I haven’t seen The Three Caballeros since I was about eight or nine years old at my grandma’s house. And even then, I am not sure if I saw the whole thing, as it is incredibly boring for a child to sit through. If you haven’t seen it, it is basically a weird Disneyfied “documentary” (or maybe it is just “vaguely educational” instead?) that tells you a little bit about our beautiful friends to the south, the Central and South Americans, in little segments. Well, the plot is that Donald Duck receives a mysterious gift in the mail or something and then he watches it and we do too and so we learn with Donald, and that seems simple enough. Except of course that it turns out to be not that simple after all.
As with all good things, it began with boredom and YouTube, my adventure. And ends with my inability to craft a pleasant looking sentence, it appears! Well, this is what you get. Anyway, the other while ago I decided that I wanted to watch something. Now it is true that there is television and there are cable channels where I am, but it is also true that I have gone so much of my life without having a television of my own that I don’t really want to navigate channels and mute advertisements anymore. So there was YouTube. And somehow or another in the related video list, I noticed The Three Caballeros — FULL LENGTH.
Money is grosser than gross. It is essentially nasty garbage that everybody wants and feels compelled to carry around in their pockets. “Look at that nasty garbage,” people say, “I want it very much. I want to take the nasty garbage with my bare hands, and place it lovingly in the pocket of my pants. Then I will carry around the nasty garbage with me for some time, before exchanging it for goods or services, giving the nasty garbage to someone else who would very much like it. I love you, nasty garbage.” I might be paraphrasing.
After over two decades of experience and exhaustive research, I have concluded that no one should ever touch paper money. Not you, not me, definitely not your children or other loved ones. Not ever, and not even a little bit. Maybe you can let your pets handle your cash, but remember that that’s the same creature that eats its own poops and greets others by sticking its entire face in their assholes.
Why is it that something so coveted by everyone should be so detestable? Why? WHY?! Calm down, psycho, you don’t have to yell. I’ll tell you.
I wouldn’t go as far as to say I am “afraid” of bugs. Honestly, I don’t possess a fear of them, and that isn’t coming from some macho part of me that wants to maintain dignity. If I was worried about maintaining dignity, I wouldn’t be telling this story in such a popular arena as this site. There is only one bug that I despise. One bug, that while I do not feel fear toward, still manages to fill me with a great sense of unease and near nausea. The Cave Cricket.
To make things even stranger, I wasn’t even rendered sick by these things until a particular event. Sure I never volunteered to have those rat bastards jump on me…
Today is a cold and windy night. Can you feel it? The breeze is howling through the trees like some sort of representation of the spirit of air, sending leaves falling and branches tapping on the dusty windows all night long. Beyond the windows is a hill, where I can see poor Daniel Haun approaching a mysterious light. Is he alone? Does Haun not know of the buddy system?
He appears to be following the light, which creepily floats up the slope and toward the spooky hill-top forest. Music starts to creep through the trees as his silhouette disappears behind some rocks. The soft yet abrasive twang of a banjo flutters through the leaves as the darkness encloses the forest.
You know how out there in the real world, appearances are important. Whether we like it or not, we are judged for our clothes, hair, general upkeep, and so on. People also seem to respond favorably when you are well-spoken. I think this is also true on the Internet, although people aren’t convinced yet, judging by the appallingly low standards everywhere you look. But suave, sophisticated internet personalities like to give off the impression that they have a decent command of the written language. Unfortunately, typos exist.
It is frustrating to make a typo. You look like you can’t spell something and when you have to backspace a hundred times in order to appear to have any shred of intelligence at all, you just want to give up and start txtn liek it aint mattr. When I read a typo, by the way, I imagine that I have just read a mispronunciation, or in some cases, a total spazz out breakdown. It’s funny when other people do it, but when I do it, I just want to cover my face in varying levels of shame.
Worse, though, is the typo that makes a different, actual word. Sometimes it is the fault of that infernal autocorrect feature, but sometimes it is simply because certain letters are next to each other. And sometimes it is because your brain just wrote a completely different word and that’s weird and also not what I’m talking about here. That’s disturbing in an entirely different way. Anyhow, it is confusing for the other person to encounter this correctly spelled but not exactly relevant new word, and I have been personally HUMILIATED to have been the victim of these errors. And they have traumatized me enough that any time I write the word I mean to write now, I automatically check to make sure I did not accidentally write the wrong word.
And because every chat I have is imagined in my mind as one of my comics – only fully animated (yes, I’m very lucky), I will present these scenarios to you as small comic strips featuring my poor friends.
While looking through the 15 bins my mother has in storage in her basement of my childhood things, I found a book from when I was 12 or so. The book is called The Hidden Power of Dreams (by Denise Linn) and is largely about lucid dreaming and using your dreams to help your spiritual journey.
The book has a rudimentary dream dictionary in it. It does say that you should not use it directly to define something in a dream, but that it is more of a guideline for interpretation of the dream as a whole. Even with that huge caveat, it’s a really bad dream dictionary. Some of the interpretations are just definitions of that word, others have as many as four conflicting interpretations. See the following example:
The possibility of hidden sweetness.
Feeling “stung” by some circumstance or remark.
I mean, come on, right? So I’ve decided to describe some of my most common recurring dreams and interpret them with the dictionary in this book, published in 1988, and then the Sneer Campaign way, which is probably more accurate and also exciting. Most of these dreams are actually definitely nightmares.
Have you been enjoying National Clown Week? We sure hope so! Merry-making and comic mischief is hard work, but we have made a playlist to make things easier for you. Luckily for the world, I have been amassing a Circus Playlist on Spotify for the past four years and I have skimmed some of the circusiest tracks (plus one rendition of that classic song, my favorite song of all songs, “Brazil”) off the top to present to you. Yes, my personal playlist has almost 700 tracks, and yes, I do listen to it on any ordinary day.
There are a lot of celebrities in the world. Thousands of them! And you can’t really always keep track of what they’re up to. Eddie Murphy is super-famous, right? He’s practically an icon: a symbol of a certain kind of popular comedy. But I had no idea that he had so many children. In today’s comic, this discovery takes AlexT and me on a journey of thought from horror to imaginative consideration to unrealistic demands to impatience. We must never forget that children are a burden and time is valuable. Click to enlarge.