nemitz is no stranger to hugging, despite being strange
this from 2004, a far off period before the mediocre expectations of internet communities beat my creativity out of me but also before i could draw. nonetheless i did it with colored pencils, which when digitally scanned gave the drawing the unearthly quality of the blank paper actually being darker than the marks on it, so i just today artificially augmented the ghastily large eye-balls to look less grey. I miraculously resisted the urge to alter innumerable other components of the image.
ah yes and the image title is Unlawful Restraint. Don’t forget. nemitz is a fugitive from justice.
Also there is this, Imminent Self-Defense, from 2010, of colored pencil PLUS expensive prisma color markers, since internet people led me to think those would be crucial for functioning, right around the time they all switched to yet more expensive copic markers. It shows the creature Eliah, known to a person called, at the time, Science Fox, and I know not what these days, being physically assaulted by the scoundrel nemitz.
Hugly Situation, from merely 2011, in which Astro Q Duck (the Q stands for “Questionable”) and a terrible creature known only as nemitz reunite after, I assume, being exiled from every place in existence.
Fuzzcilities: not very long ago there was a Valentine day and I regretfully thought it prudent to check on who nemitz was hugging more recently.
nemitz x toilet, hollywood’s power couple for 2019
You HAVE to hug people who don’t want to be hugged. What a tragic, unfortunate, sad-emoticonable plight! I hate to admit that in seeking out inanimate emoticon depositories maybe nemitz has the right idea, so I won’t.
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.
– Karaboudjan Morrismorrow “Buckety” Gibdos III
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.
Like every money taking object in the school vicinity, coke products are sold here. they actually cost more than the coke from the vending machine
Tuesday, December 7, 2010: I was operating a chair at the table outside the crampus book store, awaiting a visitor who owned an automobile who would retrieve me from the location. Before that happened, an oafy fellow almost walked by, glanced at me, stopped and oh-so-secretly slid this bookmark thing over to me,
while speaking “we buy textbooks.” No “hello,” no “excuse me are you interested in hearing what we do?” Just “we buy text books.” I responded “that’s good to know.
I think they sell them in there” while gesturing toward the store. The fellow re-respont “okay, but we buy text books.” Hey guy, I buy textbooks too. You haven’t made any great accomplishment. That guy doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He has no backup plan for if his routine is interrupted and is incapable of improvising pertinent words. He can only say what he’s been programmed to say. He is scarcely a human being. Assuming he’s looking to RE-buy MY books, It is worth noting that my ownership of any was not evident at the time; I had none in front of me and indeed did not even bring any with me that day. And so I have noted it.
Anywhy, the book store. I try not to spend too much time in there because the sound system is usually playing Aerosmith songs. They play Aerosmith songs because they don’t want me to spend time in the store. But I’ll show them! I don’t go in there anyway because I don’t read books! Sometimes I’m too smart for ’em. Yeah, just today Em told me not to fly the house during the tornado but I’m going to do it anyway.
All I want to do is eat all day. But they also sell snacks. Ahhhhhh naw!
Corn nuts are really bland and it’s impossible to eat them quietly. And then an hour or so later I’d just about finished them and I never wanted to eat one again. But don’t let me dissuade you, please. If you’re really curious about corn nuts I highly recommend that you dump salt on some gravel and put it in your mouth.
I also purchased this because I only make personal sacrifices when they benefit nobody, and I had neglected to bring my customary bottle of water to the universe city that day, besides. Having sampled products by this company in the past I figured it would be LIKE water enough to serve as a substitute. It was, but entirely the wrong kind. LIFE WATER. Urk, awful, urkful. It was like somebody had pumped a syringe full of Robitussin into one of those free lollypops they give away at the bank and jammed it up my nose without stopping to regard the partition between my nostrils. How was this possible? 0 sugar, 0 sodium… ARTIFICIAL SWEETENETERS! Aw blast, why are companies not required to list THAT piece of trash on their nutrition percentages in a place where I’d bother to look? This tea is VILE.
I was thinking, which I do sometimes,
Arrrrd that wasn’t clever!
That’s where it was going eventually anyway. Do you know what this MEANS? I do NOT throw food away. More importantly I don’t throw chemically concocted calorie vessels away, either.
This is the sort of stuff I collect at a buffet.
What a dreaded mixture of components to leave me unable to finish!
I eats to the finish and nothing less than an enormous floating torso of a blue haired lady will keep me from it under normal circumstances.
*the actual hunky-doriness of the language I used may be called into question
I don’t believe it! Six whole entries without a picture from inside a restroom.
Aw naw!
Did somebody REALLY try to throw away a credit card in an airplane toilet? And how about the bottle? That’s ridiculous!
Oday… that’s a considerable improvement, actually. There’s still work to do but you’ll get it with time, I think.
NO, not that kind of time. I don’t like that they’re equating waste-passing with parties.
I have plenty of those already! At least this coconutwit is choosing better company these days.
Let us try for Thursday. I am not even bothering with Wednesday this time! (so Friday, then)
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Somehow it’s not at all comforting actually having a reason to be slow with updates here now.
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This school talks about conserving, but has all these
automatic, unprovoked sprinklers for the sidewalks,
Perhaps I worry too much, and should not concern myself with this. After elf, as a wise philosopher once wrote
Sometimes people
Just Don’t get it
Be patient And Don’t
Sweat it
Oh gee excuse me, that was something I saw scratched in a toilet stall of the second most remote restroom of this university, in the ground floor basement of the library which people only go to for the internet computers which aren’t on that floor. Even if it lacks a prestigious showcase, it does prove one important thing: I am not nearly as safe in there as I thought. The scribe might come back And I Don’t want to be in there then. How will I protect myself?
On a related but not entirely relevant note, there are some things that are counterproductive to cover with shielding plastic.
well see now that’s just immodest. You ought to be ashamed. I can’t toi-let you get a way with that.
No, unfortunately.
As per the terms of its will or something, its remains were dropped to the deepest, least accessible point of the base of Sabbadoy Falls.
Fort Lauderdoodle, Florida. November 26, 2006
Litchfield, Connecticut. December 25, 2007
New York City, America. November 16, 2008
Mir Space Station, Space. February 19, 2010
Green Hill Zone, Michigan August 11, 2010
FinePix A500, whose name I only discovered by opening one of its pictures in Microsoft Notepad,
2006-2010
Farewell, fine fujifilm fellow. You will be replaced.
The internet hates the humidity. Once the temperature here goes over 80 degrees my connection passes out from exhaustion, which is a surprising impediment to my ability to upload junk here.
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I don’t need Mac Tonight watching me use the toilet. Nor most people, now that I think of it.
In search of a good fake-mistaken reference for pink hands (I went with “demons”), I thought for certain, –because superheroes are inherently funny and everybody but me knows stuff about them who would thus be in position to appreciate such a mentioning– there was a DC or Marvel character who had pink gloves that I might use. Not because I remember there being one; it just seemed like there was a good chance. I didn’t find one. Not one I could pick out of a crowd, anyhow. I did come across this picture (from this page this page.) There are a LOT of weird looking goofs I don’t recognize in there, and there’s no sense in asking about them all. However…
who’s that oaf next to Wonder Woman that isn’t Superman? MAILMAN? Or is he a train ticket collector, maybe? He does an important job but he’s not a hero of intergalactic acclaim! In fact, he’s a monster for plundering and combining the DNA of Herve Villechaiz and Gary Coleman in an attempt to create an ultimate being. It’s still too soon, Mail Man! Not to mention likely to make your Jim Morrison/any actor from the 1970s clone jealous. Additionally, I used to think Jim Morrison, Van Morrison and Morrissey were the same person. They are all exhibit equally morris-like tendencies in my eyes. I would not be surprised to see them shilling for cat food.
I am also of the opinion that Plastic Man is getting a little chummy with Darkseid and Orko back there.
Oh, OH. ExcYUSE me. Are you two friends? Man, that guy’s so touchy just because the doctor who filled out his birth certificate came down with a bit of dyslexia. That’s even weaker reasoning than
Lex Luthor hating Superman forever over inadvertently making him bald –a condition easily remedied by either of these two who regularly create exact robot duplicates of themselves out of stuff they just find lying around, sometimes while in prison,— which I’m told was largely written/fired out of “canon” not terribly wrong after this story was published. Darkseid’s name is STILL misspelled, so many years later. Whenever I see his name I always think it wants to be pronounced “dark seed.” Clearly he can’t be all that evil since he keeps his bit torrent ratio up. At worst he’s a pointy 1970s roller skate.
And… I expect to be at a hotel before I get this posted so don’t be surprised if I end this without any sort of conclusion.
Hey how about that I ended up staying at the hotel before I got this out because my computer is too dumb to recognize certain types of wireless internet and I’m too dumb to know which or why and thus I now have plenty of time to give you a conclusion.
I do not always make good use of my time.
But sometimes I do.
“Zak Efron… is he one of the Jonas Brothers?” – an actual thought I had. Is my senility escalating or is that merely a logical conclusion?
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I realize this page update is late, but I had to go to church.
“Church” being the name of my new fancy toilet. Excuse me, did you really think I was done posting pictures taken inside restrooms? This is a task that is bigger than any of us. If we really want to make progress, we should all be doing it. But I’m not about to start making decrees. I never fancied myself a leader.
Now there’s a the work of an authoritative figure. But I think you might be missing some key consonants up there. Possibly punctuation, as well. And how about a “please?” If you please. I’m sure somebody somewhere would be willing to trade you an S for one of your surplus Ls.
Is this necessary? I suggest to you that it is not. That’s right, you read it on bimshwel first: sometimes internet advertising is less than tasteful. I’m sure this has been an eye-opening revelation for you. Also less than tasteful: barf.
If it’s “updating their myspace pages” then I think I can pass. If they were actually my friends and actually wanted me to know something, they would tell me and I would not have to visit my space at all. I realize this material is weak, I have to unload the rest of the myspace stuff now so I don’t fall further behind in hoarding twitter jokes.
I’ve come far enough to know that even if a nonsentient domain hyphen title wanted to be my friend, if it was that one it would be time for me to give up life. But sometimes myspace people change their names for the purpose of some joke and I am well accustomed to not getting other people’s subtle jokes on the internet, so I retained a scant amount of optimism, a full year after every person I’ve ever met switched to Face Book to do the exact same non-things, except they couldn’t embed java applets, fifty youtube videos and translucent animated gif butterflies, which was fine with me.
What kind of a friends invite others to watch cnn over the internet? Meaningless, in-name-only facebook friends. Friends with as much weight behind them as that utterly unnecessary RSVP in there. Why can’t we get a new word for that, or merely spell it “ahresveepy?” That’s all people think of it as. Or we could write out “confirm your attendance,” what we actually mean, what is much more clear than empty, precocious misused abbreviated French. There is no sensible reason to prolong a tradition like this. I won’t even accept that on an invitation to a birth-day party (yes, I got one once). It’s outright offensive regarding some mopey facebook non-party non-gathering to do some thing that I could do just as easily by connecting to any station on my television system without stating my intention to do so. Get out from my business s’il vous plait (and even if vous don’t).
It is one thing to be vulgar, and it is one more thing to take Thumbelina’s name in vain, but my e-mail robots sure are getting abusive. It was nothing less than cruel to exploit my well known interest in arranging a Chernobyl summer getaway to get me to read the message. And then it dared reference 83, the suspected year of the Battle of Mons Graupius, in which 10000 of my irregular Caledonian forebears were slaughtered by more disciplined Roman forces despite greatly outnumbering them. Yeah, it’s still too soon, Lagory Corter! Why can’t you be more like my best buddy ol’ pal Ruby? (I call him Ruby instead of Rubert now because we are chums)
Evidently Chef Boiardi’s head was placed on a label at that position so that poltergeist gauntlets could force it to play a flute much too large for it in an advertisement for the Great American Can Sale at the store “Big Y.” Note that even though the store is called Big Y we don’t actually know. Much less the details regarding the flute debacle. It was a disgrace ones who could help tended not to notice, alas, what with that heathen can of Folger’s Crystals hoisting that flag whose name it has so disparaged, whose traditional moral values it has worked so tirelessly to twist and corrupt:
There’s a reason Folger doesn’t appear on his own cans! The scamp! Don’t you know there are kids who watch that stuff! Do you know what happens when kids drink coffee? They look precocious, that’s what! The best part of waking up is not 5 year olds who can memorize stuff in my cup!
Anyway, back to church. Tonight is the Saint Nunzio and Blessed Associates annual gold chain awareness Ziti Dinner.
Note to event planning committee staff member persons: toilets do not make good dinner tables.
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.
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.
I don’t think I have many entries like this left in me. That can only lead to improvement.
Maybe you wondered (or more likely never thought about at all) what my problem was in this entry with SIMPSON-ZU, since it actually improves upon the original artwork and was more complicated than the standard art-site character posing against no-background. Because it only does so for the sake of looking artificially japanese. I think the artist may even be Japanese, and I still find the whole thing a bit contrived. It was not an earnest artistic choice, it was just a stupid gimmick. And without that, what is it? Just a bunch of someone else’s characters loafing around looking at a television set. Nothing interesting is happening (I doubt what they’re watching is, either. I can’t think of anything I could or would view with every person I know, so the set is most likely off). All it’s done is swap one ugly commercially mandated “style” for another. My discontent has nothing to do with jealousy this time, surprisingly. Very often I see an insipid example of nothing going on get beloved just because the perpetrator does that all the time and weak people love it and I get mad but that’s as far as it goes. This was more sinister, I felt. Whether or naw the artist set out to have it be so.
A mere fortunate coincidence is that both the pictures were approved by the same master judge, grave accent animator. Why should I be bothered by the opinion of somebody who draws awful large-mouth disney-standard-unquestioning duckface people who otherwise appear totally human? When I hate duck-face-people more than almost all awful animal people? Maybe I just like being bothered. It’s probably not that big of a deal, actually. But I definitely hate duck people. They are ruthless.
Verily, they lack ruth.
But regarding the universally accepted deviation, the proponent of ruthlessness admitted that this was already an overexposed piece of trash by the time it got official acknowledgment, so why’s it even need that? Just because the office said so. It is Simpson Week, after all. And what is that? I didn’t know the fourth week of July 2007 was simpson week, and I was there! Ah, that must have been the week when the Simpson movie was released. Everyone was “going yellow.” Cowards.
It was the same week we saw a googly-eyed burger king and this jaundiced overbiting puffy cheeked round toothed myspace moron, who it’s easy to imagine not enjoying a sandwich, which this whole thing is the inescapable mass-marketed equivelant of. I assume other companies got involved but I won’t go looking for them. By suggesting that it really had no choice in playing along with such a corporate holy week, the Deviant Art makes clear that it has not a skrimpf of integrity, had it ever. The original object of issue might as well be fifty discarded mcdonald’s bags standing around a couch staring at a bottle of coke.
Hey, according to, I’m told, former Coca Cola Company president Donald Keough on the subject of a less successful business stunt I’m not old enough to have been affected by,
That is also a dumb reason. Doesn’t anybody buy anything because they want it anymore? Oh oh oh and of course the website isn’t cokerewards, it’s mycokerewards, because they think that will make me think I like it. Guess what: I don’t think I like it!
It seems there is no smart reason to buy soda.
Unless you’re Duke Nukem, and you probably aren’t. But I was complaining about a picture of The Simpsons.
It’s not Mona Lisa Simpson on a toilet, but it doesn’t have to be. Whenever you draw these characters, just for the sake of drawing them, you are in a sense also drawing every other tacky picture of them. That’s how it ends up to me, anyway. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you. That’s why you didn’t complain about it on your page. Sometimes I feel like I do everything around here.
I didn’t get a good shot of this because I was afraid someone would see me taking it and think I liked it, but this sums up what the Simpsons are, as purely two-dimensional (note the absence of any logical appearance of depth) images, without scripts to make them funny, without the best animation FOX can buy distracting us from how ugly they are, without Hank Azaria’s 2 or 3 distinct voices making them seem worth staring at the endlessly plopiting mouths of: just another greeping “institution” getting airbrush-painted on a piece of wood at some life-draining tourist dump in Florida, with Elvis Presley, Betty Boop, the perennially dead and talentless Marilyn Monroe, The Beattles dressed as mandarins or something, Snoopy flying a doghouse, ugly jerk-worshiped cars and enormous ghost heads threatening to devour us all. The only reason Mickey Mouse isn’t in it is because the Disney people have a history of suing anyone who puts that on a wall in public. I wish I could sue for that, too. That happened in 1989 and doesn’t seem to have happened since, but this picture is probably almost that old. If this was made today it would definitely have Dale Ernhardt and the Geico skink in it. “This is why not to become an artist,” I thought when I saw this in 2006’s November, long before “Simpson Week.”
On the subject, sort of, why, on The Simpsons, are white people drawn yellow, but brown people are still brown? Couldn’t they be orange?
Ey, why are Simpson Halloween episodes still called tree-houses of horror? Is the tree-house still a major location on the show? I know Bartholomeau was the central character when I first watched it, but he wasn’t by the time I stopped,* and I can’t even recall with certainty that he had a treehouse. I suppose nuclear power plant of horrors or scum-sustaining tavern of horrors or Rolling Stones guest voice contract of horrors would seem redundant.
*unlike apparently every other whinist on the internet, I wasn’t counting to see what season that was. Oops.
There’s nothing else there.
And they think I’ll shorten Saint to St and Petersburg to Pete, but I won’t.
Ha ha huhhhhhhhzzzzzjzjgbjb.
The Dapsy Dino Family. They are one series of collectible figurines out of… too many. They were at one point found inside little plastic eggs which could be purchased in many countries besides this one. And I guess people bought them.
While I pointed out in the past that a certain pair of crocs were most certainly not cool, it is only fair to mention that their honorable ancestor Dribbelino was also not cool. Or at least not as much as any of the
CHiNESE-BEAVER. You may know them better as
les de CHiNEE-CHiN. I must give special recognition to SAM URAI, bridging cultural stereotype boundaries by naming himself after one of the outdated things westerners habitually associate with Japan instead. What we learn here is that it’s not insensitive to depict Asian people as having ridiculous over-bites if you imagine them as animals which look like that anyway. It might also help to choose one that’s known to inhabit parts of Asia, but I may just be misinformed in my belief that these aren’t. For some reason I’m hesitant to investigate any of the results for my “asian beaver” google search. But anyway.
There’s simply no comparison to be made.
As for why Dribbelino is spinning volleyballs, traditionally neither subjects of dribbling nor spinning upon limited surfaces in attempts to impress onlookers, that is yet a mystery.
By the roy, DAPSY DINOS should not be confused with
DROLLY DINOS, who don’t delude themselves into thinking they know how to dress properly.
Huh? Hweh? What’s that? Ah, you are observant.
FANNY FITNESS is indeed connected to an apparatus called LADY SHAKER. I’m glad you noticed.
Getting back to my original point, I think the croc’s problem was that they misrepresented themselves. While throughout time evidence has proven that crocs cannot be cool, they can be CRAZY.
Ever in denial, the CRAZY CROCOS tried to convince me that I’m the crazy one, that it’s somehow my problem, that oh no, that’s just the way things are in the city, for
CITY CROCOS. Sure, pal. Everyone knows CONNY CRAZY is not named LISA RAP. That would be stupid. Obviously I wasn’t having that so I sent them promptly back to
KROKOSCHULE to learn better manners.
I’ve made a couple jokes at the expense of the characters’ names, but no one can touch
CROCOCROK. Why would you want to?
Next week: SQUALIBABA meets a whale on a toilet. Or probably not.