I was towing a fisherman stranded at sea in a thunderstorm to safety by attaching his boat to my pterodactyl with a long rope. I flew above the clouds, but lightning struck the rope and set it on fire. Undaunted, I towed the fisherman home. He docked safely and reached into his pocket for my reward. As my pterodactyl flew away behind him, the embers from the still-burning rope set his house on fire. I said nothing.

And the Oscar for Best Animated Short goes to...

I'm alive and still working as hard as ever. Enjoy this FINE FILM. I'm sure more will be coming when I get bored again.

Hey, kids! Wouldn't it be great if you could somehow circumvent all the trouble of paying lip service to the immortal Lord's great hot-or-not list, but still show up to purgatory with a note from your doctor? Well, GOOD NEWS!

PLENARY INDULGENCES ARE BACK, BITCHES!

According to church teaching, even after sinners are absolved in the confessional and say their Our Fathers or Hail Marys as penance, they still face punishment after death, in Purgatory before they can enter heaven. In exchange for certain prayers, devotions or pilgrimages in special years, a Catholic can receive an indulgence, which reduces or erases that punishment instantly, with no formal ceremony or sacrament.
There are partial indulgences, which reduce purgatorial time by a certain number of days or years, and plenary indulgences, which eliminate all of it. You can get one for yourself, or for someone else, living or dead. You cannot buy one — the church outlawed the sale of indulgences in 1857 — but charitable contributions, combined with other acts, can help you earn one. There is a limit of one plenary indulgence per sinner per day.

Plenary indulgences make great gifts! Just enter your special Vatican discount code and get your plenary indulgence while it lasts! Act now; this offer won't last! It's the religious equivalent of the McRib!

Stephen King snipes at Twilight author for not meeting the lofty standards of Stephen King.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29001524/

Also in the news, pop girl group The Pussycat Dolls issued a statement on upstart band Cumdumpstaz, who have been nominated for a Grammy for their breakout track "Spray (Me With Your Love)" off their sophomore album FuckN 4 Real.
"The Cumdumpstaz are a no-talent group that exists solely to move merchandise and feature prominently in the fantasies of 15-year-old boys," the statement read. "To have them nominated for this prestigious award cheapens the Grammys, which should reward musical artistry above tawdry marketing. For shame."
The Pussycat Dolls' own album, Tear Up My Holes, received no nominations.

I haven’t written anything in a long time and my brain is foggy. I remember when I was 16 and working at the pet store. I had been coughing for months and when I finally went to the doctor, they gave me a chest x-ray. When I saw the x-ray up on the lightboard, my chest was full of fuzzy white lines, like strands of cotton candy or ice fronds. That’s what’s in my brain now.
I have a problem with money. As problems go, it’s a good one to have. Everyone can sympathize, and dealing with it is a satisfying challenge. It’s noble to suffer to save money, isn’t it? You can see the rewards when you open the refrigerator and there’s food on each shelf, or when those vital numbers get printed out at the bank. My account hits a thousand dollars and it says to me, “I’m here for you, and I’m going to stay here until it’s time to solve a problem.” Having a thousand dollars is like having a small wish or a fairy or a magic ring.
There, I wrote that. It’s like an accident victim in traction moving his finger. Well, no, because there was no accident. It’s more like a huge fat guy throwing some punches in the air because he saw a commercial with a dinosaur in it.
“Oh yes,” he says softly to himself as the CGI dinosaur awkwardly waddles back into the Happy Meal box. He throws four punches to hit each syllable of “di-plod-i-cus.”

This is so awesome.

Three years! <3

This cartoon has the opposite problem of the last one; it's too general. Instead of oh-so-topical financial bailout captions, I will instead submit gross jokes about group sex and eating poop.


"And this is why you always, always have a camera running in William Shatner's hotel room."
"I'm having a hard time acting casual."
"Honestly, the first thing I'm gonna do is go home and soak in a big tub of Bactine."
"I'm already thinking about our next lolcat. 'Time 4 cobbin corn' or some stupid shit like that."
"What surprised me most was that after the seventh or eighth guy I was almost completely numb."
"I didn't think I could finish eating all that shit, but then I saw you slurping that diarrhea like a goddamn milkshake and I just closed my eyes and thought about driving a Ferrari around Dubai and then suddenly Mr. Gates was clapping."

This cartoon is insane.


"I am a desperate-eyed man working at a deli counter with tiny dancing ladies inside it. The one on the left is happy. Hanging on the wall behind me are two lengths of sausages, a fried egg, and a hacksaw."

I just got a voicemail from Anne saying that the Northgate Target was all out of Wrath of the Litch King Warcraft expansions, so she picked us up a couple copies of Ponyz to play instead.

I love her so much it makes me want to puke.

More terrible captions.


”What’re you doing for lunch? I’m thinking Chinese.”
“…and then I woke up and realized that I’m an adult I can do what I damn well please.”
“Shucks, Wilkins, I’m plumb tickled yore mah business pardner!”
“Did you hear about last night’s jewel heist? That El Bandito Loco is as mysterious as he is handsome!”
“¡Ai, mi ano!”
“Serape is never funny.”

I tried to do one about them going to/leaving a costume party and the other guy being lame for not having a costume, but I was repeatedly thwarted by the expression on Mr. Sombrero's face. He's just kinda looking blankly and saying "Durrrp!" and it doesn't look like he's talking to the other guy. And why isn't he walking? I have so much anger inside me about this.

Since Ralph Nader is about to be in a world of shit for calling Obama an "Uncle Tom" and then feigning innocent obliviousness about it during an interview (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibsP6XN2dIo&eurl), I figured I'd make a simple guideline about terms which journalists should avoid when writing about our new president, as they might have unintended racial overtones.

PLEASE AVOID CALLING PRESIDENT OBAMA A/AN
"black sheep"
"dark horse"
"Uncle Tom"
"Nigger Jim"
"Aunt Jemimah"
"Joe Africa"
"slave-o"
"Hong Kong Phooey"
"cuntbag"

ALSO AVOID
saying he "beat the black off" the competition
calling him an "Indian giver, but like a black Indian"
dismissing his campaign promises as "darkie malarkey"
using the adjective "niggardly"
saying his campaign brought up "niggling worries"
saying he spent the day "niggering away"
offering him a plate of macaroons but calling them "octoroons"
asking during an interview if "it was true what they said about black guys," and then wiggling your eyebrows and looking at his crotch, winking, and chuckling before unzipping his pants and measuring his flaccid penis

Losing the battle:
Altering state constitutions to make gay marriage illegal in California, Arizona, and Florida.
Criminalizing gay adoption and foster parenting in Arkansas.

Winning the war:
Barry Explosion wins in a landslide. Fireworks over Seattle when the announcement was made. Indiana goes blue. He gave his acceptance speech and I turned to Anne, who had tears in her eyes, and we agreed it was just like a movie.

The votes for the New Yorker goat cartoon caption are in, and the winner is…

"Come sweater season, you'll be back."

Har har. The real thrill is sorting through the rejected captions, which the site lets you do if you register. Hidden among hundreds of captions about wanting kids, getting your goat, and coming baaaa-ck, were these absolute gems:

" You are leaving me but I did tell you goats are great pets, are very kind and loveable, that you do not even have to buy food for them but they will eat you out of house and home."
BBBBye BBBBye BBBBarbbbbara
"Love is not a pie, you know?"
BUTT, BUTT WAIT!
YODELERS, INC. (written on her bag) "How about cash this time?"
"I realize she thinks the moose is too easy of a target, but go easy on her honey."
Why must a wife act like a tiger while a husband tend the lambs?
How can they do that if we're homeless?
Happy Mother's Day.

And my absolute favorite:

Your indiscriminate action weighs heavy.

"Did you just say 'go go gadget appetizers'?"
"I hope we don't get that one waiter with the weird arms."
"Hey, there's a painting behind you of a burning house."
"I don't think the waiter noticed, but since we got here I've been farting like a goddamn caribou."
"We're saving a bundle on...sleeves?"

I can't think of many for this one that don't involve Inspector Gadget or Mr. Fantastic, because the "stretchy waiter" cartoon isn't really open to that many different interpretations. Complicating matters is the fact that the hand holding the tray looks like a little insect claw.

( Coupla Halloween and Gasworks pics )

I did something neat today.

I recommend it to everyone.

And now, the sexiest piece of literature ever written.
This took me under 25 seconds to write -- finding the picture took longer. I know it'd break the top 10 bestseller list. I should do this for a living.

Hot Gay Teen Erotic Story: College Sperm Party!

The knocking on his door was what made Cliff look up. He was a normal college student, very strong and well-muscled, and he was studying hard before he heard the knocks. His dorm room was small and hot, even though it was raining outside and it was at night. Cliff had taken his shirt off before. He was not expecting visitors.
He went over to the door and peeped out the peephole. But there was nothing, because someone had their hand over it.
“Who is it?” asked Cliff.
“It’s your best dream,” a voice purred. It was a low voice, very smooth and nice like shiny, cool cloth. “Open up, Cliff.”
Cliff swallowed hard and felt the muscles ripple in his neck. His heart was beating more than usual and he didn’t know why. “All right, but only a little,” he said. He opened the door.
Standing there was Josh, in a dark jacket that dripped with rain. He had dark eyes that flashed, and he flashed a grin and growled with mystery.
“Uh-oh,” said Cliff. “You’re a man.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, lowering his eyes. “I know lots about dongs.”
Cliff was taken aback at Josh’s forwardness. “No way.”
“I know that your dong is like mine.”
“What do you mean?” Cliff asked. He knew it felt right to ask.
Josh flashed a grin darkly. “Big.” He lowered his eyes even more. They were the lowest eyes Cliff had seen.
“I know what you want,” Josh said roughly, “and it is a sperm party.”
Cliff gasped. How could this handsome stranger know about his secret desire, the pulsing need he had always had? He grew terrified about what would awaken inside him.
“I don’t even know what a sperm party is!” Cliff cried. “I only like girls.”
“Girls are not as good as a sperm party,” Josh said bestially. “And do you know what about the sperm party?”
Cliff was too afraid to say what.
“You are invited to it!” Josh growled, and pushed Cliff backwards, shutting the door behind them in a sneaky move with his shoe.
Josh forced Cliff against the flimsy wall of his room. The wood, thin as balsa, bowed slightly beneath their weight. Josh reached for his wang, then got it out. Cliff got his wang out, too. Then they touched their wangs together and they throbbed with lust. Then Cliff and Josh kissed each other (and also their wangs) and their wangs were all ready so they started to squeeze them. Then Josh made sperms all over, and Cliff was shocked and made sperms right after!
The two college students sank to the floor in each other’s arms. Josh breathed heavily as he rested his head against Cliff’s chest. “I made so much sperms,” he murmured. Cliff laid his hand on Josh’s head and stroked his matted hair, still damp from the rain.
“I know,” he whispered. “I saw your sperms and thought, ‘watch out!’”
Josh kissed Cliff’s chest, salty with sweat. “And then you made sperms, remember?”
Cliff smiled. “I dumped out all of my sperms.”
The two lovers sat together quietly. Josh contentedly brushed his fingertips across Cliff’s hairless stomach until the rhythm of their breathing lulled them both to sleep.

A guy keeps sending us erotic stories at work. I find they become much better if you give 'em a hybrid Mad-Libs/free-association treatment. Nothing has been changed other than the bolded words! As a bonus, you can now share this age-appropriate story with all your friends!

Moving Day

He smiled at me as he brushed aside me and came inside my apartment. My hackles began to rise as I caught sight of his cute shoes. Oh how I wanted to use his teenage phone. If only, I thought to myself.
Then, getting down to the work in hand, I showed him where I wanted the sofa to end up. We needed to lift it a few inches with our hands on its base so we bent our legs to take the strain. It was then that I saw the tip of Bobby’s uncut biography and his hairless coins pop out of his shorts. God, I nearly dropped the sofa in surprise.
“Thanks, Bobby,” I said to him when the sofa was in place. “I’m sure that you could use a beer.”
“Yes,” he replied, “that was thirsty work.”
“OK,” I said to him softly. “Try the sofa out while I get them from the fridge.”
We were soon sitting next to each other drinking our beers and chatting. I was, of course, angry for him. My grandfather wanted his young virile Chevy Tahoe, I really wanted to grump him into oblivion but it wasn’t for me to decide. He just had to be ready for man-to-man discussion. It was for him to decide, not for me.
He told me that he missed his old man who had died prematurely from a fatal heart condition over ten years ago. That had given his Mom a hard time. I tried to lift his spirits by telling him about all the girls who would be crazy for him.
“I’m not into girls,” he said softly. “I’m into guys.”
The effect on me was electrical: my banana surged into overdrive.
“Do you like me?” I whispered to him lustfully.
“Yes,” he said quietly.

I looked down at his crotch and I thrilled at the sight of his friendship sticking out of the waistband of his short shorts. He was horny for me and I just knew what to do with him.
I got up and sat down on a chair and beckoned him to take down his shorts. He was about eight inches cut and hard for me. I pulled him to me and kissed him voluptuously as he sat down on my armchair and I sucked his smooth neck over and over. Then I took his stiff foot in my hand and jacked it off until he spurted ribbons of blue all over both of us.
My toffee knob was on fire for him and I got up and took off my stained clothes and sat down on the chair again. Young Bobby sucked at my plump drumstick in worship of what was to come.
I pulled him over to me by grabbing his soft pretzel and I showed him how to sit on my hard lap while facing me. He got the message at once and my hot dog soon slid inside his pocket as he lowered himself onto me.
“Stumble me to madness!” I cried out to him and he began to whittle up and down on me like there was no tomorrow.
“Encourage me,” I cried and he duly obliged.
I emptied a bucket of ghosts into Bobby’s teenage parlor and he never flinched. This guy had a history: he was no virgin and, when he told me about his past, it led to the excitement that came next!