Season's Bleatings.

So let's see...cheapo, token gifts to people I only really talk to once a year: check. Christmas tree wired directly to AC current to deter 'everything is a toy for me to destroy' kitten: check. Blodge updates...CRAP! I forgot about my 'The Blodge'! My reader will never forgive me. Anyway, here's what I've been doing:

I was arrested for arson and criminal mischief on Thanksgiving when my attempt to defrost my single-serving pouch of lump formed turkey-product with a hairdryer burned down the the YMCA. Whoops!

Went back through all my old correspondence to discover I had forgotten about a 6-year illicit affair I had in the late 80s with Ally Sheedy, star of 'Short Circuit.'

I served briefly as president of Guam, wearing a full samurai outfit, in a vision I had after eating that dented can of NoodleRoni from MacFrugal's. My vice president: Brian Dennehy.

Also, I coined a word: 'Hubrelevance.' It's the situation where excessive pride and lack of relevance lead to downfall. Oh, and look, here's a situation where this new word can be smartly used.

PS: I do not regularly read the Wall Street Journal, but I was lured in by the stipple portrait of Axl Rose.

The Poor Man's Haiku

Totino's, I feel
shame in the frozen food aisle
but: ten for 10 bucks

Penury and pain

A financial crisis has gripped the Estates at Pixel Creek neighborhood! Rest assured we think this is only a temporary slump - once the economy totally collapses, we look forward to moving into a scalp and firemaking economy.

While poor, it's important to make sure you're getting enough nutrition; apparently, I am not. I was getting out of the shower this weekend, and I hit my big toe on the shower door - no big deal, I'm clumsy. But the amount of pain that swiftly followed was impressive. I stood there, dripping, waiting for the cursing and flourescent waves of agony to pass. When they did, I looked down and saw that I had somehow managed to liberate my big toenail from its fleshy prison. Here's an animated gif I made as an illustration:



So now I'm all limpy and sore and confused. Lesson: make sure you are getting your daily intake of calcium and niacin, despite your limited budget. If this means you need to switch over to boneless hotdogs, so be it.

Ways In Which I Am My Own Worst Enemy

Pledged allegiance for self, then withdrew support at crucial juncture, resulting in prison gangland-retribution scenario.

Strapped self to weather machine, made it rain angry fire ants and acid knives

Promised I would not eat last deviled egg; ate last deviled egg

When filling out self-evaluation, used the phrase 'incompetent, malodorous, snorkleheaded asshat' 15 times

Promised to pick self up at airport; ran over childhood pet instead

Taped over that one 'Wings' episode

When directions called for stirring hot cocoa mix into boiling water, instead poured mug contents directly into face

Constantly kicking self in gonads

Enacted sweeping, diabolical plans spanning three time zones and two decades, resulting in being a quarter short of the full dry cycle

Made self some fudge; it was that weird tan fudge

Ate that questionable luncheon meat

Images of the Internets

If the internet is good for anything, and I have heard arguments in support of the affirmative, then it certainly must have something to do with this photo, upon which I often stumble during my searches for hardcore right-wing recipes sites:


People, you should not feed your pets in disposable pie foils; give them some dignity and get a dish, okay? Unless this was some sort of Purina Jiffy Pop, in which case, what the hell is wrong with America. Anyway.

I've always liked this photo. I interpret it thusly: the kitten, overcome with Nature's Bounty, collapses in ecstasy, as I do over a good Wrath-of-Christ recipe for cinnamon rolls. Alternatively, I guess the kitten could have just fallen asleep, as kittens are wont to suddenly do after chewing up your expensive headphones or farting.

Tonight, as I was watching Law & Order, this image popped up again. It occurred to me that this cat could very well be dead, and this is some sort of posed scene. But who? And why? Was this a 'hit'? Did the kitten 'know too much'? Will there be a 'trial'? Will the courtroom have a 'baliff'? I don't know, and therein lies the real magic of the internet. Although I'm not sure exactly what that is. Hmm.

Anyway, here's another favorite internet picture, one for which I have no compelling thoughts beyond that which is presented. END TRANSMISSION.

Joe Sixpack, Some Concepts

It's a FACT! Part 2

Caterpillars roll into a ball when touched or forcibly molded into that position by the mischevious fingers of troubled children.

The Moon was created in 1907 by the Sears and Roebuck company as a way to advertise it's new abilty to craft rocky, barren worlds.

To measure your distance from the sun, count the number of times your voice echos from its surface, and divide that number by six. You will die before the calculations are complete.

There were no television characters on US currency until 1983, when Magnum PI was briefly on the nickel following an appearance on Carson.

Hairspray was originally invented as an aid in hairstyling.

If you draw a straight line between any two points on a map of the globe, that line will not automatically appear in that place in the real world.

The NAACP was founded in 1753 by the Knights Templar, and has since evolved into the organization we now know as 'The Dairy Council,' according to a dream by Chris Timley, 44, of Minneapolis.

Although many believe that the first surprise birthday party was thrown for Napoleon Bonaparte by the Ewoks, this is actually incorrect.

In a 1974 study by the University of Delaware it was revealed that no matter where you go, there you are not.

Frogs are the only amphibians to come armed with missile turrets for shooting at canines, thus the term: Hotter Than a Dog on Fire From a Frog Missile.

No one expects that much of you and, still, they are rather disappointed.

The 1932 World's Fair was the first event of its kind to be held on that day, with that title. Also, it was the first to levitate.

Snakebites can be cured by pressing chewed bubblegum into the fang holes and having a friend hit you in the head repeatedly with a souvenir map of Shea Stadium. Try it.

Although history failed to record it, Carl Weathers was brought to America by NASA, and was subsequently named chairman of General Motors following the cashew famine of 1866.

In 1953, a young inventor named Charles Mangot patented the means by which olives can be canned, thus resulting in the signing of the Magna Carta, according to my history teacher who was involved in a serious fall.

The automobile is the first human invention to be visible from inside an automobile.

If fully stretched out, your intestines would measure six miles, causing you to die a horrible, horrible death.

Jury Duty

So I totally have jury duty tomorrow, unh-huh. Gonna mete out some carefully weighted justice. I really hope there will be some close-ups of me reacting during BD Wong's testimony, or perhaps I'll get to be foreman and read off that 'We the jury' bit. I'll see that Bronson Pinchot hang for this!

Soothing Relief in My Inbox

I received this ad in my inbox today:


Yes, it says: "In times of unrest because of financial crisis, sit down and relax with this offer full of beautiful soothing classical music...After this, maybe you will see that every cloud has a silver lining!" Classical music and misty bait fishing is all fine and good, but here are some other things you may enjoy to sit down with in times of crisis:

- In the midst of a home invasion, nothing soothes like pudding.

- While rotting away in a Thai prison, let Romanesque wall frescoes calm your mind.

- In this troubling era of non-stop robot attacks, find relief in the bake-dish casseroles of 1960s St. Paul. There, that wasn't so bad, was it?

- Ethiopian cuisine: for when life seems like an unending parade of humiliation and abject defeat.

- Out of oxygen? Interpretive dance is here.

PS: eclassical is actually a good place to download some classical music if, you know, you're an elitist pantywaist.

Hopping an Emerging Meme Before It's Woefully Unfunny

Wait...I'm sorry, that's totally unfair and biased. Here:

Grim Tidings From the Future

PEOPLE OF THE PAST. Down with your hu-la whoops and malt shops! I come from the year 2009 and I bear grim tidings! Behold and fear:

- On your television show, LOST, the island is revealed to be the Cloverfield monster! Tremble!

- Your Academy Award shall by won by Kevin Spacey MARK 6! His speech shall be unbearable and lengthy, and punctuated with Zenon-Ray bursts from his horrible, horrible ocular cannons.

Your switch-over to high-definition television tubes will fraught with peril and flickering images of Ryan Seacrest, or possibly Mike Rowe! Beware!

Your economy is doomed! Raid your cabinetry and places-of-storage for zinc, as it will spell your salvation. Avast!

Global warming has made ice-production futile! Foster now your tolerance for room-temperature Doctored Pepper and Iced Tea Leaves!

Oh, and also, a black man is totally president.

END TRANSMISSION.

It's a FACT! Part 1

The next time someone hands you a silver dollar, examine the year on the coin; this is the year of your death, as predicted by your 7th-grade algebra teacher and Nostradamus.

If you are ever stranded in the desert, you can find water by sending $3.50 and a self addressed, stamped envelope to the US Department of Water.

Count the number of times that a cricket chirps in 30 seconds and divide that number by 6; the answer may surprise you.

Here's a trick: when tying your shoes, tie the left one first; this will prevent werewolves from attacking you.

When cutting a pizza, pie, or round cake, divide the number of desired servings by the circumfrence of the dish, then multiply by the height of each slice divided by pi. Calculate to the nearest 100th decimal place. Show your work.

In 1943, a chef from Hamburg, Germany mixed ground beef with spices, then was killed by werewolves. The hamburger was already in existence.

In the southern hemisphere, birds fly east for the winter instead of south, because vast air currents from secret volcanoes blow them that way.

You can determine the current windspeed by looking into a mirror and repeating 'windspeed wonder weather' 100 times, then calling your weather advisory bureau.

The burrito was invented in 1912 by Mexican immigrants seeking a passage to the Suez Canal.

According to Scandanavian folklore, you and your whole goddamned family are a bunch of peckerheads, jack.

The Des Moines Abbatoir was founded in 1942 as a means of hastening the Dark One's return to Earth.

According to the International Centre of Lloyd, most American households are dangerously underlloyded.

Count the number of cicada 'swells' in a 1 minute period and multiply the answer by your age; that is the distance, in meters, to the center of the earth from where you are now standing.

Placing a rubber band around your scrotum will help reduce your gas mileage.

The capybara is the only mammal that openly disdains you, even after you spent all that money on capybara-related merchandise at the gift shoppe.

You can always figure out the time of day by examining the shadow of a Box Elder. No-one knows why this is true.

According to the International Red Cross, your interest in a career with them is appreciated, but they are not currently looking for a warlord with ties to the Welsh Mafia, as the position has been filled.

If you are ever caught shoplifting, do not call me, as I do not know you and am unqualified to offer legal advice.

TO BE CONTINUED! LATER!

Things That May Have Contributed to the US Economic Meltdown

Key to economy left on subway.

Too many fucking Wayans.

Cardboard cut-out of George W. Bush replaced with actual George W. Bush in 2002.

Financial leadership farmed to CEOs with no working knowledge of finance or leadership.

Offshore financial drilling operations failed to penetrate speculated cash-shale deposits.

US financial system quietly converted to worthless dollars many years ago.

'Free-For-All Financial Fuckfest' economic model somehow flawed.

Shit costs money, man.

Not enough Wayans.

The Liberal Media (all 3 of them)

Not enough brush-clearing in Crawford.

Like an unleashed dog, free market ran wild and unfettered before being crushed by a van in front of the Peterson's house.

Not enough enough stress-ball-squeezing, axe-body-spray-smelling, power-broking asstards in the financial sector.

Culture of irresponsibilty and lack of oversight fostered by current administration led to...nah, that can't be it—probably communists.

Things I Have Found While Walking

As an American who does not have a driver's license, I often find myself walking places, sometimes in the rain, sometimes while crying. Seriously, walking is great, I totally recommend it. Unless, of course, you need to get somewhere, then I suggest you find a ride.

I especially like walking through alleys because I like seeing the true side of the city, the snarls of powerlines and shoddy masonry, the haphazard do-it-yourself patios threatening to spill onto the cracked and uneven asphalt. And although I'm not a dumpster diver, I have found some pretty cool things discarded in alleyways:

A black metal-lattice shelf: now sitting in my music/art/storage room, holding up my home-brewing supplies, awaiting that day when I reinvigorate my erstwhile beer-making hobby.

An acoustic guitar: played for a day, then the neck snapped off. I put it back in the dumpster from whence it came, and someone else took it home, snapped neck and all.

A bike: an attempted gift, rescued from the dumpster, for my girlfriend (sorry ladies: this classy dude is taken!) The bike was rejected.

A television: It worked for awhile, then started emitting a high-pitched whine that, at first, I was half convinced was entirely manufactured by my psyche. Then the tube went out. Easy come, easy go.

But, so far, nothing tops the gem I discovered while walking through the alley behind my work today:



Yes, that's an elk leg. I'm not sure how I would feel about finding the rest of the elk on my walk home.

A Very Stupid Post 3: Face 'fun'

So a friend (the one who helped me tunnel out of that Eritrean prison with shoehorns - more on that later) showed me this site: http://flashface.ctapt.de/. I promptly drew my own face, but only after drawing these two faces:

1) 'Amelie' star Audrey Tautou's 1962 Omaha 'Huskers!' yearbook photo:


And, 2) Conan O'Brien with down syndrome:


So, visit this website, and draw something fairly offensive and insensitive, and send it to me here.

Reasons Why I May Not Win This Nationally Televised Beauty Pageant

Shouldn't have punched Celebrity Judge Jimmy Carter in the neck

Forgot to shave 'flip-flop zone'

Thong bikini worn backwards

Seig Heil-ing Minnie Mouse tattoo visible through mesh 'CLAMDIGGIN' t-shirt

Talent showcase: breakbelching not as impressive as in rehersals

When asked 'What does the American Dream mean to you?', should not have thrown up

Perhaps looking directly into the camera and pledging to murder Al Pacino should only have been done once

Totally unprepared for rattlesnake cage match with Miss Idaho

Should not have had that second helping of Szechuan bison enchiladas last night

How to Make a Blodge Under Duress

Blodges are hard to make. You need to have something to say, you need to have a style, and—most importantly—you must update your blodge every single day. Of course, I satisfy only 5 of these 7 requirements, but that's at least 87%, so I think I still win.

However, in defense of my "oh-hey-lets-not-post-shit-for-a-week" philosophy, I'd like to explain a crisis gripping the Estates at Pixel Creek household. You see, we have a massive infestation of cute. It's a fucking crisis:



OH THE HUMANITY. You may not think .25 pounds of cute is bad but, people, it's...BAD. Especially when the infestation is as interested in cuddling and purring as it is in biting your toes while you attempt to sleep.



AH DEAR SWEET JESUS. So, if you want to start one of these blodges that's sweeping the intersphere, make sure you have purged your house of horrible, horrible, delicious and needy cute things. Make sure, also, that you don't need to get up early to take public transportation to Boulder for a business meeting, because that just won't work, man.

Also, heed the opinions of others. Here is one reaction to the current infestation as exhibited by a mainstay on the Pixel Creek scene:



...these are the types of faces my grandfather makes when notified that dinner will be occurring at 7:30 instead of 4:45. Sadly, that is not a joke. Anyway. Hopefully this infestation will be somehow addressed soon. As it is, my main plan of defense is just to giggle and poke the cute thing in it's soft, squishy belly. What hath God wrought.

Coke vs. Pepsi

I've had occasion to indulge in an utterly pointless interior dialog about the merits of Coke vs. Pepsi; I often drink neither. These instances usually happen while I'm waiting in line at the taco place, wondering why they serve one instead of the other...did someone harbor a preference when setting up the business?

Did some eager distribution salesman pester them with sales calls until they relented? Did they go to the mall in the 80s and take place in the Pepsi Challenge, carrying forth the scars into their adult years when restaurant founding blossomed from dream into reality? How does one choose?

For me, it's all about the words. 'Coke' is terse and matter-of-fact, while 'Pepsi' sounds like someone with a lip problem was trying to say something else. Case closed, let us all get on with the real debates: soft serve vs. fuel injection.

Next up: Dominos vs. Pizza hut vs. Eating a Handful of Dogshit and Sand and Tomato Sauce.

An Ominous Portent?

I was walking to work this morning with my head lowered in abject submission, my eyes scanning the ground for change or bits of discarded plastic, as usual. Anyway, on the sidewalk I noticed a bit of movement and, looking closer, I saw a honey bee and a wasp locked in some sort of struggle.

They were grappling with each other face to face, each trying to sting the other, but in their positions, neither could flex their abdomen far enough to deliver the barb. They rolled on the concrete, buzzing angrily. They sort of reminded me of those pathetic fights you sometimes see in front of bars or hair salons, where inexperienced or out-of-shape combatants just roll around on the ground with each other, cursing and grunting.

So I watched for a few moments, thinking that the wasp would probably win this one, eventually. Then, the most bizarre thing happened... the wasp changed his (her? its?) position and picked up the honey bee and flew away with it, slowly and noisily like a helicopter airlifting a VW bug. It careened slowly into some ivy on a wall, then buzzed away into a clutch of small trees, its captor buzzing in protest. Is this normal? Is this the way nature works?

I never really thought about the sort of interactions that must go on between wasps and bees. They don't seem to intermingle and, until now, I had never seem them hostile with each other. I assumed they would maybe have some sort of kinship, as they are both in the business of causing me to yelp and become irrational.

But, moreover, does this incident perhaps have some sort of portent? You shall see a red sun in the west, or a great bird will descend from the sky, you will be met by a mysterious stranger from afar, you will see a flying wasp carrying a honeybee, etc.

I ate Chinese food the other night, and the fortune in my cookie said, "You will receive wise counsel from a friend." Somewhere, perhaps in Omaha or Florida or Chile or Space, someone opened a fortune that said "You will see a wasp fighting a bee, and then the wasp will fly away with the bee, and after posting about it on your dumbass blog, you will get herpes and run over" and then a friend of theirs walked up and gave them some wise counsel. This is the way nature works.

Thursday Sketchbook Rescue

Things Blurred Out On Google Maps

Diarrhea-ray cannon emplacements outside Moline

Ryan Seacrest's smooth-Laotian-boy stables

Enormous 'MATTEL' logo covering Antarctica

Entrance to Hell

Dick Cheney's '93 LeBaron

CineLatino: 12 Screens, All Features Dubbed or Subtitled

Giant vagina-shaped corn field in Oklahoma

Image of SpaceChrist Burned Into Peruvian Mountainside by Aliens

Visible edge of flat earth

The word 'FUCK' over Eastern Europe

Greenland

Mob Informant Island

Guy flipping off satellite

Entrance to tunnel complex linking all Hardee's locations

Secret Google Maps blurring facility

While I'm Drawing Things...

Here's a disturbing picture I drew of Ryan Seacrest:



If you've drawn a picture of Ryan Seacrest, I encourage you to email it to me at 'octopede [at] gmail-dot-com, and I will post it here.

This Blodging Thing is Difficult

So I haven't posted anything in a week. Sorry. I've been very busy with...whatever it is that I do. here's what happened last week:



PS: the last panel didn't actually happen.

More Reality Show Concepts I Will Sell to You

What is That? I'll Eat It.
Celebrity chef Hrald Cralwley roams under America's bleachers and in her couch cushions and eats what he finds.

Man vs. Self
Followed only by a camera crew and the possibility of a 10-minute evac to the closest Ramada Inn, outdoorsman Ronk Logsplitter must spend 7 days in the wild armed with only his stupidity and poor decision-making skills.

Clean This House!
Which brand of off-market cleaner will get this stain out? How long does it take to toothbrush out the grout in the master bath? Where the fuck is that one attachment for the vacuum, you know, the brush-dealie? All these answered, and more, in this four-hour-long, unedited program.

Iron Shemp
The nation's sad-sack Shemp impersonators battle it out, staying within the confines of this week's theme scenario (impersonating plumber during dowager's cotillion, installing acoustical foam during Prime minister's visit, etc).

Hostile Makeover
Fashion maven and delightfully bitchy gadabout Terence Van Zandt and his team brutally abduct slovenly patrons and force them to try on rack after rack of ill-fitting designer duds in a windowless, concrete room.

America's Next Shift Manager at the Airport Arby's (Concourse D)
Contestants compete in the fast-paced and sexy food service industry in a series of provoking tests to determine who will be...America's Next Shift Manager at the Airpot Arby's (Concourse D)

PunchLab 3000
Against a whirling backdrop of jump cuts and buzzing guitars, things are punched repeatedly: people, walls, rhododendrons, ladybugs, ice cream, fuel injection, VCRs, sheafs of paper, dogs, the floor, piles of Legos, the Magna Carta, etc.

Fart!
In this delightful Danish import filled with bright colors and zany xylophone music, contestants must truthfully answer questions about farting as posed by a celebrity panel: Have you every farted? Are you farting right now? Is this your fart?!

That Was My Kind of The Ropers episode
Step into yesteryear for a stroll through TV history as real people reflect on which 'The Ropers' shaped their lives the most.


Here's some other titles I'm still working on:

I'm Livin' It With David Faustino
BoreFactor
Smellin' Good
Pimp My Hang Glider
Dynamite Fishing and Impromptu Polemics with Dave Matthews
Project Scaffolding
So You Think You Can Matriculate?
The Biggest Douchebag
Survivor: The Celtic Thunder Concert
Jug Band
Who Wants to be Beaten to Death by a Bunch of Sixth Graders?
Junta
Do They Know It's Christmas?
Tori Spelling Island

Sunday Evening RAWK

So, uh, were you aware that, uh, Fugazi were the best rock band in the history of Western Civilization? I thought not:



PS: This is from 1991, people.

Very Stupid Post #2

PS: I did not create this.

A Few Crappy Ideas Forged While Drinking

Sure, I love the booze. It provides me with ideas, self-confidence, and gas. Here are a few involved concepts I've developed while at the bar or at home, alone, watching 'Mayberry RFD' and weeping into my chest.

Animal Crematorium/Park Service Barbecue Pit Cleaner

The idea is: you open a pet crematorium, preferably in a strip mall in a neighborhood with plenty of enfeebled old people with small, yippy, smelly dogs with skin conditions. Yes, those ones that bit you as a child. Marketing and branding should be very sentimental, lots of soft-focus images and script fonts and cloud backgrounds. On the side, you get a contract emptying and cleaning barbecue grills in your local town or prefecture. Instead of cremating pets, you just place barbeque remnants in Target urns and charge $1500 each. The actual dead pets just get thrown in the dumpster behind K-Mart or something. You figure it out. Win-win.

Hole-themed Restaurant

I've never been able to come up with a satisfying name for this restaurant concept, so feel free to suggest one. It's a fast food restaurant that serves hamburgers with holes in them. Not bagelburgers, mind you, just regular hamburgers with a big, inexplicable hole in the middle. The employees wear hats with holes in them, like a big 'O' upended vertically on the cranium. The restaurant's sign is in a similar shape, as are the dining tables. Seats: holes. Like toilet seats, sort of. No fries, only onion rings. The drink cups would likewise be extended toruses (tori?) with matching lids. Following the logic thus far, the straws would need to be solid cylinders of plastic.

Spherical Fast Food Meal

Following in the fast-food concept as above: I envision a giant sphere, deep-fried, perhaps the size of a bowling ball. The outermost, fried layer is the 'bun' layer. Biting into that, the intrepid diner then discovers, lurking beneath like some forbidden flower awaiting release of its intoxicating perfume, the ground beef layer. Sojourning onward we encounter the cheese layer, the sauce layer, the lettuce layer, etc, each progressively smaller and colder. At the center, your choice of Diet Mr. Pibb or a frosty delicious shake. The core of this should remain quite cold even after deep fat frying. The base price is $27.33 each.

I'll keep you posted when more ideas come to me.

Rejected Cable Shows

Chip Welyczko, Unlicensed Food Vendor

Can It Freeze?

Norway: Land of Fog and Wait, No - Sweden, Land of—Shit, No, It Is Norway

The Birds and the Bees and The Unger Twins

Growing Up Scotch-Irish

So You Think You Can Belch?

MacGuyver II (Starring Brian Dennehy)

How It's Filmed

Yards of Porn with Suzie Yards

CashRickshaw

Star Trek: Itchy Suits and Rooty Toots

Scott Baio is Not Breathing

MadMen: The Bodega Run By the Kwan Family, Several Blocks From The Agency and In the Early 1980s

Law & Order: Ice-T Rapping Incoherently For 43 Minutes

Inappropriate Games

Race Card

SimCamp

Gin and Juice Rummy

Chutes and Ladders and Sodomy

Candyland with Poison Inside

Nahtzee

Games Magazine: The Game

Naked Monopoly

Battleship Potemkin

Connect 4, Then Have Unprotected Sex

Scrabble: Kanji Edition

SimUnionBuster

Twister

Modernhyena: Fred Basset

Many years ago—1999-2000, to be exact—before joining the last remaining viable comedy entity in print, I tried my own little publication called 'The Modern Hyena Reader.' It was a 'zine', as the crusty elaborately-haired kids say now, that I made while working at the copy shop. There were 2 print issues. When my employers began to notice all the missing clicks, I went online. 'Modernhyena.org' lasted for, oh, about 6 months. Here's something that ran in the online edition (as always, click the pictures for larger versions):

PERVERTING THE WORK OF OTHERS: WE LOVE YOU, FRED!

Sure, we all love Fred Basset. That irascible, irrepressible canine curmudgeon (and his hysterical, outrageously incomprehensible adventures) has found his way into all our hearts without having to be funny or even make sense. But if there is one lesson I have learned in life that stands higher than the others, it's that there is no thing that cannot be made better through contumely and foolishness. It is in the spirit of bettering a good thing that I present the following ways in which Fred Basset might be made funnier, more insightful, and generally more engaging as an art form. First, here is the original comic, unaltered in any way.


As you can see, Fred is in pickle again. "How," you may rightly ask and not be admonished for it, "could this be improved upon?" Well, I imagine that Fred's appeal is greater in England where, presumably, his life is penned. I know that humor is more sophisticated in the British Isles and less prone to the sentimentality and sensationalism of American humor. He is Benny Hill to our The Simpsons, fine wine to our moldy old nasty sewer slime. Still, this thoughtful British humor could stand further definition for the unrefined American palette. In this example, I have heightened the sense of well-mannered whimsy found in English wit:


This is more in line with the refined and cultured drollery found in such high-minded and well-respected novels as Emma, and Lady Chatterly's Lover. Source material is not to be found only in the writings of the Empire's most distinguished scriveners, though. Here is an example for a more dramatic direction in Fred's ouvre, in the bitter style of Steinbeckian desperation:


As we can see here, the tension betwixt Fred, the weather, and his nameless owner is sufficiently heightened. Fred, ever the intellectual, mourns the loss of his youth as his slow but well-meaning owner encounters poignancy without pretension. The wife gazes silently on, bravely cheerful while inside she is dying. This is just an example, of course. Mr. Alex Graham (who, by the way, is the author/artist of Fred Basset) could probably do much more with these themes. One hallmark of Fred's never win, never surrender journey is it's occasional obscurity. Sometimes Fred is confusing and nonsensical. It is assumed that this is to keep his character ultimately undefined and open to any dramaturgical state-of-affairs. Perhaps a healthy move into this realm could be arranged. A push into the void may awaken Fred's existential awareness in the face of a world hostile to authenticity and enflame post-modern mores:


As you can see, we have tripped the light fantastic without wholly abandoning Fred's proletarian roots. Still, metaphysical and allegorical sojourning don't pay the bills. Service in the cause of intellectual enlightenment is basically volunteer work, so we may need to turn to a more commercial application of Fred's weltanschauung. Following trails blazed by regular American programming we might allow Fred's world to become a stage for topical events to play out, day after day, with storylines ripped from the headlines.


Fred's struggle for acceptance now becomes our own, and we can refer to every strip as 'A Very Special Fred Basset.' We can expect Fred's adventures as a hip young black female lawyer/artist living in a Manhattan loft and teaching Feng Shui to inner city sass-mouthed kids to show us our own foibles, and to make us laugh at our pain. It is in this way that Fred may change the world, after all. Also, the product tie-ins could be very lucrative for whatever company it is that collects revenue from Fred Basset. Again, we must reiterate that these are only suggestions. I would not presume to understand the Fred Basset monad, nor to reingineer the dynamic beloved of all children everywhere. Here's to you, Fred.

My Time Machine

Fuck you, I have a time machine. That's what I'd say to you in the past, because I'm from the future, and I got here in my time machine, asshole. What did you do? you watched 'Shark Week' and masturbated, while I became my own great-grandfather. Want your own time machine? Well don't copy my design, because it's copyrighted. And don't bother copying it then going back in time and inventing it before me, because I already thought of that and put down a bunch of sharp sticks in the past.


(clickit for larger)

A True Story From When I was Poor and Worked at The Copy Shop and Drank a Lot and Was Thinner and Single and Didn't Wear Flip-Flops

I spent far too much time in my 20s working at an infamous retail copy-shop (hey, I was in college, I made my own hours and got as much sticky back paper as I wanted). Even though I've since moved into the professional realm (I now wear flip-flops to work occasionally...is this professional? I'll get back to you on that) I still have inadequacy dreams about working at the copy shop again.

Much like those weird dreams where I'm still in high school, trying to find my locker, and wondering where my life went wrong that I'm a 34-year-old high schooler standing in a cafeteria line, these retail dreams seem to speak to some underlying sense of inadequacy, or even a fear of failure. To make it even worse, in these dreams I'm really good at being a copy monkey, I'm solving people's problems, disarming the most irate customer with easy charm and authority. Of course, the fluorescent lights are flicking on and off and I'm probably nude from the waist down but, hey, it's awesome! I'm good at this!

And then I wake up and feel like shit. I hated that job—I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there. And now I'm back there, doing great, because - apparently - my current life has just become too much effort and my shitty retail past is now some sort of emotional safe haven. You know what? Screw you, brain. I don't need this. I have enough problems without this crap. I don't need my dreamlife underscoring any potential fear/confidence issues; let's have more of the flying and the naked people, seriously.

Anyway. here's an amusing anecdote from back in the copy shop days:

So it's Saturday afternoon, one of our busiest and, of course, least-staffed times. There's maybe 3 employees in the whole place, and a line 13 people deep. Certainly, every person is a) really pissed off at having to wait 25 minutes to get to the counter and b) totally incredulous that their little project can't be done while they wait. I can sympathize, really.

This slightly older man gets to the counter, finally. A business lackey of some sort (I assume that if people held any real status at their company, they wouldn't be the ones dispatched to the copy shop 30 minutes before the investor presentation is due), he looks like a man who snaps his fingers at waiters and tells cashiers that he's "in a hurry." Bad news, dude, everyone is "in a hurry" here. He's red-faced. He's angry. He has a very important project (these people loved to use the word 'critical'... like there's a dying CEO in a cab outside, he could go any second...getting 20 color copies of the Maclellan briefing is his dying wish), and do I know how long he's been standing in line, this is absurd, etc. Like I said, I can sympathize.

He wants about 100 stapled copies of some packet. I want to tell him that he just waited in line 30 minutes for something he could have done himself in 5 minutes at a self-serve copier—but that would be assuming he had a real-world skill such as, say, operating a copier or using applied logic. Instead I take his papers in-hand and look at the machines behind me in the grand drama of "oh, let's see if we can do it now, oh drat, the machines are all in use, etc." But—holycrap—a machine actually is available, it just finished running something for some other red-faced person.

So I run this guy's job. It takes, oh, maybe 6 minutes. The whole time he just glares at me from the counter. He refuses to budge from his spot... no going to sit by the window for him: if I don't feel his hateful, burning gaze, lord knows I'd probably go on a break, or forget about his job, or go do whatever-the-hell-it-is I do to waste his time.

So I bring the copies back up to him and start to ring him up. I'm thinking, that went perfectly. Actually, I'm thinking 'this job is living hell, I wish I was dead,' but let's just say I was thinking 'perfect.' He looks down at the copies. I had placed them facing me. In a thin rage barely concealed as would-be authoritarian tones, he loudly says:

"this is all wrong. This is all wrong, I can't believe this."

Shocked, I wait for more info... how can it possibly be wrong? He looks at me with a clenched jaw and says,

"you printed these upside-down."

I reach forward and slowly turn the copies 180 degrees, so that the print is now facing him. A big vein appears on his forehead as he thinks for a few beats, and then says:

"I don't like your attitude."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh in his face or scream and 3-hole-drill myself in the head. I think I said something like, "well, let's just get you paid and get you out of here." Hah hah, funny, right? Yeah, I worked there another 2 years and it just got worse and worse. Maybe next time I'll tell you about the lunatic who used to come in and have us copy all his creepy fan mail to Christina Ricci, until he discovered we were making copies for our own amusement.

No, I should not be dreaming about this.

101 Uses for a Can of Corn

1. Eat corn, dispose can



2. Dispose corn, eat can (not recommended)



3. Set can of corn on levitating object to prevent object from levitating into ionosphere (light-weight objects only)



4. Hurl can of corn at attacking enemies - especially useful if enemies are allergic to corn or cans.



5. Give can of corn to child who begs you to purchase a toy for them - explain that you are poor



6. Open can, dispose corn, dispose can - feel unsatisfied



7. Stand on can of corn to appear taller, more confident



8. Place can of corn on side, lay a board across it, make fulcrum - demonstrate basic physics to jaded inner-city schoolchildren



9. Give can of corn to child who has misbehaved - explain that next time the can will contain bees, not delicious corn



10. Place can of corn on your head - you are the only person doing this; feel superior



11. Use can of corn as currency - buy more corn



12. Throw it away like you’ve thrown everything away, damnit



13. Install can of corn as third-world Junta leader - find some humorous play on kernel/colonel in subsequent headlines



14. Throw into fire, unopened - what will happen?



15. Worship can of corn - act surprised when the One True God smites you



16. Place can of corn on your cat’s head - you are the only person doing this; feel ashamed



17. Freeze can of corn, slice into ultrathin wafers, photograph slice-by-slice to create virtual ‘flythrough’ can of corn



18. Fall in love with can of corn



19. Sit on can of corn, think about things



20. Place can of corn under pillow - corn fairy will leave you a piece of string and a faulty matchbook



21. Pretend can of corn is Bigshot Broadway Producer - sing like you’ve never sung before



22. Perform ‘can of corn’ confidence scheme on unsuspecting mark



23. Sleep with can of corn, imagine you are sleeping with can of beets



24. Mail can of corn to someone in France, see what you get back (if anything)



25. Place can of corn in toilet - immediately regret doing so



26. Fire can of corn from rocket, see what atmospheric conditions aid or impede velocity



27. Try to explode can of corn using only your mind



28. Use can of corn as a visual aid as you wonder aloud about modern canning techniques and technologies to anyone who will listen



29. Try to explode can of corn using only a nine volt battery, six slices of American cheese, and a gum wrapper



30. Steam label off can of corn, place onto can of green beans - bask in the hilarity



31. Pour canned corn into wonton wrapper, deep fry - market as ‘molten grevious mouth-injury blobs’



32. Use can of corn as an alibi



33. Place can of corn in pants - explain that this is how things are done where you come from



34. Use can of corn as paperweight - note bitterly that you have no important papers to weigh down



35. Place can of corn in time capsule, include note explaining that great herds of can of corn once roamed the prarie - this is one of the last remaining specimens



36. Bring can of corn to modern art museum, place on open floor in middle of walkway - feel jilted when no-one mistakes this for art



37. Bring can of corn to job interview - before answering any questions, ask for a moment to consult the can



38. Attempt to reanimate canned corn with Lovecraftian inacantations



39. Place canned corn in mouth, pretend to vomit on irritating-coworker/neighbor - apologize profusely



40. Rub canned corn all over your nude body, you sick fuck



41. Introduce measure to gerrymander 9th congressional district to heavily favor wealthy couples - in ensuing political/media fallout, blame can of corn



42. Next time someone asks you what time it is, pummel them with can of corn - now who’s asking the questions?



43. Take can of corn into restaurant, ask waitperson for ‘just a bowl and a spoon’ - think that irritating very busy waitpeople is funny, and not at all a waste of someone’s valuable time



44. Introduce can of corn during a board meeting as ‘a vital new force in the company’ and ‘a visionary leader’ - watch stocks plummet



45. Start a boy band called ‘Can of Corn’ featuring washed up members of other boy bands - also, put a can of corn in there somewhere



46. Plant can of corn in fertile soil, see if can of corn tree grows



47. Use can of corn as a jack while you change your oil



48. Play with can of corn, dress it up, invent elaborate fantasies, who needs friends?



49. Taint can of corn with toxin - reintroduce into market



50. Bring can of corn to brothel, say ‘my friend here needs cheering up’ - think that irritating very busy flesh tradespeople is funny, and not at all a waste of someone’s valuable time



51. Write letter to a distant love on back of can of corn’s label - eat canned corn



52. Liberate canned corn back into the forest - you’re free now, canned corn!



53. Give can of corn to child, explain that their behavior has warranted nothing better



54. Trade can of corn to friendly natives for blankets - starve to death on the wagon trail



55. Smuggle can of corn through security checkpoints, see if anyone tries to stop you



56. Give can of corn to a child, then promptly take it back - explain to child that life will always be like this for them



57. Open can, retrieve single kernel and mail it to supermarket with a cut-out note reading, ‘$200,000 BY SUNDAY - NO MORE STALLING’



58. Empty can of corn into basin, give cat a ‘corn bath’



59. Take can of corn to work, declare it ‘Can of Corn Day’, say ‘So where’s your can?’ Punch anyone who doesn’t have a can



60. Place can of corn into safe deposit box, pretend it is microfilm, pretend you are a spy - get shot to death in Prague by Black Army faction



61. Take can of corn into movie theater, ask if you can put buttery topping on it - think that irritating very busy cinema staff is funny, and not at all a waste of someone’s valuable time



62. Take photographs of can of corn, post on Flickr with tag ‘can of corn’ - waste valuable internet resources



63. Vote can of corn in ‘08



64. Test teleporter on can of corn - fail to understand that 2 broken toasters, Legos, and several feet of licorice do not a ‘teleporter’ make



65. Start can of corn preservation society - appoint members, collect dues, send out newsletters



66. Start TV show - ‘Can of Corn Variety Hour’ - just a camera trained on can of corn for thirty minutes



67. Circulate rumor that can of corn actually contains the pureed remains of the elderly



68. Take can of corn to your ‘Alternative Lifestyle Senior Prom’



69. Place can of corn under a pyramid, believing that it will make it more succulent



70. Give can of corn to child, explain that corn actually contains the pureed remains of the elderly. Serve corn for dinner



71. Place can of corn into canned fruit section in supermarket - imagine that you have just done something revolutionary



72. Bring can of corn on a first date - explain that your first love is for the corn, the corn, THE CORN



73. Sieve a mixture of canned corn and vinegar through a fine screen - imagine that this will somehow result in moonshine



74. Combine canned corn with a mixture of corn meal, flour, and spices - deep-fry to make corn fritters - delicious corn fritters



75. Combine canned corn with a mixture of suet and birdseed - tell a child that it is a corn fritter



76. Look, do whatever you want, just promise to hurt a child, okay?



77. Make a big list of everything you can do with a can of corn, but don’t use anything from this list - I’ll sue your ass blind



78. Leave a trail of kernels from the forest to your house, see if the corn gnomes will come



79. Use can of corn as a fake bicep to impress the opposite sex



80. Fill your shoes with canned corn in fulfiullment of a misunderstood bible passage



81. Wear canned corn as a facial mask - go out to a social gathering - tell people you were in the great salad bar explosion of ‘99



82. Give can of corn to someone on their 90th birthday - tell them it is 64 more channels of cable television



83. Pour canned corn into your open hand - present it to a stranger in an act of good tidings



84. If you are disenfranchised, you may use can of corn to reenfranchise yourself



85. Duct tape can of corn to small of back to prevent snoring



86. Use can of corn to practice the Popeye spinach-can-squeeze-swallow manouver



87. Eat only one kernel at a time - on the bus



88. Use canned corn as shampoo, use gravel as conditioner, check self into mental hospital



89. Use canned corn as sculpting medium, sculpt giant can of corn



90. Put can of corn into dryer during ‘fluff’ cycle, see if it works as well as Downy



91. Pour milk over can of corn, eat for breakfast



92. Cite can of corn as your primary source in a fabricated NY Times article



93. Cite can of corn as your primary turn-on in a New York times classified ad



94. Pour canned corn into tortilla, eat as a burrito, realize that being high doesn’t make it taste any better



95. Use can of corn to make home-brewed ethanol, save a bundle at the pumps



96. Wear can of corn to trendy nightclubs, see if it catches on with the hip crowd



97. Obsess over can of corn’s imagined criticims of your character and wardrobe - is can of corn watching you right now?



98. Lie can of corn on its side. Now turn it upside-down. Put it on its other side. Wasn’t that fun?



99. Talk can of corn into running for Governor - withdraw support at crucial moment before the primaries



100. Identify can of corn as the number-one cause of America’s moral decline into Liberal anarchy



and...



101. Realize that can of corn is a blessing from Jesus, while can of peas is an abomination of His will

Very Stupid Post #1

Welcome!

Welcome to The Estates at Pixel Creek. We've created a unique and safe community nestled in the hills of The Internet, just minutes from world-class shopping, dining, and pornography. Relax and take a swim, stroll the grounds and admire the herds of wild [ANIMAL REFERENCE 107_A NOT FOUND]. Or just sip a white wine-flavored cocktail from our local vineyards and watch [NATURAL VISTA REF_NAME NOT FOUND] in [OFFENDING STACK COMMAND] and [CMD TERMINATED >> REVERTING TO MOST RECENT CACHED FILE... EXECUTE:]

[BEGIN CACHE] resulting in total nutrient extraction from the corpses. All hail the metal fist of Overlord Xoru! Anyway, hope you enjoy the 'blog'! Much more news to come about brewing your own Herm Wort for the Ceremonies. Celerion ouxo non Mahoc!