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quicktime - 7 day drive cross-country made into 4 minutes using time lapse

wmv - Ping pong game using Japanese human puppets, or "humanettes"

amusing - Some diverting comics and drawings by Nedroid

freaky - Gene Mutation found in muscle man toddler...


Puppeteers You Should Know About:




Mummenschanz




Hugo & Ines


"Villain's Story"...

"I knew the schoolmarm's daffy agenda."




Is it just me, or do I got nothing? Nobody has any good links today for me to steal. Don't blame me, blame the rest of the Internet. Bunch of weirdos. All of them.

I guess I could always post a link to Cro Music, the place to go for Croatian music online.

You just can't really go wrong. I keep that link as an emergency backup for occasions such as this. I feel pretty good knowing even on slow days I can keep you lot stimulated.


New story: "A Night with Harold".
It's a ghost story of sorts.

"The tongues were never the same color."




"A 6-foot-tall, 275-pound bearded man
crashed a children's birthday party in Oak Forest,
identified himself as "vengeance," then helped himself
to a piece of cake, police said."


Today's strange story is called "The Afterlife I".
II, III, IV, etc. will have to wait.

"A "snuffie" is endearing."




Jonny Crossbones looks to be a pretty good web comic in the style of Tintin.

I know a couple of people in this series of photographs. I think they're pretty funny.

I ♥ Manatees. I just can't help it.

This movie looks interesting. The Brothers Coen are participating.


I'm going to try to write a story every day. They'll be short and they'll be strange. I'll collect them in a place linked at the top called Strange Stories. When I write a new one, I'll link to it here and give a line from it to entice you. And I'll maybe throw in a photo. So here's the first one. It's called "Leaflet".

"They encounter a witch and a knight, as well as a man made of sticks."






On your mark... Get set...



Go SEAN, GO!

In Sean's own words: "[The soapbox derby] was SO much fun! I only won one of the six races I ran and I never made it down the hill without crashing or running off the road at least once, but I always made it to the finish eventually and man, it was good times."

The car he raced had a silver griffin hood ornament and was dubbed the "Grrriffin and Rrrribbons!".


Congratulations to Uncle Brennan!!! Yaayhaaa!!


         
Some paintings of Ray Caesar


Tricks of the Trade - Catalog of Secrets!

The Kingdom of Loathing - An Adventurer is You!

Paperformers Universe - Heroic Pulpbots!

He-Man Coloring Books - Easy Tear-Out Pages!


Lo! The King of Space has answered another question:

  • As King of Space, what do you like to do? Do you like parades?


    Can anyone make any sense of this? I sure can't. Is it a big joke?


    Remember when David Copperfield walked through the Great Wall of China? That was something.




    This is my first interview for this web site. The King of Space has graciously agreed to answer my ten best questions. By some bizarre cosmic coincidence, the King of Space has access to email. For those of you who don't know, the King of Space is just that, the ruler of the astral void that makes up the universe. He is also Brennan.

    Here are the ten questions I sent him:

  • How did you get to be the King of Space?

  • As King of Space, what do you like to do? Do you like parades?

  • How do you feel about the Robonaut? Is it okay that he is being sent into your kingdom?

  • Back to the topic of parades, what if there was a parade in your honor? Just suppose that happened. Would you scoff? Would you run away? Would you demand a tithe in some manner? What about a "parade tax"? Would you ever consider chopping the heads off of your constituents?

  • As King, how realistic do you want to be?

  • If Venus were to, say, suddenly explode, what would you tell everybody in your defense?

  • Where do you stand on the issue of space corpse? For, or Against?

  • Is it true that a person can dig a hole in the ground and get to Outer Space that way? If so, how dumb do you think those astronauts, engineers, and rocket scientists must feel right about now?

  • In the last year alone, pirates raided over four thousand space ships and seized over 500 million quotars (space currency). What do you plan to do about the pirate's boasting? We seriously kicked ass this year in the raiding and seizing departments, this you cannot deny.

  • What do you think about the "Primp Phenomenon"?


    And here is his response...


    Hello, Hello
    Space Monger

    I am enjoying reading of your many many questions, and look forward to speaking them all, but let you know I cannot speak them alllll at once for this would cause great cacophonin within the bleak and squirming reaches of my space mind, and would consequentially wreak havoc on alllll the space world.

    For the answer in your first question I tell you only of my kingdom, so that you may know of how my kingdom became the author of myself. There are many margins of space that exist within the know-able limitationings of the great flux that we call in the universe. For another, there is the space between your other ear and your other ear that makes a space we are in. I am no kingdom of this space, sir monger.

    Lengthwise, there is a many space in your dwellings, where you fashion eatings and wakings and sheddings of your bodies, and other insiderings to which I am not privy, nor am I kingdom.

    Also again towards a space within walls and enclosures and such objects as within a tree and about the mechanism and chemistrations of most general things as for in example the workings of your refrigerator that manufacture coldness to preserve your foods and perishings from overly corruptability by microscope beings. Know I none of these, whether they live in microscopes or machines or coldness. Though they be space, I know little of all.

    There is a space which you may know often at the night, that is composed of burning flaming burning worlds that you will see as sparkles in the darknesss. You may also will see the burning flaming burning flaming world that is in your sun when you are in the day and feel warm and watch trees grow for this too is like as in a star. This is the space for kingdoms that know me that I am.

    This could a space that you would know, that would be beyond the bowl of clouds that would catch you had you the notions to use the springs and levers about your legs and arms to leap into the space. This would be the bowl that holds the bowl of clouds and birds and blue blue daylights.

    This space knows me as its object king for many years, for it was myself that released my spine like a gun that kills and flung the back of my head toward earth, and peered and looked and gaped and drunk the whole of space through the little holes in my head so that my whole body became fashioned of a cloud and my lungs opened to breath all the all blue. It was then that I was king, but only of the kingdom that is far far away and that is most unknowable save for the clever cameras and machines birds that are stories about space and stories themselves and other many stories and spaces. That is getting me the being king in space kingdoms. Thank you for being in a good question.

    Yours sinsingerly, King of Space




    Boy am I glad he only answered the first question. We wouldn't want a "great cacophonin within the bleak and squirming reaches of [his] space mind", now would we? Stay tuned to this site, because the King of Space may very well answer more questions (barring any unforeseen threats of havoc to the space world)! one thing I've learned already from this experience... "You want answers? Ask the King!", or maybe "You want answers? Look to the Stars!"

    Something like that.




    The Bunny-of-the-Month Club


    Have you guys heard of the Robonaut? He's being refined by NASA as we speak. He's got a "space leg". Here is an interesting quote from the article:

    "The next step is developing a spaceworthy robonaut for flight tests, either aboard the space shuttle or the ISS, Ambrose said, adding that human-robot cooperation can play an important role in space exploration."

    Hear that? If we humans can just get along with robots, find some way to work together, maybe we'll finally be able to map some moons. Am I right or what?


    Look at Robonaut here with these ladies.


    He even has his own action figure.

    Jealous of the Robonaut? Don't be. Robonaut leads a troubled life.

    Stay tuned for my upcoming interview with the King of Space, where I ask him what he thinks about Robonaut entering his domain! The answer(s) might surprise you(s).


    My friend Nate has some wheat pictures of monster action figures he himself has "bashed" from Stikfa parts. And here's some of his other work. Behold his terrible power.


    Merry Christmas, everybody!

    In honor of the Season, here's something autobiographical:

    Some time last year, Kelly was substitute teaching an art class for the private school she is now teaching first grade for (first day of class this Monday, Woo!). I came in during my lunch hour one time during the week to be a guest artist for 5th graders. For my visit, Kelly had the students make up a sentence that I would then illustrate in front of the class. I was notified when I arrived by one boy that the sentence would make me laugh.

    "He's going to think it's funny! I can just tell by the way he looks!", this boy shouted gleefully to his fellow students.

    The sentence was:

    "They ated [sic] Alfred with spaghetti and meatballs, then they danced and filled his body with lead concentrate, then they picked his nose and filled his head with acid."

    Apparently the children knew "ated" was incorrect, but one child thought it was funny enough to suggest. I found out later the other children were not terribly amused by the suggestion nor did they understand the joke, but in the spirit of creative collaboration, they let the "comedian" have his way.

    I should point out the "They" in their sentence refers to the tribe that built the Easter Island statues. I believe the children were studying them in another class. Also, Alfred was an explorer character that they had created who was unfortunately captured by the tribe.

    I had about 10 minutes to make the drawing while everyone cleaned up at the end of class. The end result was, I must admit, extraordinarily poor from any kind of aesthetic standpoint. It was awful. Just totally bad. All my many years of artistic training were utterly forgotten and ignored by my brain. I can't explain it. Maybe it was the pressure.

    Here's the best I can describe it:

    A group of orange stick people dance (the numerous large black music notes amongst them are included to help imply the idea) around Alfred's corpse which lies horizontally on top of a giant crudely rendered plate. Okay, it wasn't just the plate that was crudely rendered. Go ahead and think "crudely rendered" and stop there. You'll get the idea. Oh, and there was some smudged green in there that's meant to associate the viewer with the concept of grass.

    While I drew, many children stopped their cleaning and stood around behind me to watch the grisly spectacle. One girl after shuddering and saying "eugh, gross", went back to cleaning.

    The drawing was so bad, the experience had the makings of a fiasco. My only hope was to feign an air of total confidence. When all the children were done cleaning, they turned their young, expectant eyes on me and my drawing. All were eager to see what the Special Guest Artist drew.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    At first, the response was hard to gage. Questions were aroused.

    One of the children asked me what the brown things on the plate were, and I told him with absolute conviction that they were meatballs. This did seem to satisfy him.

    What confused many was the presence of the giant fork (which resembled a pitchfork or trident rather than any sort of utensil used in "ating") that stuck straight out of Alfred's body.

    In explanation I offered the following: "Um, that's a communal fork. Everybody in the tribe can use that if they want to, um... share."

    This was met with acceptance.

    I went ahead and right there added smaller individual trident-forks for each tribesperson to hold, including one for Alfred even, just to drive the point home.

    While I had been drawing, I had realized the red tomato sauce seeping out from under Alfred might look too much like blood, and this was a concern. I had to consider my audience after all, not-to-mention the fact that I was a guest to this private Christian school. This made me even more self-conscious during the process. In an effort to tone down the violence, I oddly felt compelled to apply slipshod happy faces on each member of the tribe and Alfred himself. A mistake, perhaps, for it prompted one student to ask me (quite understandably) why I had, in fact, decided to make Alfred look so happy. He was, after all, being danced around, ated, and having his nose picked, not to mention the acid and lead concentrate.

    I had to improvise: "Well, Alfred was smiling when they killed him, you see. And then the smile just got stuck on his face. He isn't smiling now, of course."

    The student nodded thoughtfully.

    I was also asked why Alfred was so much bigger than everyone else.

    "This is a good question. I think it's because the lead concentrate expanded his body and made it blow up all big."

    This answer pleased the inquirer, who grinned devilishly at the thought.

    My suggestion, however, did not explain why the plate of spaghetti and meatballs was so big. But I don't think anyone noticed.

    One student (who clearly was the one who offered this particular idea in the first place because he seemed to know of such things and take a personal interest in its representation) asked me to point out where the lead concentrate was. I directed his gaze to the blueish-black smudges in poor ated Alfred's body and the orange stick man pouring the lead into him from the green blob that was supposed to be a bucket.

    Now, I don't know from lead concentrate. But to my surprise, this young aspiring lead concentrate expert gave his approval. I had done well.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    At the end of class, I was approached by two students, a boy and a girl, who requested ownership of the finished piece.

    "We really think it's cool! We want to put it up on the wall of our clubhouse."

    I swear it's true. For all I know, it's hanging there still.





    How I Got Trained To Fight The Lizard People, an epistolary explanation

    i'm sick and i have a sore throat and i'm writing to tell you about it so you can be concerned for me. i'm also hoping you feel pity for me. let's just say i'm stealing your energy like a vampire.

    i will use it for a good cause, like maybe, say, going to the grocery store to get cheese. thinly sliced cheese. i might even go for the gouda. it takes energy to go to the store, #####. don't knock it. i need the energy to go the store and your pity energy might give me the extra boost i need to get sliced cheeses. and i mean thinly sliced. i mean what i say. and don't go knocking thinly sliced cheese from the grocery store.

    this may seem like a tangent but bear with me... the real reason i need your pity for the energy to get my a-- to the grocery store to buy the thinly sliced cheese is... so i can fight in gladiatorial combat. i know it sounds weird. it is. i am going to go up against bird men, and lizard combatants. muscular ones. with any weapon they choose. i don't even get to pick the weapons. they get to. it's unfair, but it's necessary and i will need the cheese to give me the powers to defeat the weapons of the bird men's choice. how, you ask? thinly sliced cheese is food and people need food to get muscles to wield weapons in gladitorial combat. look it up. i'm not making it up.

    i might die in the battle-dome so please feel pity for my sore throat. as i said before it will lead, albeit indirectly, to me getting the edge on mr. lizard warrior man.

    henry

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    little man,

    you are lucky that i pity you so much or else i would spit contemptously in your pathetic face. but, you are too pathetic for this and thus i feel nothing for you but pity. once you have your cheese, i will no longer pity you, so i hope you don't need any pity energy to get home from the store.

    #####

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    big lady,

    yes! this totally rocks. all i needed was your "pathetic" pre-cheese pity. that was it! now i'm a g-dd-mn gladiator!

    all the galactic animal people are toast! rotten putrid stale f--king moldy toast!

    i am naming my weapon of choice, "#####'s Cheese Pity" after you and your boon. i don't know yet if it's a sword or a trident or what yet. maybe a truncheon, whatever that is. i have time before the opening ceremony.

    the galactic emperor will be pleased. most pleased. i am a victorious champion! i am going to rock the stadium!

    henry

     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    dear ##### ######,

    you recently donated a generous amount of pity for a young man, "henry", in austin texas suffering from a sore throat and in need of energy to go to the grocery store to buy thinly sliced cheese(s) in order to receive the nutrition and sustenance required for the development of musculature necessary for intergalactic gladiatorial combat.

    your donation means a lot, and will go a long way. in the coming weeks, you will be receiving updates on how henry is doing and how your support is helping him achieve his ultimate goal of being the ultimate space warrior hero, as well as the thorough destroyer of bird or lizard people and their collective home planets.

    your pity won't just help him in his path towards fighting in the Death Battle of Champions. it also has the potential to bring about the genocide of at least two alien races, those being the ones that most vex the human and allied races, or just henry personally himself.

    helping out just one young gladiator hopeful by pitying his mild illness will effect positive change in many other areas. for example, no more bird men.

    again, we thank you, and henry thanks you. may the king of space bestow upon you great boons!

    henry

    i mean, the, um,     Foundation for Helping Out Sick People, er, yeah.




    Some of you might remember that I dressed up as Chug-a-beer Bear at Chuck Kremer's bachelor party. Well, Julian wrote me to tell me that I've been beaten:

    Bear guzzles 36 beers, passes out at campground

    All I can say to that bear is, "Hey. You weren't the Best Man co-hosting your friend's bachelor party and needed to stay sober so you could drive him home. So TAKE THAT, DRUNKY."


    Sorry there's been no update, folks. I've been sick and having your typical extremely stressful getting-seriously-screwed-over-by-apartment-people hang-ups.

    Here are a few links though:

    More on Steam Boy!

    Frank cartoon

    This guy's work looks pretty good


    Tell-All Interview with Partyka! Learn their Secrets. Swear on Holy God never to Exploit them! Feel the Urge. But Deny It!


    Brennan takes a try, offering four solutions:

    1) You're at pizza hut and they have to go to the buffet before they sit down.

    2) The waiter is deaf and blind. He just follows the smell of women's perfume everywhere. The couple is fickle.

    3) The waiter is really a furniture salesman and you're in a department store. You're actually not allowed to eat in here. You should put your food away.

    4) The couple is not a couple of people but a couple of legs, as in just one person. The table is not a table, but a mesa in the desert. The waiter is not a waiter, but the great wait*er--time. You are not eating your dinner, you are god, watching your spinning clock wheels grind slowly onward as a man confronts his mortality in the desert.

    Brennan wins the prize for the correct answer (if we loosely define the phrase, 'pizza hut'). Congratulations! But which one is it? If any one has a guess, you'll get a prize if you pick it. Note: The previous winner is allowed to participate in the contest but he/she must refuse the prize altogether calling it cheap and not worthy of his/her attention. The prize may then be awarded to another person who did not win the original contest (but who also guessed the correct answer correctly and without error (for example: the right one)). The prize reserves the right not to exist or never to be produced by the contest provider.




    "Down Down to Goblin Town, Down Down to Goblin Town". Seems like every time I descend the stairs at work to get to the floor where my cubicle is filed away, I sing this song to myself in my head.

    I'm thinking they should go ahead and make the action figures for the characters in this cartoon. They've made figures of everything else. Just go for it, I say.


    Linkidink!

    Bow Man -- Fun game where you try to shoot an arrow into your opponent.

    imagiNation -- Move your mouse around and click and stuff. Not sure how that is a representation of my imagination, but whatever.

    Japanese illustrations -- For children's books in the 1920's.


    J.R. submits the following:

    I have the answer to kelly's riddle:

     "You're sitting in a restaurant eating your dinner when you see an attractive couple walk through the door. The waiter greets them and leads them to a table. The couple seem pleased. They turn to the waiter, say "Thanks!" and walk away. The waiter doesn't seem surprised by their odd behavior. Why not?"

    OK. A little stoichiometry is needed to solve this sucker. Let's take it from the top. Virtually all restaurants serve soup..especially if I'm sitting in it. Soup...as in the primordial soup of amino acids and such. BOOM. Next up, I'm eating my dinner...which means it's LATE in the day...not in the morning. WHAM. An attractive couple enters (let's assume they enter the restaurant). AHA...but there's a problem...do *I* find them to be attractive?...or do *they* consider themselves to be attractive? Well, it's obvious it's the latter. It would be inconceivable for me to be attracted to a male. However...this is a riddle after all...so it is quite the opposite...for in all actuality...this "attractive couple" is nothing less than a proton and a neutron. SHOCKED? Well, you shouldn't be...all the clues were right in front of you. A proton and a neutron have a bond...much like that of a man and a woman...but NOT like that of those nasty electrons. The waiter is of course the outer electron. Why wasn't he surprised? Well, why the heck WOULD HE BE? He HAS seen it all before! It's simple chemistry people. BAM. And last but not least...the "table" that made the "couple" smile and affably say, "Thanks!"......well...come on...if you don't know...I can't tell you. Two words: PERIODIC TABLE. See how it call comes around, full circle. Riddle solved. NEXT!!!!

    No, that's not it. Good guess though. Anyone else want to give it a try?


    I injured my toe the other day.

    Brennan called me at work and I told him about it. He offered to cut off one of his toes and give it to me as a replacement. He said he had ten, and that that was plenty to spare. I pointed out that I would actually need a big toe, and he's only got two of those, and furthermore, I explained to him, I would need the right foot big toe, and he's only got one of those, so... no dice. It did occur to me, however, that we could attempt to cut off one of his smaller toes and see if it grows when it is put in a glass of water. Brennan said he was up for trying that. I said that I thought he should try it, and that I supported him in this endeavor. I told him I would refuse to accept the toe even if the experiment worked and they had the technology to replace my current damaged one with it. This is because I so whole-heartedly endorse the experiment. I would rather see it done and not get rewarded than have it not done at all. He said that this was fine, and he pointed out it could be considered an homage to the film, "the Big Lebowski", which features a severed toe as part of its plot. I suggested getting Alamo Drafthouse to plan a screening around that, for they often do themed shows like "Jaws" while tubing on the river, or "Goonies" while sitting in a cave. This would be "Big Lebowski" while Brennan cuts off his toe. They could project the movie onto his face while he does it. Brennan revealed his concerns about whether the audience might have difficulties in viewing such a small area of screen (his face). Would they really be able to follow the movie? I had a solution. I suggested that insects be invited to attend. They'd be small enough to view it, I argued. It occurred to me later that the Alamo Drafthouse could call it, "The Bug Lebowski". Anyway, Brennan thought making the screening for insects was a good idea, pointing out that they are an untapped demographic. And probably quite profitable. They've been around so long they're probably really wealthy, we surmised. I suggested that they must have inherited a lot from the dinosaurs. When the dinosaurs went extinct, they must have willed their possessions (gold, or what have you) to someone, right? It surely wasn't the mammals. Insects must be the inheritors of the dinosaurs' stuff. They have been around forever, and there were tons of them back in the dinosaur times. They were even around before the dinosaurs. Even during the molten times. Remember the Lava Bug?, I asked Brennan. Yeah, he said, the Lava Bug Rocks. I concurred. I updated him that the Lava Bug had changed its name and we now know it as... the beetle. Brennan pointed out that it's good that they changed their image, and we discussed how important that is, especially when you've been around as long as the bugs and don't want to repeat yourself. We agreed that humans, for example, don't need to change their image because they really haven't been around very much, just a blip, really, in Time. Brennan pointed out that insects have so many years of experience and so much wisdom. Yeah, I said, you really don't have the wisdom unless you have the wisdom that comes from eons. Humans just aren't catching on, nods all around. I pointed out that insects can understand humans, but humans can't understand bugs. That's why the "Big Lebowski" screening will work out, I argued. Brennan said that the reason we have cockroaches in our houses is because they are trying to help us out, give us messages, to improve ourselves. I said, wow, that is really pro-active of the roaches, getting in there and giving their message to the humans, right in their own homes. Not like the other bugs. Take the bees, for example, just buzzing in our faces incoherently when they meet us outside. Brennan revealed to me some of the messages of the roaches that they are trying to impart: Don't go killing each other. And most mysteriously: Don't sing so much. We as humans still don't know what the latter is supposed to mean, but we assume the insect kingdom knows what it's talking about, and time will tell. Brennan and I agreed to write a musical entitled "The Last Musical", about the insects finally getting their message across, and at the very end of the musical, the humans finally understand and stop their singing, and there is never another musical ever again, and our musical literally becomes the Last Musical... EVER.

    And then Brennan made this.





    Kelly made up this riddle. See if you can solve it.

    "You're sitting in a restaurant eating your dinner when you see an attractive couple walk through the door. The waiter greets them and leads them to a table. The couple seem pleased. They turn to the waiter, say "Thanks!" and walk away. The waiter doesn't seem surprised by their odd behavior. Why not?"

    The first one to email me with the correct answer gets a prize.




    Fun Facts about Norton I, first and only Emperor of these United States and Protector of Mexico: (lifted from here)

  • Joshua Abraham Norton was a successful businessman in 19th Century San Francisco. One day he ordered way, way too much rice from Europe that he intended to sell to the growing Chinese and immigrant population. He couldn't pay for it, and went immediately bancrupt.
  • After disappearing for two years, he returned, proclaiming himself Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.
  • As Emperor, he made numerous official imperial proclamations to the Bay area newspapers, and they competed for the honor of posting his proclamations, even publishing fakes to increase sales.
  • He became hugely popular among the citizenry. People on the streets would bow and curtsey when he passed.
  • As Emperor, he fully discharged politicians from their duties.
           Norton tried to have Andrew Jackson arrested and sentenced to blacken his boots. In another decree, he patly fired President Abraham Lincoln.
  • He proposed the dismantling and abolishment of Congress.
  • He manufactured his own currency in fifty-cent, five and ten dollar denominations. His money was accepted without question, at a time when U.S. paper currency was still considered unreliable.
            One day he tried to cash $100 worth of his own notes at the First National Bank. When they refused, he "foreclosed" upon them in yet another proclamation.
  • He banned the use of the word "Frisco" as a nickname for San Francisco.
           "Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word "Frisco," which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor, and shall pay into the Imperial Treasury as penalty the sum of twenty-five dollars."
  • If Emperor Norton observed someone performing a kind act, he'd declare him or her king or queen for a day. Mobs of children would follow him picking up litter.
  • He ate free of charge in restaurants.
  • San Francisco actually paid for his uniforms and the local Masonic Lodge took care of his rent.
  • Norton was once accidentally arrested by a rookie policeman who believed he required confinement and treatment for his mental disorder. But, due to public outrage and the potential ensuing rioting, the Chief of Police freed Emperor Norton and issued a lengthy public apology to him. From then on, police officers would salute His Majesty whenever he passed them on the street.
  • When he died, 10,000 people went to his funeral.
  • Coroners found in his pockets a telegram from Czar Alexander II congratulating him on his forthcoming marriage to Queen Victoria, and one from the President of France, who warned Norton that such a marriage could be disastrous to world peace.
  • Mark Twain, a good friend of his, wrote an touching epitaph for the Emperor's dogs, Bummer and Lazarus.



    More on Emperor Norton
    And here


  • French philosopher Rene Descartes speculated that monkeys and apes know how to speak, they just choose not to. They're lazy, see, and being silent allows them to avoid work.

  • Famous people and their phobias:

    Johnny Depp: clowns
    Napoleon Bonaparte: cats
    Adolph Hitler: being enclosed
    Christina Ricci: houseplants, swimming pools
    Margaret Thatchter: the dark
    Elizabeth I: roses
    Lyle Lovett: cows
    Woody Allen: dogs
    Madonna: thunder
    Sigmund Freud: ferns
    Billy Bob Thornton: antique furniture
    Alfred Hitchcock: eggs, policemen

  • Okay, so, last night some friends of mine and I realized what it would take to make a Frog Dog. Right now we don't have the technology to make a hybrid animal but I'm sure our descendants will. They'll benefit from their ancestors' forethought, so I'm making sure they receive our advice about making a Frog Dog. I'm going to make a hologram recording (as soon as we have that technology) of myself that my grandkids can play when they're old enough to understand what it means. Imagine you are them and you've just pushed the button on the holo-projector and up pops me. Here is what I will say:

    First of all, don't just merge the DNA of a frog with a dog's. That's going to backfire. Anyone who has seen or read Jurassic Park knows you don't mess around with frog DNA. Frog DNA is the number one reason the disasters happened on that island.

    You're probably wondering, "But if there's no frog in my Frog Dog, how is it going to hop?" Well, that's easy. Use a kangaroo. And a newt.

    Voila! A kangaroo blended with a newt will make the perfect Frog Dog. Go out there and make it and make your grandpa proud.



    BrikWars - Wargaming with Legos (TM)


    An idea for a comic:

    Hark! Heareth the Dark Rumbling? 'Tis Yoom.

    Dr. Wolfencratz has discovered a way into hideous YOOM, a realm of monsters.

    What Terrors Not Meant for Man will he encounter?
    How will he hope to survive the nightmare?
    Won't he go Mad from the Insanity of it all?
    Join Dr. Wolfencratz on his harrowing journey... into YOOOM!

    In a terrible experiment gone wrong, Dr. W. has turned into gas and crossed over into another dimension. Is he a Monster? Or just some kind of gaseous blob person?

  • It seems the physical body I left behind was presumed dead by unenlightened authorities and summarily cremated. Blast. Now I can never return and must remain in this god forsaken hell world until the end of time.

  • I have enlisted the aid of a creature known as Chobs. He shall act as my personal (manservant and) valet until such times as I seek to dismiss him.

  • This ancient city of gargantuan beings has a name: Punalpaloo. 'Damp' is the only word I can find to describe it so far.

  • Differing as I am to others anatomically, I need not wear the masks. Frankly, I am gladdened by this; they've been known to chafe.

  • The floating sewers are lovely... if slightly ill-conceived.

  • A rotund gentleman offered me a smoking pipe; I declined. Once a respectable distance apart from him was reached, I had Chobs return to take it from the man, with instructions to fervently insist the paraphernalia was for Chobs himself, and not for me.

  • I have befriended a countess. She has introduced me to the fashionable and illustrious in society.

  • This morning I was assaulted by street ruffians of the worst sort. Chobs did what he could to defend my personal effects, but our assailants got the better of him. Pugilism has never been one of Chobs' favored vocations. He much prefers a well-tossed dart from a more removed and secure location. But I believe one can't rule out that our defeat in the fray was due in no small part to the limited reach of Chobs' arms.

  • I am not entirely penniless. I keep auxiliary expenses hidden within Chobs' natal sack. Being that he is now a male, he has no further need of it, and I find it roomy enough for a stashed purse or smuggled good (if such need arises on my travels).

  • Chobs is being a sport about his limp. On we go to Madgery, city by the Boiling Bay, the so-called "Gem of the Black Caverns".




    Mervyn Peake's illustrations look really cool and I am going to look into him and his work more. He wrote the Gormenghast trilogy which I've heard a lot about. That is a great one of the Walrus & the Carpenter (left), no?


    Here's my movie idea. I don't have a script or plot or anything, but I think this is enough of a pitch to get my movie bought and made and make me millions in moolah.

    It's an action adventure like Mad Max. There will be big epic battles and car chases (or equivalent). My entire movie takes place in Hell, aka the Underworld, the Afterlife, where you go when you die. In the story, there are those that get sent to Hell from our world, and there are those that are born there. These native denizens are known as the Hellborn. The characters in the film will be a mixture of Hellborn and immigrants.

    Here are a few of the main characters and suggested actors for their parts.



    Anna Paquin plays a Hellborn imp-catcher alchemist. She's never seen the "World Before" (what they call the living world), and she agrees to accompany Tim Roth out of the Abyss. Her girlfriend is an explorer and is missing.



    Oliver Platt plays her side-kick. He's an amicable Hellborn priest and comic relief.



    Tim Roth is a clever good-natured immigrant. He has been masquerading as a Hellborn bard. He is on a quest to get to Heaven because that his where his true love went when they both died in a car crash. He dreams of her, must find her, etc., etc. It's Orpheus in reverse.



    Christopher Eccleston plays some kind of bad guy probably.



    Adrian Brody plays the mad hermit named Algebra. You think he's a good guy but then he turns bad, betraying everybody.

    Maybe Natasha Lyonne plays Anna Paquin's character's girlfriend in flashback?

    So anyway...

    There is going to be a scene where our heroes weave their vehicles through the legs of colossal demons on the march, while being chased by aerial demons with shock lances.

    The movie can be called "Children of the Abyss", but personally, I think that's dumb. Go ahead and call it that, studio, if that's what it will take for me to be a millionaire. If anyone has a title suggestion for this, feel free to email me. It might very well cinch the deal with the studios.


    Linko:

    Space Ghost Coast to Coast Episode Guide with complete scripts.

    My brother Colin will be performing the title role in the musical, The Passion of George W. Bush, at the New York Fringe Festival this month.

    These are some old British superhero characters you've never heard of. How about Thunderbolt the Avenger? He has to be the lamest ever.





    ARCHELON vs. MEGATHERIUM

    This is the ultimate showdown. It's LAND against SEA in a battle where only ONE will STAND on the SHOULDers of GLORY.

    The battle we've waited 20 million years to see!

    It's the... The Fight of the Omnillennium.

    ARCHELON vs. MEGATHERIUM

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Archelon - Giant Sea Turtle



    ADVANTAGES:
  • Sharp, powerful beak - can break open shelled animals such as ammonites
  • Huge flippers - bound to pack a wallop
  • Enormous size - attracts a squadron of hangers-on such as juvenile fish as well as barnacles and parasites
  • Bony armored shell - protects and fortifies
  • Great wisdom brought on by age and experience - over 100 years old, possibly due to hibernating a lot on the seabed
  • Omniverous Appetite!!!

    DISADVANTAGES:
  • Slow moving
  • Can't withdraw its head or flippers inside its shell
  • Gets its ass kicked by the Mosasaur like every day



    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Megatherium - Giant Ground Sloth



    ADVANTAGES:
  • Curled claws on its back feet and long claws on the front - the size of big daggers
  • Thick tail with a blunt point - for bludgeoning
  • Enormous size - intimidates and reduces morale
  • Little pebbles on its bones - for protection
  • Slender and supple forelegs
  • Tougher than nails!

    DISADVANTAGES:
  • Slow moving
  • Clumsy because of its awkward claws
  • Gets its ass kicked by the Smilodon like every day



    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Now you can watch their Fierce Noble Combat. Order the Video of their EPIC DUEL Now!

    How did we do it? Good question. Since both are long extinct, Nate and I went back in time and set up a camera. Since both behemoths are so slow, it was simply a matter of collecting the footage upon our return to the present, and speeding things up with complicated speedening equipment. Now the battle takes place over several weeks instead of thousands of years. Enjoy our "play-by-play" commentary on every cunning move of these creatures in their battle for victory. Watch as Archelon's parasites attempt their deadly, albeit decade-long, job! And appreciate the grace of Megatherium's supple and slender forelegs.

    It's CLAWS versus BEAK in a STRUGGLE for DOMINANCE in a Forgotten Time of YORE!
    WHO WILL BE TRIUMPHERANT?


    Special thanks to our producers, Kelly and Jenny, for funding this operation.


    Links:

    Something about a crazy plague of sleep

    It's finally here. And it's amazing. Yes. Peasant's Quest

    Courtesy of Nate... Check THIS out! Chris Christmas!

    Courtesy of Suloni... look at scary nice doll designs. enjoy. The work of Elizabeth McGrath





    Warning to a friend:

    I know this:

    Crack C.I.A. Squads of Orangutan Commandos are Currently assaulting the Vatican and "they" are under the control of a Crystalline Entity, what is the Anti-Christ Crystal, and They Are BrainWishing you!!!!

    YOU, and only YOU. So take action, okay? I don't want to see you hurt.

    A concerned friend,

    Henry (-what is the Anti-Chrystal.. Aaaaah! Run The F#$% AWAY! )


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Later...
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    I don't understand, I overstand. And this is how my plot unfoils. Tomorrow at the immediate flight of dawn, I will send my orangutans into the Vatican to make with the crazy.

    Tomorrow is the day and it will be remembered (probably as "St. Bitchy's Day") and I will wear a scarlet top hat and matching spats. These three things will I require of my orangutans (and I would pay close attention in case you want in on the crazy):

    1) Break vases, jars, and other vessels, even if they contain holy water. Be mindful of cutting shards that will inevitably litter the floor after such shenanigans.
    2) Flap your shaggy orange arms like you're some kind of pathetic awkward bird creature. The funnier you look, the better.
    3) Howl at the whole of Christendom.

    My orangutans will be outfitted with the finest technological gear. This includes the iPod. The King of the C.I.A. is my puppet and I will see this country fall to the mindless but terrible powers of candy. Candy is my secret weapon and no one, not even you and your Planet Monkey, can resist it.

    You should know: On Planet Monkey, there is a war brewing. It is between the monkeys and the trees. The trees are kicking ass with their acorn bombs, but there is so much internal strife brought about by the protestors who argue that the army is killing innocent babies (which they are, since acorns are their babies), that they are probably going to lose the war with the monkeys who have superior flinging power. They fling honey. You should know. They have vats of it that they brew from the stolen honeycombs of Galactic Bees. Monkey pirates toil night and day up in the stratosphere of Outer Space, boarding giant hovering space hives by force and seizing the precious combs for the war effort. It is decent work if you can get it.

    Why this conflict, you ask? I'll tell you. No, I won't. Yes, okay, fine, I will. Um, Naah. Oh all right, you win. Here you go. You see, the monkeys are mad at the trees and the trees are mad at the monkeys because they are both so crazy cool, and jealousy is rampant and nobody can decide who is more crazy cool so they are killing each other with honey and acorns. It sucks. Somebody stop it.

    I am hoping my own modest attempts at f$#%ing up the Vatican with my brainwashed orangutans here on Earth will have some small effect on the peace efforts.


    Henry

    P.S. Are you at all threatened by (or perhaps slightly uncomfortable with) my Anti-Chrystaline nature? I admit I myself get the shivers sometimes from my own dark natural power.



    Excellent. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrel now has its own web site with lots of stuff in it.



    What do ya'll think about manticores? I'm just curious.


    Coded Descriptions of Exalted Volunteers (friends?)

    Sinker of Worlds --
    She is a Sinker of Worlds. A custodian of floodgates that, once opened, cause large quantities of liquid, presumably water, to soak the earth(s). Noah and her got a bone to pick with each other, this I tell you. Their enmity is ancient. Whose side is God on?

    Fool of Habit --
    Dexterous with the use of the jackknife and penny-shears, the Fool of Habit is no mean adversary in games of sidewalk appraisal. He has a coat of many tongues, and they do wag when the wry occasion incites him.

    Mr. Greenfudge --
    An article of green fudge inspires the name. His color is that of mud, however - confectionery mud. He's sharply dressed as always, with crisp hair and fine teeth. The signs of Mr. Greenfudge are the thumbs up, the wink, the air of open benevolence, the jovial wallop. Welcome his coming, not his going. Rest easy knowing, "Ah, here's a man," and thinking, "I don't really have to try."

    Swaggering Jewel --
    For the Swaggering or Stammering Jewel, it is polite to stare. On Sundays, he goes out washing. And he always has the cleanest trunks of the bunch.

    Unforgotten Prophet --
    Pickled and tarred, with a belly full of sand and sun - this is a wild fond one. In days before, you laughed at follies, shared a cloak. Fellow Guisemate, Rusewearer. Good times.

    Bunny, Rabbit, Moose --
    Hard not to like the cheery gray, the white bedazzled awkward eyes. It was the sight of sameness that comforted and stabilized. It was the same with difference. Off he hopped with wrong sword drawn. He didn't save your life, but you don't mind.

    Burnt and Wet --
    Smarter than whipcracks, this is Burnt and Wet. His whole head blazes, so I think. A beacon? An idol? Care to make a wager? Skirting along his trail to the breach and brink is a sure-fire way to wealth. Blinding pig sweat, unfortunately - now there's a caveat.

    Kindred Sad Sack --
    She's in the coven, the Kindred Sad Sack, donning her glorious fury gloves. Hers is the joy of the false antipathy. She whispers death to faded lines, points a clawed happy finger to Heaven or Hell, marries herself to rocks, and never curses. She gets your jokes.


    I have seen the future, and it's got a lot of cool vehicles.

    They finally found the Death Star. I suppose it was only a matter of time.

    I stand for Robot Equality.


    I owe a lot to Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Books. They're pretty much all I read growing up, and what I have of my mind was largely formed by them. My favorite was the Time Machine series. You get sent back in time to solve a mystery, and they even show before you start your mission what inventory you're going to take with you, like togas or muskets, or whatever. And the missions were usually pretty cool and interesting, like "who fired the first shot of the Revolutionary War?", "why'd the Pony Express last only 18 months?", "why did famously kind Queen Isabella permit the Spanish Inquisition?", or "what inspired a unicorn-like cave painting from the Ice Age?" It was great. One of the things I learned and never forgot is that it's easier to travel back in time when you're a child. Think about it. Say you drop in on a pirate ship. The pirates are just gonna be like, "Oh, a kid. I guess you stowed away on the ship. Um, you can be the cabin boy." But if you're an adult, there are too many questions to answer and you're probably going to get murdered or beaten or something. People usually don't beat up kids. At least they didn't when I was on my time-travels.



    Anyway, these books were good. They actually gave me a pretty good grasp of basic historical events, and history became my favorite subject at school (until I noticed the complete and utter lack of dragons, gods, Atlantis, time travel, laser guns, the fact that you can't be Napoleon and pick different outcomes for him, etc.). The weirdest book though was the one that took place in the Future. Very educational. I learned quite a thing or two about what's coming up. Look out for the first Cyborg president in 2020. Plus, the Psychics should get be getting their powers pretty soon. I won't give too much away, but I will remind you of the Civil Rights movement in the 60's, and then say, "you ain't seen nothing yet!"

    In fifth grade, before I was asked to play Julius Caesar in our school play, I was hoping I'd be given the part of Brutus. I'd already watched him and his fellow conspirators betray the Big Guy in the book, "Sword of Caesar". Hell, I was there! I think I was standing on a street corner nearby. Caesar, by the way, never thanked me for discovering the secret to the mystery of the seventh scroll, but you know, that's cool. I can let things slide. I'm a humble guy. He was probably distracted anyway by all his pals stabbing him to death and all that.


    Check out these superheroes made up by a Canadian fellow named Brad. My favorite is "Crustatron", although "Agua Man" would kick his butt like in no time at all.

    All the ones on the other pages are good too.

    The best of their respective pages are "The Silent Treatment", "Lime", "Lady Fungus", "Fat City", "The Purple Pagoda", a tie between "Jack Cardiac" and "The Irish Deer", and there's more pages but those aren't as good.





    ravings, or The Airplane Story, part 3 (written many years ago while on a plane trip)

    I carried it to a pond of black supper. My name is Shelly. I’m a writer. Notice the Big G’s? (Your joke)
    I carried these words through a pond of the darkest/most shadowed evening meal – An elaboration (My joke) I have some advice for my readers. Take time out before forcing food down my throat. Between each word here (prior to pond dump) is opulence-‘blank paradise’ (Ours)
    I was the one who coined the phrase: “Take time out.”
    Now it is a good preceder to many other hip kitsch goody pop idol internet-related buzz phrases (also Ours) If I were to wish harm on an old friend who deserved our current setup/time stance of luxury (unknown to previous generations) and polemic tastes on a bug that I don’t even notice,
          Would that CONDEMN me to a machinistic retro-cultural post-past “chomping-and-bomping”
          playground holiday display of fake plastic surface-level happiness cancer?
                    Gee Willickers
                         Count Me In!
                         (Could Melon?)
          -hoping for taste

    Craven.

    Octopussy was not a particularly good movie. I didn’t like how the James Bond character chose his actions. Either the James Bond character picked a random action, whose consequences were proportionally unrandom, OR :
    the James Bond character selected his activity out of several possible candidates, hopefully one whose consequences WOULD be random. If this latter choice was unprecedentedly UN-random, the James Bond character was given a wood box, to choose once more from a set of nine possible story outputs. The large computer that the villain devised to stop his own decision-making processes was extremely unnecessary
          SINCE all the villain truly had to do was become a slave to the James Bond character, thus giving his freedom to another, a childhood wish since the flashbacks at the beginning of the movie.
    The James Bond character, though stylish and funny to look at, had all his decisions made up for him by the movie, as far as I could tell, and this made him decidedly LESS funny to look at. The “Bond Girls” as I like to call them were okay. One was due to marry the villain in a later movie, but was bitterly disappointed when it was revealed during the movie that that was not indeed a part of the plot, nor was she due to appear in any other James Bond character movies, and neither was the villain, who was ordered to die by the movie itself. I felt sad at first, then less sad, then lesser and lesser as the movie progressed realizing that there was the possibility that I could marry the Bond girl. At the end, I became saddened once again when the villain died, because I knew she’d never marry only ONE person. I asked my friend Buddy who sat next to me, who is also a henchman of the computer (after the movie ended production), if he would co-marry the Bond Girl and he declined, stating in a long and heart-rending speech that “ONLY A HEARTLESS PERSON COULD HAVE LESS HEART” which really pissed me off.
    The Bond Girl becomes the computer at the end, of course. I should have realized this. Everyone in the theater had figured it out during the flashbacks of the villain’s childhood in the first few minutes and was yelling it out to each other, and passing notes with the solution around, as well as convincing the manager of the theater to flash subtitled solutions in blinking scrolling yellow letters down the screen and also on the seats in front of us. Unfortunately I had lost my sight and my glasses that morning and didn’t retrieve them till the notorious Bomb-Eating Scene.
    All in all, A Smashing time!

          P.S. Buddy behaved.


             
    Somebody give the cuttlefish a prize.


    Geniecorp genetically engineers household appliances.

    One of my favorites: someone called up one of those Fundamentalist Christian/New World Order conspiracy radio shows and this is what they said (==>mp3).

    Lord of the Rings movie made from classic film footage

    You can play one of the best games ever, Lemmings, on the web now. Crazy!

    What state are you? Me? I'm Vermont. I'm a sweet nuisance.


    ravings, or The Airplane Story, part 2 (written many years ago while on a plane trip)

    I wish somebody would come down from Heaven, wearing a gas mask and helmet with protruding star-headed magic wand, and banish the pimps of my hometown-to-be, “Sasfrass” to a better place. I don’t believe that the pimps would go, NOR would I expect the Heavenly visitor to descend --> HOWEVER
    I know for a FACT that if I were to wear a hood in a public place, people and animals would shower me with home-warming party appetizers, cause that’s just good old-fashioned DECENCY.

    Perhaps I need to clarify:
    I am not to be confused with Elvis
                because I am not Hamlet
    I am not to be thought of as potato
                because I am no hermit
    I am not to wish upon a Fat star
                because I spend too much time abating my master for an unceremonious hormonal disaster which consecrates (and perhaps precedes) a post-hormonal celebration.
    Amen.
    I am not to habitually allow the unmaiden transfused pearl gut
    it is NOT facetious
    “        “ prententious !!!
    NOR AM I INSINUATING IT…

    NON-PROCESS (OINK)
    Wishy Washy Mood Chin – cut Franky slap
    Good one homunculus stain fridge
    precious sanitary goodness inherent sexual
    malicious friend puppy pastry liquid ghoul
    craving cookie button push up ample pillow
    squeezing cotton clouds stringy cheese station
    maternal jackknife switching trace oversheet process
    maticulous pain heat burn bee bun flesh

    Let’s create utopias for our third children.
    How many halves of third children can you find?
    What is yellow, orange, plastic, and lives in a garden-of-Blue-Gray-Christmas?
    A: Third Children!

    Greg had a messed up face.
    He used bicycles as bludgeoning tools
    He watched boxing to get advice
    His mother painted eggs.

    Reality:
    The eggs were grown through a process of squeezing one’s hands until one was emitted from within.
    The popped out thing was then kissed to achieve its various decorative colors.
    Myth: If you push down on an egg it pops like a balloon.
    Fact: If you pull up on an egg it deflates.
        Don’t pull past halfway. May then pop like a balloon.
    unscrew the first egg that you see.
    Remember: No egg has a hinge
                        No egg has a lid
                        No egg has a key
    Here’s a little song to help you remember:

    Look at the egg
    See no access to
    Its inner parts
    CHORUS: Why? Why? Why?
    Repeat
    It has no access because
    It lacks certain
    KEY elements
    CHORUS: Why? Why? Why?
    Repeat
    Those elements HINGE
    On the balance
    Between one-and-one-and-one
    That is three!
    CHORUS: Why? Why? Why?
    Repeat
    I can’t tell you what they
    Are – They’re hidden in this
    song. One of them is LID.
    CHORUS: Aye! Aye! Aye!
    No repeat
    All together: Sho’Thinnnggg!

    Optional: Add “No Comprende Apprehende!”
    At the end to annoy your friends!


    Eggs lack invisibles, unlike their cousins, the furnace-boys.
    Using top-soil hot-processes, Uni-farmers can plant and ferment eggs every other day to increase the stack bulk produce. We call this Bracketeering. It is fairly simple. Disappointed?

    Poem inspired by plight of Egg-Puller (migratory)
    Can you mate?
    You ambivalent hate?
    Only pot roasts get blue goo
    Super Stuper Eh Chicken?
    Wish Was Not So Limp
    Wake up Funny Little Chimp





    Here are the last 23 headers in case you missed them:

    Welcome to the website that's...

    "the last of the mohicans!"
    "a gathering place for hippies and the like!"
    "MISTER website to you!"
    "a little weary of the popularity of monkeys!"
    "what Paul Revere would have wanted!"
    "MATHMAN. MATHMAN."
    "grody to the max!"
    "responsible for most of the world's farts!"
    "sippin' on gin and juice!"
    "just messed with the Juggernaut!"
    "in need of more sweet, sweet jack-o-lantern!"
    "having an existential crisis?!"
    "basically my idea of what constitutes excellence!"
    "sick, I tell you, sick!"
    "coveting your neighbor's wife's sister's dog's trainer's cousin's shoes!"
    "smelling of elderberries!"
    "sponsored by 'Tittie McChesterton's Fine Eaterie & Bar' TM , where 'all your food is served by women!' TM"
    "whatevs!"
    "abysmally confused!"
    "mercifully free of the ravages of intelligence!"
    "covered in bunyons!"
    "an anagram for 'wombat itches, towels teethe'!"
    "a nonsensical rebuttal to all things preternatural!"



    Love Comes to Koozbane


    Taken from this great site


    Animals whose names sound like pharmaceuticals

    Hyrax:
             

    Thylacine:
             

    Addax:
             


    ravings, or The Airplane Story, part 1 (written many years ago while on a plane trip)

    I never could understand why Cookie Monster demanded taxation on a kind of three-scope mini-disc (the type used for Air Conduit Subtraction) as if we were an annexed community sworn to an Egrarian Proto-Plebian aesthetic, not to ostracize Jews (who may have chosen other career paths).
    It’s not a rule. I haven’t devised our community’s “Methodology” for providing an Egg Folding on top. We may wish to ask the Governor, “Where do you want this?”

    Allow me to explain:
    There are at least 7 or 8 different carry-ons in this aggregate: the first:    Shal
        *scrawled vaguely figurative drawing with word ‘Bucket’ written to right*
    is a travesty(confused?)
        Me

        FORGET.

    Let’s focus on the asexual:
    I used a framing device to hold the present static form into a hold-density. This is only a sensitive-to-callow margin.
    : Not necessarily having perfect birthday oxygen suites (applied to lathered body)
    Malia pasted pocket lintoid on slivers
    causing crumbs, crusty outpourings
    finger smeared grease / patterned lick

    It’s of no clear use. I’ve tried a strangling rope using machine
                                                                                        (post-war avian)
    which stresso gave up after the spilling. You know, I’ve noticed recently (i.e. Over and over and over and
                                                                                                                                                         over and over and over)
    that there is a lack of fun pus. I don’t mean
    to sound crude or immature.
    Rather    I mean to sound
    cruel and immaculate
    But that’s up to my audience to decide
        Hoile! This is funny chimp whom I love dearly and w/o a love that has been conditioned and encouraged by our gender-dividing culture.


                  
                  
                  

    I don't believe in ghosts or U.F.O.s, but I DO believe in gremlins, "scourge of the motorcar". They're real and they're out there and they are getting more and more antsy. They want to mess up stuff more than ever. Anybody who says otherwise is fooling themselves and their actions will lead to World War 3 and we need to keep a watchful eye and stop forces like gremlins from stopping our machines. It's fire with fire, people. Gremlins aren't people and so they are undeserving of love and respect. I want to see gremlins fired from cannons and I want to appreciate finer things but I can't becuase gremlins are wasteful. Thank you to the president.


    20 ways to make CLONINGS work for you.




    It's a hot air balloon.


    Hey, I titled this site 'Random Things I Write Down' for a reason! Even more stream-o-consc from 3 years ago:
    I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR WELTS,
    I JUST WANT TO KNOW THEY’RE THERE.

    Lady of the data video, crank sock, belvedere velveteen, rock-n-roll.  Jason lips faking cram forty pounds of liver life, mountains, crybaby Why, when I look towards land below, do I think in terms of criminals vs. crepes.   Gainsay, fortitude, too-too bad, Chelsea, Wash-out, laminate our minds, caved in, poor cave man.  Stupid lovers sat chatting in a vat of candy of own making of own mating, how handy.  Swell with tools, laser-guided vision of asbestos asylum, where they teach you to bait the fish hooks, bait the fish hooks!, “all day long”.  Squeels and chortles from deprived, unknowingly, then later, hits like Cranberry Lake, inspired by reading clunky epic-inspired reading, Sorry bird, She hastened Using female pronoun She like I have permission, waiting to be arrested, police to arrive in afternoon of the fifth day, a removal of ownership.   But the raindrops aren’t even falling.   Cabot Lodge –No-Name, fades christendom.

    Zebulot and Rufus (Two-Four)
    Kilimanjason – tiny gorbachevs on the moon, hold parties lavishly executed by willing slime-slaves that look remarkably like fetal pigs but are in fact vegetables.  These watchdogs of the Lunar Sea placate enemy satellites (nicknamed “statellites” for no particular reason at all).   Friggurt the Namer is a little mad.  You might say he’s lost his huffle-balls, but why play into his silly game?  The forests are grown daily by the soulmates of the slaves, the Ogromats, funny fish beets that like their jobs.   Later in the day, if so inclined, the Ogroes tear down their forests.   All agree it would be fun to be an Ogromat.  You can sign up when you arrive.  Just hand over your citizenship to the many have-nots that line the expressway.  Once handed-over, you’re officially one of them.  Cables take your children to nearby amusement centers safely located within the nests of two opposing natural predators bent on the destruction of the other.   We had some fun sticking the two near each other in our fun den.   Evolution wisely had their two territories be far apart, but what are our human minds for but to devise ways to have some fun with our natural world (among other things)?   Your children will learn about fun and also, courage maybe too.   What better way to lavishly waste your life with decadence than knowing full well in your heart the future (your children) is in good hands… Our hands.   Our firm capable hands (or possibly the hands of angry natural predators).

        

    This comic, Daisy Kutter, looks like something I'd be interested in, I reck'n.


    And this here was an enjoyable photo webcomic, if I do agree with myself (and I do).





    Stick figure people running amok all over your screen!

    Oh no, even MORE stick figure people running amok all over your screen!

    Abrupt Change of Subject: Somebody's obsessed enough to find every comic book with a gorilla on the cover. I just don't understand.


    Still with the babbling stream-of-consciousness writing from three years ago:
    I changed octopulls for five avery nomenclature fortune denominator over a well-shaped dental pull.  It’s pull-time, cookies.   I call you cookies because you all seem adoptable; i.e. you are moppets, tiny whelps.  I discriminate fine grains of sumo sperm.  At each age, our nation evokes new plum-boys, which I like to call “grow-babies”.   The rise of them has made neurologists nervous.  With a touch of a bone, they peel off, leaving whisps of membrane, or stringbrain.   In only a year or so, we caught about seventeen shows when we visited you.   I can’t for the life of me ascertain how we coerced Paul Goons to join us in Hell.   He was always so Upgoing.

    “It’s a tribal thing”, said Taste as he wept for all things good and ripe.  The harvest is upon us and only our sampling of the dew gave enough insight into the coming crop.  I speak through doors.

    We stamped on tents, the fifth kind of tent I should say, and it was a delight.   The stars, the songs, a blurry man paste of temper.   I reached for a dachsund.   You know, those things are docile – they won’t even look you in the eye when you praise them.   Which, by the way, is like perfect for guardians 2.0, the program Hoogez invented that changes light into interactive fun.  My children enjoy using Pocket Prom ™.   It teaches them about giving, sharing, and humility, and discourages hording, gratifying, and the deeper opulences.   I have a baby-sitter that condones the place mat.  How can I get good help these days?   Are all my employees ignoramae?  With Swift Love I strike at thee.  And it will be a great husband for you.   But only when you give it three shots a day… and keep its nest warm.   Also, it likes it when you dress like a maid.

    Planet Pantaloons is the perfect place to start a family.   “Special” families need only apply, please.   We cater to monkeys.  Bring them.  Don’t make me beg.   We have bathrooms just for the monkeys.  They also get free room service and a complementary foot massage by one of our trained professional staff of live monkeys.   Which reminds me, we only hire monkeys for our staff; only the best monkeys work for us.   Fine, fine monkeys.   The kind grandma back at home wants to hear about.   So send her a letter about the monkeys.  I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Don’t like monkeys crawling on you while you sleep?   Fine.   We’ll remove the monkeys when you plan to go to sleep.   Not at any other time, however, will we permit you to have the monkeys removed.  Do you want to break your grandma’s heart?   No, the monkeys must stay while you are awake.  We want to bring you joy.  We have several sizes and shapes of joy, so be specific.   Our friendly staff can deliver it to your family in just a few short weeks for a small fee.   Keep your wallet handy wherever you when you visit us.   You’ll never know when you need it.   Think of the fun you’ll have waiting for the time to use it.   Now erase that thought.   We want you to be surprised when you get here!




    I need a new book to read. Which one of the eight do you think it should be?

    These three are big sci-fi/fantasy books that are universally regarded as excellent:

    1) Dune, by Frank Herbert - It's famous. Everybody's read it. At some point I should too.
    2) The Talisman, by Peter Straub/Stephen King - "One of the most influential and heralded works of fantasy ever written". But am I in the mood for something like this?
    3) Perdida Street Station, by China Melville - Highly praised, extremely detailed and rich world, and it's Steam Punk - considered the definitive work so far of that genre. But it's a huge book, and might be difficult to get into right now. Maybe I need something light and fun...

    Like maybe a kids book. One of my dream jobs is to write chapter books, so I should definitely find out what's out there. Here are three fantasy ones that I heard were good:

    4) Beyond the Deepwoods, by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell, the first book in the Edge Chronicles - Go to that link and click around a bit (especially "Explore the Edge")and while you do so, time yourself. See how long it takes you to realize that this might be something I'd be interested in.
    5) The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud - Supposed to be witty, and a lot like Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell for kids.
    6) King Fortis the Brave, by Ronald E. Snyder - People are calling this a classic and a masterpiece.

    Or maybe I just want to get away from fantasy and read some popular adult fiction books I heard were good:

    7) The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger - features a time-traveling librarian named Henry
    8) Middlesex: A Novel, by Jeffrey Eugenides - winner of the Pulitzer Prize, starts with "I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974."

    Oh wait, those are fantasy books too. Well, no surprise there.


                       


    The other night I made up an AWESOME song for Kelly. It went a little something like this (you know the tune) :

    Luck be a crouton TONIGHT
    Luck be a crouton TONIGHT
    Luck if you've ever been a crouton to begin with
    Luck be a crouton TONIGHT!
    A crouton doesn't... um, It isn't FAIR, it isn't NICE
    A crouton doesn't ... Er, when I bet my life on this DICE!
    So let's keep the ranch dressing light, never lose your crunchy bite
    Stick with me, crouton, I'm the one that ate your salad
    Luck be a crouton TONIGHT!


    It took me a while to convince her it was funny, but I did. Thus, my accomplishments have increased manyfold.




    If you're going to crash the Renaissance Festival, why not do it in style?... ROBOT style!
    Courtesy of yakkette.


    You know this reality TV show, "Fear Factor"? I'll never watch it (FYI). So, as I was fiddling about in my room during a commercial break for the Simpsons or something, I thought I overheard an ad for Fear Factor come on and say that there was a new series of it for people's pets.
    Man, that'd be messed up, right? I'm pretty sure I heard it wrong. Yet it sounds almost feasible. Watch out for it, I wouldn't put it past 'em.

    Say ,didn't Time Bandits have a reality torture gameshow? Jolly good film, that.




    Journey with me, people, to... LINKADELPHIA...

  • I think this is genius - A trailer for a parody of early adventure games brought to you by the Brothers Chap.

  • That reminds me, this video, featuring TMBG with HSR, makes me think the world must be on some kind of cosmic track to GROOVINESS.

  • Alice's Adventures Under Ground. It was the Rev. Charles Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll's) precursor to Alice In Wonderland, and I think it contains his own illustrations.

  • This guy made this video by editing together the 15 second clips he got from his little digital camera.

  • Play Castelvania online - impressive, if that's your bag.

  • Screen captures of the Transformers cartoon that are supposed to be funny, but really aren't.

  • Awesome, Childhood fan art! Colin and me relate. But does anyone else think this faq is a bit... much?





    Hello Everybody!
    This is a list of actual quotes of mine that I will one day say. Don't ask me how I know what I will say in the future. You wouldn't like the answer. Providing answers to such dangerous questions has been known to increase fondling in young teens. We don't want that, now do we ?

    NOTE: The 'Skanda' part of my name is an eventual mutation of my middle name 'Alexander' switching over some time in late 2006, early '07. Don't ask me why it changes in the future! Remember: teen fondling! 'Nuff said.

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "I feel entitled to hate you all."

        -H. Skanda Stokes, in an address to every living human being on earth, c. Aug. 2012

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Are all your friends named Jan?"

        -H. Skanda Stokes, to Bernice Hartch, whose friends named Jan will number in the thousands, c. Aug. 2018

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "I can't stand your thick face."

        -H. Skanda Stokes, also in an address to every living human being on earth, c. Aug. 2012

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Silence is Molten."

        -H. Skanda Stokes, trying to impress Bay J. Goldwasp at his great aunt's funeral, July 4 2007

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Shall I eye you with contempt?"

        -H. Skanda Stokes, to Bay J. Goldwasp, at a press conference during the Arson Trials, January 19, 2022.

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "You pretend you're innocent and it stands to reason that you will one day burn again. You will Re-burn - as it were, and be Reborn. And I hate you for it."

        -H. Skanda Stokes, to himself, right after receiving his famous face-tattoo, in a Chinese debtor's prison, c. 2014

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "You're middle name is Jan? Are you by any chance a friend of Bernice Hartch?"

        -H. Skanda Stokes, also to Bay J. Goldwasp, at a press conference during the Arson Trials, January 19, 2022.

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Since my declassification operation, I have found my new identity as an unhuman exospecies to be most satisfactory. I like my pronounced earlobes. They please me. Are they not handsome?"

        -from an interview in 'X-patriate' magazine, Apr. 2030

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "I don't see why you are all angry with me. You know you were asking for it."

        -to the human race, after renouncing it and calling it names, Dec. 2029

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "Why insist on making eye contact with them at all? I forget where on their heads the human's eyes are anyway."

        -during a panel discussion with fellow unhuman semi-clones, on the subject of ettiquette at the Coalition for Unhuman Neo Transpecies, c. 2094

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "I hate you all."

        -in an address to every living unhuman being in the galaxy, c. Jan. 2095

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    "I'm changing my name to Maxwell."

        -to a hologram of his mother, Sep. 2029


    Ch-Ch-Changes!


    More babbling stream-of-consciousness writing from three years ago:
    Go to eighty black pits.  Then go away.  You're not wanted.  We only take credit cards. It's that kind of place.   She's in the window dressed to the tail, a chinese feather coat bursts colors making stairwell illuminated with life, where one day death descended to get a cup of warm coffee, and waited for morning, thinking 'I wonder if today some girl was molested, abducted, and raped, murdered and left for dead far from her car, and wallets, and friends, and sanity, and sense, and goodness.'  I caught a cat-rack on film and I'm sending it to a quiz show cause I think quiz shows should show more submitted home video clips of weird things like my cat-rack.   I built it you know, myself,… out of cats.  I think Alex Trebec likes cats, or he will once he sees my rack.  I think Alex looks like a cat.  He'll want to meet me.  Maybe I should try punking.   My friends all think it's great, even though I just now made it up and don't know what it is..   But man, the peer pressure!   Endless nagging about punking.  "Punking this", and "Punking that", you'd think they just made it up instead of me.  I know punking involves a syringe that is 2 inches think and completely flat cause I just now made that up.  I also know it is worse than the speed-like drug I call Cap'n Crunchy cause Marty told me so, and I made up Marty, so I'd know!  What power I wield!  Today I yielded to Sally's advances.   This wasn't hard to do because I perceived no advances from her and didn't realize she was there the whole day, nor any day before that cause I've never known anyone named Sally.  Sallizorican, however, is another matter.   Yeah, me an' Sallizorican go way back, let me tell you.

    Me and Dockcow go towards Actual Prime, waiting patiently for the transatlantic flight to take us to Mooseface.  It's a boring day.  I'm honey.  She's liking it.   Funny how Monday isn't funny, when you're Friday's assassination attempts.  I don't mind fun.   It's just that afternoons can't bake for suicides.  Each cheese can make its own alternate version of a football game but without helmets.   Helmets protect our forefathers, but what about our foresons?  With a little sandquakerbox we won't be opening triangles into squares.  Another Monday, a catch-all phrase for the masses.   I pick one individual from the fruit mass; fortune cries.  Vote Apostate!  The only way anything will get accomplished is if you endure a firng squad.  latex firing squad.   By that I mean missiles.





    These are some insanely cute photographs I found here. (Note: the puppy's name is Napoleon.)


    This is the background, written before the campaign began, to one of my favorite D&D characters that I played. His name was "Gutter" and he was an evil little guy, sooner slash your throat than shake your hand. He rose to prominence as part of a group of adventurers known as "The Three-Headed Dragon". But he was justifiably beheaded by some random half-orc merchant (but not Freg - see below).

    ~~~~~~~~~~

    Name: Wyllis Thickbrush
    Race: Halfling
    Class: Rogue

    Fellow denizens of the underground call him Gutter.
    Enemies (and people from his old neighborhood (one of Aidonia's slums)) call him Thick, or Thicky.
    He hates it.

    Wyllis Thickbrush, aka Gutter, grew up in the Slums of Aidonia. At an early age he started running with a bad crowd, committing petty crimes (mugging, pick pocketing, robbery, etc) and getting away with them. The gang called themselves the Knives. One of the members was a big half-orc bruiser named Freg. Ever since they were kids, Wyllis was nicknamed Thick (because of his last name), and Freg was often nicknamed Thin, in reference to his size. Thick & Thin. The two were sort of the right-hand men (or "lackeys" depending on who you talked to) to the leader of their group, a human sorceror/rogue named Pyretto (aka 'the Stilleto'). But the thing is, Gutter couldn't STAND Freg, and still can't. Thinks he's an annoying idiot. Anyway, it wasn't long before the Knives were noticed by a large thieves' guild in the city. Pyretto was way too smart to be hanging with street hoodlums, and higher-ups in the guild took notice. He quickly rose through the ranks of the thieves' guild, leaving his Knives behind, and is now a boss of a crew elsewhere in the city. With no Pyretto to lead the gang, Freg took over command, what was left of it... and Gutter finally let him know how he felt about him : a dagger in his shin. The Knives, still under Freg's leadership, are mostly guild rejects and incompetant losers, but they consider Gutter ("Thicky") an enemy and would love to find him alone in an alley somewhere so they could jump him and slice his throat. So Gutter got as far as he could from those idiot Knives and joined the guild. He started working for a group of reputable soldiers in another part of the city. It was here that he earned the nickname of Gutter and his reputation for being vicious. But now something's happened and he's not running with his crew anymore. Something involving an armored halfling and dragon tattoos. And he's been teamed up with a couple of adventurers....





    Turning the tables on Nigeria's e-mail con-men - By Getting Them to Join Your Made-Up Religion!








    I've archived the first six of these. You can find them here:





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