Bring out the gimp
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
and c
The author of this so-called "entertainment" (more like samizdat) has taken a break to pursue creating something so entertaining and compelling that it will rip you ass over head right out of this samsara crap. It starts off with a woman walking through a revolving door, her veil gently billowing in her wake. When it ends, Swirly has become mute, almost like a background actor in his own life. With his addiction to the absurd broken, there is a particular shape missing from his personality, screaming to be heard, but sounding only like rehashed episodes of Pokey.
"We must no longer pursue happiness." Or something. The guy who said that threw piss jugs all over the park. No, that was insurance fraud. This is all very literal.
-The Editors
"We must no longer pursue happiness." Or something. The guy who said that threw piss jugs all over the park. No, that was insurance fraud. This is all very literal.
-The Editors
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Episode 183: The Shrine / An Argument
shrine
noun \ˈshrīn, especially Southern ˈsrīn\
a : a case, box, or receptacle; especially : one in which sacred relics (as the bones of a saint) are deposited
ar·gu·ment
noun \ˈär-gyə-mənt\
1 obsolete : an outward sign : indication
Did you know that Backstabbers is a song about anal sex? It's been one of the newest findings brought out by archaeologists' new friend, infra-red satellite technology. You see, back in the day, schadenfreude was not invented, so people actually cared for one another. Then, our friend Scheherazade Freude came around telling stories of joy, every night, for several nights. If you think that's wild, imagine our faces when her friend Ziggy Joy came and told us all that we're obsessed with our assholes all because of some asshole who was buried in the desert with a snake up his asshole. It's the kind of asshole move that makes you call into question the validity of previous assholes and their level of assholery. Or it was because of Scheherazade. Dat ass.
noun \ˈshrīn, especially Southern ˈsrīn\
a : a case, box, or receptacle; especially : one in which sacred relics (as the bones of a saint) are deposited
ar·gu·ment
noun \ˈär-gyə-mənt\
1 obsolete : an outward sign : indication
Did you know that Backstabbers is a song about anal sex? It's been one of the newest findings brought out by archaeologists' new friend, infra-red satellite technology. You see, back in the day, schadenfreude was not invented, so people actually cared for one another. Then, our friend Scheherazade Freude came around telling stories of joy, every night, for several nights. If you think that's wild, imagine our faces when her friend Ziggy Joy came and told us all that we're obsessed with our assholes all because of some asshole who was buried in the desert with a snake up his asshole. It's the kind of asshole move that makes you call into question the validity of previous assholes and their level of assholery. Or it was because of Scheherazade. Dat ass.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Episode 182: Supreme Laziness
So, in the first frame, Swirly and an affable comrade are discussing women's curves, particularly the nates. Being down on their luck, Swirly suggests using a philter. On their way to find a suitable lamb, they come across a building, an old, old building. (They hang out in an occult part of town where you'd expect to find a philter) The story behind the building is long and misunderstood, but Swirly finds that it reminds him of a certain fly girl from In Living Color. The final 10 frames are just Swirly humping the building and calling it various names, asking who its favorite Twilight character is, and finally they attain mutual orgasm. The building floods the town as the potential from man's past is unleashed en masse. The fluid resembles liquid soma and drinking it returns all to ecstatic, creative youth. But then, the building can't stop coming and everyone dies, the end.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


Freudian analysis would run you down a circular staircase longer than Dante's walk of shame. Extrapolate; interpolate; let's just copulate.
It's just a drawn-out dick joke, trust me.
Is this the end? Was it over when Randy Quaid's missle jammed up? No! He flew that plane to his death and our entertainment. I think there's a lesson for us all there.
Starting a game show is a great way to launder money. It's also a great way to distort reality and enable strange personal fantasies.
Scalpers buy tickets like hens lay eggs. It's just what they do. Ever since the government subsidized corn and bought land in exchange for buffalo, Native Americans have been forced into a life of crime, mostly by selling event tickets at exorbitant prices. Hate the game, not the player.
We sort of left our friend right in the middle of a situation a couple of days ago. We know this happens a lot, but we're just following orders. In this rancid rote, Swirly takes on a nerve amplifier the same way Ken Jennings took on Watson. Later, Swirly comes back to the present and bests Watson at his own game by dominating the personal story round.
Presented here is a storyboard for an ancient movie. The production values are very poor, even for a time before the advent of controlled fire.
The synapsifier needed a human tester. Preferably one with little to no intelligence. Enter Swirly.
There's something to be said about a machine that totally fails at its main function. That thing that should be said is this: Those machines will be progenitors of the next kind of art: The pain and suffering of a literal infinite loop of failure.
So sick of these one note acts. Mix them all together and you get something worse than meatloaf. Wrap that in bacon and cover it with ketchup, however, and you've got something edible.
Swirly may get angry or hurt, but he is not one for grudges, as they require a dedication to hate. He'd rather forgive and forget. However, sometimes the only way to make things right is with a pantomime gun fight.
If some dunce made a comic about Swirly's life, it would probably be called Comic Comic (minus the comedy).
Swirly's land is a modern utopia of sorts, if you believe this isn't still a delusion and he's not still locked in that cabin of dread.
Watch a modern mastur at work.