Monday, September 26, 2005


A professor working under a Hartford research grant was mauled to death by this Gorilla (Note:  The gorilla image is a drawing of a painting of a photo of another drawing used to illustrate an image from the mind of a gorilla observer.) while he was trying to determine its intelligence. The only evidence of what happened is on this partial tape recording:

Prof: Okay, what letter comes after Q?
Gorilla: Arrrr!
Prof: Okay, good. Now talk like a Pirate.
Gorilla: Arrrrr!
Prof: Great, now what do you say when Jennifer Lopez walks into the room?
Gorilla: Ooo Ooo.
Prof: Terrific, good job.
Gorilla: Hey!
Prof: Excuse me? What did you say? Did you say Hey? Say it again!
Gorilla: (silence)
Prof: Common, say it again for the tape, say HEY!
Gorilla: (silence)
Prof: SAY HEY!
Gorilla: (silence)
Gorilla: ARRRRRRRRG !! [SLAM! BAM! click*]

Saturday, September 24, 2005


“Hi, my name is Carl. I’m looking for a girl who is smart, loves piercings, open minded and likes kids. She has to like Hip-Hop, ball-room dancing, ice hockey and most cats. No smokers please. I don’t have many skills, but I have a car, some money, and can throw a cannon ball over 50 yards. If you think you’re the girl for me, and want to hook up, please give me a holler…Peace out.”

(Note: My actual photo is expected to be released upon approval of the World Photo Authority sometime in the year 3048, thanks.) 

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Editorial: Heaven and Hell

I’m not totally sure where I want to go when I die, so I asked God and Satan to arrange a short tour of their facilities so I can better determine my final resting place.I found Heaven to be a bit Conservative for some reason; mostly Christians were there, but a few exceptions.

To my right, I saw a man with a beard, banging his 72 Virgins. And I thought, what a nasty awful place this is, it must be Hell for those poor virgins.

To my left, I saw a bloody naked long haired guy pinned up on sticks and wearing a thorn hat. And I thought how horrible a place this is; it must be Hell for that poor tortured man.

And the guy straight ahead was rocking back and forth in a corner with a fearful look in his eyes. So I asked him, “So how do you like it here in heaven.” He answered, “This place is terrible. All I hear everyday is God’s voice in my head. And they’re all around me, these white fairy-like things flying around with wings, and it’s driving me bananas. They do have cake here, and plenty of milk, but I am lactose intolerant, so it’s like a living Hell for me here.”

So I was not too impressed with Heaven, and looked forward to see if Hell was any better.

When I got to Hell, I found it to be quite a Liberal place—it seemed everyone was allowed in there, no segregation going on or anything.

To my right, I saw a replica of the White House, complete with 666 interns and maids, and even a few Laura Bush and Hillary Clinton look-alikes. There was a line of guys standing outside waiting for their turn to ‘play’ president. And I thought, what a hellish, disgusting activity, but then again, I always wanted to be president, maybe it will be a nice experience.
To my left, I saw Jeffrey Dahmer rotating an impaled guy on a stick and roasting him over an open fire. And I thought, how awful. And Jeffrey did not have a mouth, so it must have been Hell for him. But some other open-minded guests gave a taste and all agreed it tasted like chicken.
The guy straight ahead was Jack the Ripper. He was playing golf all by himself. So I asked him, “So how do you like it here in Hell.” Jack said, “It’s hellish for me because I’m not allowed to kill anyone. And Global Warming is a real problem. But it’s not all that bad really, and I have some time to practice my game before OJ Simpson arrives.”

So after my tour I was a bit disappointed in both Heaven and Hell. The ‘White House” thing in Hell was interesting, but I would have to avoid the likes of Dahmer and the Ripper. And it’s a bit too hot there. But Satan did try to bribe me by offering Janis Joplin as a room-mate—very cool. Heaven seemed more bearable, I mean if I can convince the bearded guy to share his virgins and avoid the thorns and cake, (I'm lactose intolerant too) then maybe it won’t be all that bad. But I’ll probably end up in Hell unless I stop these bad thoughts about the virgins. Darn. Maybe I can make up for it by including God when I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, even if our law ends up banning it. After-all, God did promise to introduce me to Kristen Scott Thomas someday if I was a good boy. Yay!

So I’ll shoot for Heaven. I mean I’ll endeavor for Heaven. And I'll just enjoy life and live here as long as I can. After-all, it’s not all that bad here; and it seems I can experience the best of both Heaven and Hell right here anyway!

Friday, September 16, 2005

John Roberts Grilled

Roberts, pictured here (Note: Since I believe that 'photos' are nothing more than interpretations of vibrational energy that penetrates all space, then you ought to already have the image in your mind, so imagine it.)  as Senator Joe Biden (D-DE) grills him on his views of abortion at his confirmation hearing, and sticks him with this tough question, “Do you believe the opposite of being alive, is being dead?”

--What kind of ridiculous question is this anyway? Roberts actually paused to think before answering, “Yes, I do.”

Here is the complete dialog:

Biden: Do you believe the opposite of being alive, is being dead?
Roberts: Yes, I do.Biden: So you’re saying, if you are not alive, then you are dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.Biden: Then if you are not alive, and not dead, then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be just not born yet; you can’t die until you have been born and alive first.
Biden: So the unborn is neither alive nor dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.Biden: So you can be alive, dead, or unborn, yet if you are unborn you can be either dead or alive?
Roberts: Yes.Biden: So are you alive if you are born?
Roberts: Not necessarily.Biden: So you can be either alive, or dead, or unborn, or born, yet if you are born you are not necessarily alive?
Roberts: Yes.Biden: So you can be born dead?
Roberts: Yes.Biden: But you said you can’t die unless you were alive first, so it would follow that if you are born dead, then you must have been alive while unborn, is that correct?
Roberts: Yes.Biden: So it follows that you are either born and dead, or born and alive, or unborn and alive, or unborn and dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.Biden: Then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be unborn, and neither alive nor dead; that is you may not only be unborn but you may also be un-conceived.Biden: So you are either born conceived and dead, or born conceived and alive, or unborn conceived and alive, or unborn conceived and dead, or unborn, and un-conceived, un-alive, and un-dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.Biden: Then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be born and conceived, and un-alive, and un-dead.
Biden: In other words, you are saying one can be either born conceived and dead, or born conceived and alive or unborn conceived and alive or unborn conceived and dead, or unborn, and un-conceived, un-alive, and un-dead or born, conceived, yet neither dead nor alive?
Roberts: Yes.Biden: I can understand how you can be unborn, and un-conceived, therefore un-dead and un-alive, but how can you be born, yet neither dead nor alive?
Roberts: Well, do you believe everything has an opposite?Biden: Yes.
Roberts: Then it follows that the opposite of ‘dead or alive’, is ‘neither dead nor alive’, so ‘neither dead nor alive’ is something you believe in by your own submission that everything has an opposite.Biden: But what does this mean?
Roberts: This basically means that you believe in the undead, the walking dead, Voodoo shamanism, and Zombie movies.Biden: But this is ridiculous.
Roberts: Exactly!!!

Monday, September 12, 2005


A buddy of mine asked if I would ‘do’ a dog.

I said nope.

Then he asked if I would 'do' a dog if someone gave me a million bucks.

I said nope, because I would need the dogs consent, and I could not really be sure if the dog was consenting or not.

Then my buddy said everyone has a price, and he asked if I would 'do' a dog for a billion bucks if nobody else knew about it, and if it was a horny consenting dog.

So I said, "Okay, for a billion bucks, I would 'do' a dog, but it would have to be a nice looking poodle, clean and well groomed." (I was thinking of a poodle like this one in the photo.)

My buddy said no, and that I would have to 'do' an unattractive poodle (Maybe like this dog in the image to the right.) So I said, for a billion bucks, okay, I’d do it…Then my buddy called me a dirty whore for being willing to 'do' a dog…I told him, "So what, I’m a whore—F*** Y**.  Give me a billion dollars."

Then my buddy asked if I would 'do' a guy for 10 billion bucks. I said, "for 10 billion bucks, yeah I would, but he’d have to look like Anne Heche."

My buddy said no, and described a guy he would have to look like—Like the guy in this photo (to the left)…

He said I would have to do everything the guy asked me to do for an entire week including ‘eating salad’, and that 'golden shower' thing.

I said, “Okay, for 10 billion bucks, I could hire a surgeon to cut the memory out of my head afterwards, haha.”

He said, no, the rule is that I would have to live with the memory.

So I said, “Hell yeah I’d do it for 10 billion bucks.”

He said, “I don’t believe you.”

I said, “I’m telling you I would do it.”

He said, “I don’t f***ing believe you.”

I said, “I’m f***ing telling you I would do it.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“I’m telling you I would.”


I said, “Put your money where your mouth is, gimme 10 billion bucks.”

He then tried to change the rules by adding all kinds of other disgusting stuff, and I told him he could not change the rules like that, and a big argument ensued. It ended when he stood up and yelled, “I can’t believe you’d let that f_t f**k corn-hole you like his little bitch!” Then he walked out.

I stood up to follow him and noticed everyone in the Starbucks was staring at us. I apologized to the obese lady by the door on my way out. In the parking lot I had to explain to my IDIOT buddy that I could not EVER show my face in that coffee shop again!  He was clueless. We had to find another spot for our coffee breaks after that…(Note: The photos in this post are actually photos of photos of photos taken from raw text designed to divert the reader's mind from any thought that what they are seeing is actually outside of their minds in the first place.)

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Essay: Food, Sex and Guns

I was thinking about how appetizing this turkey looked to me. But in reality it’s just a burnt headless dead carcass, which I would proceed to rip the dead flesh apart with my teeth, suck it down into a rancid acid pit, squish it through a dark pounding gastric torture tunnel, and then squirt out the remains into a nasty dirty toilet bowl. It’s a very violent and filthy sequence of events. So my mind fools itself into believing that eating is a rather pleasant activity. But in reality, it is a somewhat horrifying procedure.

Then I thought about it. What else is my mind fooling itself about? Let’s take Ashley Judd as an example. I think she is attractive. But in reality, she is not that much different from a common wart toad. I mean she may be a little different, with a tuff of greasy hair on her head, and some growths on her chest, but basically she has the same slimy internal organs and functionality as a slimy frog. So in reality, she is somewhat a disgusting creature not so much unlike a giant maggot with a nob head and some lanky limbs.

So my mind may be fooling itself in order to survive. Because for my body to survive and procreate, my mind needs to think it enjoys food and sex. So that leads me to the subject of GUNS. I think guns represent beauty and perfection. To me it’s the perfect tool that catch me food and protect me from harm as I compete for sex. Yup, I tend to believe all killing has its roots in competition for food and sex (love, procreation.) So I like the feel and weight of cold steal in my hand; the explosive power it wields, the thunderous sounds it makes, and the smell of gun powder. But if you think about it, a gun is nothing more than a nasty killing tool.

This brings me to this roasted pig. I don’t find it appetizing, because it reminds me too much of a human with terrible steal shafts poking through it. But obviously others do find it appetizing, and also others do not like guns. So why do their minds fool them in the opposite manner than my mind fools me? Maybe it’s because each mind works from the different experiences of the individual. To the pig eater, the steal shafts may just represent the proper tools needed for pig roasting. To the anti-gunner, guns may represent an evil threat to their lives and loved ones.

So what does all this mean? It means this essay will mean nothing to some readers—and everything to other readers.  (Editor's note:  The artwork in this post is designed to enhance the reader's overall experience as permitted under World sanctions.  In no way were they meant to duplicate any other of the billions of hand drawn turkeys and pigs that otherwise may have been created in the past, present, or future.)