Flyswatters and Feet, Erotic Banter to Follow

Somewhere on the internet, footfags are spilling their chunky loads to this pic, right this goddamn second.

There's nothing really to report this week. I've spent all of Sunday sending out terrible links on facebook and feel a little spent. There is no moralizing, no should-dos, no feel guiltys, no any of that all shit that makes you want to tell me to go fuck myself with a bag of dicks. No politicizing, no amorphous edicts that I will decree and then spurn you because of your misunderstanding, no thing. No Nothing.

Nothing.

Packers won today. Cheesehead Nation, UNITE!

Beanbag Chairs and Stupid Stupid Shit That No One Will Ever Care About

So, I got this job. And at this job, I have to work with special education kids and teach classes and talk to teenagers and be the responsible male adult in the horrible world of adolescence where there are no rules and all the people have the spotlight on them at all times and everyone, everywhere is having sex with everyone else except for you and they all know it and rub it in your face at parties that you're not invited to and your dad is such a dick that he won't let you use the car and. and. AND.

 It rules. But it doesn't rule out of some misplaced sense of "Oh, yeah. I'mmabout to shit on all you because that's how it happened to me in high school." It doesn't rule for the money, or the benefits, or for the ability to be the bull elephant in the room for once. It rules for some other, more ephemeral and unsubstantial thing that can't be placed because to name it is to cheapen it and to cheapen it is to get a degree in engineering and just make MONEY and do all those things that you're supposed to do as a white man in a capitalist society built by white men.

It rules because of people like Mrs. Langston and Jones and Fray and all the other people who do God's work and serve and drain the essence of their lives away so that children can go to school and not be beaten or starved or maimed in some awful mechanism that would exist without the current bureaucracy.

Amen.

Falling Into Old Habits Is As Easy As Banging Old Wimmerns

It's the return of the shit. I took a brief hiatus to, you know, get my entire life flipped upside down and now I'm the goddamn Prince of Bel-Air. Not really, but hey, I got a beach on the back end of all the fuckery so it's p. sweet. I've started saying p. for pretty, deal. 

Anyway, we moved to NC again and are loving, and I mean physically (as in a carnal type of engorged member out and penetrating) the beach and all its minutiae: Tools, wildlife, shells, waves, tides, grass, fat rotisserie chicken-looking old women who come there and drink Bud Light in a can with a coozy as they sit around with their men-folk and berate the current Blackness of the Prez, younguns playing in the surf, and all manner of debauches washed away with a suitcase of Pabst and packages, nay cartons of cigarettes.

It has been one of the best and most fruitful times of the old existence 'round these parts.


When we moved, all the Alaska peeps chorused the same refrain, "What are you going to do for JOBS?" I was slightly peeved at this as that question is the one thing people say when they don't want you to go away, but want to pull at the rational strings of your mind because they can't come out and say, "Well, goddammit! If you leave my life will be devalued in some subtle sense that I can't quite place, but to bring up such an emotional thing would leave me feeling like I'm the Asshole, and my psyche can't cope with such a development yet." ANYWAY, I always wanted to tell these peeps, as well meaning as they were, that, "Hey, I've got a nip of the old gypsy blood in me and we've always made out (save for the Holocaust, but, you know, circumstance)."

There are things that happen in your life and you have to take them and ride the wave of it and wash up, somewhere, where things are going to be okay and children happen and lives unfold and myriad upon myriad shitty days pile up into a good life that you're sad to see go and then, and then, it just is the most beautiful and heart obliterating thing to ever grace the human stage.

To all the jobs asking peeps, well, there's no better way to put it than, "The Lord will provide."


And He did.

If We Were All Lyrical Genii We'd All Be Dead By Now

I watched Richard Rodriguez give two talks today. 

I want to kill living beings because of it. 

The injustice of my existence begs annihilation. 

Goddammit, Team Sleep! You're shit isn't helping!

Story starts.

I AM THAT I AM, Or Something Like That

Don't know why this woman stays with an ugly sumbitch like myself.

We went camping. It's Fourth of July weekend. There were reserved campsites, beautiful-ish weather, friends and bourbon. All kinds of things that make you forget you're a hyper-evolved chimp who is (most times) unsatisfied with his pittance of existence. Plus, there was some jackass redneck who was most likely high on methamphetamines and spoiling for a fight who accosted us at a playground. Good times!

Crazy, Early Cuyler type beings aside, it was fucking awesome. There was a river, mosquitoes, fire, children, meat on a stick, beans from a can, and all 'round good shit that suggests an afterlife filled with horrible pleasures or damnation. Your pick. 

And so I came home and had a fire and conversed with the Almighty. I think he appreciates my comics of Him, but He was real pissed on account of I haven't communed with Him lately. You can't ever make that guy happy, though.

Mournful-ass Ululations of a Million Idiot Savants

The title doesn't have a goddamn thing to do with anything. The train wreck story that no one gets (I know this because Felicia dutifully reads this shit and is stupefied by it and tells me so) is an embryonic turd here. So, yeah, there it is. Also, I'm in the process of retooling the other website so as to be more user friendly and less annoying to try to navigate through. Now, I've got to go get some shit for the yard sale tomorrow. More Pabst induced blogging of the process and the previous camping trip may follow. Stay tuned, motherfuckers!
 

State of the State of the State of the STATE

Not much new in the news, and goddamn thanks for it. Floods, destruction, ape-behavior, all sorts of terrible things happened this past week. Awful shit. Rapes all over the planet. Slavery. Tuberculosis. Crabs. Debt. Magic financial systems that fuck you over until you're dead. Straight up vanilla schizophrenia. Insomnia. Pollution. Unemployment at levels that would have former administrations shitting themselves.

God has engineered a truly dismal system to ensure that we love Him.

Sometimes, shit is so important that you need to get your ass kicked by a professional to understand just how un-important your shit is. The story starts here.

I Wish There Were Such Kiosks to Fill My Gullet with Liquor

Today we honor those who were foolish enough to believe that the rhythm method is an effective form of birth control. Also, too, the Palin genome is awful and makes me want to huff gasoline in order to kill the part of my brain that is offended by their stupidity. The best/worst part about that is just a collection of all the terrible people involved in that entire fiasco: agent, editor, publishing house, audience. I'm pretty sure God is sending me the message that I should kill myself when He allows these types of things to happen.

Story for this horrible convoluted comic starts here.

I Am So Upset There Is a Thing Now That Is Called Gawker

Babbling and incoherent story begins here. Don't worry, when I'm done, I'll post a synopsis of what happened in it if you lost your way or didn't understand these awful scribblings from the get go. I'm sorry, I mean "git go". (Fuck year, logical punctuation.)

In any event (and farther away from the point of this post but something I've been thinking on lately) I'm not one of those idiots who pine for a day that never existed in which the Privacy of the American Individual was held sacrosanct. I also don't keep with the notion that our country's establishers were these inhuman titans of dignity and respect who would never have passed the Patriot Act because They Loved This Country so damn much.

Fuck that. If old G. Wash, could have wiretapped phones and snatched library lists, you can bet your ass that he would have. 

Neil Gaiman, in The Form of an Anthropomorphized Cat, Dispenses Wisdom

Hello, this is the continuation of the story. I was feeling pretty shitty about the ol' graphic novel but then I saw this pretty awesome You Tube video in which, a cartoon Neil Gaiman explains that it's perfectly okay to create something that no one understands because, hey, you're the artist, leave the interpretation to the critics. So suck on it, and yeah, I take direction from PBS cartoons. What of it?

 

'Bout to Get Some 40s and Pack This Shit Up

Shut the fuck up and enjoy the continuation of the story arc. Seriously, though, I don't know if anyone is reading this, and I kind of don't care. I'm putting it on the internet for posterity, goddammit. 

Also, I added ads so that maybe all those bots will outclick through them and send me several dollars a month. Got to get paid, son. 

Edit: Also, huge bonertime alert, I forgot one of the pages that should have been uploaded this morning. I've fixed it here.

Ratko Mladic IS Probably a Likable Enough Guy

Here's some panels about an infamous person. Apparently, it's wrong to line up people and shoot them so that they fall into mass, unmarked graves, but totally acceptable to cause the death/dismemberment of a similar amount of people in order to free them from tyranny. 

There's a Henry Rollins book where he describes L.A. as the land of 1000 rapes and I'm pretty sure that's accurate, but I also think that it can be scaled up to the globe. We're an awful species, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

Don't Ever Pray for Patience

Here is the continuation of the comics that I started oh so long ago here. I have enjoyed doing this comic and maybe having people other than Slovenian botnets look at it. Maybe you've had a chuckle, or identified with it, or hate it but can't stop following those goddamn facebook links that I put up all the goddamn time, or just feel sorry for some guy who ain't ever gonna get his 'cause the Lord God has got a wicked sense of humor and just can't let a motherfucker live already. I'm just kidding. The Lord is pretty funny sometimes. Real ironic, if you're into that sort of thing.
 

Personal Shit About Which No One Could Give a Fuck

I like to imagine that one day, this image will be reviled and revered as a silent moment where the brutal dictator that ordered mass executions was caught, unawares and all too human.

Holy Goddamn, my boy is six.

Still lets me put pitchers uh her on da internets.

It's a derpy derp world.

I've been a little vague on the personal front lately with all the goddamn comics (more of which are to come and to bore you with facebook linkage) but shit has been busy. Like a motherfucker. Did I tell all y'all that I got into the MFA for creative writing program and now I have to do things like think critically about literature and read things and write things that people will critique and that I'll cry about? Cause all that shit happened. 

Insane. Writers. People who write down words, sentences, lies upon lies upon falsehoods that build up into novels and then we all buy it and hate it because it cuts too close to home. How do you know a book is good? No one has an answer to that, because none of them are. If people were a little more self aware and reflective upon their shitty condition, the world wouldn't see a need for novelists. If we could look shit in the face and tell it we love it because it is us, there'd be no space for 'em.

Lately I've taken to a more Southern bent to my speaking. Hell if I know about any a that mess.

God as a Bro as a Champ

I like to imagine the Almighty as a solid bro, prankster, all around good ole boy. It just seems to make more sense when you look at the cosmos.

Anyway, I've started re-reading the Bible and will probably do more of these type comics, with God laughing at us in our hopeless endeavor. I imagine he got a heavens shaking laugh out of this most recent apocalyptic prophesy. So, here's the panels. Enjoy. 

Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer Is Cheap and Works the Same as Any Other

I changed the layout a little and hope you all like it. I thought it was easier to read and all that. Prolly change it soon. Here's a comic! The arc starts here and continues through the blogzorz.

Also, have I said that my wife is dope? She is. Totally.

Osama bin Laden and the Humanization of The Other

Here are some images of Osama bin Laden with funny captions added. I like to think about him in a real way, not with a Boogieman aura, but as a live human being. Kind of like the way Kurtz in Apocalypse Now reflects on the humanity of the soldiers who hacked off the inoculated arms of the village children. I mean, he did all the things we do: shit, pissed, fucked, jizzed, coughed, sneezed, laughed at some unexpected irony, loved his wives, likely saw beauty in a certain sun cresting a mountain range, savored the defeat of his enemies, and experienced the terror of his own mortality late nights when he couldn't sleep. 

He was real and I think we do a disservice to all of us when we demonize him as "evil" or some childish notion like that.

Ben and George Discuss a Galtian Exodus

I have been enjoying Curtis White's The Middle Mind lately. It reminds me how, in one of my undergrad courses, I wanted to do some research on stupidity, or how people could be so willfully ignorant, contradictory, and self-defeating. I tried to find some previous research that studied this phenomenon but there wasn't any, not even in politically correct constructs. I asked my professor and he too, couldn't find anything remotely similar. It was strange to me that this fundamental aspect of human nature had no empirical studies measuring it. So, I was forced to pick a different area to study for lack of previous literature on which to base my study of stupidity. I should probably go back to that, maybe. 

After all, it's not like the world lacks for fools.

High Art, Literature, AND Journalism Being Killed As I Post This

So here's the updatage. The story arc starts hereish. If you want, you can click those buttons over there to share with folks and I'll feel really good about myself for once. Or not. I ain't forcing you to do shit. 

Also, this one has crudely drawn boobs in it. SCORE! 

Also also, am I a little weirded out by the ability to post my location on this now? Yeah, pretty much, but it's not going to stop me doing it.

Mother's Day

Mom, circa Old School Shit.

The worst thing about having your parents die before you're old is that you can't draw from the well of terrible shit that they've had to go through. You can't ask them, "So, what'd you do when you were both outta work and past due on all your bills with three kids to take care of?". You know they got through the shit ('cause you're here to dwell on it), but you don't know how, like they're some mysterious hero that makes the legend and destroys the impossible enemy but doesn't tell you shit. Mysteries.

I don't know about you all, but it just adds to the influence anxiety I have about parenting. Maybe call that parent anxiety (but not in some stupid Hollywood sense that all men are scared of being dads and all women have to raise all children, everywhere, ever). I could never be the titan of morality and sterness that my mother was for me. I can't quote the appropriate Bible verse. I can't instill in my children the fear of the Lord. I can't be the pillar of righteousness that Mom was, guiding her errant children to the shores of well being. I am a complete and utter failure at life, not like her, who took the hard road, sacrificed, put shit on lay a way, washed clothes in the bathtub and hung them out to dry, scrubbed cloth diapers clean of my filth, ensured I was well fed and cleaned, and raised children in the insane cauldron of southern Mississippi.  

I am a stupid child, bereft of understanding, completely ignorant of how I should be, unknowing and yet cognizant of my stupidity.

Proverbs says, "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

I love you mom.