Wednesday, October 31, 2007

I really don't appreciate being treated like a god when all I wanted was to enter your solar system

Not that I expected anyone to be keeping track, but tonight marks the second earth year of these semi-daily drawings.

Oh, and it's also #690.

And it's Halloween. So that's three things to keep track of.

I was never much of a juggler. More of a La-Z-Boy.


Sunday, October 28, 2007

Store bought boredom bought the crutch like a habit and said "give it to me, I can make it stop." Then he was only checking in to check out. And h-h-

Mister Scarecrow said he had to go away for a while
To keep the separate lives separated
And to make more stuffing to have beat out of him

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Truer words were never spoken but always broken

They say loose lips sink ships
Well my dentist is the captain of this ship
He dusted off his mortarboard and set sail on the USS Who Gives A Fuck
For who cares what
The map was lost
The fortune folded up inside it
And if I ever had one thing to say
It was this

When I whisper you can assume what you want but you don't know anything

Even the echoes of shadows know

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I don't know the back of my hand that well

I took some stepping stones to some falling glass

Don't know where we're going

But I know we haven't gotten there yet

Still we've been riding around for hours

Stop me if you've heard this one before

Monday, October 22, 2007

Sunday, October 21, 2007

The apple of my eye makes pretty fucking good juice!

Episode 19: "Eat Cheese, Scum Bag Criminals"


Herman: Good job, minions. One more shipment, then we will officially be the world's most illegal crime syndicate.

Thug #1: Good job, boss.

Herman: Shut up, minion.

(HERMAN slaps THUG #1)


Thug #1: Holy snikies! It's Mark N Cheese! Attorney at law!

(THUG #1 explodes)

HERMAN: OMG! We're totally fucked!


Judge: I hereby charge you are no longer awesome and are in fact a criminal. How do you respond?

Thug #2: I swear, I don't even know how to ride a bicycle.

(JUROR #4 falls asleep.)

I once made tough love to a tree stump and got petrified wood

I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm beating up your dad and I'm so sorry

Crack it up to a fortune told

A pocket fold
There's nothing cushy about life in a bubble
And you're acting like you're ten years old
The truth was sold
And I'm useless and cold
Lowering the standards so low
For limbo in heaven and hell
The best price as the stock rose and fell

Saturday, October 20, 2007

I said I'm a victim of time crimes not a victim of the times

Someone somewhere said something
To a butterfly jar
The difference was the same
So the squeaky wheel gets the grease
The memory wasn't set aside
Left out for some rainy day (It rained today)
Can I just go home now
With my cuts and scratches
Scars and bruises?

Thursday, October 18, 2007

stanza stand-off standby standing order

I tried to build a bridge to Ms. Pac Man
But she just ate all my pills
No one talks to my baby
She hasn't said a word yet

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Here you are Mister Pretty Pony

I said I like the taste of my own medicine
No one ever writes back to Russia
Tiny boxes behind my back in the eye lids
Same old shit on a brand new day
But I said I like the taste my own medicine
Pared down the whispers to a glistening shadow that I shaved off in the morning
And there's a card-house under the kitchen cabinet I'm off in some deserted bathroom
Tasting my own medicine
So please knock
Once if by sea
Twice if you know me
It's by design
But shredded the documents
It comes in the mail
Thank you for the garbage
I have some just like it at home
Wow that was fast

Monday, October 15, 2007

bum-da-bum bum-da-dum

Someone was in here speaking without words
Making me pull over
Though I can't remember why
And the angels start to sing
It sounded awful

Sunday, October 14, 2007


A wiseman once asked me whether fish have testicles.
I could do little other than plainly tell him no.
"What about whales?" He asked.
"Sperm whales?"
"Then where to their sperm come from?"

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Dracula's Pet Peeves

Dracula's Pet Peeves

  • Jehovah's Witnesses
  • Door-to-door garlic salesmen
  • Cross repairmen
  • "Stake" dinners
  • Prank phone calls from the Blood Bank of Normandy
  • Starching old capes
  • Blue bloods
  • Crappy vampire movies
  • Being undead
  • Moon Is Laughing At Me, Vol. 3

    The moon is laughing at me, Vol. 3

    I woke up from a harsh sleep only to find my telephone ringing for the first time I remember in a long time. It was the moon. She was laughing at me again for no apparent reason other than the fact that I must amuse her by merely existing.

    Well, how do you like that.

    Monday, October 08, 2007

    Sunday, October 07, 2007

    Get out of my garbage, you damned teenagers

    And I don't ever understand your rock music. Can I borrow your headphones?

    Saturday, October 06, 2007

    The more I thought about it, the less sense it made

    The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. How could Professor Zombieton possibly have broken into the bank in Lord Vatrolli's private residence, much less put on those fancy pants before driving that sports car with the spotlights all over it?

    Zombies by their very nature are inflexible creatures. Not spiritually or mentally; they are very open to new ideas and you could go so far as to call them "open minded," were it not for the fact that they gnaw on grey matter (another demonstration of their radical ideas on cuisine). Rather, they have very inflexible physiques. Even a pair of rust-colored sweatpants with a pull string would prove cumbersome for your run-of-the-mill mountain-zombie. No, for this reason, and this reason alone, I believe Jonathan Zombieton, PHD, was framed.

    To wit, observe this mummy I have dug up from my back yard. He has the same physicality and temperament as a brown recluse zombie. Note how he is unable to touch his knee to his hand, even if he is permitted to (I'll get into how I reanimated the corpse later, though I believe you'll thank me for sparing you that dry, verbose explanation under later on) bend his knee. Did I mention zombies prefer to wear classic black and white Chuck Taylor sneakers? When I conducted a triple blind zombie taste test fashion show for the lad, who I've dubbed "Cheeky," he would always choose the Chucks, even when they weren't under the dioramas I had converted into shoe boxes.

    Once, Cheeky found nothing but Checkered Vans (including a pair with leopard print checkers), and it sent him into a batshit rage, the links of which had not been seen since I originally mummified the mailman who I now call Cheeky.

    Tuesday, October 02, 2007

    You owe this world

    You owe this world with a fine-toothed comb to live in a broken home until the day you're too rich to die. I'm not sure why.
    Scan the crystal globe and you might shatter.

    I'm giving in the best I can.

    So please.