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New Yeti Update

Antiliger Alliance
Broken Poem Generator

Highlight for answer to below riddle:     The man was a lion tamer.

He couldn't find a chair, so he died.

Sarlo's Guru Rating Service
Boy is this weird
David Lynch gives a daily L.A. weather report

A couple ideas developed by me and B, like a year ago

  • "A Thorny Sandwich"

    Say you want something. You want something real bad. You are willing to sell your soul to get it. Okay, you go for it. Soul sold. Now what? Inevitably you are going to want something again just as bad. But now you don't have a soul. You don't have anything to bargain with. The Devil is just going to ignore you. But what if you could buy a soul yourself? Replace the one you already bargained away. At Secondhand Souls we have a soul for you. Now the Devil's going to take notice. We put the Devil on your other shoulder!

    The problem is the cloned souls aren't that valuable to the Devil, let's face it. He knows it's a copy. Don't expect him to provide you with your biggest desire. The best you could hope for is maybe something small, maybe something like a sandwich if you're hungry. Of course, knowing the Devil, it would probably be a sandwich with thorns in it.

  • "Insects" (discussed during one phone call while at work):

    I have an injured toe. So I can't go to kung fu class. Not unless my special move was called "Blood to the Face". But actually more like "Stand Without Moving Legs". Or "Pillar of Strength". Or more like "Sit On Sidelines".... or how about "The Presence"?... which involves sending out vibes of violence and winning just by being in the room.

    The B. Man suggests cutting off one of his toes and giving it to me to replace mine. He says he's got ten and that's plenty to spare. I point out that what I really need is a big toe and he's only got two of those. Also, I would need the right-foot big toe, and he's only got one, so... It does occur to me, however, that we can cut off one of his smaller toes and see if it grows when you put it in a glass of water. B. says he's up for trying that. I say that I think he should try it and that I support him in this and I would even refuse to accept the toe even if the experiment worked and they had the technology to replace my current damaged one. He says no problem, agrees to do it, and explains that it would be an homage to the film, the Big Lebowski. I offer the idea of maybe getting Alamo Drafthouse to plan a screening around that. He suggests having them project it onto his face while he is cutting off his toe. He worries about the difficulties the audience might have in viewing such a small area of screen (his face). I suggest that insects be invited to attend. They'd be small enough to view it. He thinks that's a good idea, pointing out that bugs are an untapped demographic. They've been around so long they're probably really wealthy. I agree, pointing out that they probably have inherited a lot from the dinosaurs. When the dinosaurs went extinct, I explain, they must have willed their possessions (gold, what have you) to someone, right? It surely wasn't the mammals. Insects gotta be the inheritors. There were tons of insects back in the dinosaur times. They were even around before the dinosaurs, around forever. Even during the molten times. I remind B. of the Lava Bug. Yeah, B. says, the Lava Bug Rocks. I concur. I notify him that the Lava Bug changed its name and we now know it as... the beetle. B. points out that it's good that they changed their image, and we discuss how important that is, especially when you've been around as long as the bugs and don't want to repeat yourself. We agree that humans, for example, don't need to change their image because they really haven't been around very much, just a blip, really. B. points out that insects have so many years of experience. They have so much wisdom. Yeah, I say, you really don't have the wisdom unless you have the wisdom that comes from eons. Humans just aren't catching on. I point out that insects can understand humans, but humans can't understand bugs. That's why the Big Lebowski screening will work out. B. says 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 say, yeah, that's 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, like the bees, just buzzing when they meet us outside. This is what we decided: The messages of the roaches are... Don't go killing each other. And most mysteriously... Don't sing so much. We as humans still don't know what this latter one is supposed to mean, but we assume the insect kingdom knows what it's talking about, and time will tell. B. and I agree to write a musical entitled "The Last Musical" about the insects finally getting their message through, and at the very end of the musical, the humans finally understand and stop their singing, and there is never another musical ever, and our musical literally becomes the last musical... EVER.



    Stuff on the web these days:

  • Watch the video of the amazing giant walking thing...
  • Say what you will about Michael Jackson...
  • China is for the skilled...

    The trip to New York was a smashing success. Here is me with the cast and director of my goat myths. They did an unbelievably good job.

    Speaking of unbelievable good jobs, here's Colin with my niece Charlotte.

    And here's me and Kelly at the Love statue near the new MOMA, where we met up with Sean and had yummy Thai food.

    We also hung out with almost all of the awesome and talented people of Partyka. And we saw the Max Ernst exhibit at the Met, the Maurice Sendak exhibit at the Jewish Museum, and the Billy Joel musical. We got lost in Central Park, ate Italian food like nine times, saw M.Doughty of Soul Coughing walking through the park, celebrated my 28th birthday, and bought $3 umbrellas in Times Square (which was exactly what I did last time I was in N.Y. three years ago).

    Cavalcade of Personalities - more funny stuff from the I Love the 30s people.
    I Used To Believe - childhood beliefs that don't end up being true.
    Death rays - a list of them.


    From the Circus Museum... Tom Jack, The Ice King!
    Wish I could find more info on him. He made for quite a striking magician, in my opinion.


    kung fu video game where you do real kung fu
    this person makes a stuffed animal every single day
    beast blender lets you mix it up all dr. moreau-style
    a big ol' table & chair for you to gawk in awe at
    i bet you there's some good stuff in here
    like a hammer hits a cantaloupe, there is no longer hope

    A new photo of Charlotte, played here by Judi Dench:

    And how about one of me as a kid in a purple hoodie? Do I not look good in that purple hoodie? I owned the town in that purple hoodie.

    Linky Fun
    Augenblick Studios
    Mark Bodnar
    Sheetghosts RULE!
    Bacteria causes Bermuda Triangle?!
    For a quarter century now, this embattled hero has staved off the forces of darkness... (via Em)
    Update on The Guardians of the Planet Earth that stole Dalek

    Toucan Toy Round-Up!

    If my friend does start up her own toy store, she will need to stock it up on lots of Madam Gingerbell merchandise.

    Like this stuffed animal!...

    Or this pull-toy!...

    It will be an awesome store now.


    For anyone interested, if you get me this for my birthday, you can have the jaguar and the gorilla. Okay, maybe not the gorilla. I can always paint that white and add it to my abominable snowman collection. Oh, what the hey, keep the gorilla. Just open up the package, pull out the toucan and make that my gift. It's the gift that gives you a jaguar and a gorilla!


    My friend's also going to need Magna Morphs for her store. These toys let kids mix and match different animal parts to make wacky hybrid animals. You can't go wrong!

    Aquatic Set
    Aquatic Set 2
    African Set
    African Set 2
    Asian Set
    North American Set
    South American Set

    There is a Magna Morph toucan, but it's not exactly Madam Gingerbell. To me, it looks a little too much like a puffin.

    The Puffin

    I should take this opportunity to explain exactly what makes Madam Gingerbell merchandise.

    Observe! The beak must be primarily yellow or orange. It can have some red, but not too much. Absolutely no stripes. It should probably have a black tip. The body, including wings, should be entirely black with a white neck-front. No colorful feathers on the wings. There can be a little color where the tail meets the body, preferably red. The eyes should be blue, and the area around them, yellow. The feet should be typically colored blue but this is flexible. The feet and claws are the most flexible parts. They can even be orange. Whatever.


    Examples of Correct Gingerbell Collector's Items


    This little one fits the criteria, but it is a little bit too disheveled to be the consistently-composed Madam of fabled lore. Some long lost sloppy relative, perhaps? I call this one the "Moffett Toucan" (not because my friend Moffett is sloppy, but because this reminds me of one of his drawings. IRRUMPO!)


    Examples of Incorrect Gingerbell Collector's Items


    This one's so wrong I don't even know where to start.


    ...of the Mole People

    What does it mean to be one of the Mole Men of the Mole People?

    I think it means to terrify.

    Even America's greatest heroes have taken them on. They are hideous and belong in deep dark places below the ground where you can't see them.




    These days it's easy to look like one. Masks made to simulate their horrible visage are sold at all participating costume shops.


    There are many mole men in the popular culture. Take for example the supervillain Mole Man who battled the Fantastic Four on at least two separate occasions.

    Technically, he wasn't one of the Mole Men of the Mole People, but he was the cruel overlord of the Moloids, who are definitely bona fide.

    As are these fellows from animated comedy cartoons:


    What are people saying about them?

  • Evil Mole People Found In Wyoming

  • According to this site, the Mole Men of the Mole People are classified as "Terrestrial semi-humanoids". I'd like to suggest the following alternative: "Sub-Terrestrial semi-humanoids." Agreed?

  • Forget Aliens and UFOs for a moment...

    And now a message from a Mole Man:

    Some Cool Crazy Cats. These cats are really crazy cool...

    Check this out:
    Freaking Rad is what it is.

    Questions Worth Asking

  • Why do witches have warts?
    In the Middle Ages, it was believed that witches directed their imps to carry out evil deeds upon innocents in exchange for suckling upon their fingers or bodily protuberances. If you wanted to find a witch all you had to do was examine a suspected witch's body for warts, discolored skin, or unnatural lumps... for these were the tell-tale signs of nipples for imps!!!!

  • What's wrong with you?
    My brains don't work.

  • Who's, what's, when's, where's 'titanotherium'?
    It's a prehistoric rhino, otherwise known as Brontops.

  • Shouldn't Captain America be promoted?

    These are questions worth asking.

    The 2000 year old seed of an extinct date palm with healing properties has been found and regrown

    Nintendogs is a big hit in Japan. For the gameboy, it's a realistic pet dog simulation with like 50 million things you can do.

    Remember adventure games like King's Quest? Where'd they all go? Well, nowadays people make them all up on their own. We've reached that level of technology. This site reviews some of the home-made ones.

    Two Robot Updates, Two Days in a Row? It Must Be 'Two-Robot Tuesday' or Something!



    Martian sunset!

                                    Martian sunset!

                                                                    Martian sunset!

    My favorite palindromes of the day:

    Dr. Awkward
    Stop! Murder us not, tonsured rumpots!
    Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?
    What an interesting name you have, Mr. Mevahuoyemangnitseretninatahw!

    Dalek prop kidnapped by 'Guardians of the Planet Earth'
    SurLaLune Fairy Tales
    10 Types of Movie Villains

    Curiosity led me to click from Jon's blog to Su Doku, a newspaper puzzle game that has been a huge hit in England recently. Well, count me among the throng. It's like a crossword puzzle except you don't have to know the meaning of any words. I don't want to know any tips or tricks because part of the fun is discovering them on my own.

    Robots and Drums...
    Two things that have always always ALWAYS!!!!!! gone well together.

    If you ever want your band to be a success, put a robot on drums.


    This is the MYTH FEST promotional email with details on how to attend if you're in the N.Y. area June 20-23!

    It's Myth Festival time again!

    Our 2nd Annual Festival of Myth will be June 20th - June 23rd

    @ 7pm @ UNDER St. Mark's.

    It's a really exciting selection of work this year - an irreverent blend of the ancient with the contemporary. We've got mythic staged readings aplenty! Magic! Music! Muses! Myths!
    Short plays! Long plays! Prose! Poems!

    Join us!

    Details follow. . .


    MYTH FEST '05

    June 20th (Monday)
    Euterpe, Erato and Polyhymnia
    Sissy Fuss - Bill Davis and John Ruemmler
    The Box - Corinne Fleisher
    Greek to Me - Kristina Meek
    "What the Echo Knows" and "Eve Speaks" - Monica Raymond
    "Gretel Turns 17: Or I never got my Disney Movie" and "what the earth mother wants" - Jenny Seidelman
    In Their Place - Henry Stokes

    June 21st (Tuesday)
    Calliope, Clio and Urania
    Hoax! - Pamela Monk

    June 22nd (Wednesday)
    Terpsichore, Thalia and Melpomene
    Medea at Athens - Jeanne Drennan
    Four Made up Myths from Four Made up Cultures about how the Goat Got Its Hair, Rather Hastily Told - Henry Stokes
    A Story About Magic - Jeff Grow and Courtney Cunningham

    June 23rd (Thursday) Reading of Messenger Theatre Company's work-in-progress: The Great God Money
    Come and be a part of our development!


    Readings directed by: Chris Alonso, David Bengali, Emily Davis, Miriam Eusebio, Alexis Goldberg, Myles Goldin, Kate Marks and Matthew Wages


    UNDER St. Mark's
    94 St. Mark's Place, between 1st Ave and Avenue A
    Basement space, no wheelchair access

    suggested donation - $7

    Link Recommendations

    Remote-control Loch Ness Monster, Available next year
    Excellent zombie puppet show video, Courtesy of Wendy via Em (quicktime)
    Dinosaurs vs. Noah's Ark!, Guess whose side God is on?
    Creepy Soviet Gas Mask, Only $20
    Catalogue of Entrances to Hell, Just what it says

    What sophisticated computer technology you have in the future

    Logo trends
    28 rooms
    I thought of this dumb idea last night. Sure enough, it exists.

    And my favorite site of the day:
    So You've Decided to be Evil

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

    Welcome to the website that's...

    "singing a song to the pirate crime-fighter, urging him to pick one avocation over the other - for he cannot be both, as the concepts are mutually exclusive!"
    make coerce your day, if you'll just give it a chance $500.00!"
    "an omen of Ragnarok (i.e. the Norse apocalypse)!"
    "never gonna get it, never gonna get it, never gonna get it, never gonna get, never get it... no, not this time!"
    "this close to selecting you as Miss Scarlet Harlot 1997!"
    "a product of its parents' ardor, just like you!"
    "not the druids you're looking for!"
    "beta-tested until appealing to the palette of discriminating gourmands!"
    "shooting lasers out of its eyeballs, yes it's awesome!"
    "secretly frightened of beluga whales, tell no one!"
    "Her Majesty's secret serpents!"
    "brought to you by Crazy Crawdad's Crapeteria, where it's a lot like Hooters!"
    "about to transform... *eeent-cheent ahht chuk choo*!"
    "in its underwear eating a bowl of Froot Loops!"
    "most definitely gotten to England or carried exotic spices from the Indies with only its legs!
    "gone back in time and disguised itself as Lincoln's handkerchief just so that it could physically touch the nose of HISTORY!"
    "alive and well and currently living in Grand Rapids, Michigan!"
    "got a quest to undo the spell of living stone cast upon its family by driving the evil serpent-men back into another dimension, and vanquishing their leader, the cruel wizard Rathamon!"
    "not as much fun as advertised!"
    "wishing it were anywhere but here!"
    "also a floor wax!"

    Least Wanted's photos

    Han and Leia: a love story

    Silvertoons character designs

    Fevolution: the art of Eric Feng

    I'd like to say Happy Birthday to my niece Charlotte Stokes who was just born today, and Mazel Tov to her proud happy sleepy parents! Woo hoo!!!!!!!!!
    Call me Uncle Henry

  • I just thought you should know: Dolphins use sponges.

  • 2002 was an excellent year for lard sculpture.

  • Click on the objects in the border at Bzzzpeek to experience onomatopoeia from around the world!

    Found in my in-box today regarding a recent reminiscence posted on this page...

    To the editor:

    I am loath to point out but feel nonetheless obliged to do so: you dreamt a piece of musical theatre that already exists. Whether you stumbled independently on a 125-year-old idea or merely failed to recognize it in your state of unconsciousness, I cannot guess. The show is of course "Pirates of Penzance," in which the hero Frederic, raised by pirates, desires to join the police force in order to be with his love Mabel. Much droll, Gilbert & Sullivan-esque humor is derived from the difficulty of his simultaneous crime-fighting and pirate obligations, climaxing in a song whose repeated refrain, sung in close harmony, goes thus:

    "A paradox,
    A paradox,
    A most ingenious paradox!
    Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

    Though not originally arranged for barbershop quartet (as this style of music had not yet developed), the recent ship-bound and updated production in New York did in fact employ such an idiom to this very section.



    Is it a coincidence? Or a mangled memory? It is itself a most "ingenious paradox". I have not seen the musical in question since I was a child and admittedly can recall little from it. If my sub-conscious had indeed dug it up, it must have gone rather deep. But the possibility exists! Thank you, Doug, for bringing this to my attention. Extraordinary.

    Here is a photo of the author of the crazy book I got Emily for her birthday about the evolutionary future of humankind. We both noticed from the pictures that the future of humankind has no females. Uhhh.. Anyway, click on the above photo to see the name of the author. I like his name. And these are some of the funny illustrations from the book that I scanned before I sent it off.


    Links: Just one, for fun

    Monster Engine - What would children's art look like if painted realistically?

    My fictional band has a blog:
    Marfa & the Worthies

    Review from "Indie India":
    Marfa and the Worthies have a synth-pop bull-rock asthetic of twisting metal chords and smooth echo jazz. It's like a cool re-verbed riverbed of jagged hornet's flames. Henry Stokes on drums provides a near perfect reincarnation of the death gods of lore. It's a Seance Renaisance! I also like their choice of colors on the t-shirts. This band is "worthy" of your ululation.

    David Bowie - David Robert Hayward Stenton Jones
    Cher - Cherilyn Sarkisian
    Alice Cooper - Vincent Damon Furnier
    Elvis Costello - Declan McManus
    Billy Idol - William Broad
    Elton John - Reginald Kenneth Dwight
    Iggy Pop - James Jewell Osterberg, Jr.
    Randy Travis - Randy Bruce Traywick
    Tina Turner - Annie Mae Bullock
    Stevie Wonder - Steveland Hardaway Judkins

    Escher Photoshops
    The Freaky Universe of McDonald's Commercials


    It is the best cartoon theme-song. He's more powerful than any man. With his "manic sword".

    Feel the power.... (sometimes excluded)

    You Down With O.P.T.?

    j. writes:

    I believe that one of the requirements for the existence of the Omega Point - an eventually collapsing universe - has been observed to be false. As such, we are not allowed to believe in the O.P.

    We're not allowed to believe? No fair! I for one want to be awakened by the giant supercomputer in the virtual reality world after I die. As I understand it, it's just like "the Matrix" but without the need of our physical bodies to power it. Huge bonus: no Keanu Reeves. Although he will get resurrected along with everyone else, he won't necessarily be the character he plays in the movie. I am looking forward to an existence where Keanu Reeves is not my savior. I'm also hoping black leather outfits are a lot less popular.

    So is it the Big Crunch that is false? Well, I'm willing to bring about some sort of Big Crunch if it gets Keanu Reeves out of the picture. It sounds like a cereal. I can handle a cereal. Tell me what I need to do and I will bring on the Captain Crunch.

    Long and Strange Band Names - my fav is 'Anthrapology Will Remain Spelt Like This'
    T-shirt design - for today's youth
    Infernokrusher! - a manifesto for a new literary genre (parody)
    Pinky and the Brain quotes -

    Brain: "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"
    Pinky: "Whoof, oh, I'd have to say the odds of that are terribly slim, Brain."
    Brain: "True."
    Pinky: "I mean, really, when have I ever been pondering what you've been pondering?"
    Brain: "To my knowledge, never."
    Pinky: "Exactly. So, what are the chances that this time, I'm pondering what you're pondering?"
    Brain: "Next to nil."
    Pinky: "Well, that's exactly what I'm thinking, too."
    Brain: "Therefore, you *are* pondering what I'm pondering."
    Pinky: "Poit, I guess I am!"

    According to Frank Tipler's Omega Point theory, we'll all be resurrected after our deaths (at a point in time equal to God) by an intelligent civilization's giant supercomputer and placed into a virtual reality world. Some say it's an attempt at scientifically validating heaven. Boo yah.

    Check out Orion's Arm, a far-future sci-fi worldbuilding endeavour, which has incorporated Omega Point theory into its theology.


    Popular puppet show
    I LOVE Megafauna
    James K. Wong is the bong

    I know this is important to you, so I'll just get it out of the way:

  • I don't like nuts in my brownies.
  • I don't like raisins in my cookies.

    Now on with the show...


    When I was a kid I used to pretend with my friends that we were the actors that played the jawas. We didn't make-believe that we were the jawas. No, we imagined we were the actors that played them. We would watch the scene over and over in Star Wars and remark on how well we acted in it. I was the one that had the special zapping device that stuns R2. I mean, I was the actor that played the jawa that zaps R2. In retrospect, I had to hand it to the prop guys. Their ingenuity definitely aided me in my performance. Plus, sound man Ben Burtt made excellent jawa language in post. It really was an ensemble piece, come-to-think. I'm proud of the make-believe work we did.


    I recently had this dream that I made up a song and was singing it through the night. Here is what the chorus basically was:

    "If you're gonna be a pirate then you really shouldn't fight crime"

    It was being sung by a guy to his friend who was a crime-fighting pirate. With the song, he was gently trying to convince his friend that he'd better pick one avocation and abandon the other, because being both just didn't work. Each one negates the other.

    Later in the song there's a point where it goes (like a barbershop quartet):

    "Oh! The concepts are mutually exclusive. Yes! The concepts are mutually exclusive!"

    I think this should actually go into a musical. Many I have met are like-minded.


    A couple of weeks ago I ran into someone who I used to work with. She said hello, and then asked me a peculiar question:

    "How's your refrigerator?"

    I smiled and looked at her askance.

    "Er, I mean refrigerators... it's plural, right?"

    I just kept smiling, hoping what she was talking about would somehow be made clear. Could she possibly know of the refrigerator problems Kelly and I had back in the Fall? the one we bought didn't work and we had to switch out the old one for the new one and it was a big hassle? Kind of amazing that she knew about that.

    "Refrigerators! Yeah, it's plural," she said.


    Finally, I realized an explanation was not forthcoming from the woman, so I said:

    "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

    "Oh, you know, your character? ...Refrigerators?"

    Ohhhh. She was talking about Furnitures! She must have learned about him back at the old job in 1999 because I'd made some figurines of him for some co-workers. I told her it was actually "Furnitures", and said that I should make "Refrigerators" a relative of his or something.

    She said, "Yeah, his football-playing cousin!"


    So we know who Deep Throat is. Damn. I was kind of hoping it would stay a mystery. I remember as a kid thinking that the biggest mystery of our time was how the dinosaurs went extinct. I thought one day they would figure it out, and it would be this huge revelation. I hoped and prayed that some time in my lifetime I would learn the truth. I guess somewhere along the way they decided it was from an asteroid, and left it that. Nobody cares. It's all kind of anti-climactic. Kids today probably don't even care why the dinosaurs went extinct. And now I am not entirely sure I care either. But wow, Deep Throat. I wonder if anyone cares.


    Also as a kid my brother and friends used to make-believe we were Darryl Hall & John Oats, the 80s pop stars. Only there were too many of us, so some of us had to be the other band members, whose names we didn't know. First, we would play the songs like "Method of Modern Love" (which by the way, has awesome spelling fun going on in its chorus: "M, E, T, H, O..", etc.) in the living room and perform them as if we were on stage as our imaginary counterparts. Even though I was technically supposed to be the drummer, I still air-guitared along with everybody else. Hey, who's to say that an air-guitar in our imaginary world can't produce the sounds of a drum? It's the 80's man. They got that kind of electronic technology. It's a sonic revolution in time. Anyway, after our concert we would run outside and continue the adventure. You see, Darryl Hall & John Oats (names must always be separated by ampersand) and their bandmembers were not just musicians, song-writers, and all-around great guys. No, they also fought crimes. And solved mysteries. And averted natural disasters. They had a hide-out in a tree-house. Their manager knew their secret tree-house phone number. I was totally cool with being The Drummer who has no name. Who wants to be all well-known and crap? And besides, I was the actor that played the jawa with the zapping device. I was well aware of my own self-worth.


    I only post pictures of robots here because I know how much you guys love them.

    The Gallery of the Absurd
    The Archive of Fictional Things
    The Evolution of the Batmobile

    I didn't like the new Star Wars movie at all. It ruined all the earlier movies, and I now don't consider myself much of a fan of them any more. I still like jawas though. At least they weren't entirely messed with. I mean, George could have revealed they were all Yodas under their hoods. Thank you, George, for not making the jawas yodas, because I realize you easily could have. You probably cut it out at the last second. I know to you it's probably some brilliant idea, like how the stormtroopers are all actually boba fetts. At least I have the jawas. Please go away, George, and make your "experimental films". You've done enough damage to something I liked.

    I am enjoying Jon's blog. For his research, he is trying to locate a model of dislocation behavior during the plastic deformation of crystals. It might sound less brave than it actually is. Good luck to you, Jon.


  • children who are victims of stokes

  • Top 100 American Speeches by Rank

  • Seriously rad interview with Chris Ware (Jimmy Corrigan) and Archer Prewitt (Sof' Boy)


    It is odd but the doctors of Europe wore this uniform to treat people with the plague. The beak of the birk mask contained medical herbs and fragrances to filter the air. The coat was covered in wax, and the rod was carried to inspect and disrobe patients from afar. A plague doctor in such garb became a much mocked and jested character in Commedia dell’Arte.


    Owen Goodyear of Rum & Monkey writes some funny things:
    The Letters Of Lackwell Piddletrenthide
    Interview: Javelins O'Callaghan
    Soul of Wit

    Last night I dreamed that I was trekking by foot through a strange colorful city, thoroughly lost and feeling nervous about it. My friends Chuck and Jenny joined me, which alleviated some anxiety. After hopping up the steps of a bridge into a park, Chuck found some blue bicycles in a heap on the ground. I wondered if they technically were ours for the using, but he seemed to think so. Perhaps they were public bicycles provided by the city, but even so, how would their most recent users feel to find their bikes gone on their return? Only one bike was normal-shaped, and being a nice guy, I offered to take a weird one. It had a tiny little wheel way out in front and no apparent back wheel. Chuck got on his bike and I said, "Hey, push that button to turn on the ocean", for there was a button on his bike with water on it. We laughed, but then I realized that in fact the bicycle did run on the ocean. "How does that work?" I asked Jenny. She said that humankind had figured out how to harness the power of the ocean to do all sorts of things, like power bicycles. We had apparently developed the ability to hook the ocean up to generators using its "hydraction". "Well, that's just fantastic," I thought. "Good for us." It wasn't until I woke up that I realized bicycles don't need anything to power them except good old-fashioned leg power. They certainly don't need the ocean.

    This morning I created the idea of the Three D's: the Dragon, the Damsel, and the Demon. It can be used as a parable or an allegory on morality, or on narrative, or whatever you want, really. I'll leave it up to others to use it effectively. And I won't charge a penny!

    Once there was a Dragon hungrily approaching a distressed Damsel. It opened its mouth revealing rows of fangs. "Oh no!", cried the Damsel. "Don't eat me!" The Dragon ignored the Damsel's cries for help. It clamped its jaws shut on her and swallowed her down. The Dragon was content. Then, from inside the Dragon's belly, the Damsel could be heard cackling, "Ho! Ha! Ha! Hee! Ha!" And suddenly the Dragon exploded in a burst of purple flames! For the Damsel was in fact a Demon in disguise, and off it flew into the night to deceive, destroy and defile.

    I will consider acquiring the comic Isaac the Pirate by Christophe Blain of France.

    By way of Brian: Dimes Must Die!

    Golden Age Comic Cover Gallery, particularly this one.
    Ryan Greis' hillbilly paintings

    Gods & Goats... LIVE!

    The Messenger Theatre Co. of New York has decided to adapt two of my writings for the stage, as part of their Myth Fest, June 20-23. Kelly and I are planning on traveling up there to attend, so expect a full report. The two things they're using first appeared here on this very page, and I've included links to them below if you want to check them out. I have no idea what to expect but am excited to see what they come up with. I hear they're very talented and witty folk. It's funny, you write something silly and then don't expect it to be performed (possibly with the use of puppets!) on the New York stage in just a few months. Crazy.

    1 -- In Their Place, a myth

    2 -- Four Made Up Myths About Goats


    How to Perform Strongman Stunts, 1952 guide with funny illustrations

    Someone, Somewhere, mp3 by Luke Temple

    Unusual Cards


    I think I want to see the terrible 1979 Star Wars rip-off Starcrash.
    A couple of quotes to feast on:

    "You know, my son, I wouldn't be Emperor of the Galaxy if I didn't have a few powers at my disposal. Imperial Battleship, halt the flow of time!"

        -- The Emperor of the Galaxy

    "Time for a little robot chauvinism."

        -- Elle, an ersatz C3PO robot

    Isabelle Arsenault, Illustration
    Culture Made Stupid, Cave art hoax hits British Museum
    Undiscovered Monkey, In Tanzania

    No question about it, if I am ever writing a book I'm paying Bob Odenkirk the dime it would cost to get this blurb on the back cover!

    "I loved this story! It’s got everything; murder, retribution, justice, family humor, a hot-rod that talks, the key to black-holes, a shoe-horn that talks, loss of innocence, innocence regained, a map to the louvre, camping descriptions, erotic passages, an infant Hitler you’ll grow to love, a dancing surgeon, a talking whale, a talking button, a talking Pope, a franco-philes tour of Paris in the 20’s, a list of ingredients, clichéd metaphors strung together like nobody’s business, an indictment of the military-industrial complex, an old woman with a secret (she’s really a man), and 5 more things I’ve forgotten. Okay, so it doesn’t have it all. But it has 27 things and that’s a lot!"

    From this entry of his blog which has more blurbs for sale.

    I am pleased to announce the formation of the Event 18 blog, already in progress:

    Event 18 blog

    I am an honorary member of the club called The Clapping Bastards. Although I've never taken part, the CB's like to go to public places like bars and spontaneously group-clap. It's wholesome fun. Speaking of inexplicable clapping, I have a story that makes me think I should one day get on a lecture circuit because it's just that good and thousands of people will want to hear it, especially clapping enthusiasts. Right now, The Clapping Bastards are only based in Houston and are relatively small in number and light in the wealth department. If they ever reach the sort of size and affluence that can afford the penthouse suites and semi-hourly massages that I insist upon when I travel, I may be willing to orate the following to an assembled throng of clap-happy clappers:

            Ahem. Before I begin, I would just like to say, please excuse the masseur. He'll be up here off and on during the rest of my talk, so just pretend he isn't there. Also, I would like to make the request that we have only traditional clapping occur. That is, the appreciative non-spontaneous kind used as a responsive measure to something you like or approve of. It is otherwise known as 'applause'. I'm sure you've heard of it.


    I'm going to assume that meant you liked what I just said. Very good. Let's get started then. Long ago, when I was in college, much younger and smarter than many of you were here right now, I lived in a dorm. I had a pot-luck roommate, whose name, irrelevantly, was Bryan.


    I take it you've heard of him? And you are fond of him, I presume? I'm going to have to presume because we are clapping during this talk only to communicate appreciation, yes? We are adhering to the laws of causality and meaning? Okay, good. So yes, Bryan. Nice fellow. Now, as is often the case, a restriction of the dorm room was that its occupants had to slumber in bunk beds. Now, sometimes Bryan, up on the top bunk, snored. Or rather, his breathing was loud and prevented my own sleep. To solve this problem, many gruff and rustic persons would simply have yelled to their roommates in the bunks above them: "HEY! Get UP! You're SNORING!", or some other such vulgar thing. I'll have you know, I was an extraordinarily thoughtful and considerate young man, and still am (although not so thoughtful, hehe). No, I sought not to indulge in such rude activity. Bryan would not wake up on my account. But I wasn't about to suffer in silence, and so I began to experiment. If the bunk bed was jostled, it would consequently jostle the roommate and interrupt his sleeping experience just enough to cause him to turn his head slightly, thereby affecting his breathing habits - but not his overrall consciousness. How much to jostle though? It was difficult to gage the correct amount of force to produce the desired effect. Plus, it's a bit rude. So the plan was abandoned.
            I came to my next breakthrough when I lifted a shoe next to my bed a few feet above the floor and dropped it. The noise the impact made was significantly cacophonous enough to produce the desired effect. However, if subsequent snoring occurred later on during the same night, the shoe was unreliable as a snore-stopping device. It had the propensity to bounce upon hitting the floor, ending up in a place not easily accessible to the lazy and sleep-deprived. Considerable effort would have to be required to recoup the shoe, I realized. So I resigned this line of attack. That's when it finally occured to me that I should clap. Yes, clap, ladies and gentlemen. And it worked like a charm, this clapping, Using my own two palms, I could easily alter and control the loudness. I like to say that 'clapping snipped the snores so I could snooze' (That's available on T-shirts from my web-site by the way). So clap I did, whenever the need warranted it. And all was good. After several months of this happy clapping, I received a query one day from my roommate Bryan. He said to me, "Hey Henry. Have you been hearing any weird, uh.. clapping sounds at night?"
            The gig was up. He hadn't slept through them after all. I was forced to confess everything. I admitted to Bryan my sincere fear that he had been telling his friends this whole time that he had a crazy roommate, one that clapped for no apparent reason at night, while he slept. I imagined that they all had a nickname for me behind my back: "The Clapper". He assured me this was not the case, and that he only suspected me as the cause of the strange clapping sounds and had finally garnered enough confidence to ask me about it. I swore off 'Nocturnal Clapping' there and then, my friends. But I urge you all here today to take it up! Surely, you people like this sort of thing. You all paid for this lecture and can clearly see its merits. I have enlightened and inspired all of you.

    Good night, and thank you for your time.

    Now is the appropriate time for you to applause.


    Well, whatever. I'll be in my suites. Alert room service. Have them skip the first five courses. I'm saving room for the chocolate fountain.

    The other day I was feeling down. For some cheer, I put in the dvd of the Muppet Movie. I hadn't noticed before, but there's a special feature on there of a screen test done with Jim Henson and Frank Oz performing as Kermit and Fozzie. It was almost like something out of a dream. Shot in the late 1970s after the success of the Muppet TV show, the clip features the two of them, plus the cameraman and somebody dressed in full "Sweetums" costume, driving around the English countryside, filming little improvisational things next to trees, houses, and cows. The idea was to test out what the Muppets would look like when filmed outside, this being one of the central conceits of the Muppet Movie and a new idea at the time. It must have been a successful experiment because they went ahead and made the movie.

    It wasn't intended for anyone but themselves, and I was surprised to see it on the dvd, since this kind of candid, unpolished sort of thing isn't usually widely distributed with a product, especially one that is marketed as a family kids' film. It's great though. Not because it's brilliantly witty or anything. It looks like any home movie. Jim and Frank are just making up stuff from the tops of their heads. But they're cracking each other up. I realized I'd never heard Jim Henson laugh. But he does here, laughing at his pal's silliness, just like he must have done every day. Kermit remains unmoved, but invisible Jim down below chuckles. We the audience never got to hear that laugh, I realized. Everything was carefully scripted and rehearsed so that such things as the puppeteer's honest spontaneous laughter were removed from our experience. His laugh, plus the whole home movie feel, made me feel like I was there with them, driving around, goofing off. These are my pals; we make the Muppets. Frank's making Fozzie throw up in the front seat. The cows are a little too interested in Kermit. Fozzie's swaying to the windshield wipers like he's hypnotized. We're cracking up.

    At one point, Kermit and Fozzie are sitting in a tree. Fozzie says something like, "What a beautiful tree, this is a bear's natural habitat!" Kermit doesn't point out that bears don't technically live in trees, as I would have. Instead, he gets more metaphysical. "Um, Fozzie, I hate to break it to you, but you aren't a real bear." Fozzie is baffled. Kermit explains that bears don't have "majenta noses". And that they have teeth. Fozzie, feeling the need to attack Kermit tit-for-tat, breaks it shockingly to Kermit that he actually has rods attached to his arms. He immediately feels bad he's revealed this painful fact to his friend and adds a conciliatory comment to soften the blow : "But they help in movement!" Later, as he plops his head down on a branch, Fozzie the non-bear admits that he's filled with ennui. "What?," Kermit asks. "Ennui," says Fozzie.

    What are we supposed to do about gremlins, that most despicable of vermin? The government has told us nothing and even the mayor is being adamantly tight-lipped. What's to be done to put a stop to this most public of public menaces? The next generation of humanity is not to be trusted, so we can't wait for our babies to solve this problem. It is up to the academic world of today to assess this threat and devise staratagems to defeat it. As a professor emeritus at the Carnegie Museum of Colorado, I can personally offer a number of 'Ways to Defeat' the gremlins and be thanked for it.

    Ways to Defeat:

    1) Speak up!
    The louder you are, the more you will be heard. Confucius said this, and it's still as true as it was in his day. Yes, life is more complicated. We have motorcars now, for example, and must pay for water, but speaking is still a cure for the destruction of sound-sensitive creatures and phenomena. Also, remember this adage: The louder the leader, the better bested the beast. Holds true, yes? Even today.

    2) Go to Jupiter to get more Stupider!
    Interstellar voyages, now more than ever, are conducive to clarity of thought, fist, and nunchaku. Blast your way through thirty levels of non-stop mayhem and glory. Defeat the Xorg Offensive and be the Star Captain! It's all in the joystick. Gremlins are going to be the "grem"-nants of the past. Chortle with cleverness. But: your people's blood flowed from the sacrifice. Relish in the victory bath.

    3) Take a cake-making class!
    It is in our nation's cakes that gremlins are the most susceptible to illness, fatigue, ringworm, podiatric concerns, basketballs, Hunan Palace, and sometimes death. Only in dreams of cakes can we find solace in the potential of a weapon of hope. Cakes, the Weapon of Hope. Get that quote as an emblem on the "rear-end" portion of your swim trucks, so that all oglers of your "back section" will have to read it and weep.

    4) Become a criminal stripper.
    It speaks for itself and is a ticket to troubles gone!

    This is Mouf-breatha! With the Ways 2 Defeat. Now I out! Lates.

    Blurb Requests, a poem
    Oscar & Annie, an absurdist comic
    The Swami's Generators, a diversion
    Chicago Crime, a freely browsable database of crimes reported in Chicago (with maps)

    List of Popular Phrases in London, Pre-1840
    The Wuzzzzzzzzzzzzuuuuuuuup's, Whatevs, and Well, Isn't That Special's of their Day

    ~ Excerpted from the book, "Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds", by Charles Mackay, published in 1841 ~

    This odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning. When vulgar wit wished to mark its incredulity and raise a laugh at the same time, there was no resource so sure as this popular piece of slang. When a man was asked a favour which he did not choose to grant, he marked his sense of the suitor's unparalleled presumption by exclaiming Quoz! When a mischievous urchin wished to annoy a passenger, and create mirth for his chums, he looked him in the face, and cried out Quoz! and the exclamation never failed in its object. When a disputant was desirous of throwing a doubt upon the veracity of his opponent, and getting summarily rid of an argument which he could not overturn, he uttered the word Quoz, with a contemptuous curl of his lip and an impatient shrug of his shoulders. The universal monosyllable conveyed all his meaning, and not only told his opponent that he lied, but that he erred egregiously if he thought that any one was such a nincompoop as to believe him. Every alehouse resounded with Quoz; every street corner was noisy with it, and every wall for miles around was chalked with it.

    "What a shocking bad hat!"
    No sooner had it become universal, than thousands of idle but sharp eyes were on the watch for the passenger whose hat showed any signs, however slight, of ancient service. Immediately the cry arose, and, like the what-whoop of the Indians, was repeated by a hundred discordant throats. He was a wise man who, finding himself under these circumstances “the observed of all observers,” bore his honours meekly. He who showed symptoms of ill-feeling at the imputations cast upon his hat, only brought upon himself redoubled notice. The mob soon perceive whether a man is irritable, and, if of their own class, they love to make sport of him. When such a man, and with such a hat, passed in those days through a crowded neighbourhood, he might think himself fortunate if his annoyances were confined to the shouts and cries of the populace. The obnoxious hat was often snatched from his head, and thrown into the gutter by some practical joker, and then raised, covered with mud, upon the end of a stick, for the admiration of the spectators, who held their sides with laughter, and exclaimed in the pauses of their mirth, “Oh! what a shocking bad hat!” “What a shocking bad hat!” Many a nervous, poor man, whose purse could but ill spare the outlay, doubtless purchased a new hat before the time, in order to avoid exposure in this manner.

    Derived from the chorus of a popular ballad, [it] was also high in favour at one time, and served, like its predecessor, Quoz, to answer all questions. In the course of time the latter word alone became the favourite, and was uttered with a peculiar drawl upon the first syllable, and a sharp turn upon the last. If a lively servant girl was importuned for a kiss by a fellow she did not care about, she cocked her little nose, and cried "Walker!" If a dustman asked his friend for the loan of a shilling, and his friend was either unable or unwilling to accommodate him, the probable answer he would receive was “Walker!” If a drunken man was reeling along the streets, and a boy pulled his coat-tails, or a man knocked his hat over his eyes to make fun of him, the joke was always accompanied by the same exclamation. This lasted for two or three months, and “Walker!” walked off the stage, never more to be revived for the entertainment of that or any future generation.

    "There he goes with his eye out!"
    [It] was in the mouth of everybody who knew the town. The sober part of the community were as much puzzled by this unaccountable saying as the vulgar were delighted with it. The wise thought it very foolish, but the many thought it very funny, and the idle amused themselves by chalking it upon walls, or scribbling it upon monuments. But, “all that's bright must fade,” even in slang. The people grew tired of their hobby, and “There he goes with his eye out!” was heard no more in its accustomed haunts.

    "Has your mother sold her mangle?"
    Another very odd phrase came into repute in a brief space afterwards, in the form of the impertinent and not universally apposite query, "Has your mother sold her mangle?" But its popularity was not of that boisterous and cordial kind which ensures a long continuance of favour. What tended to impede its progress was, that it could not be well applied to the older portions of society. It consequently ran but a brief career, and then sank into oblivion.

    "Flare up!"
    Its successor enjoyed a more extended fame, and laid its foundations so deep, that years and changing fashions have not sufficed to eradicate it. This phrase was “Flare up!” and it is, even now, a colloquialism in common use. It took its rise in the time of the Reform riots, when Bristol was nearly half burned by the infuriated populace. The flames were said to have flared up in the devoted city. Whether there was anything peculiarly captivating in the sound, or in the idea of these words, is hard to say; but whatever was the reason, it tickled the mob-fancy mightily, and drove all other slang out of the field before it. Nothing was to be heard all over London but “flare up!” It answered all questions, settled all disputes, was applied to all persons, all things, and all circumstances, and became suddenly the most comprehensive phrase in the English language. The man who had overstepped the bounds of decorum in his speech was said to have flared up; he who had paid visits too repeated to the gin-shop, and got damaged in consequence, had flared up. To put one's-self into a passion; to stroll out on a nocturnal frolic, and alarm a neighbourhood, or to create a disturbance in any shape, was to flare up. A lovers’ quarrel was a fare up; so was a boxing-match between two blackguards in the streets, and the preachers of sedition and revolution recommended the English nation to flare up, like the French. So great a favourite was the word, that people loved to repeat it for its very sound. They delighted apparently in hearing their own organs articulate it; and labouring men, when none who could respond to the call were within hearing, would often startle the aristocratic echoes of the West by the well-known slang phrase of the East. Even in the dead hours of the night, the ears of those who watched late, or who could not sleep, were saluted with the same sound. The drunkard reeling home showed that he was still a man and a citizen, by calling “flare up” in the pauses of his hiccough. Drink had deprived him of the power of arranging all other ideas; his intellect was sunk to the level of the brute’s; but he clung to humanity by the one last link of the popular cry. While he could vociferate that sound, he had rights as an Englishman, and would not sleep in a gutter, like a dog! Onwards he went, disturbing quiet streets and comfortable people by his whoop, till exhausted nature could support him no more, and he rolled powerless into the road. When, in due time afterwards, the policeman stumbled upon him as he lay, that guardian of the peace turned the full light of his lantern on his face, and exclaimed, “Here’s a poor devil who’s been flaring up!” Then came the stretcher, on which the victim of deep potations was carried to the watchhouse, and pitched into a dirty cell, among a score of wretches about as far gone as himself, who saluted their new comrade by a loud, long shout of “flare up!
    The people grew at last weary of the monotony, and "flare up" became vulgar even among them. Gradually it was left to little boys who did not know the world, and in process of time sank altogether into neglect. It is now heard no more as a piece of popular slang; but the words are still used to signify any sudden outburst either of fire, disturbance, or ill-nature.

    "Does your mother know you're out?"
    was the provoking query addressed to young men of more than reasonable swagger, who smoked cigars in the streets, and wore false whiskers to look irresistible. We have seen many a conceited fellow who could not suffer a woman to pass him without staring her out of countenance, reduced at once into his natural insignificance by the mere utterance of this phrase. Apprentice lads and shopmen in their Sunday clothes held the words in abhorrence, and looked fierce when they were applied to them. Altogether the phrase had a very salutary effect, and in a thousand instances showed young Vanity, that it was not half so pretty and engaging as it thought itself. What rendered it so provoking was the doubt it implied as to the capability of self-guidance possessed by the individual to whom it was addressed.

    "Who are you?"
    The phrase was uttered quickly, and with a sharp sound upon the first and last words, leaving the middle one little more than an aspiration. Like all its compeers which had been extensively popular, it was applicable to almost every variety of circumstance. The lovers of a plain answer to a plain question did not like it at all. Insolence made use of it to give offence; ignorance, to avoid exposing itself; and waggery, to create laughter. Every new comer into an alehouse tap-room was asked unceremoniously, "Who are you?" and if he looked foolish, scratched his head, and did not know what to reply, shouts of boisterous merriment resounded on every side. An authoritative disputant was not unfrequently put down, and presumption of every kind checked by the same query. When its popularity was at its height, a gentleman, feeling the hand of a thief in his pocket, turned suddenly round, and caught him in the act, exclaiming, “Who are you?” The mob which gathered round applauded to the very echo, and thought it the most capital joke they had ever heard — the very acme of wit — the very essence of humour. Another circumstance, of a similar kind, gave an additional fillip to the phrase, and infused new life and vigour into it, just as it was dying away. The scene occurred in the chief criminal court of the kingdom. A prisoner stood at the bar; the offence with which he had been charged was clearly proved against him; his counsel had been heard, not in his defence, but in extenuation, insisting upon his previous good life and character, as reasons for the lenity of the court. “And where are your witnesses?” inquired the learned judge who presided. “Please you, my Lord, I knows the prisoner at the bar, and a more honester feller never breathed,” said a rough voice in the gallery. The officers of the court looked aghast, and the strangers tittered with ill-suppressed laughter. “Who are you?” said the Judge, looking suddenly up, but with imperturbable gravity. The court was convulsed; the titter broke out into a laugh, and it was several minutes before silence and decorum could be restored. When the Ushers recovered their self-possession, they made diligent search for the profane transgressor; but he was not to be found. Nobody knew him; nobody had seen him. After a while the business of the court again proceeded. The next prisoner brought up for trial augured favourably of his prospects when he learned that the solemn lips of the representative of justice had uttered the popular phrase as if he felt and appreciated it. There was no fear that such a judge would use undue severity; his heart was with the people; he understood their language and their manners, and would make allowances for the temptations which drove them into crime. So thought many of the prisoners, if we may infer it from the fact, that the learned judge suddenly acquired an immense increase of popularity. The praise of his wit was in every mouth, and “Who are you?” renewed its lease, and remained in possession of public favour for another term in consequence.

    "Cherry ripe!"
    [It] was the universal cry of all the idle in the town. Every unmelodious voice gave utterance to it; every crazy fiddle, every cracked flute, every wheezy pipe, every street organ was heard in the same strain, until studious and quiet men stopped their ears in desperation, or fled miles away into the fields or woodlands, to be at peace. This plague lasted for a twelvemonth, until the very name of cherries became an abomination in the land.

    For Jonathan:
    Lynn Minmey
    Minmay Shrine
    Lynn Minmei
    # 1 on the top ten list

    Dumb random crap:

  • What's with the symbol that we use to mean "heart" or "love". Obviously it doesn't look like a heart, but has anyone noticed what it does look like? What it looks EXACTLY like? Because there is actually an object in the real world that looks EXACTLY like the heart symbol... Give up? Highlight the following bit of text to see the answer: Strawberries!

  • Some nicknames for Henry that exist, but have never been used on me:
            - Harold
            - Hence
            - Heinz
            - Henning
            - Mahalaleel

  • Speaking of which, where did the nickname Hank come from?
    Well, the most common type of nickname is the diminutive, usually a shortened or otherwise altered version of one’s true name. And the most common form of diminutive is formed by the “diminutive ending,” a syllable tacked on to the end of a name that signifies “little.” Before the 17th century or so, the most common diminutive endings were the Norman/English “in” or “kin”. The name Hank is short for Han-Kin, or Hen-kin, or Henry-kin. Next time you call me "Hank", remember you're really calling me "Little Henry".

    My Mom is a Schizophrenic by Chester Brown
    The Rag Time Ephemeralist by Chris Ware
    Songs to Wear Pants to by a guy who will make a song for you by request
    Airlines will not pair pilots and co-pilots if they are both Christians, by snopes; for some reason this amuses me

    Brennan responds to my revelatory divulgence
    of the authentic identity of
    Kermit "my brother Brian" the Frog,
    and with acumen

    Speaking of my bro:

  • Ugliest Kermit toy


    Question: Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what's on the other side?

    Answer: Because that's where the pot of gold is!

    Explanation: People like gold. It is scarce and very pretty. But how to get it? The rainbow points the way.
    In Silesia, an obscure area of eastern Europe, it was said that the angels put the gold at the end of the rainbow and that only a nude man could obtain the prize.

    Nude men: This is your lucky day.

    Attention: This notion that leprechauns are responsible for the gold being there is ludicrous. Yes, leprechauns have pots of gold, but they don't go anywhere near rainbows. In fact, leprechauns avoid rainbows like the plague for they reveal where their pots of gold are. Leprechauns must constantly move their gold so as to escape the multi-colored light ray of aggravation that perpetually pursues them. Nude dudes not into the angel booty have the option of chasing leprechauns, but good luck; you'll need it. You probably don't need to go au naturel but it doesn't hurt to err on the side of caution. When in doubt... flout.

    Leprechaun fun facts for naked guys:
  • They live in farmhouses or wine cellars.
  • They will do things in exchange for furniture.
  • They make single shoes for elves.
  • They also go by the amusing names of Lubrican and Lubberkin.

    Happy rainbow chasing!!!

    yes. there is a new rat! but, it isn't that closely related to other rodents!!!!


    It represents "the first living evolutionary split among the hystricognaths".

    Did you know?
    There will be two non-traditionally animated rat movies going head-to-head.
    Aardman's Flushed Away vs. Pixar's Ratatouille

    I Love the 30s, a parody of VH1's retro pop culture show

    Wayne Douglas Barlowe's 'Expedition' to be a documentary, based on one of my favorite books (it better be good!)

    Sean's site's been redone, with some excellent new drawings

    The work of Nicholas Di Genova is good enough, thank you, as in - it better not be any better or the world's core will erupt.

    My friend has actually made it into the dictionary, somehow. Wow.

    I'm cleaning house, changed my home page temporarily to something new, and here's a couple of oldies that I don't want to get lost in the shuffle:

    Photos of Figures
    Monkey & the Slice of Pie

    Please note:

  • It's weird, one of the most revolting things I've ever seen is Adam Sandler dressed as a football player. Yichhhk. I can't explain it.

  • Ricky Jay is the consummate BOMB.

  • I think a better title for Star Wars Episode III would be "The Revenge of Stone Henge", and it would live up to the name. When are we going to get our violent monolith movie? The time's right.

    My brother Brian singing "Rainbow Connection"

    -- Wow. I knew your brother was into puppets, but I didn't know he was Kermit the Frog. That's wild! --

    Yeah. It's not something I tell people about much. My brother prefers to keep a low profile. But you're a good friend, so I'll divulge some of his biography. I can't tell you about Switzerland, sorry. That's between Brian and the women of Zurich.
    Biography of Kermit the Frog, soon to be published by Lego...


    Kermit "my brother Brian" the Frog was born on May 9, 1955 to a poor pauper and his wife's wife. The pauper's name was Gunterheim and his wife's wife was named Shirky. On the most notable date of June 22nd (22 years later), it occurred to Kermit that he'd like to have a brother. Thus, yours truly was conceived and clothed in rich gold linens and the diamonds of kings. But that's another story.

    The Early Years (1955-1956):

    Kermit's childhood was punctuated by repeated explosions brought about by assaults upon the mind, brought about my "assassipsychics", who were trained men and women devoted to the act of blowing up the minds of important people. Kermit, being the sole frog in Christian captivity, was considered the most stylish celebritess of the age, and thus a target for "mind-assault". His gowns and graceful way of descending staircases were mimicked by the elderly around the globe. A man named Tuckers marketed a line of lingerie socks with the likeness of Kermit's swarthy drunken countenance. This became the inspiration for the 1983 movie "Robo-Cop", starring Denzel Washington as himself, and also a line of lunch-boxes with poisonous spikes in them.

    The Years of Turmoil (1956-1957):

    Despite the warnings of his doctors, Kermit turned to painkillers as a way to cure South African apartheid. Unfortunately, his usage of the drug only worsened the situation over there. In a rage, Kermit destroyed Tokyo, then claimed it was all in fun. A joke, he called it, but Japan refused to laugh. In 1992, they sent two helicopters to his Manhattan home and delivered four newspapers. Kermit read only the funnies then coughed up some sort of Bigfoot/Loch Ness hybrid. This was to be the first of many revenge schemes on the part of the Rising Sun. To this day, he has eluded all Japanese wraths. Kermit went into hiding after this incident. For fourteen long terrible years, Kermit was employed as an anonymous glass-blower in Miami. His wife Splat was a loving person, but tended to freeze milk and eat it like it was food. This behavior disgusted and depressed Kermit, and one day in 1965, he left her. In a jar on the kitchen table he put his billions in fortunes, his inherited heirlooms, and a winning lottery ticket. To this day, she has never spent a penny, but still acts quite snobby at parties.

    Hope Springs Eternal (1957-2338):

    Kermit became the first nun in outer space.

    The Voyage Home (2338-?):

    Kermit the Frog is a living legend that inspires our parents to be kind to us. Few can forget the "tall tales" that show us that Kermit is far superior to anyone at playing basketball, lassoing enormous fish, running marathons, and shooting junk. If it wasn't for my brother, we wouldn't have two congresses. We wouldn't eat salad occasionally. There wouldn't even be a Starbucks on the corner of Vine and Ninth. But now, I must finally reveal Kermit the Frog's secret. A secret he hasn't told anyone ever. You've all been living under a misapprehension. My brother let me reveal his secret at the very end of his biography so that I could cash in. Here goes... Ready? Kermit the Frog... is a CAT!

    What's Next for El Gato? (?-2005):

    Well, now you know. The damage is done. Kermit the Frog died in 1824 at the fertile age of 31. He was nineteen. His sole surviving nieces adopted him posthumously as their child. In World War II he fought bravely and burned up Hitler with a bowie knife. He was never thanked. Also, he is Australia's fattest man. He can out-eat a pack of dogs.

    THE END.

    Grocery Store Wars

    List of Things That Don't Exist

    Over 600 children's books free online

    Today is a robot update!


    These robots will serve as your servoids. My favorite is the one in the middle. I named it D.O.D.O. after the extinct bird.

    This android is a huge success, and everyone is just delighted by its charms. 'I never met a robot I didn't like' is the attitude of this robot.


    Edward R. Home-Gall knows many things - many more things than you or I know. One of them is "The Human Bat V The Robot Gangster" (see above). I personally believe one of them will be victorious, although even the winner will be horrificly scarred for 2-3 months. What do you think?

    The Human Robot
    "CLARIFICATIONS: The Human Robot should not be confused with: The Human Robot, Gammus, an alien who placed his mind in a robot, @ Tales Of Suspense I#5"

    The Aztec Mummy vs. the Human Robot
    Nor should it be confused with Robot Humano! Who grapples with La Momia Azteca!

    The Robo Baby
    "...will crawl his way into your little one's heart... responds to sound, light, movement... his moods change... gives Mommy kisses... He crawls to you when you clap... Robo Baby needs to be played with..."

    Robot Report
    So many important photographs of early robots.

    Garco and Miss Honeywell
    Miss Honeywell will terrify you. Many more proto-robots on the site.

    Rats and Robots Go Great Together

    Kermit the Frog is 50 years old today, or he would have been.

    And the moral is:
    "Once upon a time in the dead of winter in the Dakota territory, Theodore Roosevelt took off in a makeshift boat down the Little Missouri River in pursuit of a couple of thieves who had stolen his prized rowboat. After several days on the river, he caught up and got the draw on them with his trusty Winchester, at which point they surrendered. Then Roosevelt set off in a borrowed wagon to haul the thieves cross-country to justice. They headed across the snow-covered wastes of the Badlands to the railhead at Dickinson, and Roosevelt walked the whole way, the entire 40 miles. It was an astonishing feat, what might be called a defining moment in Roosevelt's eventful life. But what makes it especially memorable is that during that time, he managed to read all of Anna Karenina. I often think of that when I hear people say that they haven't time to read."
    -- David McCullough in his essay "No Time to Read?"

    Musing from a year ago (yes, I still do it):
    Lately I've noticed that I've been sticking 'adelphia' after words. Like the other day I was driving and there was this car in front of me at a stoplight and the light turned green and the car wasn't moving so I yelled out, "Go-adelphia!" It was pretty weird. Also, the other night I said, "I'm heading home-adelphia." It's just rather strange. My brain does it automatically.

    Letter from my aunt:
    "Did you find any mention of Madam Blavatsky (I think that's the spelling of her name), the patron saint of the White Dog restaurant here in Philly (I think it's located in what was once her house) who had an extensive correspondence, so my Aunt Mina said, with HN-she said it somewhat disapprovingly, but then she was a Quaker and of a suspicious turn of mind...she did live to be well over 100, so we all can hope we got the Longevity Factor, too...She was your father's father's sister. (Great Aunt, I guess?)
    The Theosophists were (and perhaps still are) kind of interesting. My father said that his father was found dead in his walk-up apartment in Washington, with his pen still in his hand, and what he was writing was an article for the Journal of Theosophy. Way to go, I say. He was almost 100, too--there's them good ol' longevity genes again, let's hope. Being as it's your direct male line, you got 'em, I trust."

    Googling 'White Dog restaurant':
    "The name of this funkily decorated, eclectic restaurant in a brownstone near the University of Pennsylvania campus derives from the story of the 19th-century mystic Madame Blavatsky, who claimed that while she was living in the house, a white dog lay across her ailing leg and cured it. Innovative restaurateur Judy Wicks took her inspiration from the tale and sponsors all manner of events that would make Madame Blavatsky proud -- table talks, story telling, community service days, and more. The restaurant specializes in locally and humanely grown products, such as Pocono trout with a hazelnut crust and grass-fed beef; seasonings can be overly ambitious, so choose carefully. Vegetarians can find plenty to please them here."

    How we got the thing called thing:
    A "THING" used to be what the Vikings called their assemblies. Later they would refer to the subject matter discussed at the assemblies as a "THING" as well. Ta-da.

    Sentence containing seven spellings of the "ee" sound:
    "He believed Caesar could see people seizing the seas."

    How it's goin':
    The wedding planning is all going accordingly to a master plan. I'm likin' it. Newest development: I may dress up like a lizard-man and prance about singing bawdy songs and making balloon animals for anyone older than 12. I will ignore anyone under. (children are a curse!). Note: This isn't related to the wedding, this is just kind of a plan I have. A 'life-long dream', if you will. In regard to the wedding? I will be wearing undergarments of some kind during the ceremony (but not any other time, don't worry). This has been something I've grappled with for more than over 20 years! Should I? Or shouldn't I? The decision mercifully was made for me when God Himself came down and made it one of his Commandments to some prophet or other, and I happened to overhear and, thinking so highly of myself, assumed He meant me.

    More words besides 'cleave' that have two synonyms that are antonyms of each other:
    cover - conceal and expose
    sanction - approve" and prohibit (colloquial)
    transparent - hidden and known
    trim - garnish and prune

    Adios and enchiladas:
    i will bid you adieu and wish you a happy smorkday. what's a smork, you ask? it's nothing like a chisp. absolutely nothing. so just don't think chisp and you've got it.

    The quite incomparable Irish illustrator, Harry Clarke

    The Exhilarator for dada cartoon caption fun.
    The Fredericks Freiser Gallery now lists Sean as one of their artists. Sean says, "Click on my name and see pictures you've probably seen a thousand times, with a funny description of me and my art." Final Verdict: Sean is a Conjurer of Darkness!

    Sound Practical Advice for You
    Mack White's Bison Bill's Weird West Show
    Vintage Magic Posters
    Indescribable film featuring dancers, Spock, and hobbits?
    Oh man, there is some serious comics goin' down at the ol' juxtapozas

  • Here's one of my pet peeves:

          - Referring to dumb people as "mouth-breathers". My nose is often stopped up, so I can't help but take umbrage.

  • Answer me this, what has Weird Al not done?

  • Here is my tribute to Edward Bear:

    He's awesome.

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

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