My one opportunity to fight for my father’s trivihonor and I wasn’t fast enough. My only hope is to make that incident into a bit of useless trivia itself.


In fact, that I recall, I do not think I ever drew anything for my father, except a really crummy photograph imitation watercolor painting of a pelican. In 2012, before I could speak to him in person, I had become able to speak over the telephone, and I asked what his favorite animal was, thinking that I could imitate photographs of animals in physical media in a way that is pleasing, and that would be easier than any other thing my father would possibly want art work of,

based on my experience with this manner of product. I had not considered that I chose this picture not due to there being birds in it, but rather to its suitability to the task of imitation by me, due to an abundance of vague but colorful details. The pelican scene featured complicated but specific feathers, a limited range of colors and a view of the sea where the light reflection made it seem mostly white, but the imitation to look like I have a fundamental, pre-school-level misunderstanding of what water looks like.
It was so bad that i never showed it to its intended recipient until that last Friday, in the hospital, since I had such massive guilt about what I just told you. A bit later somebody had propped it against a wall in the room with the wrong side up. That is how bad it was. I became the classic delusional artist joke, where two people take turns turning the canvas around to try and determine which orientation is correct. The stuff that I knew how to draw well I was always embarrassed by. Nobody in my family has a “fursona.” And thank goodness but for people who do, it is at least much easier to figure out exactly what to draw, and usually not very difficult.


February 26 of this year, the last time my father went to a restaurant. Zhang’s Madison, the closest restaurant to our home, since he did not like to travel at all by this point. But his sixty-fifth birthday had been on Tuesday, the 21 of February. “Oh two, two one, five two,” as I heard enunciated as clearly as he was able in countless doctor waiting room visits. often multiple times the same trip since the people in that building don’t communicate, and don’t realize you already proved your sanity once to them today. Anyway, something moderately special seemed called for. He is seen here drinking his customary “Coke…. NO ice,” with the latter part usually appended just as the server is leaving. In fact he preferred Mountain Dew, but through the magic of corporate contracts those two are mutually exclusive offerings in any food service establishment. I think he possibly learned that habit from me. Before I stopped speaking, he took me to and from therapist appointments, and I remember stopping at the McDonalds on the highway and ordering the then new “crispy chicken deluxe,” and with none of the customary unspeakable goop on it, which the employees could handle, and a large coke with no ice, which they could not handle. With no ice because nobody can drink ice, but I could drink a lotta coke, and you can fit more in there without the ding dang ice. Presumably the ice is to save THEM money on soda, even though that is probably the cheapest to produce thing in the entire store, a category in which there is fierce competition at a McDonalds. And sometimes servers aren’t mentally equipped to process “no ice” and assume, through what seems to me a more strenuous stretch of logic, that I must have meant “no sugar,” and I end up with a huge undrinkable cylinder of diet coke, just about as undrinkable as the ice in there with it. This all seems to be mostly about me, but I have few coherent memories from when I was on good terms with my father and he could actually do things. Everything afterward has regret attached, so I will take what i can get.

I am fortunate that the recent deceased got to 65 years; many people lose parents at younger ages, and without even the little amount of awareness that it is coming which I had. Not everybody has a father, and some have no parents who love them at all. This could have been worse. Much as this entry could have been much longer; I removed or did not attempt to implement several parts that seemed attached to a different narrative, and perhaps I will see those later.


But right now I need a break! Preferably to do something non-depressing in.


Thank you for your time and consideration in these matters.



May 24, 2017
In 2009, the super-wealthy achieve immortality by hiring “bonejackers”, mercenaries equipped with time travel devices, to snatch people from the past, just prior to the moment of their deaths, for use as substitute bodies.

Howdy. I am trying to write something important to go here, and suspect that continuing to spend time on filler updates was, in fact, spending time, rather than saving it for me, so I think putting up this extremely lame update in 5 minutes rather than a moderately lame one in two hours is more conducive to me getting the important one done. Once it IS done, my less important ones ought to be more functionally unimportant.



May 16, 2017
In spring we train real hawd, so we look good on our baseball cahds


page 22 of part 3 of whatever this is.
Not only does this page not accomplish anything, it was almost impossible to draw. And i worried with all the brown it would be very boring to look at, but I like how the colors worked out.
There are two more like this; maybe I will paste in the frames I just used and only change the relevant parts. It will still take a month and be a complete redraw but I will not have to worry about forgetting to include anything.



May 8, 2017
At a village-wide party where the Ewoks and Rebels celebrated their victory in the battle, Wicket danced and fraternized with R2-D2.[1]


A reminder to all you retcon-resenting star warfare enthusiasts out there


that George Lucas never got around to removing Sebastian Shaw from the 1997 comic book Star Wars: The Last Command issue 1


in which Princess Leia gives birth and looks like this.

Although on that note if I were force-sensitive I would be wary about doing anything near a window, knowing that a giant creepy judgmental ghost Yoda could be watching me at any time and that I would never be able to stop it or prove to anybody else that it happened. Hey, Yoda, Ben is a family friend but none of the people in there even KNOW you.


In fact I have been generally concerned about Yoda’s mental state recently.

All good? Great, I trust you.

Also, this is besides the point, but all it takes is another kid at school armed with a “va” to ruin Jaina’s life for several years. And Mr. Solo, do you NEED to wear your cowboy vest at ALL TIMES? Come on, I mean it’s the year 9-ABY already, get a new look.

Beside the point but I take issue with this comic book for exaggerating Mark Hamill’s acting skills


although I praise the depiction of his elegant fingers.



May 2, 2017
The following individuals were at one time considered Wack Pack members; however, in 2015, they were excluded by Stern and his staff from the Wack Pack


Not my best work! Not even the best of my bad work. I drew this in a hurry for somebody in twittor who liked pog a lot back in 2009 or so, but by the time of this drawing and whatever comment from them instigated it, maybe in 2014, seemed to be over it, and then I forgot about it. But I didn’t have time to draw anything else last week, so I was fortunate to find it. Life has been very tiring. And it will be different in the future. Not necessarily better. I will explain later, definitely. Maybe not elsewhere but here I will. This site may be trash, but it is trash that I trust. Whatever the case my drawings will remain stupid! On this occasion I primarily added the weirdo on the stairs, who is plainly not drawn in the same manner as anything else and is far too in-focus. And I did not want to REDUCE its detail level to make it fit because when I do something well I don’t want to mess with it, even if it totally breaks the immersion, and that is the simple tragedy of my existence. But all this is consistent with the creature being a weirdo. I reckon that thing thinks it is VERY respectable, dressed like that, so much so that it thinks it is entitled to break the laws of optics. It is not and shall be disciplined as soon as I have an opportunity to enact that. I am done putting up with this sort of nonsense.



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
pacific novelty
Green Lantern Head Trauma

them`s fightin` woids: August 18, 2017
Charmlatan sez:
I only pay into Cyclope’s pledge for their exclusive Pr├ęgoo drawings!
August 18, 2017
Frimpinheap sez:
Crying in a bad way? Based on what? Because of my actions or my summarization of others’...
August 18, 2017
Anonymous sez:
this is the first time this website made me cry instead of laugh. once in a while there was a...
August 17, 2017
Frimpinheap sez:
I am merely not declaring it impossible, since I have very little taste for it and do not seek...
August 17, 2017
Indighost sez:
That sounds like you’re hinting at some rare fan works that you think is good! I’d...
August 17, 2017
Frimpinheap sez:
I would not unilaterally say all fan-created material is bad, but I do almost consistently...
Less recent posts
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • February 2011
  • January 2011
  • December 2010
  • November 2010
  • October 2010
  • September 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • December 2004

  • May 2007
    April 2007
    March 2007
    February 2007
    January 2007
    December 2006
    November 2006
    October 2006
    September 2006
    August 2006
    July 2006
    June 2006
    May 2006
    April 2006
    March 2006
    February 2006
    January 2006
    December 2005
    November 2005
    October 2005
    September 2005
    August 2005
    July 2005
    June 2005
    Maypril 2005
    March 2005
    February 2005
    January 2005
    Novcember 2004
    October 2004
    September 2004
    August 2004
    July 2004
    Maune 2004
    April 2004
    Febrarch 2004
    January 2004
    December 2003
    Octvember 2003
    Augtember 2003
    Junly 2003
    Maypril 2003
    Febrarch 2003
    Octnovdecjan 20023
    Junulgustember 2002
    Maypril 2002
    This never happened


    old webpages
    Mall Meh...ness
    03-03-2007
    Labyrinthy
    02-22-2007
    Cartoons
    12-10-2006
    Ludicrous
    07-01-2006
    I do not approve.
    06-04-2006
    irrational complaining about my television set
    04-24-2006
    Dennises are dead to me
    04-17-2006
    web-tv
    04-08-2006
    This page is not about shoes.
    03-22-2006
    I hate shoes.
    03-11-2006
    something award related
    03-04-2006
    Bahrg.
    02-26-2006
    Those Green Eyes again
    01-28-2006
    More valid but unfunny Disney criticism
    01-15-2006
    MeSpace
    11-EH-2005
    Biggest Loser
    10-EH-2005
    Mall Blandness
    07-20-2005
    2004 advertisement complaint world championship
    01/05/05
    Belindi
    11/03/04
    Mall Egadness
    09/22/04
    Las Vegas
    07/30/04
    Spiderman 2
    07/20/04
    Jope and Dopes
    06/27/04
    These Green Eyes
    04/24/04
    Friday
    04/01/04
    Wedding
    03/07/04
    Game Over
    03/02/04
    McDenny's
    01/09/04
    Mall orneryness
    01/06/04
    Movies I'm not going to see
    11/14/03
    Back fashion school to
    09/14/03
    Movies Make Me Mad. Moreso.
    06/14/03
    JList
    06/03/03
    France
    03/31/03
    Official pizza of Nascar
    03/16/03
    Browsers
    02/23/03
    Michael Jackson
    2/16/03
    Free Speech
    02/05/03
    Thursday
    01/23/03
    Doofs
    01-whenever-03
    NO
    12/11/02
    Film Critics. I hate them.
    10/15/02
    Coconuts. I hate those as well.
    10/14/02
    Independence Day
    Some time in July 2001
    other things
    Awards this website hasn't won
    mysterious
    The first First Beet segment
    05/28/10
    Embarrassing pictures 1
    09/17/04
    Embarrassing pictures 2
    The same
    Umiliphus (my old derivative megamen sprite comic
    08/15/03
    Hopeless.swf
    11/24/04, (I can only justify this by calling it an experiment, so I shall)
    sandwich.swf
    02/16/05
    FACK
    ??/??/??
    Poetry Page
    The same