There’s nothing really very good about concerts; they sound just like the recorded version. Just kidding, they sound great! It’s really cool to be able to see a band that you love performing live. The energy is amazing, a crowd of people who love music – the same music, and the delightfully frustrating merch table. But, there are too many bad things about them that they’re almost not worth it. They’re not worth it. They’re never worth it. They’re never, ever worth it.
On top of being too short, there are too many people, it smells like stale beer, that stale beer costs too much, you’ll probably have to endure a weird opening act, and good luck having a forgettable time in the bathroom.
We caught about ten minutes of the Olympics by accident over the weekend and were inspired to invite Michael Phelps, water athlete, to our studios so that he could have a portrait done in his true form. It will surprise no one to hear that Mr. Phelps is in fact a magical sailfish that boldly stole the arms of Poseidon, who is known to be God of the Sea. Now that he is officially retiring, for real this time, with many more medals than any other mortal human, he felt it was safe to reveal his true form. Way to go, Michael Phelps.
Everybody loves France. So – oh, no? That’s not a thing? Well they should. Their tendency to surrender is exaggerated, their cheese, whilst smelling like the olfactory equivalent of the Westboro Baptists Church, is known to be delicious for some reason, and they discovered radium, without which I wouldn’t be able to find my glow in the dark mouth guard when the combination of my saliva and grinding teeth inevitably shoots it across my bed like so many bars of prison soap. I’m sorry, I’m not doing a very good job of celebrating France. I must, as I often do, turn to poetry to communicate my deeply felt, depthy feelings about France to you all.
starring Carole Lombard
Saturnine: (adj.) of a gloomy or surly disposition
Inspiration to start a comic series strikes me at the most unexpected times. Sometimes, I actually think things up. Other times, content is handed to me, practically thrown in my lap. The comics you are seeing in this article today were of that variety. Dollissa and I, and many of the other writers you may see around here, all were at one point part of one of those quaint old-fashioned internet message boards that used to be so popular. We still spend a little time there. Well, as you read these comics below, keep in mind that every single one of them were from posts from one specific character on that forum, the author of this post (because he wrote all of the comics, and the comics wouldn’t exist without him, of course).
I found that the more I saw him post, the more I imagined that he was a horse trapped in a human body, trying to get by in a human world. As far as I know, his life is an episode of the Twilight Zone, and what I noticed about him is true.
Growing up in the South (as a PROUD SOUTHERNER) I was offered a variety of food and drink items on a regular basis. Most of these were good. We’re talking about your fried chicken, watermelon, grape soda, SOME BBQ, Cheerwine, and other assorted Southern delicacies. This was quite pleasing, as they were always being offered and seemingly readily abundant. There are however a few Southern staples that don’t please me. There are a few food and drink items that downright disgust me. The big problem is that those were just as readily available and were being offered to me just as often. But one item stood out above all others… and it was a beverage. In fact, I don’t think it even deserves to be called a beverage. It’s swill. The foulest swill. It haunted me throughout my childhood. One sip and I turned into Jim Carrey, my face contorting wildly, jaw jutting out further than my bone structure allowed. Much like Jim Carrey, this was no laughing matter.
I was plagued my entire goddamn childhood by SWEET TEA!
Considering the weird and angry comments about our Star Trek post even though the post was very clearly a joke, I almost did not write this. But, oh yeah, who cares?
You will see it all over the internet. You will see it on real news sites, viral sites, Facebook rants, Twitter hashtags, angry memes, and unfortunately you will even hear it right into your own ears: people shouting about how spec work sucks, you shouldn’t do it, and nobody should ask about it.
People refer to it a lot of different ways, but what we’re talking about here is doing (usually) creative work for free. You guys are gonna hate me for this, but here is how I feel about it: I WILL DO CREATIVE WORK FOR FREE AND SO WILL AMANDOLL.
They say that “no man is an island,” but I disagree. I think we are all capable of being islands, but because humans seem to mostly be social creatures, they seem to think that we should not be islands. According to them, it is healthiest to be part of a big land mass teeming with herd animals. But being remote and inaccessible definitely has its perks. Take it from me, a devotee to the School of Aloofness, located on Emotional Isolation Island.
The benefits of being a reticent character might not be obvious to the uninitiated, so allow me to explain a bit before I give you some hot tips on how to improve your life. We all love attention, don’t we? When you are a mysterious figure, you become extremely intriguing. Other people won’t stop talking about you, and you don’t even have to do a thing! Just evade a series of personal questions, and you’ll be a delicious source of speculation. Appear as though a normal social interaction is as invasive as unrelenting scrutiny, and the contrary folks around you can’t help but wonder why. Let them wonder. Let them TALK.
That satisfaction of feeling like a strangely compelling character is the #1 draw, but if I have to have MORE reasons, I guess another one is that it cuts down on having to keep any stories straight, or accidentally revealing something told to you in confidence. If you are the sort of person who feels a little stressed over such possibilities, then just become mysterious. It’s easy once you get the hang of it! Let me tell you how.
This is about a beautiful show that we will never forget, over before its time. Happy Endings only lasted 3 seasons, but was definitely one of the best sitcoms to ever be on television.
The show got off to a rocky start with its boring premise. That premise, which also features the two worst characters, is that they, Dave and Alex, were about to get married. Instead, Alex runs off with a guy who rollerblades up to them and leaves Dave behind to bore all of his way cooler friends. When Alex comes back, they all hang out, and Happy Endings, the sextet of comedy that we will cherish forever, is born.
When I was a younger person, in my single digits, I had some Big Ideas of how the world works. For no readily apparent reason, (because adults didn’t feed me these thoughts and I did not hold discussions on such topics with my peers), I believed all kinds of things that eventually faded – but they never went away completely.
I thought that if any water was murky, that meant there were sharks right out of view, ready to eat me. I thought that if Satan was the Father of Lies, then the greatest lie would be to pass himself off as God and to get humans to worship him and commit atrocities in his assumed name. I thought spiders in webs were our ancestors, for some reason, keeping an eye on us. I thought that if you slept in a room within view of the mirror, your reflection would wake up and jealously stare at you and try to get through and replace you in this world. I thought mushrooms growing in the yard were types of cheese. And yet, I didn’t fear that stepping on sidewalk cracks would break my mother’s back. That’s just silly!
But I want to talk about the idea I held most firmly: that the world and the future had limitless possibilities for me, and for anyone. Want to be an astronaut when you grow up? Well, I thought, all you have to do is just want it. The notion of having to study or train for space missions was laughable to me, if I even considered it at all. With this belief firmly in place, what kinds of plans did I make? With the universe existing only to fulfill our any desire, which desires did I select for myself?