Failed Pop Single #1

Spittin' Pete Plimpton failed to break the Country Top 40 with his debut single. The cover didn't help, either:

He also had a hard time making friends in the city.

Poor Spittin' Pete...

Life Is Terrifying

I was at a gas station the other day.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Here's why:



Do you hear the elevator music? Yes, that's right...

People met. They decided: for someone to fuel their car more comfortably,  a certain ambiance was needed.

What can this mean?

Who makes these decisions?

The apparent meaningless of the gesture masks a deep hostility. Anyone who puts blasts elevator music at a gas station has a hatred for life.

Or a sense of humor.

But I'm betting on malice.

There's nothing funny about gasoline and beef jerky. A visit to a convenience store is a solemn affair. It should stay that way.

Donate Your Billions...

I wish I had billions of dollars.

I would use it create and market the most offensive products I could think of.

Here is a sketch for a potential fast food restaurant:

Imagine: Giant, neon vulvae glowing against the night sky...all over the country...

This alone would be worth the money. But it wouldn't have to end there.

Our workers could have uniforms.

Here, for example, is what a drive-thru attendant might wear:

Instantly recognizable, the "Cunt Hat" would be our trademark.

Surreal as it may seem, the image is drawn to scale. The attendant would have to wear a back brace to support the weight (70+ lbs) of the plastic vagina on his head.

We'd have plenty of other ambiance that would distinguish us fro the competition. Like the "Cunt Table." Take a look:

The ovular shape allows a family of six to fit around the "Cunt Table" comfortably.

If you wanted a fork, you'd be out of luck. But, if you wanted something even better, we'd give you one of these:

Introducing the "Cunt Spoon." No explanation necessary.


Contact me if you want to be a shareholder. I think we could expect to make a lot from marketable idea like this one...

If you don't want to be a shareholder, please don't hate me or unsubscribe.

Me Vs Nature

We've built cities not just to conquer nature, but to avoid it.

Nature, I think, is pretty happy with this arrangement.

I was hiking with a friend the other day when I saw this:

Squint hard, folks; that's a California Mountain King Snake you're looking at.

You are not looking at me holding it.

I am the one standing too far away to take a good picture.

I also stood too far away to take a good video. Listen to what a pussy I sound like:





A few thousand years ago we had no cell phones for taking video. We only had sticks. And we used those sticks to beat the snake to death and eat it.

We had the same policy for whatever we wanted to have sex with.

I think.

Those were the good old days.

7 Things I'm Proud Of

So,

A fellow blogger asked me to make a video of the seven most interesting things about me. I could only find one-and-a-half interesting things, but found countless things I was proud of. Watch it:




You'd be proud, too.

Trapped

I went to a Chinese buffet today.

There was a tiled artificial pond in which several goldfish swam. They looked up at me, curious, as I approached. Here they are:

I've heard that goldfish have a memory of three seconds. I think that's just long enough to learn that you're trapped in a tile prison, in the middle of a restaurant in Southern California.

Here is a video. You can see the revelation, and their dawning horror, before both are promptly forgotten:

Two seconds of confusion followed by one second of terror, repeated for a lifetime.

Are You Hungry?

Here, have some ribs:

I hope you like them. I fixed them just for you.

The Unknown Poet

Here is our generation's most popular piece of folk poetry:

Its author goes entirely uncelebrated.

Most are too put off by the scatological content of the poem to note its theme. Environmental conscience drives its simple verse; it's really all about conserving water.

But I'd rather waste a little water than have my whole apartment smell like pee.

Don't Mess With It

This is what happened to the kid who played with power lines:

See that bike? It was the kid's.

He shouldn't have played with that power line.

Angel

Apparently this is an angel:

I am in no way intimidated.

I would not feel safe if this angel were guarding me.

It looks like it has brain damage. Note the eyes.

I wonder if it gets picked on. I got picked on.

Through the Eyes of a Fatty

This is what a fatty sees after he does his damage:

He feels a mixture of pride and regret. This is called indigestion.

He feels pride for having eaten so much.

He feels regret that there was nothing to put mayonnaise on.

After the sun went out

People wanted a replacement.

They soon found it.

A sunless tropical scene:

The amber glow gives it a very authentic look.

Mayonnaise

This is the most honest thing I have ever seen:

Just a bottle filled with mayonnaise. There is no need for a label; people know what they're signing on for.

It's even iced. If it only had a rubber nipple on the end.

Like a giant, iced teat for adults to suckle.

Children could suckle it, too. Fat children.

Popcorn

My ceiling is called a popcorn ceiling. This is what it looks like:

This is what actual popcorn looks like:

I do not think that my popcorn ceiling looks like actual popcorn. I doubt that I am alone here.

Corn undergoes extraordinary torture to become popcorn.

Peaceful kernels of corn are shot with blistering heat and radiation. Their guts explode in fluffy carnage.

Here's a before and after photo:

The Buffet

The Buffet is a kind of restaurant.

Here dishes are placed in metal trays under heating lamps, like so:

Thanks to the heating lamps, food can be left out for a very long time. Whenever the supply of food in one of the trays gets low, an employee comes and pours more food into the old tray.

If the food is left unattended for an extended period, an employee comes and stirs the food so it doesn't coagulate. Here is an employee doing just that:

Food quality is rarely the primary selling-point for a typical buffet patron. This is because most buffets offer an "All You Can Eat" deal, where the customer pays for entry into the buffet and then is allowed to consume as much food as he or she wants.

At the buffet, customers determine their own portions. There is a ladle in each tray, and customers can spoon out as much as they can carry. They can return to the trays as many times as they wish.

Recently, I have become concerned with the handles of the ladles. Everyone touches them, and I wonder if everyone is as scrupulous in washing their hands as I am. I now place a napkin between my hand and the ladle, just to be safe.

The Modern Bathroom

We now have seats for our bowel movements. They are usually sparkling white, like this one:

  
As far as I can tell, this has not been done for comic effect.

We have these, too:

Soft paper we use to wipe the excrement from us.

More curious still is the object to the left.  A waxy screen, placed over the rim of the toilet. This is to protect us from any stray bacteria left by earlier visitors. I use one every time.

A simple lightbulb no longer suffices. We now have mood lighting:

It lends the process an ambiance which would be absent otherwise. Often, speakers play adult contemporary music at a volume that is audible but unobtrusive.

Perhaps we have brought additional amenities into the modern bathroom, and perhaps they need electricity. This possibility, too, has been foreseen:

The need is met by an extra light socket.

The most unsavory moment of your day can now be savored.

Self-Portrait

This is an unfinished self-portrait:

I got really high one day and the image wouldn't leave my mind. I had to paint it. It is the only painting I have ever attempted.

This is not what I actually look like.

It scares the shit out of me.

The Llama

This is the fucking llama. I found it for a dollar. I thought it was hilarious. It has since grown to haunt me. It stares with sad eyes, unblinking.

I cannot escape its gaze. I wonder if the artist wanted to elicit sympathy. For what?

The plight of the animal.

I, too, am subject to the plight of the animal.

But I can also frame one and put it in my living room.

A dog cannot drive a car.

The dog sits before the wheel anyway.

See the dog, sitting before the wheel:

It shows no sign of anxiety. It is not aware that it will die. It does not know the danger it would be in were the car to start. It does not know the danger in which others would be placed. It bears no moral responsibility for the lives of others in such a situation. Its obliviousness protects it.

The wheel is another bright curiosity in a wilderness of curiosities.

Urban Legend #2

A man on acid.

What he sees:

The sudden appearance of a mountain. Perhaps like this one:

What he does:

He spends days climbing the mountain. It is a long and beautiful journey. At the top of the mountain he finds God. He talks to God briefly, then jumps off the mountain.

What his friends see:

The man gets on the roof of his house. There he finds a flying disc, which he talks to for four hours. He then jumps off the roof of his house and breaks both legs.

Absurd Confession #2

Found in a bathroom on a Wyoming highway. I was deeply moved at the sight of this.

The whole of human sorrow in this sign. They have to clean the trash out. Some poor soul has to wade through shit to remove trash.

"It is extremely difficult..."

Isn't it, though?

Absurd Confession #1

From the moment I saw it, I was consumed.

A fire hydrant, huge, in the middle of a nearly empty strip mall. About four feet tall, it came up to my chest. Shimmering red in the noonday sun.

I had to piss on it.

Urban Legend #1

Halloween. A group of friends. A healthy dose of magic mushrooms. A car.

The friends are driving along, starting to peak, balking at the spectacle of everything. One of them notices a garden gnome.

Do you guys see that garden gnome?

They do.

What the fuck?

They stop the car to inspect the garden gnome. It talks. They get out of the car to talk to the garden gnome. It's incredibly sweet. They make friends. They invite the garden gnome to come with them and it does.

They return home. Stoned revelry ensues. They put the garden gnome in the closet to rest for the night and all go to bed.

They wake up. They're eating breakfast and one of them remembers.

Do you remember that garden gnome last night?

Indeed they do. They open the closet door, curious. There's a four-year-old girl inside. They're prosecuted for kidnapping.