Lv. 27 Chaotic Neutral Hermit

Yeup.

2012-02-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

Feels good, man.

2012-01-10T16:20:00.000-08:00

Freedommmm!!!

2011-11-29T10:08:00.000-08:00

Beaverton can't touch me now!

I love me some obnoxious beats:

ES Posthumus - Unstoppable [Bankai Remix] {Live Autobots Mix} by Bankai on Grooveshark

Hopeless times.

2011-11-06T02:20:00.000-08:00

2011-09-02T22:10:00.001-07:00

I ain't dead.

2011-08-11T20:45:00.001-07:00

I just haven't been making art. Er, uh, um, I mean DRAWINGS.

LOL

2011-06-27T12:29:00.000-07:00

More faces...

That's a good question.

2011-06-25T20:46:00.001-07:00

Same ol' stuff.

2011-06-09T22:59:00.000-07:00

girl_face1.png

2011-06-02T10:56:00.001-07:00

Working makes me want to draw.

2011-05-16T23:44:00.001-07:00

Sad Face

2011-04-24T00:24:00.001-07:00

Used to have ideas.

It's that time again...

2011-04-18T16:08:00.001-07:00

Thursday

2011-03-31T22:42:00.001-07:00

Face

2011-03-25T21:53:00.000-07:00

Drew another face. Deal with it.

You can't escape it.

For Dad...

2011-03-24T08:02:00.001-07:00

Something like this.*

*Whatever, what the hell, anyway.

2011-03-14T22:53:00.001-07:00

Blood serve, bitch!

2011-03-04T17:10:00.001-08:00

2011-03-02T23:03:00.001-08:00

Post End Times

2011-03-01T01:19:00.000-08:00

Whatever, what the hell, anyway.

I call this one, "Drawing I did in less than a minute."

You have to re-start somewhere.

End Times

2011-02-17T20:52:00.001-08:00

Hope you like your left arm because you're going to eat it!

This bird has nothing to lose.

2011-02-04T14:44:00.001-08:00

Welp.

2011-01-29T19:47:00.001-08:00

The Essentials

2011-01-21T00:33:00.001-08:00

Garbage Day!

2011-01-16T10:25:00.001-08:00

Awful Dream

I had a dream I went to visit with one of my friends I hadn't seen in a long time (that one from the call center I worked at actually, but that's another story) and it turned out he had become an insufferable jerk. We went to this stupid Japanese themed restaurant and he was talking about how much he loved Japan to an obnoxious degree and how he visited and how I should visit because it's an amazing experience, then we started talking about writers and philosophers we were interested in and I said I liked George Orwell and he said, "Yeah, everyone knows who he is and his ideas are kind of for beginners," and so I felt sad and a bit upset.

Then he lectured me on a bunch of people "I've probably never heard of" and talked about how I'm not really that well educated and should read more so I can have a real conversation with him. After that we went to a baseball game and he poisoned this fat woman's hot dog and she died. At that point all I could think was, "Wow this guy's not as cool as he used to be. In fact, he's kind of a horrible person now, and why did he kill that nice lady?" Then the dream ended.

2011-01-14T18:12:00.001-08:00

Screaming Lady

2011-01-07T09:42:00.001-08:00

Or maybe singing, it's hard to tell.

On Resolutions.

2010-12-31T22:18:00.001-08:00

Excerpt - Kings of Nothing:

The light went green and Eric pressed the gas too hard, sending us lurching forward while pushing my heart into my stomach.

"See, that's why I have to write my books, so that people will look at me and say, 'See that guy? He knows what he's talking about...sort of.' Then they would make a point of coming over and having Scotch with me, because they believed that talking to me would be worth their time. But, right now, instead they say, 'See that guy? He's a weirdo who writes bad books and has nothing to say.' Of course, this is the problem you see, it all depends on whether you actually make money in what you do, otherwise no one will take you seriously, and this is especially true with books."

Perfect 10. I will marry you yesterday.

2010-12-30T18:24:00.000-08:00

One of my theme songs:

She wuz hawt and all the gurls were jelus of her cuz she had so many teeth.

I know all you gamers (PC GAMERS) have been searching hard for that super awesome exciting SUPER SECRET MISSION in the latest hot shit awesome game from Blizzard where you do that god damn zerging thing all the kids in Chemistry class are talkin' about! Well, if you still have not found that secret mission, then look no further because IGN has the super scoop for that super secret shit. Just check out this video and watch it and you'll find that fucking stupid bull shit mission and be the coolest kid on your block! Don't forget to subscribe to IGN to keep up to date on all the hottest war simulators, plus the BIGGEST SEQUELS you just have to get your grubby mitts on dawg! Not to mention all those super secret levels that will make you COOL in SCHOOL.

West Side Wizard

2010-12-25T11:26:00.000-08:00

CR: 500

Epic Extended Empowered Time Stop

Person Man

2010-12-23T20:31:00.001-08:00

He was a man, like any other man was.

CR: 30

2010-12-21T13:22:00.000-08:00

No one is invalidated, but nobody is right.

Edited for stupid jerk face Anonymous guy who always has something to say.

+5 Umbrella

2010-12-18T21:14:00.001-08:00

"Kikkerland"

Long forgotten in the backrooms of Beach's restaurant, this umbrella has been at long last united with the one destined to wield it.

Base Damage: 1D10
Base Critical Threat: x2
Damage Type: Piercing
Umbrella Size: Medium
Feats Required: Umbrella
Base Item: Umbrella
Weight: 2.0

Special Properties
Enhancement Bonus: +5
Cast Endure Elements unlimited times a day
Cast True Seeing three times a day
Water Elementals must make a save vs DC 48 or take 8d12 of damage
Only usable by Chaotic Neutral

On Democracy.

2010-12-11T10:26:00.000-08:00

I wish I was a billionaire so I could go public and tell all those rich people to shut the fuck up and stop whining about taxes. I'd be a hero.

Mine is the fist of JUSTICE.

2010-12-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

What are the odds.

Double asteroids all the- SHUT THE FUCK UP!

You want justice do you!? Eat your vegetables and I'll give you forty two pounds of justice!

Smug

2010-12-04T20:16:00.001-08:00

(Not my design.)

"Hey George! You know what would be awesome for the show?"

"What Tim?"

"What if I screamed really loud and obnoxiously in a sudden horrendous screeching wail after every single one of our shitty one minute songs!?!"

I drew this twice. No joke. I accidentally saved over a much better version, minus the aggressive speech bubbles. No one actually yelled these things.

2010-12-01T11:33:00.001-08:00

Bored Lady

2010-11-30T19:07:00.000-08:00

Lady is bored.

This is all I drew.

2010-11-24T22:24:00.001-08:00

Validate me!

2010-11-23T15:35:00.001-08:00

Ooh, baby:

Here's some whimsical bull shit:

North Korea!

Spit

2010-11-18T18:21:00.000-08:00

Wednesday

2010-11-17T17:10:00.001-08:00

Monday

2010-11-15T17:50:00.000-08:00

"All this junk data preserved in an unfiltered state, growing at an alarming rate."

2010-11-14T23:59:00.001-08:00

"No one is invalidated, but nobody is right."

Angry Dude Guy

2010-11-10T23:43:00.001-08:00

This angry dude is SUPER angry!

Blah.

2010-11-06T15:31:00.000-07:00

Politicking Time Bomb

2010-11-04T07:42:00.001-07:00

In case you forgot. <---Orange text is links.

Mystified Boehner Quotes:

"While our new majority will serve as your voice in the people's House, we must remember it's the president who sets the agenda for our government."

"The people's priorities will be our priorities, and the people's agenda will be our agenda. We are humbled by the trust that the American people have placed in us. And we recognize that with this trust comes the responsibility to listen, and listen we will."

Help poor Boehner come up with some ideas! Send him e-mail HERE.

UPDATE: Boehner has some come up with some ideas! Read about them here!

Towering Inferno

2010-11-02T01:23:00.001-07:00

Kings of Nothing

2010-10-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

This is what I drew today.

Super Random Super Secret Novel Excerpt:

Admittedly, I had some creative ability. I drew alright and I had a few creative ideas about things, especially about prefabricated walls – no, not really, ha! I took a pottery class in high school and I got an A, but none of this exactly qualified me for the creation and dispersal of art. Writing I was also fairly good at, probably better at it than art some would say. I had won a writing contest in second and seventh grade. For the one in seventh grade, I got 50 bucks. I spent that money on getting some new pants. They were hip huggers, I was oh-so-cool in them, or so I thought at the time, no, I'm pretty sure I was. The guys loved me even then. Girls were jealous because they were ugly, of course.

When I received the award and cash, the lady who was giving them out, a dried out woman nearing the end of her life with skin that seemed to be leaving her face in preparation for her coming death, said in my ear, while handing the check and award into my tiny grabby hands, "You make sure to keep writing, okay dear?"

I took the cash, shrugged and said, "Yeah, okay, whatever."

Much to that lady's disappointment, though she was certainly dead by now and could not care either way, I hadn't written a damn thing since. Well, I wrote e-mails, but that didn't count. Furthermore, I don't even capitalize my words! Punctuation? Ha! What a waste of time. Perhaps when I turned 60 I could settle down and write a book, but right now? I had better things to do, and if Eric was any evidence, this act of writing, to give myself over to it, it would only lead to my own demise, or, at the very least, it would make me insufferably pompous, almost as much as he was – and that was a scary thought.

Besides, I had a job, a real job, what good would writing do for me? I had nothing to say, I had no major problems to deal with, and no one wanted to read a book about a young 20-somethings life as a Target employee. It had been done, as I said, it had all been done, all been said, it was superfluous, that was the word. (Good word, put that shit in a book.) Besides, my job was pretty fun most of the time, and so there wasn't much whining to be done in the form of literature. You want to know how much work sucks? How hard it is to earn an honest living? The struggles of the common man? Well then don't fucking ask me about it.

Garbage Day!

2010-10-24T22:29:00.001-07:00

544

2010-10-21T23:25:00.001-07:00

More Ayn Rand brilliance...

2010-10-20T15:56:00.001-07:00

"Whenever I hear people say taxes are a necessary evil, I think of Hitler."

-Ayn Rand

Hey! How come these roads have so many holes in them! I can barely drive my car! If only we had a way to pay someone to fix them! Damn you Ayn Rand!!!

Hey! This library's closed! How am I supposed to check out The Emperor's Children and read it in two days because it's so damn good!? If only there were a way to pay people to work here! Damn you Ayn Rand!

Hey! This school doesn't have any teachers! Damn you Ayn Rand!

Hey! A bunch of stupid fuck wits are spouting gibberish about objectivism! Damn you Ayn Rand!

http://www.multcolib.org/

From Andrew (pretty sweet): http://www.laboiteverte.fr/lavant-et-lapres-de-peintures-connues-expliques/?ref=nf

Stuff

2010-10-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

From the internet:

For me its exploding rocks down at the quarry all day. Nothing like a big boom then a cloud of dust to make you feel alive.

Garbage Day!!!

2010-10-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

YOU ARE NOT PREPARED:

"I think Disney knew I didn't know anything -- but they had hope!" -Lloyd Beebe, film maker for Disney's True Life Adventure films

Teach me how to Dougie!

2010-10-14T22:07:00.001-07:00

Why do I write?

2010-10-13T18:23:00.001-07:00

I write because blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

When you see Humboldt, please tell him I said hi.

The Meaning

2010-10-12T21:35:00.001-07:00

I gave my self an A+ because I think I'm great and don't care about you. At least not since I read Atlas Shrugged and Fountainhead and found the meaning of life. (That's the meaning, to not care about you. Sorry, bro.)

This photo is marvelous by the way. (Ayn Rand would hate it because both of these women are decidedly more attractive than her.)

One of my friends posted a site that had a bunch of retro photos on Facebook. That's where I found it. It's an old photo from a movie I have sadly forgotten the name of. The site didn't have any Ayn Rand photos. (Ayn Rand doesn't matter and was a delusional megalomaniac.)

In the above photo, Ayn Rand is nowhere to be seen, this makes the photo ten times more beautiful and a hundred times less bat shit crazy.

I was eating cereal today and it didn't have any Ayn Rand in it. (I was glad because Ayn Rand was a terrible writer full of cooky ideas.)

The other day I went for a walk and Ayn Rand was nowhere to be seen, this made me glad. (Not mad.)

I had a dream the other night, it was not about Ayn Rand but my friends. (Ayn Rand would be a terrible friend because she wouldn't care about me, much like she didn't care about her real friends.)

The other day I went to the post office and someone said they did not like Ayn Rand. I invited them to my house and we had a beer. I offered it to him for free, he was glad that I did not subscribe to objectivist principles which encourage being a selfish ass hole.

Ayn Rand was not born in my city, I was born in an Ayn Rand free city, which by default makes it the best city.

I was hacking a family to pieces the other day and wait.

The other day I told my friend I did not like certain parts of his artwork. Being that he was not a fan of Ayn Rand he saw me as a critic but not an enemy of his personal pursuit of limitless excellence. We had a nice talk and I bought him a beer. (Ayn Rand would never buy you a beer.)

You'll have to guess.

2010-10-11T23:33:00.001-07:00

Thanks lady!

Enlightenment

2010-10-09T19:34:00.001-07:00

Morning:

Night (ha, ha):

Now is the time to panic.

2010-10-08T01:48:00.001-07:00

INFOWARS.COM!

Nah, I'm just kidding. Stay in school kids!

Real talk.

2010-10-07T12:43:00.001-07:00

"Whenever you get hit with an overwhelming weight, you have to jujitsu it."

-Nancy Pelosi

With just a handful of men...

2010-10-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

ARTILLERYMAN: And what's so bad about living underground eh? It's not been so great living up here, if you want my opinion.

ARTILLERYMAN: We'll send scouting parties to collect books and stuff, and men like you'll teach the kids. Not poems and rubbish - science, so we can get everything working!

ARTILLERYMAN: Nothing can stop men like us. I've made a start already. Come on down here and have a look.

2010-10-05T11:09:00.000-07:00

Hail Satan!

2010-10-04T20:38:00.001-07:00

Satan a Favorite to Win Presidency

AP News
Billings, Montana

Satan, the current ruler of Hell, is a favorite to win the presidency of the United States of America. Polls have shown, that if the election were to take place today, an astounding 62% of America would vote for him. When asked about these impressive numbers, David Halberstam, a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and political historian said, "What the hell is wrong with these people!? It's f--king Satan!"

Shirley Barret disagreed however when asked about her choice of Satan as president. "Satan is the kind of guy you'd want to get a beer with, he speaks the way your average American speaks, he supports family values, and I like his views on gay marriage." She paused a moment, then added, "I really like that he doesn't like gay marriage."

Satan has been running on a platform of saving this country from left wing elitist snobs, right wing radicals, and people who know more than you do. He believes that he can save America by "bringing this country back to the way it was before big government began to control your health care, out of control spending, blah blah blah, and something about family values."

George Brickowsen, a local plumber, had this to say about Satan's poll numbers, "It's no surprise to me really. Satan knows what the people want and he's going to give it to us. He has promised to fix the deficit, abolish taxes, kill all terrorists, save the sanctity of marriage, fix spending, and stop illegal immigration, and I look at him and see how big he is, and that really makes me think he's the one to do it. He's a big dude."

Satan has no political experience, though he promises he has learned more than enough while ruling Hell. Many critics are concerned about his complete lack of schooling, having never even enrolled in kindergarten. He has not yet chosen a running mate, but all sources point to Sarah Palin.

Garbage Day!

2010-10-03T22:20:00.001-07:00

I'm obviously late to the party on this one, but I had to draw this for my own sanity (or perhaps insanity? ha ha).

Sorry, Mr. Heller. I'm going to keep doing that until I finish your wacky book. Deal? Deal.

From Tim Kreider (political cartoonist):

I had already turned in my cartoon Friday afternoon when, Saturday morning, I read the news that Reagan’s health was failing. I began drawing immediately. I have had a rough draft of this cartoon ready for this occasion for years. As the day continued I kept getting e-mails and text messages from friends excitedly anticipating the Gipper’s impending death. Finally Steve, with whom I have planned for over a decade to hold a party on the day of Reagan’s funeral, called me from the track, where he was betting on the Belmont Stakes, to tell me that the old bastard was finally dead. He reported that there had been a perfunctory Moment of Silence, lasting approximately 1.6 seconds, before everyone went back to betting. It was beautiful. As the afternoon went on I got a flood of congratulatory calls from friends around the world—Ben in Boston, Megan and Mike in New York, Berkeley in Baltimore, even Allison in Bulgaria. I e-mailed this cartoon into the City Paper around seven P.M., begging them in the name of our sweet lord and savior Jesus Christ to stop the presses and please run this Wednesday, and then headed down to Baltimore to drink tiny beers and watch The Big Lebowski. The Reagan party will be held at my house this weekend.

Perhaps it may seem insensitive and unpatriotic to some for me to run such an ugly cartoon at this time of national mourning. To those of you who hold this view, I must respectfully say fuck you. Some of my younger readers may not even remember Ronald Regan’s presidency, and I would not want them to be misled by the onslaught of state propaganda they’ll be subjected to this week. Calling him the Great Communicator is like calling Hitler the Great Negotiator, and if we’re going to credit him with winning the Cold War we may as well credit him with the Challenger disaster and the return of Halley’s Comet. Let me tell you what it was really like:

Even at age twelve I could tell that Jimmy Carter was an honest man trying to address complicated issues and Ronald Reagan was a brilcreemed salesman telling people what they wanted to hear. I secretly wept on the stairs the night he was elected President, because I understood that the kind of shitheads I had to listen to in the cafeteria grew up to become voters, and won. I spent the eight years he was in office living in one of those science-fiction movies where everyone is taken over by aliens—I was appalled by how stupid and mean-spirited and repulsive the world was becoming while everyone else in America seemed to agree that things were finally exactly as they should be. The Washington Press corps was so enamored of his down-to-earth charm that they never checked his facts, but if you watched his face when it was at rest, when he wasn’t performing for anyone, you could see him for what he really was—a black-eyed, slit-mouthed, lizard-faced old son-of-a-bitch. He was a bad actor, an informer for McCarthy, and a hired front man for a gang of Texas oilmen, fundamentalist dingbats, and right-wing psychotics out of Dr. Strangelove. He put a genial face on chauvanism, callousness, and greed, and made people feel good about being bigots again. He likened Central American death squads to our founding fathers and called the Taliban “freedom fighters.” His legacy includes the dismantling of Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, the final dirty win of Management over Labor, the outsourcing of America’s manufacturing base, the embezzlement of almost all the country's wealth by 1% of its citizens, the scapegoating of the poor and black, the War on Drugs, the eviction of schizophrenics into the streets, AIDS, acid rain, Iran-Contra, and, let’s not forget, the corpses of two hundred forty United States Marines. He moved the center of political discourse in this country to somewhere in between Richard Nixon and Augusto Pinochet. He believed in astrology and Armageddon and didn't know the difference between history and movies; his stories were lies and his jokes were scripted. He was the triumph of image over truth, paving the way for even more vapid spokesmodels like George W. Bush. He was, as everyone agrees, exactly what he appeared to be—nothing. He made me ashamed to be an American. If there was any justice in this world his Presidential Library would contain nothing but boys' adventure books and bad cowboy movies, and the only things named after him would be shopping malls and Potter's Fields. Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt.

----------------------------------

It's not rocket science people, heck it's not even 3rd grade math! Hell it's just a graph with a talking elephant!

Just a few notable dates in Reagan's presidency:

11/23/81
President Reagan vetoes a stopgap spending bill, thus forcing the federal government - for the first time in history - to temporarily shut down. Says House Speaker Tip O'Neill, "He knows less about the budget than any president in my lifetime. He can't even carry on a conversation about the budget. It's an absolute and utter disgrace."

4/18/85
While Michael Deaver is in West Germany searching for an "appropriate" concentration camp for the President to visit, President Reagan defends his visit to Bitburg by claiming the German soldiers "were victims, just as surely as the victims in the concentration camps."

5/5/85
After having visited the Bergen-Belsen death camp, President Reagan makes an eight minute stop at Bitburg. During the ceremony, he cites a letter from 13-year-old Beth Flom who, he claims, "urged me to lay the wreath at Bitburg cemetery in honor of the future of Germany." In fact, she urged him not to go at all.

5/8/85
Reagan's arms and legs are tied to four horses and the horses are made to run in opposite directions, tearing off all of his limbs. Still alive, his head is slowly crushed in a large vice. He dies.

5/9/85
A large party is thrown in Times Square. Ulysses S. Grant, Abraham Lincoln, and The Founding Fathers rise from the dead to join the party. Jesus appears and break dances. He is very good at break dancing.

5/10/85
Nothing much happens. Laker game. Uncommonly warm day.

On art...

2010-10-02T05:34:00.001-07:00

"I don't like this art."

"Yeah? Well, what would you do?"

"I'd write a book, that's what I'd do -- and I did! I wrote two! And I'm working on a third!"

---------------------------

Ulysses S. Grant: "Good heavens woman! This is a war! You can't be here!"

Wife: "But what should we have for dinner, Ulysses S. Grant?!"

Ulysses S. Grant: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

[Ulysses S. Grant walks off into the fog]

On delusion...

2010-10-01T09:16:00.001-07:00

I'm a genius!

The guitar in this song breaks my heart every time. (I'm such a baby, ha ha.)

On writing...

2010-09-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I don't write well.

When this happens I have a sandwich and I write ~~well~~ ~~better~~ ~~okay~~ less crappy!

9-29-10

2010-09-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

The Market

Five years of design school and this is where I end up on my Sundays -- in the rain, working at farmer's market. It's not so bad really, it's just that Sunday is when my friend Tyler shows up to work, and Tyler makes everything worse. Tyler's an idiot, but I thought I'd do the nice thing and find the guy some gainful employment. Even Tyler could work at a place like this without fucking everything up -- or so I thought.

My boss, Ulysses, talked to me the other day about it, "If that fucking idiot screws everything up again, I'm going to fire him! I've never fired anyone! But I will fire him -- after I ask my dad." Uly, as I called him, technically wasn't the boss of anyone, but he acted like it, and I suppose he did have powers of termination if it came down to it.

The rain came down as it usually does when it's winter in Portland. Everything was wet, it was raining, this is rain. Clouds, cold, gray, gloom, dreary, depression, do you get it!?

I needed to get my shit together fast, because this farmer's market thing was balls. My shit being my graphic design portfolio. The job wasn't so bad really, but when it starts raining every morning, it's just not worth it anymore. I was meant for better things than this. I'm a genius dammit!

I sat in my girlfriend's four door, waiting for the boss to show. I listened to a CD of Vivaldi. It was not my music, it was my girlfriend's. I had forgotten my iPod, but that didn't matter really, because that POS never worked in the first place. Fuckin' Apple, ruining countries, foisting crap on white rich brats. No, I'm just kidding, I love Apple. This is the kind of shit Tyler would say between crying and moaning over his book.

I saw him, Tyler, he was headed toward my car. He wore a newspaper on his head to stop the rain. I don't know why he didn't have an umbrella. I rolled down the window and said to him, "Why don't you have an umbrella?"

He looked at me for a moment like I was stupid, "I have a newspaper."

"Okay."

"Are you listening to Vivaldi? I didn't know you liked Vivaldi."

"I don't, it's my girlfriends."

"Oh."

He stood there for a few moments, alone, in the rain, saying nothing. He sniffled. That crappy green coat he wore all the time was soaked through, but only in the front strangely enough. He flipped the newspaper to the drier side. I rolled the window up and leaned back in the seat. I had an awful head ache and a sore throat, possibly a cold. It just goes to figure I'd feel like shit on a day like this. I opened the glove box and grabbed a flask from inside. I twisted off the cap and took a few gulps of high quality liquor. This helped, somewhat.

There was a rapping on the window. It was Tyler again. I took a moment to stare at him with open disgust, then rolled the window down and said, "What do you want Tyrone?"

"Who's Tyrone?"

"Nothing. What do you want Tyler?"

"Can I come in?"

"I guess."

He came around to the passenger's side and struggled for a moment to open the door. I waited for him to stop tugging on the handle long enough for me to unlock the passenger door. He flopped into the seat and tossed the wet newspaper behind him.

"It smells in here," he said, pinching his nose.

"Fuck you."

He picked up a Taco Bell wrapper (which was mine) and said, "Your girlfriend needs to clean her car."

"You want to go back outside?"

"No," he said, then stared out the window and became quiet.

We sat that way for a while, waiting for Uly to arrive with his enormous truck packed with fresh vegetables. Vivaldi entertained us with Four Seasons. I asked Tyler how his book was going, no just kidding, I didn't do that, fuck his book. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against the window.

"Don't press your oily face against the window like that," I said, as though this wasn't common knowledge to him.

He moaned like a fucking baby and said, "I am so fucking tired."

"Huh."

He took his face off the window, wiped his drippy nose with the back of his hand, and said, "Been writing my book."

"Okay."

I saw Uly's truck pull into the parking lot. I grabbed the flask for one last dose then tossed it back in and slammed the glove box shut.

"Can I have some?" said Tyler as if on cue. Fucking mooch.

"No, I'm sick," I told him.

"I don't care."

"It's not mine, it's my girlfriend's."

"I still want some."

"Get out of the car."

He grabbed the flask and chugged several gulps, spilling some down his chin.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Tyler looked at me hurtfully and said, "I thought you said I could have some?"

Tyler always made my headaches worse. I rubbed my forehead, I didn't have time for this. I gave his shoulder a shove and said, "Just get out of the car."

"But it's raining."

"Yeah, I know."

"Maybe we should wait."

"No, get out."

"I read the weather reports, it said it would be sunny. So we could probably wait a few minutes."

"The sun is never going to come out, not today."

"How do you know? Let's wait. Ulysses can handle unloading by himself."

I stared at him for a moment. There was nothing to say to this. This was just Tyler being difficult. If he wasn't going to get out, then I was, because I was here to do my damn job, and I did just that. He followed shortly after. Tyler hated to be alone.

"I thought you were going to wait?" I asked him.

"The car smells," he told me, holding a new, dry, newspaper above his head.

Uly stepped out of the truck. He was an enormous man. Nearly seven feet tall and three feet wide, he could probably break your neck with one hand. He took a moment to hitch his pants, then looked at us and said, "I hate both of you and wish you were dead." Uly was a real nice guy (ha, ha).

"Good morning," I said.

"Hi Ulysses," said Tyler.

Uly looked at Tyler, shook his head, and said, "What are you doing with that fucking newspaper? You can't work holding a fucking newspaper above your head."

Tyler stared back, with much the same look he gave me earlier, and explained, quite simply, "It's raining."

You can't spell book without superfluous.

2010-09-28T09:07:00.001-07:00

My book is really good, it has a lot of big words.

Disingenuous. Like that word? You'll find it in my book. Good word, big word.

For the illiterate:

Terrible Dialogue Practice (inspired by browsing NaNoWriMo forums)

"Sally, I love you. I've always loved you, since the sky met the sun! Since the dragons began to rustle the glowing trees over yonder in the lands of dragon faeries!"

"Oh George, I've loved you too but, there was something, something blocking my sight!"

"What!? What was it Sally!? What doth blocketh thine sights?"

"I...I don't know! A wall perhaps? But...forget all that, let's be truthful, my heart, the heart that beats just below my bountiful breasts, it yearns for your touch."

"Yes Sally! Let me touch your heart!"

"Yes, touch it! Touch my heart!"

"Ohhhh! I'm touching it! I am touching your heart! I am literally touching your heart!"

"Oh fuck!"

I wonder how bad some of my dialogue is? I guess we'll see won't we?

On being sad...

2010-09-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I become very sad.

When this happens I eat a sandwich and I am happy again!

Garbage Day!

2010-09-26T06:48:00.001-07:00

Hilarious comedian.

This is the End -- of the work week.

2010-09-24T10:10:00.000-07:00

1: "Oh, this is exciting!"

2: "I am having so much fun, I'm glad you invited me!"

1: "You? What are you doing here!? No one invited you, get out!"

2: "Awww..."

_________________

1: "I heard you got divorced."

2: "What? I didn't get divorced, you on crack?"

1: "Yes, yes I am on crack."

_______________

1: "Okay, here comes the train. Let's do it Doris. Let's jump -- together."

2: "Okay, um, but you first."

Never met a girl like you before.

2010-09-23T13:26:00.001-07:00

It's easy to be an artist, it's hard to make art.

You are all gravitating away from me, I can feel it. This is the stuff books are made of. Isolation, despair, love, loss. All of it, every moment. Montana beckons. The mountains I see in the pictures, they will love me.

October 15th

2010-09-22T10:57:00.001-07:00

Been doing the last minute edits and I've realized something.

It is a fine book.

That is all.

Here's to Hoping

2010-09-20T22:00:00.000-07:00

Pro-Tip: Kyoko's House (Stage Blood is Not Enough) is the best track.

Garbage Day!!!

2010-09-19T06:45:00.000-07:00

Just making fun of myself.

I am the main character in the greatest novel ever written.

I will draw women in profile until the day I die. She looks surprised, not intentional, oh well, no one looks at this blog anyway.

Okay, okay okay okay. Charlie. I got an idea for an art show. I've been drawing up some plans. This is where I'm at right now with my idea.

It's just in the preliminary stages, but I think this is really something we can work with. Get back to me with your thoughts/feelings on my concept.

I feel like I'm finally getting to the heart of the matter with this piece, a concept people can really identify with.

Been spending a lot of time crying so don't be too hard on me, I'm an "artist" after all.

In addition to crying for the sake of creative respect and generally making everyone angry, I, unabashedly, listen to the worst shit:

Party Pants

2010-09-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

"Great party George!"

"Party? This is my art show."

"Oh."

"Hey Eric Blair, what do you think of my piece?"

"Fuck your piece, where's the beer!?!? This combination of sobriety and people is killing me! Fuckin' proles, I can feel them in my god damn pores!!"

ORWELL LIVES!!!

321!!!LET US BE PERFECTLY DRUNK!!!123

2010-09-16T15:37:00.000-07:00

If you want to read my book send me an email at tyronework@gmail.com and I will print it out and give it to you on October 15th.

If you don't read my blog you will never get to read it. It's that simple. This is the only time in your entire life I will be printing it out, unless it's published of course. If you contact me after October 15th then it's no deal. Furthermore, I will be hunting down and burning all existing copies after they have been read by their chosen readers. So don't depend on your so-called "friends" to attain a copy.

Ha! Published!

PUBLISHED!!!?

Forget all that garbage. Here's a drawing.

Mmmm...

2010-09-14T23:32:00.001-07:00

Oh friend, where did you go?

Swords

2010-09-13T17:53:00.000-07:00

I wish Tyrone would stop drawing faces. It disappoints me and I lose sleep at night thinking about it. I really don't like face drawings.

2010-09-11T16:41:00.001-07:00

If you would like to read my novel please submit a 109,704 word essay detailing why you deserve to read my book. You cannot use the same word twice.

I'm moving to Montana guys. I'm fucking serious, but only about this.

Hmmm...

I'm fucking serious -- but only about this!

I'm fucking serious but only about this!

Presently, I am only fucking serious about this.

I'm only fucking serious about this!

I'm often facetious but in regards to this matter I am fucking serious!

That's how bad of a writer I am.

No, that's not right either.

That's how bad I am at writing.

September 10th

2010-09-10T20:41:00.001-07:00

Life Plans

1. Do everything wrong.
2. Say the wrong things.
3. Upset all friends.
4. Move to Montana.
5. Never seen again.

The Promised Land

Nice to see we're all on the same page.

2010-09-09T14:42:00.001-07:00

If you don't floss, no one will love you.

Forward!

2010-09-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Foreword

by Anonymous Guy

Regrettably, at the time Tyrone began writing "Myrna" -- as it was called at the time -- I was not around to stop him. I was vacationing in Detroit, one of the last great cities left in America. Being his conscience, the one who tells him how bad all of his ideas and drawings are, I would have been able to reason with him, stop him somehow, through physical force if it came to that, but by the time I caught up with him he was already 100 pages into the damn thing and there was no turning back. Unfortunate to be sure.

Luckily I was able to help him reign the thing in upon our reunion because the original draft was complete shit. Now, I don't want to give the impression that this is a good book, far from it. This is a bad book. It's the first attempt at writing a full novel by someone who possesses little to no knowledge about the art of writing and it shows. Am I glad he wrote it? No, not really, to be perfectly honest with you. I would have preferred he found some gainful employment instead of rolling his face around on the keyboard for 4-6 months. Then again, this is Tyrone we're talking about, so what could we really expect? Who knows?

If I were to compare Tyrone's writing style to any other writer I would compare him to no one because they are all most certainly more capable than he is. This is doubly true considering the ideas held within this...erm, guh...novel. It is filled with half realized ideas, underdeveloped plot points, and off the wall theories on life from a 25 year old hermit.

People have asked Tyrone what it's about and he's never really been able to give a straight answer and that's understandable because I've read it and I'm still not sure what's it about. I don't think it's about anything to tell you the truth. I'm not even sure the damn thing is finished! Well, it's about a janitor, but I can't say much beyond that. What's it about thematically? Well, we can just forget about that discussion. I've also been told it's funny. I suppose it is at parts but Tyrone tries much too hard and you'll find many dead jokes within this book. Then again, it is well known that I have never laughed.

Now, I know that I've been awfully hard on Tyrone in this short passage he begged me to write but that's only because I know how much better Tyrone could do. I'm sure the 50 or so agents who have rejected him feel the same way. Right. Well, for what it's worth I hope you enjoy the book. I'm just glad he's finally sharing it with the world, though whether that's a good or bad thing remains to be seen. At the very least I'll be able to drink some of that Oude Genever.

Garbage Day!

2010-09-05T06:25:00.000-07:00

Paper Bag Dilemma

"Paper or plastic," she said, smiling falsely.

Yeah, she would say that. Gosh I hate people who ask me what kind of bag I want. Why don't they ever know? God damn, my life is such a mess since I turned 16. You grow up so fast and suddenly life is all wacky and people are asking about plastic bags then you don't know where the hell you are anymore.

"Young man? Would you like paper or plastic?"

"Uh, whatever, I don't care," I said. "We're all going to end up in some crumby cemetery anyway." Who cares about bags? Phony phonies, that's who. God I hate phony bags and phony bag ladies.

The bag lady shrugged, then dropped my Hungry Man TV dinners into a plastic bag. Figures she'd choose plastic. No one ever notices how bad the environment is when they're bagging phony groceries. They say they care about the environment but they're a bunch of phonies. If only everyone were as deep and thoughtful as me, then they'd know what to notice in the world, such as the disappearing duck epidemic and cuss words written on walls.

The woman had finally finished bagging my groceries. God damn she took a long time, I had to be in New York to get drunk and wander around aimlessly in less than two hours! I grabbed the bag and tore it out of her hands, then I dumped the contents out on the floor because I'm a real tough guy. I saw those synthetic TV dinners and they made me feel real crumby so I sat down right there in the middle of the checkout line and cried. I shrieked. I moaned. I squeezed my eyes shut and spilled hot tears. I made a real scene. It was all too much if you want to know the truth. All these kids falling in rye and stuff, how could I catch them? Impossible! I couldn't take this world anymore and all this growing up and shit. It was too much, all these phony bags and phony TV dinners, and phony bag ladies. Phony air, probably not even breathing real oxygen. Just put me in the loony bin, I quit.

Mandatory

2010-09-04T09:53:00.001-07:00

Kierkegaard? Anyone, anyone? Dad?

Best worst:

Words, words, words!!!

2010-09-03T08:57:00.000-07:00

One Chair

She stared at the chair for a long time. She couldn't believe it, the chair only had three legs. Three! She snatched the catalog off her bed to double check, and sure enough, comparing the chair's image and the actual chair sitting before her, she saw that, in the catalog -- the ideal version, the chair had four legs, not three. Or maybe not? She looked closer at the photo. She assumed that there was a fourth leg but the photo's angle obscured the fourth leg, which apparently, as she could clearly see now, never existed at all. Wait, no, impossible! All chairs had four legs. She wondered what kind of company would sell a three legged chair anyway.

She had looked forward to getting this chair for two whole agonizing weeks. Yes, agony is what the wait was like. Everyday she drove home as fast as she could to see if her new chair had arrived. She had the lone chair for so long. This addition was key but now, after so much waiting, pining, she still only had one chair. Well, one and three-fourths chairs to be precise. This would not do. It would not do at all. She had been planning on having guests, or at least one guest, a very special guest -- the checkout girl. She would sit in the old chair and her guest, the girl with the pretty eyes from the checkout, would sit in the new chair, and she would say to her, "Do you like my new chair?"

The checkout girl would respond politely and say, "Yes, this is a good chair." Or something like that, she didn't know her all that well really. The checkout girl only ever asked her how her day was going and smiled while ringing up the groceries. She once commented on how nice her sweater was but she knew it was ridiculous to assume that it was anything more than her being a nice checkout girl.

How could she invite anyone over and expect them to sit in a three legged chair? She grabbed the phone. She needed to talk to someone. A customer service representative, that was it. After pressing the corresponding buttons to reach the correct area of support she was greeted by a soft spoken but generally helpful sounding man.

Studying the four legged chair in the catalog, trying to spot that fourth leg, she said, "Hi, hello, your chair, the one I bought out of your catalog. It only has three legs."

"Does it? Well that won't do."

"Yes, only three. I need another leg. Could you send it to me please?"

"Well, can I get your first and last name, the product code, serial number, and the date of purchase?"

Her heart sunk when she heard these words. She had already tossed the packaging into the trash incinerator down the hall. It was gone, irretrievable. "I don't have those things. I burned them."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that ma'am, but I need these items before I can send you the fourth leg."

She sat down in her old chair. It was red and dusty. It had been with her for seven years. Picking at the fraying fibers on the arm of the chair she said, "Well, can I just describe the chair to you?"

"I'm sorry, I need more information than that. You can send the chair back, well, no you can't, you burned the box."

"This chair was very important to me and you don't care."

"Oh, I'm sure it was and I do care. I have a chair of my own and I often think of it fondly."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No ma'am, my first child was born in that chair."

"Oh, that's, well, that's fine. Congratulations."

"Well, it was ten years ago, but thank you."

There was a pause as she tried to come up with a way to wrangle a fourth leg out of this conversation but she knew it was hopeless. She glanced at her new chair, where it sat lamely on the floor, unable to perform the one simple task expected of it. She thought about the checkout girl sitting in the chair, it seemed ridiculous now. How was she going to pose the question anyway? "Want to come over to my house and sit in my new chair?" Absurd! Clearly, she had not thought this through. She had not thought about it reasonably, no checkout girl ever wanted to be asked such things, to be put in such an awkward position. Thankfully, receiving this useless chair had given her reason to pause and consider her actions, sparing her the embarrassment. Despite the loss of $65.99, she recognized the blessing, and knew it was for the best. This chair was meant to have three legs, just as the checkout girl was meant to ask her how her day was, and she, at least for now, was meant to sit at home alone with her single chair.

The customer rep said, "Is there anything else?"

"Um, no, forget it." She hung up and sat, trying to decide what to do about the chair. She thought about going to the supermarket to buy some eggs, but she didn't need any more eggs. She already had five cartons. With no chair there would be no special guest. It was time to put her fantasies of checkout girls in new chairs and conversations about chairs to an end.

She stood up, grabbed the three legged chair, walked out of her apartment, down the hall, and into the trash room. The room was dimly lit and the floor was coated in a thin layer of gritty dust. The smell of uneaten pizza lingered in the air. She lifted the chair above her head and smashed it against the floor until all of the legs had broken off. Then she tossed the pieces down the chute, into the incinerator, forever ridding herself of the useless object and the notion of a visiting checkout girl with it. She went back to her apartment, sat down in her old chair, that, despite being old, was quite comfortable.

It's still September.

2010-09-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

Shut Up Baby

Someone had thrown a party in their garage. The beer was terrible. Everyone was talking at once. A man and woman talked because they were at a party and the alternative of not talking was terrifying.

"Oh yeah, I read tons of books. Tons!" said the man.

She smiled and said, "Oh, really, do-

"No, you're smiling but you don't understand. I mean, I read -- a lot. Holy shit, so many books."

"Oh, I like reading."

"Yeah? Well, I fucking love reading."

"Um, that's cool. Have you read Saul Bellow?"

"Bellow? Of course. Oh yeah, definitely. I've read that stuff he's written. I've read everything. No, literally, every book. I have read it."

She smiled and said, "Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah, it fucking is. It's the best thing."

"What are you reading right now?"

"Oh, you know, that one book, with that guy, who um...y'know, hates stuff. Hates the world. It won the Nobel Prize."

"Yeah?"

"Great book. Really good. The best book."

"Do you know what it's called?"

"I can't remember. It's about animals. Or society. One of those two."

"Animal Farm?"

"Is that a childrens book?"

"No that's-

"Oh, oh oh! Yeah, I read that. When I was like 6. Read everything."

"Okay."

"If you had a book you want me to read I would definitely read it."

She smiled and said, "Well, I have this book in my bag."

"Oh, you carry books around? That's cool. Let me see it. Probably read it but whatever."

She opened her green leather bag, pulled out a large tome of a book, and handed it to him.

He looked at it dubiously and said, "Uh...yeah read this. Great points about life. Ending sucked but endings suck in general. Good author, he was racist but whatever. Neo-nazi. NAACP and all that." He handed it back to her. "I wrote a book you know."

"Did you now?"

"Yeah, it has a fucking ton of pages. Only took about three months to write it. I was drunk most of the time though. I'm not an alcoholic but you seem like one, it's okay if you are. I think you've had five beers already and it's only seven."

"No, I'm not an alcoholic. What's your book about?"

"It's hard to say. It's just kind of, uh, about everything. You know? I mean, life is like so huge. It's pretty much limitless, so you can't really narrow it down. I mean, like ten things happened to me today that could go into a book. I might even write this conversation into a book. Or maybe I'll post it to my blog."

"Oh, well, who's the main character?"

"Well there are like twelve main characters. I'm a lot like George Orwell but not really. Actually I'm like Saul Bellow or Hemingway. James Cameron. You seen Avatar?"

"No."

"Me either. I hate that movie. Who's your favorite writer?"

"I really like Jorge Luis Borges."

"Oh fuck, he's great. Yeah, my style is a lot like him. Exactly like him actually. Funny you would say that because I was just about to say that he's my favorite author."

"Well, I'm going to um...walk away. I think my friend is over there."

"Does he read? Probably not. No one does anymore. Everyone here is an illiterate ass hole. Fuck I hate people. Mother fuckers, all of them. People suck, yeah? But it's okay because I wrote a book that tells you how to feel better about people and also, um, about other stuff. Man, so much stuff. All around us, like, all the time. Information age you know. Hey you want to get coffee sometime and discuss, um, um, um, um Jorge Borges? Don't look at me like that, it's not like I'm asking you to dinner, besides I couldn't afford that shit. I really think we should hang out though. I think I'll call you, yeah, can I do that? Hey do you have a pen? Oh that's a really nice pen. Are you rich? Parents probably. Do you write, man I love writing. Fuck. Hey, here's my number. Don't lose it. People never call me back but that's okay because I hate them anyway. My mom doesn't even call me back but whatever I'll be getting a job soon. Well, probably not, since I spend so much time reading, but yeah, um, well I play some video games too, but not that much. I mean, games are like a skinner box, you know? You know what a skinner box is? I read about it on Wikipedia. I learned so much shit on that site. I've got this awesome smart phone, it was, um, like 900 bucks. I'm not rich or anything. I mean, I donate to charity. Hey, we should read some Wikipedia entries. I just pulled up this page on DFW. Hey, don't go, please? Please talk to me. Okay, no I'm sorry, I'm drunk. You go, yes, hang out with your friends who probably don't read, they just, y'know, play video games, watch reality TV, go to Applebees, or some shit. Fuckin' proles. They look like Christians, are they Christians? It's okay if they are. Fuck man, the hell is going on with this world I mean...for fucks sakes, somethin'... like, the TAXES, fuckin' econOMY and...shit like that. It's the fuckin babies, that's the problem! So many fuckin babies, so many babies. Too many babies. Babies need to grow the fuck up and stop being babies."

It's September.

2010-09-01T08:20:00.000-07:00

The Man who Said Nothing

He was belligerent, irrational, idiotic.

"Orwell is dead and no one cares about him!"

Everyone stopped to stare at him, not one of them said a word, not out of shock toward this statement, but out of the hope that if no one responded, this obnoxious man would, quite simply, shut the fuck up. He had been saying things like this all night and everyone was tired of it. They just wanted to have a nice peaceful, semi-intoxicated evening, perhaps play some video games. The last thing on anyone's agenda was to have a drawn out discussion on the merits of literature because really, who cares about that shit? Who!? Apparently this man did, and far too much it seemed. Sure they appreciated the discussion of literature now and then but people -- fraudulent people -- often brought up literature out of some misguided desire for acceptance or self-validation rather than the desire to discuss one of the world's finest, most honest forms of art, and this, this self serving, intellectual masturbation, this desire to discuss purely for the advancement of one's own image was painfully evident in the way this man spoke. Yeah, Saul Bellow wrote some great books and you read them, but what difference does it make to anyone other than yourself?

No one knew who he belonged to or who brought him to this party. He just seemed to have shown up on his own accord, or rather stumbled upon, considering how drunk he was. One of the women nodded slightly though she did not know why. A reflex perhaps? The woman was beautiful but she spent a lot of time worrying about her looks, perhaps a desire to be prettier? Granted her nose was a tad large but most people easily overlooked this as it was simply a character flaw, a deviation from beauty, rather than a deal breaking disfigurement.

Aside from this woman's simple gesture the group stayed quiet, hoping, praying, that this unwanted, unshaven, balding, unattractive, bad minded, generally distasteful man would walk away and bring his inane ideas with him. When he spoke he blasted you with the scent of a rotting corpse in a late summer afternoon. The scent matched his ideas in quality.

The unwanted man continued once more, "No one reads books anymore! Doesn't anyone care!?"

"Prove it!" said one young man, quite a bit better dressed than everyone else. You might even have said he was god damned gorgeous. He had no girlfriend to speak of but would likely have one before the night was through. You could tell, just by glancing at him, that he was confident, self assured, mentally stable -- at least superficially. He licked his lips because they had remnants of chocolate pudding on them. People often said he had a heart of gold, so kind he was, like a knight. The words of kindness flowed forth out of him and everyone loved him for it. In any situation, if there was a right thing to say you can be sure he said it. Perhaps, at this moment, his best feature was that he had no qualms challenging a drunken moron.

The man was slow to answer but when he finally did, he said, "Prove it? I...what? Prove it!? Well, I...I can't prove it. I just know these things. I know many things! I read them in a book!"

$13,454,958,181,237.88

2010-08-31T18:54:00.000-07:00

My fellow Americans, I feel your pain! I feel it everyday in the letters you send me and the Youtube rants I watch during my lunch break. That's why I am calling for congress to take action on my new tax plan. I call it the "Happiness Up, Taxes Down" tax plan. It will save lives, it's economically viable. Here, take a look at this simple graph.

516

2010-08-28T23:47:00.001-07:00

There is truth to be found in this world yet.

I wish I was on a business trip. During my business trip, late one night, I would go to the convenience store and buy several kinds of sugary snacks plus a bag of chips. On my way back to my hotel I would jay walk across four lanes of traffic. My dress shirt would be a light blue and my tie a pleasant complimentary color.

515

2010-08-27T21:54:00.000-07:00

So much to think about.

514

2010-08-26T00:42:00.000-07:00

~~Just because you read a few books, that doesn't mean you actually know anything.~~

Reading can make you a certified genius.

512

2010-08-24T17:48:00.000-07:00

If you're feeling underappreciated today, just print this out and staple it to your face.

510

2010-08-22T23:21:00.000-07:00

"Today on Fox News we have George Orwell!!"

"Hel-"

"Shut up, George! You're a socialist aren't you!? Why do you hate America? What do you mean some are more equal?"

"What?"

"RABBLE RABBLE"

509

2010-08-21T22:18:00.000-07:00

508

2010-08-20T20:53:00.001-07:00

When the inevitable nuclear apocalypse hits the only clothes left will be surplus long johns. Lovely!

507

2010-08-19T23:51:00.001-07:00

506

2010-08-18T17:07:00.001-07:00

I thought all the birthday beers were gone but I found one hiding in my fridge. Happiest day of my life.