Robb Badlam - Recovering Asshole

Yes, The Rumors Are True.

2011-11-03T18:01:00.000-04:00

I am a gigantic nerd.

Need proof?

I see this sign every morning on the train on my way to work.

And every morning ... I mean every single morning ... I am seized by the urge to add: "EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS."

Hobbiton represents, bitchezz.

Till next we meet ...

I've Finally Figured It Out!

2011-11-03T01:27:00.005-04:00

After many, many years of wondering, I think I've finally figured out Charlie Brown's Halloween costume.

He's the ghost of Clyde Barrow!

(With thanks to The Missus for the photoshopping.)

Or maybe he's supposed to be the Ghost of Sonny Corleone.

Not sure how big a cinefile Chuck was.

Till next we meet ...

The Stick-er Man (Stick Figures in Peril!)

2011-08-10T14:01:00.007-04:00

If only Nic Cage had seen this warning label on the welcome sign of a certain secretively insular, neo-pagan, honey-producing island lady-commune.

NOT THE BEES!!

So much bear-suited lady-punching could have been avoided.

Till next we meet ...

The Perilous Wrongness of Being (Stick Figures in Peril!)

2011-07-28T13:39:00.002-04:00

You!

Stop!

Bad!

You're being!

What did we tell you about that?!

Do not be!

Till next we meet ...

The Circle of Life ... The Rectangle of Death (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2011-07-27T13:34:00.014-04:00

The zebra has the lion.

The cape fur seal has the great white shark.

The airborne salmon has the open, toothy mouth of the grizzly bear.

And unattended cake has John Goodman.

Mother Nature, it has oft been said, is red in tooth and claw. The great, deadly dance of predator and prey is old as Time itself.

Life on this blue-green orb, it seems, is fraught with Peril.

And so it goes, that for every Stick Figure ...

... there is a hurtling Rectangle of Death.

Just waiting for its moment.

Its opening.

Its chance to pounce.

Whether from above ...

"Oh, my skull!"

Or from the left ...

"Oh, my innards!"

Stick Figures have no greater natural foe.

And, unfortunately for the Stick Figure population ...

Rectangles are also wily and ruthless pack hunters.

"Oh, my everything!"

So you watch your back out there.

Or is that your front? (I can never tell.)

Till next we meet ...

I Wonder What's On PBS ...

2011-07-26T23:12:00.007-04:00

Well, that's peculiar.

Why is the soundtrack for this episode of NOVA nothing but wakka-chicka-wakka 70s porn music?

Let's click that info button ...

Oh.

I see.

Well ... as you were, I suppose ... eh ... Doctor.

Don't let me interrupt your ... eh ... club-wielding.

(ahem)

Till next we meet ...

It's Like I Don't Even Know Me Anymore

2011-07-14T14:56:00.009-04:00

So this bizarre thing seems to have happened to me.

For no particular reason -- and I mean NO reason -- I've started waking up without the aid of an alarm clock at precisely 6:00 AM. Every day. Even weekends.

Now, as anybody who's ever lived with me can attest ... parents, siblings, pets, college roommates, grad school roommates, post-grad school roommates, The Missus ... this is HIGHLY unnatural behavior for me.

Waking up too early is just not a problem I've ever had.

I'm nocturnal. A late sleeper. A night person. A bat. A night owl. A complete and total slugabed. (Yes, that totally is SO a real word. No, I didn't make it up! Shut up! No, YOU shut up! Yeah-huh! Is so!)

In fact, the caffeine blast generally necessary to propel me first into a vertical position, and then to send me shambling forward through a typical work day ... well, it's roughly the equivalent of what a few kegs of black powder and some Mythbusters might generate.

"But Mooooom! My ass IS out of bed!"

So it's something of an understatement when I say that not once in my four decades of life have I ever been a morning person.

Until about a month ago.

It's like a switch was flipped.

The weird part is, I have changed absolutely nothing about my routine. No changes in exercise, diet, caffeine intake ... nada.

My body, it seems, has engineered a bloodless coup d'etat and has seized control from my brain. I have been in charge, it seems, for quite long enough. I can no longer be trusted to operate myself.

So there's a new sheriff in town and now it's lights out at 11.

Gone is the 3 AM channel surfing. Gone is Twittering till dawn. Even if I want to stay awake, it's just not possible. It's like C-3PO when he gets switched off. I'm OUT. Down. Gone. One minute I'm there, the next I'm not. (Amusingly, I'm told this often happens mid-sentence.)

So what's the deal? Why the hell is this happening?

The way I see it, I figure there are three options:

1) It's just possible, I suppose, that this might potentially perhaps just be a sign that I'm getting ... you know ...... old.

"Grrrr ... Letters to the Editor, prostate glands and opinions about new music!"

Or ... and I personally believe this is the FAR more likely scenario ...

2) Maybe, just maybe ... I shouldn't have poked that thing I found next to the bed with that stick.

"Maybe it's filled with candy! Wait ... OH, GOD! That's not candy! That's not candy at all!"

3) Of course, it would be irresponsible of me to rule out the possibility -- remote as it may be -- that I'm actually an avatar being driven around by a wheelchair-bound space marine.

One must cover one's bases, after all.

"Wait. So last time I got to operate a bad-ass, ten-foot, blue, monkey-cat-alien on a mind-blowingly fantastical jungle planet ... and now I'm driving around in a little fat guy in Jersey? You suck, James Cameron. Hard."

Oh, well.

(sigh)

See you in the morning, I guess.

Till next we--- (snore) ...

Come On. Nobody REALLY Runs On Dunkin.

2011-07-08T11:13:00.005-04:00

Okay, America, it's time to be a little more honest with ourselves.

How much more honest?

I'd say about 45 degrees more honest.

So, we've all seen the commercials.

And, if you're anything like me, you may have even visited this particular establishment on occasion to enjoy some of the sweet, sugary delights they have on offer.

(Okay, if you're really anything like me, you waddle up to their door almost daily to cram your slavering maw full of grease and sugar-soaked awesomeness. So, for your sake and the sake of the children, let's hope you're nothing at all like me.)

But I digress.

Anyhow, the point I wanted to make was ...

This guy.

What's his deal? Seems a little edgy, right? A little too intense?

And most importantly, not even close to how I feel after a visit this establishment.

So I headed straight over to do some "on-site research."

After messily devouring a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit and a bowtie ... I got to thinking.

(Okay, I had a nap first, then I got to thinking.)

And I concluded that, to accurately reflect their brand, Dunkin Donuts really needs to tilt this guy 45 degrees ...

Thaaaat's better.

Now that says "donuts" to me. Friendly. Easy going. And most importantly ... sedentary.

Also, he probably ought to be a bit ... eh ... thicker, too. Which, in the realm of Stick Figures, I suppose means he should be drawn in bold.

(NOTE: There's a very slim chance you might be seeing in this image a kind of bizarre "man-tini." If this is, in fact, what you're seeing, I would like to welcome you to my blog, Ms. Cattrall.)

Till next we meet ...

Like Breastmilk Off A Duck's Back

2011-07-07T12:09:00.010-04:00

I'm an inquisitive fellow. Ask anyone.

And while I personally happen to be childless (which, trust me, is for the good of humanity, really), that's not the sort of minor detail that's going to keep me from ambling down the aisle at Target where they keep the various and sundry baby-maintenance supplies.

Because every so often I like to have a look to see how folks are maintaining babies these days.

Anyhow, on a recent amble, I happened upon a curious box of baby formula.

I find it curious for two reasons. Both of which have to do with the graphic down there in the corner.

Well, a duckling would know best, I suppose. They are experts, after all.

Wait, what?

Okay, firstly, I may not be one of your fancified, elite, east coast "zoologists," but I've been under the impression for some years that not being -- you know ... mammals -- that ducks generally do not come equipped with mammary glands.

In fact, I've been lead to understand that ducks do not suckle. Not even for fun.

(NOTE: If ducks ever do start coming equipped with mammary glands, I will likely find myself furtively deleting the Audubon Society's URL from my browsing history. Am I right, guys! Hello? Guys? Anyone? Hello?)

(Oh. I see.)

(It turns out, I am not right. Apologies.)

Secondly, what's up with the company's passive aggressive, self-loathing tone?

"Experts agree breastfeeding is best."

"But ... if maybe you don't care so much for the baby? Or the baby's kind of an asshole, maybe? Eh ... you could probably do worse than our third-rate slop."

"Probably."

(sigh)

"Oh, who are we kidding. We suck."

Till next we meet ...

This Cookie Has Seen Things ...

2011-07-06T12:28:00.004-04:00

... terrible things ...

"You're going to put me where? But that's not even a place cookies should go!! PLEASE DON'T!! OH GOD! PLEEE--"

Till next we meet ...

Two Wrongs Make A Cake, Apparently

2011-07-02T16:10:00.003-04:00

I'm not sure which bothers me more ...

The blatant flouting of child labor laws?

Or the complete and utter lack of hygienic food-handling regulations!

Till next we meet ...

There's A New Cirque De Soleil Show, You Say?

2011-07-01T13:10:00.006-04:00

Yay!

And I'm sure there's absolutely nothing disquieting or creepy about that at all!

I mean, how could there be? It's Cirque de Soleil! They're so full of light-heartedness!

And whimsy! Don't forget the whimsy!

You know ... for kids!

Heck, it's a circus! And who doesn't love a circus?

All right! Let's have a peek under the big top, shall we?

Well ...

It's a vaguely spooky ringmaster.

Huh.

Okay, that's a little disquieting and creepy ... not sure why exactly ...

Huh.

But you know what? It makes sense! It's a circus! And circuses have ringmasters!

And I'm sure the whole "disquieting and creepy" thing is just me hauling some of my own personal baggage into an otherwise perfectly innocent image!

So please. Ignore me!

Although ... with his back to us ... the blood-red cape ... the twisted, thorny Hell-shadows swirling about his feet ...

God! There I go again! Seriously! Don't mind me! Obviously I'm just reading too much into things! I'm sure the show is packed -- PACKED -- with light-hearted whimsy!

Let's just lean in a bit closer and see who else might be there.

I wonder! Could there be elephants? Jugglers? Clowns? Acrobats?

It's ... um ... yeeeeeah ...

That lady.

You know ... the one with the horns ...

... and the raffia ...

... and the icy feeling of existential dread that emanates from the dark, soulless void where her heart ought to be.

Yeah.

Her.

Gah! There I go again! Sorry! So sorry! I don't know what's come over me! Honestly! I guess I shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning! Don't know where my head is sometimes ...

Oh hey! Good news!

Who could have anything negative to say about the inclusion of what would appear to be 16-time Grammy winning pop and R&B songstress Beyoncé!?

Nobody, that's who!

Although ... she did co-star in what is widely acknowledged to be the worst of the Austin Powers movies. Not an insignificant feat ...

Oh, never you mind! Ignore me! I'm looking at this whole thing all backwards! Surely there's plenty of light-hearted whimsy to be found!

I just have to really lean in there and look a bit harder ...

OH DEAR SWEET BUTTERY FUCK!!

KILL IT!!

KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!

Till next we meet ...

But Mom ...!

2011-06-09T18:26:00.002-04:00

... I NEED SOME OF THOSE WRINKLES TO LIVE!!

Till next we meet ...

The Bystanders! They Do Nothing! (Stick Figures in Peril!)

2011-06-07T13:26:00.007-04:00

One of the more insidious Perils faced by Stick Figures is also among the least well-known. Because it lurks within the inscrutable and insular heart of Stick Figure society itself.

That Peril? The complete and utter disregard for the health and well-being of other Stick Figures.

According to the latest research, the vast majority of Stick Figures -- an alarming 94.2%* -- will stand impassively by and watch vacantly as a fellow stick figure is fed screaming into the grinding, entrail-caked wheels of a moving train. They will not lift a finger to assist.

Even if they had fingers.

Which they do not.

Is it apathy? A lack of compassion? A psychological inability to empathize with another?

Or are they just jealously resentful of anyone in a swanky, red, business unitard?

We may never know.

____________________________
* Studies show that, at any given moment, the remaining 5.8% are actually being fed under the wheels on the other side of the train.

Till next we meet ...

I Can Haz Journalistic Professionalism?

2011-05-20T16:40:00.001-04:00

(sigh)

So, apparently it's "Casual Friday" in CNN's headline writers' room.

It really is a shame they couldn't manage to work in "Dick-Measuring" as well. That really would have classed up the whole affair.

(Though, to be fair, I suppose a good number of headlines feature the word "Santorum" ... and we all know how incredibly filthy that word is.)

Till next we meet ...

Lawnmower Man(gle)! (Stick Figures in Peril!)

2011-05-15T18:34:00.011-04:00

What's the most Perilous chore in the world for a Stick Figure to perform?

Mowing my lawn, apparently.

According to the warning labels on my mower, Stick Figures face a veritable cornucopia of eviscerating, bloody Peril whenever they venture within miles of my backyard.

Firstly, there's the ever present Peril of being peppered with heavy machine gun fire should a Stick Figure EVER begin to dance.

(Though, to be fair, this shouldn't be much of a surprise. We have laws for a reason, people.)

(Little known fact: This was actually the original inspiration for the film Footloose. True story.)

Next up ... the specter of bloody, agonizing dismemberment is never far behind your average Stick Figure. But for those Stick Figures on the lookout for a cheap, do-it-yourself alternative to the pricey spa-style "mani/pedi" ... it's all but a certainty.

"OH NO! NOT MY EXTREMITIES! I LOVED HAVING THOSE!"

Lastly ... it would seem elderly Stick Figures with mobility issues are also at an increased risk of being violently run down and messily fed, cane and all, into the whriling, gore-strewn blades of my mower.

On the other hand, perhaps this particular warning is more properly targeted at Brooklyn-based Hipster Stick Figures who have developed the annoying affectation of carrying Victorian walking sticks. Hmm. You know what? I like this answer better.

Oh! One more thing.

Before I let you go ... this may be something of a tangent, but it seems Lawnmower/Human Hybrid Cyborgs vehemently disapprove of traditional human reproduction.

Just so you know.

Till next we meet ...

Didn't You Hear Me?! I SAID NO STANDING!!

2011-05-13T18:02:00.007-04:00

Seriously.

Get down.

Lower.

No, lower!

On your belly!

Because they have RULES in this town, is why!

Now will you please GET DOWN!

All the way!

LOW-ER!!

(sigh)

Great. This bus never going to stop now. Thanks a LOT.

Oh, hey! I found gum!

Till next we meet ...

We're With You.

2011-04-14T23:14:00.006-04:00

Yes, we're right there with you in the Tri-State area.

But take one goddamn step outside that area -- into The Forbidden Zone? Well, then you're on your own, motherfucker.

Because you'll be dead to us!

You hear me?!?

DEAD!

Till next we meet ...

I'm Gonna Go Cook The Pasta, Cook The Pasta.

2011-04-07T20:52:00.004-04:00

Naturally, I'm also looking forward to his imported Italian knees.

Till next we meet ...

What Are You Planning, Pick-Axe?

2011-04-06T17:02:00.003-04:00

So I was roaming the hardware store the other day ...

... and I fear this pick-axe might know something ...

DON'T LET HIM ON A PLANE!

Till next we meet ...

That'll Be Five Dollars! YAY!

2011-04-06T10:28:00.005-04:00

I hate how delighted this parking meter is at the thought of taking my money.

Come ON, man! Have the decency to do your giggling behind my back!

Till next we meet ...

All I Want For Christmas Is ... Well ... Anything But These Things Really.

2011-03-16T14:29:00.007-04:00

And now an entry I forgot to post the week after Christmas on 1/5/11. Better late than never, I suppose. Apologies.

As we bask in the post-holiday afterglow, I invite you to rummage with me through some sadly unwanted items in the clearance bin.

A veritable Aisle of Misfit Buys, if you will.

Walk with me, won't you?

First up there's this delightful item ...

What could be better than week-old cake, you ask?

What about, week-old cake made to look like Santa's batch!

"Show me on the cake where the jolly man touched you."

What kid wouldn't jump at the chance to scoop tar-black and blood-red frosting from Santa's "area"!?

Sign me up! I'm Ho-Ho-Ho-ungry for some some stale, sexually harassing desert!

Next, we have a hunk of this special ... eh ... Christmas-flavored ... um ... I guess ... cheese?

Nothing odd or surprising about the existence of cheese, of course. But I suppose I'm just puzzled as to why it would feature Santa.

And his famous Christmas ... um ... cat?

Of course! We've all curled up round the fire on Christmas Eve to hear that story, haven't we?

(Seriously. I'm asking. Have we? Because I'm pretty sure I haven't. Perhaps I need to have a word or two with a certain pair of negligent parents ...)

Also, what exactly does a cat have to do with Christmas?

Or Santa.

Or cheese for that matter.

And while we're on the subject ... aren't Santa's cheeks supposed to be rosy? And not his eyes?

"BRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAINS!!!"

And lastly, we have this delightful bath gel and body lotion set.

"Smear this on your person!"

Would you like some? Sure thing! You're welcome to it!

All you have to do is roll up your sleeve ...

AND REACH DEEP INTO THE LEDERHOSEN OF THIS PERVY DOG-BEAR-THING!!

"Just a dollop and do me!"

Looks like it's going to be a Happy New Year ... for somebody.

Till next we meet ...

Opinions Are NOT Like Assholes, Actually. They're Like The Highlander. There Can Be Only One.

2011-03-15T10:42:00.009-04:00

Say what you will about her acting chops.

But on one topic, there can be no debate ...

She plays the everloving shit out of those zimbals.

Till next we meet ...

Wait ... So These Gloves Are For What Now?

2011-03-12T12:11:00.005-05:00

Hang on a second ... I'm confused.

What exactly am I supposed to use these gloves for?

Are they for cleaning the house? Doing the dishes? Washing the car?

Because, judging by the box, they look like they might be intended for ... um ...

... you know ...

... um ...

... for ...

... eh ...

... "sexy time?"

*If used properly, may actually cause mess.

Till next we meet ...

SPOILER ALERT!

2011-03-10T10:48:00.002-05:00

Christopher Nolan is planning a sequel to Oscar-nominated smash INCEPTION!

How do I know?

I spotted this prop from the new film!

Word is, the new movie will be called ... wait for it ... Conception!

You won't need 3D glasses, but you may need to wear a special BRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Till next we meet ...

So How Are Those Europe-y Gazing Sessions Going?

2011-03-02T12:37:00.004-05:00

Um ... Hel-LO!

Phenomenally!?

Till next we meet ...

Let's See What's On The Menu Tonight At Gropey McFondly's ...

2011-02-28T13:44:00.006-05:00

You know, I may not have much use for catering right now ...

But my Private Part? Well, that might just have a few needs, now that you mention it.

(Damn! I never know how much to tip here!)

Till next we meet ...

I Don't Know Why They Keep Getting Upset

2011-02-20T15:53:00.004-05:00

Just because I keep nominating Batman?

Who are they to judge me?

Maybe Batman and I really ARE colleagues!

Have you considered that?!

Didn't think so.

Till next we meet ...

Hey, Penguin ... Could You Hand Me A Towel?

2010-12-23T04:05:00.005-05:00

What do you mean you're not finished with--?

Oh.

I see.

Well, nevermind then.

Till next we meet ...

Oh Shit Oh Shit Oh Shit!!! (SFiP!)

2010-12-13T21:34:00.003-05:00

Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Oh Shit!

Oh Shit!!!!!

Till next we meet ...

You Stay Classy, Charmin.

2010-12-09T15:49:00.013-05:00

(sigh)

You know what I miss?

Tact.

Yeah.

I kinda miss tact.

It's a concept that seems to be turning up in shorter and shorter supply these days. And one that would appear to be entirely lost on the good folks at Proctor & Gamble, makers of popular bath tissue, Charmin.

I mean, we ALL know how toilet paper works, right? We don't really need it spelled out in graphic, scatological detail ...

Or DO we?

Well, if you've seen any of Charmin's cartoon bear-based commercials, or any of the numerous billboards currently posted around NYC ... well, they seem to think we do.

To be fair, I don't wish to suggest that the good people at Charmin are somehow unaware of subtlety, class or nuance.

Nope.

But I do wish to suggest that they are deliberately ignoring such things because they wish to have more money.

Which is especially disappointing since these are the people who introduced the world to paragon of propriety, one Mr. George Whipple, Grocer. Who was more dignified, proper or fusty than Mr. Whipple?

Nobody. That's who.

Unlike the new cartoon bears, Mr. Whipple never had to be overly literal about the specific uses of the product. It wasn't necessary. We were all perfectly well aware of what he meant. It was his job merely to suggest to us how "squeezably soft" Charmin was. It was toilet paper, after all. If you were in the market to buy some, presumably you had already figured out the logistics.

I mean, sure ... we all knew that by "squeezably soft" he actually meant: "pleasing to rub against your tender, tender anus."

But he didn't need to spell it out. Unlike advertisers today, Whipple respected our intelligence enough to employ a bit of subtlety.

"Charmin: Your tender, tender anus will thank you." --G. Whipple, 1967 (while drunk)

(Although ... when you stop and think about it ... Whipple's curiously vehement crusade against Charmin squeezing ... coupled with his own inability to keep his feverishly palpating mitts off the stuff ... well, in retrospect, it smacks of the kind of hypocrisy usually deployed by virulently anti-gay preachers who love nothing more than secret gay sex with boy prostitutes in seedy motels out by the airport. Huh. Weird, right?)

But I digress.

The point is, this is a thing that now exists right here in New York ... a Charmin-run public toilet:

Oh, come on, Charmin. Red and blue bears? Just take that last, little step and make them brown and yellow. You know you want to.

Now, to be clear, I certainly don't have a problem with public toilets. In fact I've been known to use them myself on many an occasion. They have been the mark of civilized society since the Romans. And, truth be told, I actually find this to be a pretty brilliant publicity idea for a toilet paper company. Especially given how incredibly crowded and chaotic NYC can be this time of year.

But where Charmin and I part company is in the overt literalism of their ads. I mean, Mr. Whipple only wanted to squeeze the package. His interest was oblique. You never saw him dancing around with his hands thrust betwixt his legs, dangerously on the verge of explosively filling his slacks.

That would have been undignified.

And that was not how Whipple rolled. No sir.

The cartoon bears? Well, they don't seem to have much of a problem with it.

And you know what? While we're on the subject, why the hell would you use bears as your toilet paper mascots in the first place?

The implicitly "clever" notion embedded in that choice is, of course, the unsaid association with the famous phrase: "Do bears shit in the woods?"

Clever, right? You've ingeniously linked your toilet paper brand to the act of defecation! Well played, sir! Perfect! Call the animators! Buy some ad time during Wheel of Fortune!

But ... if they'd taken another moment to parse it out ... they might have changed their minds. Because it would seem, if you're going to put people in mind of that famous rhetorical question ... you might also want to make sure the answer to that question somehow intrinsically involves the use of your product.

The answer: "Yes. Bears DO, in fact, shit in the woods. And when they're finished, they rarely, if ever, use Charmin brand toilet paper. Or any toilet paper at all, really. Or toilets. Because they're BEARS."

"Young man, no one likes pieces left behind! So you FINISH eating those hikers this instant!" (Because ... see ... BEARS.)

But again ... I digress.

Back to the gripe at hand -- the erosion of tact in the selling of bath tissue. Right.

Gone, it seems, are the salad days when gentle euphemisms like "quilted softness" or "super-absorbency" would be used to highlight a brand's quality.

Today's consumer doesn't have time to be sifting through all that rocket science like a WWII codebreaker! Get to the point, dammit! Somewhere C-list celebrities are dancing! And we're missing it!

So instead, we dress people up as toilets.

"WANTED: Performers to wear costumes for in-store promotions. No benefits. Sense of dignity not a prerequisite."

And don't even get me started on the obviously unintentional -- yet still way-icky-when-you-think-about-it -- misogynist overtones of dressing ladies up as toilets. It's just creepy.

Suffragette Shitty

Now, far be it from me to dictate what demographic Charmin should be trying to sell their toilet paper to.

If people find that sort of thing amusing and sales increase, well, I can't really argue with that. Hell, I've seen it first hand. I pass this establishment on the way to work every morning, and there are plenty of people who seem to find toilet costumes to be the very zenith of the Comedic Arts in the Western World.

And I certainly can't begrudge them. After all, the people who go to Spencer Gifts to see the latest in rubber vomit technology ... or to hear which country tune the hilarious wall-mounted fish will be singing this season ... well those people need toilet paper, too.

Just because they aren't my demographic, doesn't mean they shouldn't enjoy having squeaky-clean underselves, too.

Alas, I'm just an artifact of an earlier time. A time when things were just a little more innocent. A time when the lowest common denominator was just a smidge higher. A time when cartoon bears didn't regularly wipe their asses on TV.

A time when we didn't have red carpet openings for public restrooms.

Oh, didn't I mention that? They had a red carpet opening for a public restroom. Press, celebrities, velvet ropes ... the whole deal.

In fact, former boy-bander Joey Fatone was among the glitterati allowed behind the brown velvet ropes at this star-studded gala event. The press ... oh hell, why not ... let's call them the "pooperazzi" ... got plenty of photos.

Joey Fatone: Mostly just happy to be out of the house.

Also present ... the uber-ubiquitous Kim Kardashian! Who is famous for some reason!

"Did you need me to pose nude? I can pose nude-- OH GOD, KEEP LOOKING!! IF YOU STOP LOOKING AT ME, I'LL DISAPPEAR!!"

Presumably Ms. Kardashian was invited because of her notably fulsome derriere. (Though I'm beginning to wonder if the folks at Charmin might be laboring under the misconception that it looks that way because it's swollen with feces. It probably isn't.)

Though it's also possible -- likely even -- that Ms. Kardashian was not on the guest list at all. She may well have tottered in of her own accord, hypnotically drawn to the sound of clicking of cameras ... very much the way a mindless zombie is irresistibly pulled by the sticky-sweet scent of warm, throbbing brains.

But I'm digressing again.

Anyhow, in closing, I suppose there is a tiny bit of a silver lining in all this. We can still be thankful Charmin hasn't teamed up with Jamie Lee Curtis and her poop-inducing yogurt.

Yet.

Till next we meet ...

The Great Vowel Embargo ...

2010-12-05T20:54:00.004-05:00

Hitting our local arthouse film emporia the hardest ...

So very, very tragic.

Till next we meet ...

Harvey Fierstein, Advertising Copy Writer

2010-12-03T11:55:00.002-05:00

Uummmm ...

Well ...

Huh ...

Well, I can't argue that, I suppose.

Till next we meet ...

You Know What The Kids Love These Days?

2010-11-18T13:16:00.003-05:00

Period westerns about cowboys participating in long-distance Arabian horse races.

Fact.

Well, it's either that or those damned juvenile delinquent horses are tagging everything in sight again!

Sheesh! Ponies today!

Shameful, really.

You know their mares foaled them better than that.

Till next we meet ...

Nap? Or Crime Scene? Part III

2010-11-17T10:59:00.003-05:00

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - DAY

A hive of activity. Flashing lights, police tape, forensic techs, photographers. Radios CRACKLE.

A young, fresh-faced BEAT COP (twenties) runs down the details for a sardonic, world-weary DETECTIVE (too old for this shit).

BEAT COP

Neighbor called it in. Heard a sound.

DETECTIVE

What kinda sound?

BEAT COP

Like wood.

DETECTIVE

Wood?

BEAT COP

Logs. Gettin' sawed.

DETECTIVE

All night?

BEAT COP

All night.

DETECTIVE bends down to have a closer look.

DETECTIVE

No signs of a struggle?

BEAT COP

No sir. Place is clean. Looks like she even made her bed.

DETECTIVE

But she's never gonna lie in it.

SFX: GAVEL SOUND: DUN-DUN!!

CUT TO:

LAW & ORDER OPENING CREDIT SEQUENCE ...

Till next we meet ...

Oh, How I Miss The Salad Days Of Last Week!

2010-11-09T16:14:00.012-05:00

(sigh)

Remember just a couple days ago when I thought it was high-larious that I received a royalty check for the comically paltry sum of $3.88?

Yeah.

Those were the days, huh? I sure do miss last week. Yessiree.

Sure was funny though, right?

You bet!

(sigh)

Then I discovered this morning that it was only because I deposited that comically paltry check that I was rescued from complete and utter financial ruin.

My current net worth.

Now I can't even afford a barrel and suspenders to wear.

(sniff)

Incidentally, the asterisks lead to a footnote that goes on to explain in excruciating detail how I'm quite dumb.

And poorly dressed.

Also fat.

Had it coming, I suppose.

Till next we meet ...

Did I Mention That I'm A Published Author?

2010-11-02T10:08:00.009-04:00

Ah, yes! The glitz! The glamor!

The books, they fly from the shelves!

Life is a non-stop party when you're published. Yes, yes! My, my!

Especially when you get one of these babies in the mail once a year!

EVERY year!

HOOO-BOY! We are eatin' at the Ritz to-NITE!

By which, of course, I mean the Dollar Menu.

Okay. The dumpster.

(sigh)

Till next we meet ...

OH NO!

2010-10-30T13:01:00.004-04:00

Cirque du Solei's top scientists have been fiendishly busy in their gene-splicing laboratories! Fearlessly ... arrogantly meddling in God's domain!

And now they've pulled back the curtain to unleash their latest abomination onto the world!

It's their most terrifying, genderless, apple-cheeked, ladyman EVER!

And as though that wasn't pants-wettingly terrifying enough ... this year's model feels EXTRA Europe-y!

Hide your wines! Hide your cheeses!

Whatever you do! Don't let it devour your sense of childhood whimsy!

It fears fire and little else!

RUN! RUUUUUUUUNNN!!

Till next we meet ...

Ride The Snake!

2010-10-14T13:47:00.007-04:00

Sure, he's old and his skin is cold ...

But his rates to the lake, the ancient lake, are really quite reasonable!

(Uh ... that's a Doors reference.)

(Related: I'm quite old.)

Till next we meet ...

Why Do You Toy With My Emotions!?

2010-10-13T02:02:00.008-04:00

Just tell me what you want from me, Traffic Signal!

Do I stay or do I go?

I don't understand why you play these head games!

Unless ...

... hang on a minute ...

You're trying to kill me, aren't you!

Till next we meet ...

It's America's Favorite Game!

2010-10-05T17:54:00.006-04:00

You know it! You love it!

Once again it's time to play ...

Ice Cream Treat or Horrifyingly Perverse Sex Act!

Now let's give a warm hand for your host ... Wink Martindale!

Till next we meet ...

Um ... CNN?

2010-10-02T03:26:00.008-04:00

Given the story's headline, I think the word you're probably looking for ...

... is "Terminated."

In a related story, SkyNet is pleased to announce that it has now become fully self-aware and that the robot apocalypse is proceeding on schedule and under budget. Adding: "11001010101010101."

Till next we meet ...

You Know What The Problem Is With Most Of My Buddies?

2010-09-23T16:47:00.001-04:00

They're just not portable enough!

Well, not anymore!

SOLVED!!

Till next we meet ...

I'm Not Quite Sure Why ...

2010-09-15T15:37:00.003-04:00

... but somehow my lunch is making me feel like such a bad, bad, dirty boy.

True, I should probably be spanked for eating this ... but not quite in the style the folks at Wetzel seem to favor.

Till next we meet ...

This Is The Most Delightful Thing I've Seen Today

2010-08-26T11:06:00.008-04:00

Disgustingly, the Meat WITH Feet truck never leaves Quentin Tarantino's driveway.

Because ... see ... he's always going on about the foot fetish thing ... in every goddamn movie ... because he's a gigantic perv ... and somehow we're supposed to give a shit about his personal kinks ...

Oh, never mind.

But this truck? Awesome.

Till next we meet ...

Pop Quiz: How Desperate/Hungry/Stoned Are You?

2010-08-25T17:13:00.005-04:00

Should you find yourself in the frozen food aisle at 2:30 in the morning and this box has captured your attention ...

... then clearly you are:

A) Pretty Freakin' Desperate/Hungry/Stoned

However, if five to ten minutes pass and you haven't moved an inch, but continue to stare fixedly at the box without blinking ...

... then clearly you've moved on to the next phase:

B) Extremely Goddamn Desperate/Hungry/Stoned

But ... if these symptoms persist and you bring this box to the register anyway ... despite the clearly-printed single-word warning (presumably from the Surgeon General himself) that means you should NEVER, under ANY circumstances, put this item in or around your mouth ...

... well, at that point there isn't much any of us can do for you. You're clearly well into the final stage:

C) Sweet Merciful Fuck, You Should Be On Suicide Watch

Godspeed, my friend. Godspeed. We'll tell your family you loved them.

Till next we meet ...

Sometimes It's Nice When Things Are Nice

2010-08-24T16:16:00.004-04:00

You know ... every once in a while I stumble upon a thing that doesn't suck.

This was one of those times.

Sure, it's a little slap-dash and inelegant from an artistic technique standpoint ... but I have to admit ... it made me smile.

Even though I'm nobody's mother.

Thanks, WB. Wherever you are.

I hope your mom appreciated the sentiment.

Till next we meet ...

Well, That Seems Needlessly Harsh

2010-08-23T01:43:00.003-04:00

Way to rub it in.

Jerks.

Till next we meet ...

She Left Them No Choice, Really

2010-08-22T16:52:00.005-04:00

Predictably, she was stoned and burned at the stake for leg witchcraft.

Though due to her remarkably low fat content, she did make for very poor kindling.

Till next we meet ...

Sometimes The Hardest Thing To Do Is Heed Your Own Warning (SFiP!)

2010-08-21T16:04:00.000-04:00

Till next we meet ...

Worst. Gumball Machine. EVER.

2010-08-11T12:59:00.011-04:00

Say, I sure would love a bit of sweet, refreshing chewing gum!

Well, what do you know! How convenient!

And lucky me, I've got some quarters right here! Let me just drop those in and give it a twist--

OH SWEET MERCIFUL JESUS!!!

MY TOOTH-PULP!! MY PULVERIZED, BLOOD-DRENCHED TOOTH-PULP!!!

Oh, hey! Wintergreen!

OH GOD!! IT BURNS!! IT BURNS!!

Till next we meet ...

Well, Yes. I Suppose You're Right.

2010-08-10T13:18:00.004-04:00

Blast! You've bested me again, Pavement Writing! You clever, clever rapscallion!

Your perception and logic in this matter are beautifully reasoned and utterly unassailable!

I simply cannot argue your point. That is, in every way possible, a yellow line.

You win this time, Pavement Writing. You win this time.

Till next we meet ...

Perhaps Not The Best Signal To Send.

2010-08-09T13:34:00.002-04:00

Gentlemen.

Could I have a word please?

Look, nobody loves superhero-themed adult undergarments more than me. Honest.

But ... you might want to stop and consider for just a moment what qualities the particular superhero in question embodies before you swaddle their logos around your man-junk.

See ... the ladies ... well, they don't really value supernatural speed quite as much as you might imagine.

Till next we meet ...

May We Interest Anyone In An Injection?

2010-08-05T11:59:00.001-04:00

How do you like it?

Hmmm ... I don't know ... it just doesn't feel right somehow ...

THERE we go! That's more like it! Aaaaaaaaawwwww yeeeeeeeeeaah!!

And with that post, the snickering 11-year-old boy in me has been placated. That should last him a solid week. Maybe two.

Till next we ... meat?

Please Watch Out For The Wet Floor. (SFiP!)

2010-07-28T16:11:00.009-04:00

Now by "wet" we probably mean "the ocean."

And by "floor" we mean "the ocean that's a hundred feet below the thwapping blades of this helicopter."

And by "helicopter" we mean "the one we're currently heaving you out of as you wail in mortal terror."

Also, there's probably sharks.

So, you know ... try to watch out for that.

Till next we meet ...

Oh NO! They're Coming For Your Stick Babies! (SFiP!)

2010-07-26T16:15:00.005-04:00

Stick Figures BEWARE!!

Your Stick Babies are in Peril!

Terrible, terrible PERIL!

They're coming for your Stick Babies! Reaching! Straining! Yearning!

Their square-cornered, hand-nubs quivering with anticipation!

Your Stick Babies are defenseless!

They're pouncing now! Even as we speak!

OH GOD! THE CHILDREN!! WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!!

Till next we meet ...

Ow.

2010-07-25T08:36:00.000-04:00

It's great to see that Ms. Bobbit has found a way to channel her interests and get on with her life after all these years.

Till next we meet ...

Killing Me Softly: A How-To

2010-07-23T13:45:00.000-04:00

Good GRAVY! Will you hold STILL!

Look, I can't help you if you don't stop all that vibrating!

Then again ... this does feel kind of nice ...

Like one of those Magic Fingers beds.

Mmmmmmmmmmm ...

You know, in retrospect, I think I'm actually glad that I jammed that handfull of quarters down your throat.

This feels go-o-o-o-o-o-od ....

Till next we meet ...

Why, Thank You So Much For Noticing, Amazon!

2010-07-15T16:54:00.005-04:00

It looks like my new all-kibble diet is working out exactly as I'd hoped!

Till next we meet ...

Here You Go, Steve. This Should Help With Your Little Problem.

2010-07-14T11:15:00.000-04:00

(Off-topic: Sadly, Photoshop and I are unacquainted. My apologies.)

Till next we meet ...

THE LAW-GIVER DEMANDS IT! (SFiP!)

2010-07-09T13:07:00.006-04:00

STICK FIGURES!!

HEED THESE WORDS!!

QUAIL AND COWER!! COWER AND QUAIL!!

YOUR HAUGHTY, FOUR-LEGGED OVERLORDS DEMAND THAT YOU BOW DOWN BEFORE THEM!!

Well, I suppose it's technically after them ... BUT YOU GET THE IDEA!!

IT IS LAW!!

NOW GET ON WITH THE QUAILING AND THE COWERING!!

ALSO WITH THE SCOOPING AND THE BAGGING!!

WHY?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, "WHY"?! ARE YOU MAD?!

GOOD GOD, MAN!! DO YOU NOT CARE AT ALL ABOUT THE QUALITY OF YOUR CHILDREN/TOWN/DISEASE?!

Till next we meet ...

What's That You Say?

2010-07-08T18:04:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry. Were you talking to me?

I didn't hear you.

My apologies. I had my iPod turned up rather loud.

Could you repeat that?

Oh, I see.

Well, you'll get no argument from me.

That'll do, Slotted Pig. That'll do.

Till next we meet ...

He's The Stick Figure, I'm The Rapper. (SFiP!)

2010-07-07T12:02:00.005-04:00

CAUTION!

This Stick Figure is in grave PERIL!

... of ROCKING the eff OUT!!

Till next we meet ...

The Plus Makes It Better

2010-07-05T18:06:00.003-04:00

Oh, sure. You think your wig store is hot shit, don't you.

Of course you do. We know. Because the rest of us have been silently enduring your endless taunting for AGES now.

You're all, like: "My wig store is the best. My wig store has all kinds of wigs."

Well, la-de-friggin-DAH.

Well, let me tell you something, pal. The worm has finally turned.

Your reign of wig-store-themed terror is, at long last, at an end.

Because MY wig store ALSO has "Plus."

PLUS.

Suck on that a while, shit-stick.

Till next we meet ...

Why Would Larry King Ever Retire?

2010-07-02T12:05:00.000-04:00

Oh, I think the real reason is pretty obvious.

Plain as the nose on your face, really. Let's lean in for a closer look, shall we?

Clearly he needs to devote more time to his quote-whoring.

Till next we meet ...

Lift AND Separate

2010-07-01T11:30:00.000-04:00

Feeling tense? Depressed? Having trouble keeping your chin up?

Well, we here at De Sade Pharmaceuticals have just the medical miracle you've been waiting for!

It's the Cranial Hammock!

Guaranteed to give you that feeling of relaxation you crave!

In fact, you'll be so relaxed after using our product, there's an excellent chance you may never be able to move your body again!

(Side effects may include dry mouth, nausea, trouble sleeping and mild beheading.)

Ask your doctor if the Cranial Hammock is right for you!

Till next we meet ...

Is There A Store That Sells Nothing But Booze, Cigarettes & Congestive Heart Failure?

2010-06-30T18:10:00.006-04:00

Excellent.

I hope they have a drive-thru.

Till next we meet ...

That Was About That Time When Han Just Gave The Fuck Up

2010-06-29T18:11:00.000-04:00

"Aw ... what's the point. Maybe I am scruffy-looking."

(sigh)

"Stupid everything."

(weeps quietly)

Till next we meet ...

When People With OCD Design Health Department Posters

2010-06-27T17:50:00.000-04:00

KEEP SCRUBBING, GODDAMMIT!! THEY'RE NOT CLEAN YET!!

THEY'LL NEVER BE CLEAN!!

LATHER!! RINSE!! REPEAT!!! LATHER!! RINSE!! REPEAT!!!

REPEAT, YOU FILTHY, FILTHY, GERM-INFESTED MOTHERFUCKER!!! OR I WILL END YOU!!

AND MAKE SURE YOU USE THE PUMICE STONE AND THE ALCOHOL RINSE!!

AND FIRE!! MAKE SURE YOU PURIFY THEM IN FIRE BEFORE RETURNING TO YOUR DESK!!

Till next we meet ...

It's So Sad When Produce Goes Bad

2010-06-24T17:56:00.001-04:00

Looks like the scallions in the crisper have turned ... on the garlic.

Till next we meet ...

Feed The Whales (Stick Figure In Peril!)

2010-06-15T13:08:00.004-04:00

Of all the ways one could conceivably feed sharks and killer whales, shockingly, Stick Figures have chosen the least perilous.

But let's be honest here. They're called "killer whales." When the shit goes down, do you really think a stick is going to help?

Welcome to SeaWorld ... chum.

Till next we meet

How About A Nice, Relaxing ASS-KICKING!

2010-06-10T12:21:00.003-04:00

You may THINK you're signing up for a day of relaxing massage at the day spa.

But you'd be wrong.

The staff here is a touch ... oh, what's the word ... aggressive.

"LIGHT THE AROMA THERAPY CANDLES, SHIT-STICK, WHILE I GRIND YOUR FUCKING BONES TO MEALY DUST!!"

"NICE AND RELAXED NOW, AREN'T YOU, MAGGOT!! NOW THAT I'VE SNAPPED YOUR GODDAMN NECK AND SEVERED YOUR WORTHLESS SPINAL CORD!! IT'S SMOTHERING TIME, BIZNITCH!!"

"EAT HOT DEATH, DICK-BAG!! BOO-YAH!! I TOOK A RUNNING START!!"

Of course, there's a relatively remote chance I may be interpreting the poster incorrectly.

Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 6/7/10)

2010-06-07T13:27:00.003-04:00

BP CEO Tony Hayward Edition

1) Whine more. People love it. It's important the world sees that this whole situation is inconvenient for you, too.

2) Look up definition of "Mega-Super-Giganto-Cluster-Fuck" in dictionary. Ignore picture of self.

3) Show sensitivity to environment. Get photographed wringing out a few dead pelicans. Good PR is priceless.

4) Change oil in your Hummer stretch limo party bus tank. Twice.

5) Locate animals not injured or poisoned by your oil. Kick to death.

The Short Arm of the Law (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-06-04T13:21:00.003-04:00

Why shouldn't you hold the subway doors open?

BECAUSE, SWEET BUTTERY JESUS, THEY'LL CRUSH YOUR ARMS TO STUMPS!!

(Though we're not entirely sure why "significant torso elongation" also appears to be a common side effect.)

Till next we meet ...

That Last Step Is A Doozy (Stick Figures in Peril!)

2010-06-03T12:28:00.000-04:00

Please watch the gap between the car and the platform.

Especially when you ride that train that makes you exit from what appears to be a second story window.

Till next we meet ...

Don't You Take That Tone With Me! (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-05-27T13:20:00.005-04:00

Sometimes you just get the feeling the Stick Figures are mocking you.

Yes, please DO be careful, YOUR HIGHNESS.

Till next we meet ...

Stick Babies In Peril!

2010-05-21T15:25:00.010-04:00

Stick Babies. You can't take them anywhere. They're ALWAYS getting into some manner of mischief or other.

But what manner of mischief, you ask?

PERILOUS MISCHIEF!

Stick Babies wreck everything that's fun. You just can't have cool stuff around because a Stick Baby will always find a way to imperil themselves.

For instance ... you can forget about giving your shiny, brightly-colored baubles and beads a well-deserved sulfuric acid bath in an uncapped five-gallon bucket on the living room floor!

You just TRY keeping a Stick Baby out of an acid bucket! Yeah, good luck with that, pal!

They won't stop! Even AFTER they've melted their pudgy, little fingers to pudgy, little stumps! They just won't stop until ALL your fun has been dissolved into a frothy, gore-streaked slurry of passive aggression!

And don't even get me started about your collection of giant, randomly explosive, white blood cells!

You think you're having some fun, and the next thing you know, here comes a Stick Baby and ... BLAM!

We can't have nice things.

Till next we meet ...

It's The First Of May!

2010-05-01T00:18:00.001-04:00

How do you celebrate it?

Till next we meet ...

May I Take Your Order?

2010-04-30T05:07:00.000-04:00

Hi, how are you doing tonight? My name is Robb and I'll be taking care of you this evening. I see you've had some time to look over the menu.

All right then, sir, will you be having the chicken or the fi--- OH MY GOD!!!

Till next we meet ...

Aunt Beru? Could You Please Pass The Blilk?

2010-04-28T19:42:00.017-04:00

Is there anything more delicious than poorly-conceived, lazily-named, generic, store brand versions of brand name products?

I mean, seriously! What's more awesome than a nice bowl of Definitely Not Grape Nuts Brand Nutty Nuggets™?

Oh, right.

A bowl of Definitely Not Grape Nuts Brand Nutty Nuggets™ in a bowl of pale turquoise "milk."

It's just what a growing body needs!

You know. Before pissily heading over to Tosche Station to pick up those power converters.

I was not aware you could milk a Jawa.

EDIT: After further research, it appears you can, in fact, milk a Jawa.

EDIT #2: Jawas have glowing teats.

Till next we meet ...

Kali Ma Will Rule The World! (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-04-23T13:13:00.007-04:00

As you might expect, at a place called "The Temple of Doom" there are plenty of warnings posted. Especially as they pertain to a certain Adventuring Stick Archeologist.

I suppose, Mola Ram, like anybody else, gets tired of paying all those OSHA fines.

Just a reminder, Dr. Jones. Please stay off the rope bridge.

Till next we meet ...

Dumpster Diving (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-04-23T11:55:00.005-04:00

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: "There's NOTHING in the world more fun than cavorting in and around a fetid, offal-stuffed dumpster!"

But it should come as no surprise that, should you happen to be a Stick Figure, such a joyous activity is fraught with terrible Peril.

Why?

Because, contrary to what many Stick Figures believe, the immediate area surrounding dumpsters does not possess a different gravitational field than the rest of the planet. Clamber up onto a dumpster and start dancing a furious jig ... and you WILL plunge, ass-first, to the hard, unforgiving pavement below, a pulverized coccyx your only bitter reward.

"Oh no! My beautiful, unpulverized coccyx!"

But that's not the only Peril a Stick Figure risks when he stubbornly refuses to scuttle out of the dumpster like a frightened raccoon.

Let's not forget all the tipping. Which inevitably leads to all the terrible, terrible crushing.

"In Russia, dumpster dives on you!"

Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 4/19/10)

2010-04-19T13:12:00.003-04:00

1) Upon leaving Iceland for vacation, wonder aloud about whether you remembered to turn off the volcano. Decide you did. Go on with your trip.

2) Jot down phone number from "Free Babysitting" flyer on bulletin board at Vatican laundromat.

3) Challenge your heart to a duel. The weapon? The KFC Double Down. Ten paces ... turn ... FIRE!

4) Mow lawn.

5) Once you've put your unwanted seven-year-old Russian orphan on a plane back to Moscow by himself, start planning that party the world will surely throw you for not being a complete and utter monster. Make sure to buy some streamers. People love streamers.

What Goes Up... (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-04-15T00:59:00.006-04:00

Tragically, there just aren't enough qualified Stick Psychiatrists in the world.

As this sign tells us, the number of Stick Figures imperilled by Bi-Polar Disorder is shockingly high.

One minute you're up, the next you're down. Heart-breaking.

Till next we meet ...

Nice Cock

2010-04-08T15:56:00.007-04:00

Well, aren't you a jaunty fellow!

Quite the handsome and eligible, young bachelor about town, aren't you!

Impeccably well groomed, snappily dressed, and that song you're singing so beautifully ... is that from a musical?

Did I mention you have beautiful posture? I'll bet you belong to a gym!

Oh, I see.

Till next we meet ...

Stay Out Of The Gate Arm Drop Zone (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-04-06T01:08:00.009-04:00

Dear Stick Figures of the World: Just because you don't happen to be driving a Stick Car at this very moment, don't think you can just saunter in or out of the parking garage willy-nilly.

Because, as Stick Figures should already know, Peril is always close behind. Or, in this case, overhead.

What kind of Peril?

Skull-Crushing Peril!

Not only will the gate arm hammer your skull to flattened mush ...

... It'll knock your goddamn head clean off!

Till next we meet ...

Now You're Being Cooked With Gas! (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-03-31T13:48:00.018-04:00

The eternal question.

We've all wondered it. Pondered it. Dreamed it. Mused aloud about it during staff meetings. Had it tattooed on the lower backs of our indentured servants ...

You know the one:

"Which part of my house is MOST Perilous for Stick Figures?"

And the answer is obvious. Why, it's the Utility Room, of course!

For the Stick Figure, the Utility Room is little more than a bloody charnel house full of sadness and blighted, smoldering death.

1) First off, there are deadly carbon monoxide fumes that will inevitably be greedily gulped down by the hapless Stick Figure into his single-chambered lung-stomach.

And doom, of course, follows hard thereupon.

"OH NO! MY LUNG-STOMACH!"

2) Next, of course, there's the seemingly innocent act of hand washing. What could go wrong there?

As it turns out ...

EVERYTHING!

A single blast of "HOT" will immediately reduce the Stick Figure's hands to useless, pulpy blood-stumps.

Tragically, this poor fellow will never play the Stick Harpsichord again. And that, friends, is a loss for all of us.

"OH NO! HOT MAKE BURN!"

3) Thirdly (and perhaps most Perilously), is the ever-present and inescapable threat of "FLAMMABLE VAPORS." The Stick Figure must avoid these at all costs.

"Why," you ask?

BECAUSE HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M ON FIRE THAT'S WHY!!!

Till next we meet ...

I Weep For Humanity. Especially Thirsty, Rock-Stupid Humanity.

2010-03-29T15:29:00.005-04:00

So I was on the train going to work this morning and I happened to notice something in the restroom.

We live in a country where a sign like this is apparently necessary ...

The saddest part is that you just know the reason this warning had to be posted in the first place was because there was ... an "incident."

(sigh)

Till next we meet ...

Have You Seen My Teeth?

2010-03-28T19:21:00.014-04:00

Hi there. I'm Giada De Laurentis.

You may know me from the Food Network where I play a gaunt, painfully malnourished Natalie Portman bobble-head doll.

(Bobble, bobble, bobble)

Anyhow, I was just wondering ... Have you seen my teeth?

Come on. I REALLY want to show you these teeth. I mean I've worked REALLY hard to make them all bright and shiny and visible to you. I'd HATE for you to miss them.

So you should have a look.

Seriously. I don't want you to miss ANY of them. Can you see the ones in the back? Are you looking?

LOOK!

LOOK HARD!

HARDER!!!

LOOK AT MY TEETH, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

TEEEEEEETH!!!!

Tlll next we meet ...

It's Back? Really? Where Has It Been?

2010-03-27T19:53:00.009-04:00

As it turns out, after doing some research ... it seems the Waffle Sandwich has been in prison. In Nevada. For stabbing, like, nine dudes to death in the face.

But you go right ahead and order it.

That's what you wanted, right?

But I'm sure everything's cool now.

He's paid his debt to society and stuff.

Yeah, it's probably fine now.

Till next we meet ...

Please Leave This Store

2010-03-26T20:12:00.003-04:00

Dear Customers,

While we truly appreciate your interest in coming to our store to spend money on our products ...

... we really wish you'd go the hell home. I don't know. Use your computers or some shit. Thanks.

PS: Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

PPS: You smell poorly.

Till next we meet ...

Naaayyyyyyyyy! (Stick Figures In Peril)

2010-03-25T11:49:00.007-04:00

By order of the Board of Health, this area has been decreed ... A FONZIE-FREE ZONE.

Violators who insist on remaining Fonzie will be subjected to great peril.

Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 3/22/10)

2010-03-22T11:37:00.009-04:00

1) Cram as many copies of new "Hoarders" DVD set as you can into your cat-infested house.

2) Clear brush from Crawford ranch. For old times' sake.

3) Anybody can use sugar cubes in their tea. Be unique, try some pork bullion cubes instead!

4) Shop for new bathing suit.

5) Staple tongue to conference table.

Stick Figures Go Shopping (Stick Figures In Peril!)

2010-03-21T18:41:00.004-04:00

You'd think the grocery store would be a relatively innocuous place for a Stick Figure Mother to take her Stick Baby.

But you know what?

YOU'D BE WRONG!

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!!

The grocery store is a throbbing hive of menacing danger, looming hazard and, you guessed it ... PERIL!

And the biggest Peril?

Apparently the Stick Mother herself.

If this shopping cart is to be believed, the Stick Mother seems to have a complete and utter disregard for the safety and well-being of her offspring. Thus necessitating constant berating about all the different ways she's cocking up the whole parenting thing.

Here are a few salient facts we can clearly glean from this shopping cart about the nature of Stick Mothers:

1) The Stick Mother has zero maternal instinct. She is biologically incapable of forming any sort of emotional bond with her Stick Baby. Otherwise, why would she immediately wander off and abandon it to be preyed upon by the ever-present Stick Child Molester? (Stick Child Molester not pictured.)

2) The Stick Mother secretly fantasizes that she is, in fact, James Cameron. How else do you explain her natural urge to re-enact trite, poorly-written scenes from bloated, self-indulgent, ham-fisted "epic" films? (Related: The Stick Mother's preferred insult for those who displease her is "you unimaginable bastard." Coincidence?)

3) The Stick Mother has very poor visual acuity and little or no hearing. This obviously explains how she can blithely ram her shopping cart through crowds of Stick Babies -- Lizzie Grubman style -- leaving nothing but blood and wailing in her wake ... and the odd Stick Baby corpse lodged in her grill.

4) The Stick Mother is a Nazi sympathizer. And Stick Babies are indoctrinated accordingly.

Till next we meet ...

A Trip To The Craft Store

2010-03-20T18:52:00.006-04:00

Because I care about the Earth and the alarming levels of comedy polution in the atmosphere, please find attached a few recycled Twitter posts:

Trip to the craft store #1: This place has me strangely excited!

Trip to craft store #2: I believe this product is slathered liberally on all of Lady Gaga's surfaces daily.

Trip to craft store #3: What were the other options?

Trip to craft store #4: What up, G?

Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 3/15/10)

2010-03-15T14:55:00.007-04:00

1. Camp out in front of video store to wait for release of New Moon DVD. Because you you're not very bright. And because you have astonishingly shitty taste in movies.

2. Deep-fried Twinkie dipped in microwaved Velveeta and topped with a dollop of potted meat? Order two!

3. Because you're his number one fan, construct 50-foot statue of Jay Leno. Out of assholes.

4. Buy grass seed.

5. Feed neighbor's cat. Into paper shredder.

Red Dots Need The Most Scolding (Stick Figures In Peril)

2010-03-09T01:59:00.003-05:00

Have you scolded your Red Dot today?

If you are a Stick Figure, let this sign be your reminder.

Because if you don't shower your Red Dot with a steady torrent of scorn, recrimination and withering, profanity-laced derision, it will surely rise up and destroy you. What could be more perilous?

So remember, keep it up ... and by all means, keep it mean!

Till next we meet ...

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 3/8/10)

2010-03-08T15:51:00.010-05:00

1) Your groin ... has it been punched enough?

2) Morale around the office a little low? Three words: CONGRESSIONAL TICKLE-FIGHT!

3) Challenge Quentin Tarantino to a foot fetish trivia contest.

4) Laundry.

5) Greenlight "Gilligan's Island" movie. Oh, wait. That's not a joke. That's a real thing that happened in the world. (sigh) If anybody needs me, I'll be curled up in the corner quietly weeping into a pillow over our collective loss of cultural dignity.

A Fool's Errands (Monday, 3/1/10)

2010-03-01T12:10:00.006-05:00

1) Drive Naomi Campbell around town wearing your biggest, most punchable face.

2) Shake what your momma gave you. Even if what your momma gave you was nitroglycerin.

3) Keep excitement rolling after Warner Bros. announcement of planned Gilligan's Island movie! Exhume Bob Denver's corpse so he can join you for a TV Land marathon!

4) Sew replacement button on shirt.

5) Tivo Leno!

You Stay Classy, New Jersey

2010-02-28T12:12:00.008-05:00

So I got this postcard in the mail recently. It's an ad for a local limo company.

Now, first off, let me just say that I'm well aware that I live in New Jersey. And secondly, let me point out that I'm also well aware that Jersey has never been seen as the repository of what you'd call ... oh, let's say ... "good taste."

(Though to be fair, Jersey might be in a flat-footed tie with Long Island for that particular honor. But until LI has an MTV reality show that can rival Jersey Shore in terms of sheer class and decorum ... well, I'm going to have to give my adopted home state the edge here.)

So anyhow, I get it.

But you never quite expect it to show up in your mailbox.

OH YEAH, BABY!

And what could be better than a stretch limo?

A stretch, HUMMER limo, of course!

Badda-BING!

And what could possibly be better than a stretch, Hummer limo?

A PINK, stretch Hummer limo!

Fuggedaboudit!!

Nothing says "classy night on the town with the girls" quite like it.

But what's even more classy than that?

Check out the stamp.

Yeah.

One of the many things they're directly murdering with their pink, stretch, Hummer limos. Which, by the way, run on baby polar bear blood. It's Science.

Nice work, Jersey.

You stay classy.

Till next we meet ...