Good Morning, Tomato-chan

the cooks are in the kitchen
i mean
the crooks are in heaven
i mean
the books are in the oven
i mean...
the cooks burnt the steak because they didn't do the cookin' by the book!
I mean
THE CROOKS BURNT AT THE STAKE FOR COOKING THE BOOKS OF THE COMPANY IN WHICH THEY HAD A STAKE.

good night, cucumber-kun

I Speak, Therefore I am Not.

Modern Art

"This is not an apple."

For Brandon Rawr-san

I made you a Starglasaurus!

The "Dark" Side of the White House

Twitter is Ridiculous!

I managed to get a screenshot that proves how silly "Fritter" is, and it looks something like this...

A Rather Crude Joke

It's at least a single entendre!

A High Profile Party Indeed

I did this because I miss John, obviously.

My take on The Holy Trinity

Holy Spirit! A post with no pics!

I've decided to grow out all of the facial hair on my face EXCEPT the mustache area. Usually I think what I'm doing is bold and innovative. But when I look in the mirror and see that bald upper lip over a majestic field of fur, like a king without his crown, it just looks weird. But hey, maybe that's how Picasso felt...


about his face.

My friend, Sam, and his critique of Lost

(click to make large already!)

Money is Tender

I found a piece of pickle-colored paper in the parking lot today. I picked it up and turned it over, hoping to find some clue as to who had left it there. However, the only evidence of possible relevance were the inscribed words "IN GOD WE TRUST".

So I kept it.

___________________________

The Enlightenment of Sin

If not for knowing I am a beast, I would be a beast,
An animal satisfying its God-given instincts by animalistic means.




In the end when your skin wears thin
It's burn, swim, or find religion.
_____________________________________________

Tiberius and the Texas Toast

or John Love Whoopsie

LOLVCR

BE WARNED:
THESE PARODIES MAY BE NERDY, INAPPROPRIATE, AND/OR SIMPLY SILLY.

The Inner/Outer Monster

is it the inner or outer monster that drives us to temptation ?
and inhales the humanity that feeds it .
which one hangs the halo on its head ?

smoke signals Death

or just maybe it's the time it takes to fall asleep ,
and then the dreams begin .

does life burn ?

Restless Leg Syndrome

Running free but out of steam,

this leg pumps bubbled blood.

Seen tripping over dreams

at the foot of the bed

, twitching under seams

onto another troubled sole,

it beats.

Give it one more double roll;

kick away the angry weight

, beneath twisted, twirling sheets,

into a sore and surly fate

of surely getting

beat.

… Restless, I’ll toss another tussle

with a writhing, wrestling muscle

, because it leaves me feeling

nothing less than beat.

For more information visit www.rls.org

Dear Myspace:

With ads like these, who needs a girlfriend? LOL


Answer: Dinosaurs.

(This one's a "real" ad, so click it!)

The Way We Live

To be immortalized is every mortal’s wish.

For only this do some of them exist:

To hear their peers merely say their name

In recognition of their “hard-earned” fame.

-A mortal lives for forever.

Likewise, to be alive is any ghost’s desire,

If it oddly grows depressed or tired

Of eternal sleep or peaceful rest

And so decides living is the best.

-A ghost lives a spirited life.

Yet, to live and die is the lot in life of adventurers,

Who ever savor the world for all its treasures.

Thus, only this lively lot will know the candid agony

Of an unknown end at the callous hands of irony…

-Adventures are lived in the moment.

After we overturn every heavy rock

And unearth each secret that we sought,

We will toil in the soil until there we will lie;

An absolute adventurer must absolutely die.

-No stone is left unturned until at last, a gravestone.

YEAH YEAH YEAH GO GO GO!!

Lick that envelope, Dr. Taub!!

Smelling foul is for the birds.

Adventures in Driving!

The other night I saw a ghost on the road to dropping off R. Lerma at his place in Sapulpa. I definitely did not want to see said ghost a second time and risk having it recognize me from our previous encounter; I haven't heard of someone seeing the same ghost twice, so I doubt it's something survivable enough to recount. Therefore, I opted to take the highway home instead of the lowly, scenic slow way I usually go about. But I still did my darndest to take in the sights:

Firstly, a "haiku"!
In life I feel
That every sign to go
Is really a sign to yield.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Secondly, a heart to heart with a stop light.
"The old red light treatment, eh? Well, I'm no greenhorn when it comes to the waiting game so I'll sit here until you prove that you're no yellowbelly by showing me your true colors!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lastly, a realization!
I realized this is NOT a sign about a doctor who lives by the river. He/she just works there. Probably in order to poison the water supply and then make a sneaky profit by selling and administering the antidote later to those who were poisoned. What a clever river doctor!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ADVENTURE OVER!

I Dread Coffins.

I beseech the domiciles of the hostile:

Divulge your liars and truth-stretchers.
Reveal the real fakes, phonies, and pretenders.
Expedite each troubled mind, which dreams of sleep at night;
And any disjointed heart, whose very secret sets it apart…
Deliver every vacant soul, beguiled into living among the vile!

Cleave them from your classrooms,
Offices, and lonely bedrooms.
Free them from their pointless parties,
Fun-less functions, or solitary realities.
I believe they sought objective scrutiny,
Not a presumptive commonality,
So, for them, I’ll schedule an impartial trial.

The Adventures of Salisbury Jim and Red Al

• This is an excerpt from a story of a man who dealt constantly with two different perspectives on life.
• If you don't feel like reading a lot, then just skip the first paragraph, which is the description of The Banker, and go straight to the dialogue.
  
• I haven't proofread this as much as I would like, cuz my head hurts.
  
• Backstory: Salisbury Jim goes to the bank in order to secure a loan.
• Uh, enjoy!
  

====================================

The Banker is an older but acceptably attractive lady. She is someone of intense integrity and self control. For example, she never wears skirts or dresses while on the job, because such garb is pointless in this environment, if not less than pointless; counterproductive even. She’s caught the boys while they cock their heads toward the ascending women on the first floor stairs and feign finding an imaginary clock, in a desperately covert attempt to sneak a peek, a self-given break from work. These scenes she’s seen more times in a day than there are hours on that clock, hours for which those carefree boys get paid. Over the years, similar observations of the male species have caused her to much prefer the reliability of numbers over the reliability men. However, she’s never met a man as reliable as Salisbury Jim or as carefree as Red Al.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jim”, The Banker greets Salisbury as she extends her hand and prepares herself mentally for a painful squeeze, the zeitgeist of a manly handshake.

“Likewise, ma’am. This is my cohort, Red Al.” Salisbury, to The Banker’s relief, gently extends his fingers along hers and effectively grasps her palm with his right hand, while pointing to Red with his left. Again, to The Banker, this was not a weak grasp but definitely gentlemanly. Definitely effective.

She smiles at Salisbury before giving her attention to the other gentleman. “Nice to meet you, Red Al, was it?”

Red Al, wide eyed with shock, eyebrows tilted in surprise, looks to Salisbury before shouting, “Meet her!? Why, I hardly know the girl! And you expect me to meet her? Hahaha!” Finally, it’s Red Al’s turn to speak.

Salisbury demands in an impatient and grumpy tone, “Just shake her hand, Red.”

“Fine, Sal.” Red turns to The Banker. “I’ll see your hand and raise it!” He then bends over The Banker’s well organized, expensive mahogany desk and clasps both her hands in his, which he then pulls up to his chest. Looking sincerely into her eyes, he says “Miss, I have hardly heard your name before, save for whispers in the hallways of my high school. Long since have I always felt a deep desire, deeper than the depths of unexplored ocean floors, to gaze deeply upon your face, at the person whose name describes a woman of the deepest beauty and grace. So hear now that here now in this place, this fortress of commerce, this fiscal domicile, this superstructure of treasure, this pigpen of pennies, this abode of gold, this monetary residency, this capital of capital-!“

Salisbury, upon checking the time on his watch and mentally double-checking its correspondence to today’s schedule, interrupts, “Red Al, please, I’ve allotted myself only so much time for this silliness.”

Red Al smiles and finishes immediately, “It’s nice to meet you.”