Monday, June 29, 2009

RIP Billy :(

Is it wrong that I'm sadder about this than MJ's or Farrah's death? He always reminded me of someone's crazy father who just ended up hawking crappy infomercial junk. His career was just starting to take off too, he had his own reality TV show and was doing quite a few talk show interviews. How many Infomercial talking heads can claim that?

Alright God, if you really exist, can you stop killing celebrities that people actually like and take out those two morons from The Hills and Carrot Top? Thanks.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Earthward Ho is No Mo :(

It's been quite interesting around my favorite non-pornographic website lately. (I kid I kid, I hate pornography). When Sean Szeles put The Cap's adventures to an end there was a big hole left to be filled on Tuesdays. Attempting to fill that hole currently is David Gemmill. I'll admit that Sorry Guys isn't as consistently awesome as Through the Porthole but I still dig it. Even when the gags fall flat the art is still cartoony enough to be amusing. I don't know if it's a sign of the site becoming more popular or if David just brought them with him but the trolls and the web-tards seem to have come out in full force in the past week. I can deal though, there's enough cool people that post regularly to make the comments sections worth reading and I try not to argue with the morons because arguing on the net is pointless, but some of them have really been pissing me off. There's a difference between giving helpful criticism and just being an asshole and it seems like the Internet is full of people who can't tell the difference and suddenly a group of them have sprung up and now David is talking about quitting (Deep breath).

There's also some behind the scenes drama that us fans have only been getting small hints of but thats really not my business and I'm not going to post about can put up theories all you want though.

Yes, okay. Fred Osmond finished off Earthward Ho today. Twas a sad ending to be sure and while some commenters thought it was a bit rushed I think it's cool that he brought the series around full circle. He really needs to publish the whole thing in graphic novel form, maybe expand it a bit? Whatever happens, I'll eagerly await his future guest contributions all the same.

So what does the future hold for Friday's spot? Will inner tensions tear our heroes apart? What kind of random craziness will Kyle Carrozza bring us this weekend? And what of the trolls? How will their brand of whiny stupidity affect us all? How did the guy who gave Michael Jackson CPR not puke? Why am I still writing?

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Please stop making me cringe

I wish I could murder these words so I would never have to hear them ever again. I really wish the idiots on TV would stop saying them.

Perez Hilton

Actually I would stop watching TV altogether but it's on at work and it's right by my desk. Oh well, at least I get to watch The Brady Bunch at 3 o clock. Groovy man!

That's all for now.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Sea Shanty

I've been listening to The Dubliners a bit too much...

There was a little ship
That sailed on the sea
And the name of the ship
Was the Digereedee
It had a silly name
Which bothered the captain none
He was a hard drinking
Fiddle playin'
Crazy son of a gun

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

They sailed away
One bright spring morn
To look for land
Beyond the horn
The crew they danced
As the town slipped away
Saying to their loves
"We'll return someday."

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The days they past
From months into years
With no sign of the ship
On the horizon to appear
It was ten years gone
When the butcher's wife spied
The skipper on the sand
Who was barley alive

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The people gathered round
To hear the skipper speak
He talked all day
He talked all week
And the story he told
Was full of pain and fear
And it's much too long
To put down here

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The skipper he married
A bow legged lass
With curlers in her hair
And tattoos on her ass
Oh, the ship was forgotten
Except for this song
That We sing every night
To the wives and the dogs

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go....

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Nother Video

In honor of Phantom Spitter's name change:

Some poems are going up tonight I swear!

Monday, June 22, 2009


Once again I'm at a loss for words.

Soko's Back!

Well, sort of. She took the "Soko is Dead" thing off her Myspace and she's got a couple upcoming shows in England. No new songs yet though. My fingers are crossed! In a blatant rip-off of Nico's Double Takes blog, here's some pictures of her just because I want to put some up.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

1:41 AM - 2:15 AM

It's not that I don't love you
I just don't see you enough
When we're three million miles away
Spending time is kinda tuff
But this is just to let you know
That I think of you a lot
When I count on my fingers
All the good things I have got

I feel sick
But thats normal
But I wish there was a portal
That I could use to escape these pricks
That walk down the hall swinging their dicks around
But it's okay because I'm fine
Sitting locked up in my mind
And I can drift away
And I know that someday
I'll be living on my platform
In a solar dome in space
I'll feel better when I can escape
This dirt called the human race

When I was a kid I used to stay up late on Saturday nights and watch MAD TV and MASH on Fox 11. Sometimes they'd show a bad movie like The Brain that Wouldn't Die or Carnival of Souls (which is actually a good movie in spite of itself). There used to be this show called Ned the Dead's Chiller Theater that would have crappy movies hosted by this guy in really cheap looking ghoul make-up sitting in front of a table. Sometimes he'd lean back too far and you could see he had jeans on. I liked Ned, he made fun of the movies and would laugh at his own stupid jokes and slam his hand on the table. Sometimes I wonder what the heck he's up to now.

Late at night there'd be all local commercials on which were pretty funny because they were so cheap and lame. There was one for something called The Lullaby Shop which was pretty creepy, especially the jingle. I can't remember the words anymore but it was sung by this really effeminate sounding little boy and I swear I heard it in my nightmares.
I also remember one for a women's underwear store called the Sassy Lassy. The narrator for this commercial was this really nerdy sounding guy with the unsexiest voice possible, I always wondered why they chose him to do that ad. I also wonder how long the place stayed open.

Sorry for more personal crap, I couldn't sleep and felt like writing whatever popped into my head.

Friday, June 19, 2009


I deleted the last story and started a new one! I think I bit off more than I could chew last time so this one is going to be a bit simpler. My favorite of the Choose Your Own Adventure Books that I devoured when I was a kid took place in exotic locations like the Egyptian Desert, or some weird planet, or...a deep dark jungle. There was always such potential for weird crazy adventures when they were set in those places. So I picked a jungle this time. But you've got to get there first! Go now and vote! All of you! I know some of you are lurking out there, I can hear you breathing!

I suppose I should include a link: Choose Your Own Fate

Thursday, June 18, 2009

And now for something completely horrifying...

Do not click this link!

You clicked it didn't you? I warned you!
I can't put my finger on it but there's something very wrong with that picture. I think it's the fact that his face doesn't match up with his body, like it was badly photoshopped on. And it's such an unmanly chinless face it''s just wrong.

To make you feel better here's a link to Sarah Peck's blog where you can watch her funny and creative student films.

I wish I had been into film when I was in high school, I didn't really get into it till I graduated and was actually earning money to rent movies with. I doubt I would have made anything that clever though, I was all angsty and filled notebooks with poems about girls that would never go out with me. Evil Dead II changed my outlook on life. After watching Bruce Campbell fight his own severed hand, get laughed at by a whole room of inanimate objects, and get showered with gushers of blood I realized the perfect girl for me would be the one that listed ED II as their favorite movie. I haven't found her yet and I doubt she exists but there's my criteria for my dream girl. She can be fat, skinny, blonde, pink haired, lazy eyed, whatever all she has to do is be willing to sit and watch trashy movies with me and I will love her forever....

Oh, hey! The Angry Video Game Nerd has a new video up! Imma go watch it right now! I've fallen way behind on my postings but I'm going to try and put one up every day. Do you guys like my stupid ramblings about personal crap or should I just cut that shit out and write more stories and poems?

One last thing before I log off my computer and watch 1940s screwball comedies. I found this video last night when I was looking for funny infomercials. (Although just about all of them make me laugh).


Is that not the most useless piece of junk ever? I can understand it being useful to people with definite medical problems but it's being marketed as an alternative to toilet paper which is ridiculous since the thing uses the very product its saying is old and disgusting! I think my favorite part is the old lady who subtly hints that she needs assistance wiping her butt. Or the fat guy who claims that being morbidly obese has it's advantages. Like what? I think not being able to wipe your own ass would effectively cancel out any positive gains that years of eating nothing but fast food would give you.
Now watch this remix and have a great night!

I love you Internet...

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


I finally gave in and got a Twitter account:

So now you get to experience the cutting wit of my jib every night, hooray!

The Furry Mist

I took spumkin's idea to write about furries and Spitter's idea about the sky exploding, and this is what came out...

When the first explosions hit, knocking everyone in the convention hall down, I shit in my fur-suit. I'd eaten nothing but Taco Bell during the whole fur-convention week and the resultant mess ran down my legs into my fur-boots. Thus when everyone else ran outside to watch the sky split apart, I ran into the bathroom. From what I heard later it was quite a show, all weird colors and jaggedy lightening but I was too busy cleaning the shit off of me to care about anything else. I still wanted to get with that sexy fox-vixen I had been talking to before the first explosion hit. I didn't care if it was a guy or girl in there. For us furries, it's all about the fantasy. And I wanted to get laid by a giant fox. I put my wolf suit back on and ran out just in time for another explosion to send everyone running back inside. I ducked under a booth as three more explosions rocked the air, showering pieces of ceiling down. Then everything was quiet.
When I saw everyone else getting up I got up too and we all walked outside. The sky was a deep shade of pulsating neon purple and we stood, transfixed. And then it split open, and the mist came pouring down. I watched as my animal brethren were engulfed in it, one by one. Suddenly someone screamed and we all ran back inside as fast as we could. I sat down on the floor and took my wolf head off. Then I looked around and realized that no one else had, and put it back on. Despite all the weird things that had happened that day, I was still a Wolf goddammit! I spotted that sexy vixen again and was walking over when a guy in a cheap rabbit suit yelled and pointed at the glass door at the front of the hall. Something was moving around in the mist just outside the doors, pacing back and forth.
Suddenly it turned and smashed through the glass, a huge snarling tiger, now bloody from the glass...and wearing a convention button. We all screamed and started to run to the back rooms but the Tiger jumped on a cat-girl that had tripped on her own tail and proceed to tear her to shreds. The slimmest of us got in and locked the doors but we left the larger furs behind. We listened to them scream to be let in as they were mutilated, but it we all agreed that it was us or them. Then we all sat around and listened to the tiger try to break the door down. A hot looking squirrel spoke up.
"I'm bored. Lets find something to do."
"Well," I said, "lets do what furries always do in situations like this..."
"Yiff!" We all yelled. And yiff we did. Till the mist seeped under the door and turned a mouse and bear into real giant mouse and bears who then proceeded to tear each other apart. Then we decided it was best to find another place to hide out and have indiscriminate sex. We ran into the store room's meat locker. It didn't seem to make sense that there would be one there, but it was pretty lucky for us.
"So," said a male wolf, "Should we yiff first, or pig out on this frozen meat?"
"I'm a cow," said a cow, "I can't eat that."
"Alright then," said the wolf as he pulled out his human member, "lets do this thing!"
Three days later the power shut down and we ate as much meat as we could before it started to rot. A good portion of us got some bad ham though and got pretty sick, throwing up all over the place. Some of us thought that was pretty hot, but I had never been into that stuff. We were able to survive for about a month by eating the one's who died until it was just me and the other wolf.
"Alright, I think we should fight each other to the death." He said.
"Shouldn't we yiff one last time?" I proposed.
"I supposed we could...hey, whats that noise?"
Suddenly the door flew open and there stood...zombies? In superhero costumes? The wolf pushed me out the door and shut it behind him. The zombies stood looking at me.
"Wolf man?" Superman growled. "What kind of superhero is wolf man?"
"He not superhero." Growled Thor "He just furry. Stinky furry too. Me no like eat furries, me get bad stomach."
The other zombies agreed and shuffled away. I walked back into the convention hall. At least the mist was gone, but what kind of world was left in it's wake? I yearned for someone to Yiff with. Suddenly, across the street, I saw her in front of a grocery store: A giant cut out of Speedy Alka Seltzer. I had found my true love. We got married in a broken down church with a toilet serving as a minister. Later I would publish the memoirs of his amazing life after he died in a strange plumbing accident. The Life and Times of a Toilet became a best-seller in Zombie Superhero America and in human pork pie Europe. It was banned in Don Knotts clone Antarctica, however.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Mr. Tinkertrain

I'll do the story tomorrow night that uses you guyes crazy random ideas but I've got this one boiling in me from listening to this song over and over:

The subject matter creeps the Hell out of me but it's such a cool song, I keep playing it and now it's wormed it's way into my brain and won't leave. Damn that killer guitar solo! Damn it to Heck!

He knew right away that she was the one he wanted on the first drive-by. It was too perfect: an angelic little girl blonde haired girl, sitting in the front yard all alone. The key world was "alone." Where were her parents? He drove by in his black van a few more times and didn't see anyone. No one moved in the windows of the run down house behind her, no doors opened, no mothers came out with laundry to hang on the line. Any normal person would have thought it was strange, but Ray was too horny for rational thought at that moment. That's how it usually was except for the occasional moments when he'd come to his senses and all the shame at the things he had done would come flooding in. But then he'd push it down into his stomach where it would get eaten by stomach acid and dissolve.
On the fourth turn around the block he cautiously pulled up to the curb and opened the driver's side door. The little blonde haired girl in the faded pink dress didn't move, didn't even look up. He yelled over to her,
"Hey, little girl! Hey!"
She turned her face to him.
"Come here little girl, I've got candy!" At this she got up and walked over to the van.
She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. As he looked her over, dirty thoughts caroused through his mind at what he would do to this little girl, what he would make those blue eyes see. To any normal person what flashed into his head would sicken and horrify, but to Ray it warmed him like a fireplace on a cold morning. He took a sucker from a bag on the passenger seat and cooed as she took it from him,
"Thats a good girl, there's lots more candy and fun things at my house, just get in the van and we can go home and play!"
The girl didn't unwrap the sucker, didn't say a word, just opened the van door and climbed in. Ray didn't even think about how strange the whole thing was, he had his prey and that was all that mattered. He quickly shut the van door and sped off.

For the whole drive out of town the little girl didn't say a word. She sat in the back of the van with the sucker dangling between her fingers. He looked at her in the rear-view mirror and licked his lips, fondling his crotch while he drove. They pulled up to his back woods shack...

When he opened the door, the girl didn't move.
"Come on now, lets go have some fun!" He said and licked his lips again.
The girl climbed out of the van and he picked her up by the waist, carrying her into his "house."

Most of Ray's cramped living space was taken up by dirty magazines, both adult and underage. He set the girl on a soiled mattress and dug through a pile of them. He pulled out a magazine that had a picture of a girl wearing a red-riding hood costume on the cover and handed it to her. He was breathing hard.
"Now, you read that magazine. Thats what we're going to be doing and and if you just listen to me and do what I say, we'll have lots of fun."
The girl held the magazine limply in her hands and didn't move.
"Now, what did I just say? Open the magazine up and..."
He tried to open it for her but she grabbed his wrist. To his surprise, her grip was quite strong.
"Don't touch me." She said sternly and let go of his wrist.
Ray was taken aback. None of the girls he had taken here had ever talked back to him like this. The had all been scared, or had been eventually.
He looked at his wrist. Goddamn little bitch's hand had left bruises. How the Hell was that possible? He pushed the thought and the nagging doubt in his mind into his stomach. He was horny and was going to get what he wanted. He smacked her hard across the face, knocking her onto the bed. His erection was throbbing and his breath came out labored as he looked at her slight form, lying in a patch of sunlight from the window. He hovered over her and grabbed her dress...
Suddenly she sat up.
"I thought I told you not to touch me!" She yelled and shoved him hard, sending him flying across the small room. He tripped on a box full of rusty hand tools and fell, almost breaking his neck on a fry pan with a broken handle. Before he could get up she was standing by his side, looking down into his face. She put a foot in his groin and pushed down hard.
"Do you remember me Ray?" She said in a sweet little girls voice. "My name was Stacy."
Suddenly it all came back in a rush. For the first time in his life, Ray was legitimately frightened.
"It can't be, y-you're dead! I killed you! You're dead!"
"I was your first wasn't I Ray? How many were there after that? I bet you don't even know, I bet you lost count."
"Please just let me go I'll..." Ray stammered out.
"I asked you to let me go too, didn't I Ray? Don't you remember? That's what I was yelling the whole time you were on top of me."
He tried to get up but her foot was stepping on his crotch and he couldn't move. She leaned over and put her hands on his forehead. The pain of his testicles popping was minor compared to the heat that came from her hands. It was searing and it felt like his brain was on fire. Suddenly she was gone and Ray sat up, clutching his wounded groin. He could still feel the heat from her hands but it was getting smaller and smaller. It stopped contracting at the middle of his forehead and for a few seconds there was nothing. Then he screamed and thrashed his whole body in convulsive spasms, sending magazines and junk flying in all directions. Then he couldn't move because he was suffocating under a great weight as pain, worse than any he had ever known ripped through his body. It reached a horrible, unbearable peak and then was gone. Then it came again. And again, and again. As he screamed and wished for death, Ray got to experience child rape from a different perspective, once for every little girl he had hurt. When it was all over he splattered his brains all over the back wall of his run down shack. Nobody found his body except for hungry wolves that winter.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Story up tomorrow, I'm too darn tired tonight. And yes it will have furries in it, possibly on fire. And toilets, and sky explosions, and moldy ham, and antacid, and nerd I promising too much? Probably. Anything else I should try and shoehorn into this epic?

Currently listening to: The Wipers. You need to ask yourself right now: Why am I not listening to The Wipers? Seriously, you can buy a box set of their first three albums for dirt cheap, you have no reason not to give Greg Sage a chance!

Shoot, I was trying to think of something else interesting to say. I hate being tired. But I like writing though, even if its just random crap that I'll never show to anyone. It makes me feel normal and sane. I wonder if it was like that for other great writers, they had to do it or go nuts. Of course, some of them did go insane or were insane already. I'd say that all great writers are a little crazy, they have to be otherwise their work would be boring....

Oh and who saw Brett Michaels get nailed by that piece of scenery? Hi-larious. Poison was and still is a horrible band. I don't care what anyone says, Every Rose has It's Thorn is cheesy maudlin crap. I don't hate them as much as Extreme though. Their name is false advertising. Oh yeah, lets just hate on 80s hairbands now right? Thats topical. Hey, shut up. It's my rambling blog post and I'll say what I damn well please. I hate all 80s hair bands. Except for Skid Row and I don't think they really count.
Oh hey, he wasn't going to write a story out tonight but he has time and energy to waste our time with pointless shit. What a fucking hypocrite.
The voices in my head are insulting me. I'd better just chug a bottle of sleeping pills and go to bed.

Oh and if you can, go see Up. It's a very good movie. But very sad, if you cry easily at movies, bring a box of tissues.

And I'm out...

Friday, June 5, 2009

Ichthyophilia: A Story of Lust

I will apologize in advance for the following story...

It all started the night mother made soup for dinner instead of the usual evening meal of whatever she could scrape off the road that day. I was excited to get to eat something without gravel or maggots, or at least with cooked gravel or maggots in it. I looked that steaming pot sitting on our splintery table and my mouth filled with saliva. Then she plopped it down on my hubcap plate. I stared at it as the wind whistled through the chinks in our tar paper shack and mother stared at me.
"Well, what ya waiting fer boy? Eat it!" She yelled and smacked me on the head.
"I had to blow that old fishmonger for an hour to get that, now eat it!" Then she smacked me again.
I picked up my rusty fork and poked at the salmon's head in front of me. Suddenly my heart started to race and I felt dizzy. How could I cut up and eat such a beautiful thing? I stared at it's slimy gills, its glassy eyes, and wide fishy lips. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad.
Mother smacked me again and I got hard in my bad area.
"Well," she said and crossed her arms.
I knew what I had to do. I knocked the hubcap onto the floor.
Mother screamed, "You miserable little brat, howa you gonna eat it now? It's filthy!"
She picked me up and threw me into a pile of rotting beef carcasses in the corner. She came at me, but I ducked past her and ran outside, into the maze of the junkyard. I hid in the trunk of an old Beetle and fell asleep.

I awoke several hours later and carefully slunk back to our shack. Mother was sneaky and she could have waited for me to come out but tonight the gas light was off and everything was quiet. By the light of the full moon I found my love sitting on our rot-pile.
"Hello Billy." She said in a sultry ladies voice.
"W-Whats your name?" I stuttered.
"Elizabeth. You want me don't you Billy?"
"Oh god yes."
"Then lets find a quiet spot, away from her."
I looked back at the shack, at the window in the corner where mother slept. It was still dark. I picked Elizabeth up and ran.

My happy quiet spot was in the very middle of the junk yard, a clearing in a pile of rusting cars. I sat down and looked into her beautiful glassy eyes. I ran my hands across her slimy scales.
"Oh, take me Billy!" She yelled.
No matter how many fish heads I've loved, I never forgot my first. I never forgot how good it felt to push past those lips into the slimy innards. I never forgot the smell or the way she felt in my hands. I thrusted again and again, heaving and pushing, till finally it was all over.
I lay down in the dirt with Elizabeth on my chest.
"Was it good for you?" I whispered to her softly.
"Oh yes," She replied.
"Do you love me?
"Oh Billy, I'll love you till the day I rot away."
Then we kissed, slowly at first, but then full tongue. I got hard again. We were making sweet sweet love for the third time when I heard a noise behind me and turned.
There was mother standing at the far end of the clearing with the punishment bat in her hand. I never forgot the look on her face. Then the hitting started.

I woke up in the well. Mother had put the cover on this time and the only light was coming from a shrine of St. Andrew in front of me that I was supposed to pray to for forgiveness. All I could do was cry for my lost love.

Thanks Spumkin, I think....
Who's got another story idea?

Heres the Dealio...

As you can probably tell from my lack of posts I've been pretty dry for inspiration lately. So heres something interesting I thought I'd try, I've seen some web comics do it a few times but with, you know, comics.
Give me an idea and I will write a story or a poem with it. It can be just a random word or a long pitch or whatever you want, throw em at me!

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Traumatizing Cartoons But First...

Something else to make Spumkin jealous:

Erhrm. Okay. Today as I sat idly bored at work I started to think about what my earliest memory was. I had thought for a long time that it was when a tornado blew the roof off of our trailer while our babysitter freaked out and tried to make my brother and me stay down on the floor with our hands covering our necks but there's other odd things that come to mind if I think back very hard. They're almost surreal dream-like memories though and don't make a whole lot of sense.
(I have a very freaky memory of sleeping at what I think was my grandma's old house and watching her plush animals scurry around the sides of the bed which was most likely a dream. I hope.)
Then I started to think back to what would have been the first cartoon I remember watching and I came up with two from when I would have been three or four years old.
The first is the animated version of Charlotte's Web. I think we had it on VHS tape but it seems to have vanished somewhere down the line (along with my Ren and Stimpy comic books).
Charlotte's Web, despite the happy singing animals, is actually a pretty dark movie. The cartoon starts off with a cute little piggy being born on a farm. The pig is generally happy until the other animals explain to him that eventually the happy smiling farm family will kill and eat him for dinner. The pig does what anyone would do in such a situation: he runs off crying and hides in the barn where he's found by a friendly female spider. The spider saves his life by making the simple-minded hicks think he's got weird powers. The pig is happy again.
Then the spider dies.
I suppose it's good for kids to learn about loss and everything...but wait, she laid an egg sack! Now the pig has lots of friends! Oh Joy! But wait...they're leaving! Hey, come back! That's not fair! *sob*
A few do stay behind but it was still a huge wallop for a kid that had just learned not to poop himself. So yes, I learned about death from a cartoon where a rat eats garbage at a state fair. Sigh.

Then there was this cartoon called The Velveteen Rabbit. I really don't remember much about it except that this kid had a bunch of toys that would talk when he left the room. Then the kid got sick with some weird disease and everything in his room has to be destroyed, including his toys.
The only scene I can really recall is the scene where all his toys are getting shoved into a furnace. His happy talking toy friends are getting burned and just before the rabbit gets thrown in he says, and I never ever forgot it: "Oh, so that's what burned means."
Eeeeh, yeesh! I don't know if it's just looking back on it as an adult through the haze of very early childhood but damn that creeps me right out.
I have no idea what happened after that, I think I blocked the rest of the cartoon out.
At least I can sort of pinpoint why I've always been obsessed with horror and the macabre, thanks for the cartoons Mom!

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Random Things I Wrote in my Notebook at Work Today

If time is measured by the earth's rotation around the sun, how would we measure time in space if we lost contact with earth? Would time become irrelevant?

"There is no spoon" backwards is "noops on si ereht."


There once was a man named Rick
Who had huge bumps on his dick
They were of such a size
The men averted their eyes
But the ladies ran to him quick!

What is the farthest galaxy that man has been able to see?
According to the Internet it is Abell 1835 IR1916 which is about 31 billion light years away.

Nother poem (non-dirty this time):

Dylan wrote of Heaven's door
Zeppelin wrote of it's stairs
But the best bands have said
It's more fun to be dead
When all of your friends are there

One bad apple can make the whole bunch a hell of a lot more fun.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Marmaduke a Go-G0

"Marmaduke, you left your bones on the chair again!" Screamed the poorly drawn owner lady.
"Thats the last goddamn time!"
From the hall closet she pulled out a 40. Calibur shotgun.
"Oh you big stupid dog, you're getting it now!" She mumbled as she wandered through the poorly drawn house. But where was Marmaduke?
He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the den. He wasn't in the yard. Where...
Suddenly a scream broke out from upstairs, a bloodcurdling scream that seemed to last forever and then was suddenly cut short.
Poorly drawn owner lady rushed up stairs and threw open the bedroom door. The smell of fresh blood hit her before her brain could process what her eyes were seeing and she vomited all over herself. There were blood and body parts all over the poorly drawn room. It was like it had gotten a new coat of paint. And in the middle of all the horrible gore was the big stupid dog himself, happily gnawing on a sneakered leg.
Poorly drawn owner lady aimed her shotgun and steeled herself...
Suddenly the door to the bathroom and out ran...Billy from Family Circus? Oh shit, owner lady knew she was in trouble. Billy was covered from head to toe in hand grenades and plastic explosive.
"You touch my eternal lover and we all die." Shouted Billy in the most annoying voice ever.
They all looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Poorly drawn owner lady threw down her shotgun and ran as fast as she could to Ziggy's house. There she could rest up and think about her next step. And also make sweet sweet love to Ziggy's nose.

Next time: Billy hits his head and we flashback to just what really happened the rest of the Circus. It ain't pretty...