Stay Classy!

I very much enjoys this bloggings.

I know what you're thinking. I can tell by the seductive look in your eye and the faintest hint of Franzia Chillable Red on your breath. You desire me... and that's okay. It's natural, like the changing of seasons, the flowing of rivers or having sex with unicorns. The reason for this uncontrollable urge to mount me like Battle Cat is simple: it's the moustache into which you are now gazing as though it was some far away and forbidden galaxy. It's like I've got a sexy event horizon right on top of my upper lip! It's like the space under my nose is a laser beam... and it's been set on STUN! I can keep going like this, you know. But, for the sake of expedience, I'll cut to the end... let's see, ah yes: My Moustache is the living embodiment of Jesus Christ, risen again to lead us all into the land of paradise over the hair bridge of love and racial harmony. There, that should wrap it up quite nicely.

The reason I look like a well-groomed piece of sex is not because I'm finally following my destiny of being a Freddie Mercury impersonator, but rather to pay Halloween homage to quite possibly the funniest comedic routine/movie in existence today: Borat. If you haven't witnessed the bowel-moving, soul-destroying glorificence of this movie, then your life is henceforth forfeit. To that end, my henchmen are on their way to your place of residence to provide for you an easy escape from this, your pathetic life. Don't forget your complimentary fridge magnet! In order to circumnavigate your death, go see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, currently playing at your local cineplex. Other than dressing up as an moustachioed misogynist anti-Semitic homophobe, I've been up to other exciting things, which I will now briefly cover in the following list:

The List Of Stuff I've Been Up To Other Than Dressing Up As A Moustachioed Misogynist Anti-Semitic Homophobe List:
1.) Jeflexis - For those of you who don't know, Jeff and Alexis have finally been joined together in holy matrimony. You will undoubtedly share my surprise when I inform you that this union was not a physical one, as I was originally led to believe. You see, I thought they were going to fuse together into one being, becoming an unstoppable force of power. I'm sure you'll remember a similar technique in the Japanese cartoon, Dragonball Z as seen below:

Now that's true love. Regardless of my initial sadness, it was a great weekend and a lovely ceremony. I never realized what two solid nights of drinking and strip clubs could do to a person. Apparently, I have super powers now, as I was bitten by a radioactive stripper - my pelvic gyration can actually halt, and then reverse, the spinning of the globe. Superman did it in that first movie of his, but he did it with less class. It's not his fault, though, he was wearing a cape - plus, I like to play the Cher song, If I Could Turn Back Time while I'm performing. I find it just adds a little panache. Nick, Dan (two more members of the wedding party) and I are thinking about forming a real life Justice League. With my powers combined with Nick's ability to sleep with up to 400 people at once and Dan's ability to have herpes, we should be sweeping the nation with justice sooner than you can say, "Dan and Nick are going to kill me."

Anyway, one of the best parts about the weekend was finding out that I was Jeff's best man, which was a huge honor for me. Luckily, I was able to whip up a passable speech (rife with references to binge drinking and the Ninja Turtles... nope, not kidding) and really tuck into the celebrations of the day. The wedding (which was amazing - performed on the beach in Hilton head, SC), the food and the company were all well worth the price of the trip and then some. More than that, I got to see one of my best friends get married (to a great girl) - a first for me.

2.) Shanksgiving - We didn't do too much for Thanksgiving this year, mostly because the UK doesn't have Native Americans... yet. But, being the best girlfriend on the planet, Katy whipped up a mini-Turkey Day feast for two. She did this on the day that she returned from Boston, where she was attending a conference for Middle East research. Yeah, I know what you're thinking and you're right - I should clone her and raise an army of sexy British women who are amazing cooks and who have heat vision - but just think of the cost! Honestly, while I was away from my home town on one of my favorite holidays, this ended up being one of the most memorable Thanksgivings I've ever had... and not just because I usually get really drunk on Thanksgiving and forget all of the inappropriate things I say in front of family members the next day.

3.) Castle in the Skye - Last weekend, I was lucky enough to finally get up to a place in the Scottish Highlands called The Isle of Skye. I had always heard tale that it was beautiful country, and while I'd seen other big spots in the Highlands, like Loch Ness and Glen Coe, everything I've seen pretty much pales in comparison. Three friends (Geoff, Marcelo, Tommy) and I rented this cottage in the middle of nowhere, which used to be an old shepherd's house. It's called Allt Dearg and if you'd like to take a look at it, you can see the website here! I've got my own pictures marinating in a digital camera right now, and I'll get those up here soon. Overall, it was an amazing weekend of whiskey drinking, cigarette smoking, hiking, eating great food, chewing the fat in front of crackling coal fires, playing cards, listening to music (I highly suggest listening to anything by one of my new favorite musical artists, Smog, by the way - Mother of the World, starring Chloe Sevigny in the video, and RockBottom Riser on youtube are good places to start) and just hanging the fuck out in complete isolation to the outside world.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat. However, this time I'd probably bring some mystic weapons; you know, to thwart the evil machinations of M'alk-tor, the nefarious wizard who leads a near solitary life in the Scottish highlands with his inflatable (but no less man-eating) pet giant snake and what appears to be a Gameboy color... or one of those PKE meters from Ghostbusters. Either way, he's a dick.

4.) Funemployment - So apart from all of this great stuff going on, I still have yet to find a job. Oh sure, I've done the grounds keeping thing and I've done the Edinburgh festival thing, but I don't have anything I'd call a career. So the search continues, as apparently Scotland has a pretty big problem with unemployment. Yay. I actually found a job listing on the student website the other day recruiting male erotic dancers. I just wish my penis wasn't so darn big, then maybe I could work there. But maybe they'll let anyone get a job - given some of the strip clubs I've been to in Scotland, I can say that the quality of the employees is very ... underwhelming. Ah well, there's always the circus... or homelessness.
Anyway, I best be getting on. I have much to prepare for since my parents and brother are coming into town for the next...two...weeks. This should be interesting. Until next time, kids - god is a word and the argument ends there.


Once, Twice... Three Times a Villain

Super profundo, boys and girls. I was going to write a lengthy (not to mention linguistically superior) post about my time here in Edinburgh, Scotland. The thing is, unlike a moonbounce, that kind of thing is only fun for so long; and besides, if you're interested and believe that the old addage "pictures speak louder than words" is true, well that probably means the following:

A.) You can't read and you're just a big, fat, illiterate liar who smells bad, has rabies and is completely wrong about how others perceive his so-called "killer 'stache"
B.) You'd rather just skip a detailed (if not eloquently-written) description and go for the pictures, interjecting your own interpretations and/or hilarious stories therein... you lazy sack of unwed crap.
If the latter is the case, then just release that stalker inside you and continually check out my picture site for updates... and possible future photos of my balls. Delicious. The only new ones right now are in the section appropriately entitled "London BBQ," where there is visual documentation of myself and the visiting Americans (Tasha, Justin, Pilar and Mike) bringing Flip Cup to the savage Brits. It was like the discovery of fire all over again... but with weirder accents and worse teeth. Check "it" out.

Now then, I think it's time to get onto the real point of this post... not that I have a point usually, but humor me here. Many moon ago I wrote about some of the world's best, but unfortunately most underrated villains of all time. I continued that tradition in Villainy Too! Now, a new chapter shall unfold before you like some kind of down syndrome oregami. Too much? Okay, let's just move on...
Underrated Villains:
Class of 2006
1. The Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiase
What? - If there is one person who I've modeled my life after (other than, of course, the prophet Mohammad), it would definitely have to be Ted Dibiase. His nefarious tactics such as bribery, blackmail and basically being a complete rich asshole gave a young Steve-0 something to aspire towards. He also shares my inherent affinity for dollar signs. Plus, his name is Ted. I mean, come on... TED... might as well be Beelzebub... or like... beeltedbub. Sorry. Finally, you just have to respect someone who, after blowing several opportunities to win a championship, finally says, "Fuck it! I'll make my own god damn championship belt! It'll be made of diamonds, gold and the hopes and fucking dreams of homeless children EVERYWHERE! Come on politically incorrect black manservant Virgil, let's go!" Combine that with the downright maniacally soulless laugh that preceded and then punctuated everything he ever said... ever, and you've got the makings of not only a perfect villain, but also a personal saviour.
Why Underrated? - Ted (may I call you Ted?) had some questionable team-ups, the most renowned of which was his pairing with Irwin R. Sheyster, or I.R.S. as he was cleverly known. However, "Money Inc." was successful and did hold Tag Team gold for a period of time. So the true big red X in Jesus... I mean Dibiase's column of kick-ass is that he never won a solo title... fairly (not on the WWF scene anyway). True, he was robbed of both title and dignity when then WWF President Jack Tunney (Who remembers him, raise your hand! Anyone? Okay, just me then) foiled Dibiase's successful attempt at buying Andre the Giant's world championship by stripping him of it and holding a tournament. That day, it was as if Tunney spat in the face and molested the crotch of everything moral and decent in the world. I hear Mother Theresa was personally affected by the decision, poor woman. So really, by association, Jack Tunney molested the crotch of a saint! Which brings me to my next point...
2. Former WWF President Jack Tunney
What? - First off... wow, I didn't even mean to find a picture of this guy, much less one of him looking like he just ate your grandmother's soul and took her money. I think I've tapped some true, unrealized evil here folks. Anyway, Jack Tunney is the guy who molested the crotch of Mother Theresa.
Why underrated? - He wasn't technically a "bad guy," but by costing many deserving wrestlers (like the aforementioned Dibiase, I.R.S. and the Mountie) championship titles, his evil was fucking up the evil of other evil-doers, making him as unto some sort of ultimate evil god, toying with other pawns of evil as though they were merely... PAWNS... of evil. If only we had known at the time, before all of our souls were covertly affected by this mad, holy person-toucher.
3. Duke Igthorn
What? - Duke Igthorn, as you may remember, was the driving force of villainy in the Kingdom of Dunwyn and the surrounding Gummi Glenn, as represented in Disney's Adventures of the Gummi Bears. Don't look at me like that - you watched this shit, too and you KNOW IT! You're even humming the song in your head, aren't you? If you're not, then just click here. Anyway, Igthorn was an exiled knight, obviously ousted from his community because everyone was jealous of his manly figure (accentuated perfectly by his purple fucking spandex!!) and intimidating facial hair. He took out his rage of being booted out of town by (rightfully) attempting to conquer it with his army of ogres. He also figured out that "Gummi Berry Juice" could be used to induce super strength and not necessarily the ability to bounce around like an asshole.
Why underrated? - Despite being the quintessential picture of manliness, he had more than a few problems with a bunch of overly-caffinated teddy bears. In fact, he was repeatedly foiled by them... well, either them or a bunch of kids... Damn. Okay, he sucks, BUT JUST LOOK AT THAT PURPLE SPANDEX!! It doesn't get much more evil than that, folks.
4. Barry "The Tick" Hubris
What?? - Barry Hubris was the original mentally underdeveloped suerhero who went by the name The Tick. Unfortunately for Barry, the other guy was the one who, with nigh-invulnerable fists, forceably punched his way into our hearts forever. It was the resultant jealousy that Barry felt which gave him his villainous purpose in life - to destroy the (new) Tick, by any means necessary. Using his strength-increasing, tick-shaped shield, and questionable sanity, Barry could do some serious damage to even one of nigh-invulnerable dimensions.
Why Underrated? - In the end, Barry didn't give the (new) Tick that much trouble... comparatively speaking (of course, we are comparing him to Tick's other nemeses, which include a Man Eating Cow and Chairface Chippendale, but I digress). Still, he did give that big, blue buffoon quite the whipping for... you know... a couple of minutes. Plus, his costume, while less simplistically stylish, is much more ornate, colorful and... pointy! It's kind of ridiculous how underrated this young man is, as I could not find many pictures of him and not ONE video of his short-lived, but life-changing body of work. What Barry best exemplifies by his very existence is the ease in which heroicism can turn to villainy with something as simple as a name.
!!!Katy's Choice!!!
5. T-Bag
What?? - Yeah, good fucking question. I told Katy that she had to choose her favorite villain of all time and she chose someone called... T-Bag. Of course, I suggested what you are thinking right now, "What does this person do, dip his nuts on guys' heads? I mean, what the f...," but no, apparently British children's programs aren't that cool. Instead, this is some kind of witch named Tallulah Bag (get it?) who not only had an assistant called... sigh... T-shirt, but who derived her powers from... you fucking guessed it... drinking tea. Leave it to the Brits to give "tea powers" to the world. I guess this chick's whole point was to piss off little girls by jumping into books or pissing in their tea or something. Look, I dunno, but it's British and that's scary and evil enough, am I right? **NEWS UPDATE** Holy Jesus! I just found T-Bag's untimely demise on YouTube! You have got to check THIS out! The pic above is from this movie and you'll get to see her Microsoft Paint laserbeam in all of its glory. I don't understand why she shows her new "omnipotence" by shooting a crappy laser and not just turning their internal organs into bombs or ants or something. But then, I guess the lord does move in mysterious ways. This also proves that it wasn't Nietzche who killed God, but rather some little girl with a mirror. Hm, you learn something new everyday.
Why Underrated? - Because anyone outside of the UK has never heard of her, 'nuff said.
Okay, that's it for this time. I've been writing this god damn post for about a month now and it's finally done. More about "real" life next time, with particular attention to my trip back to the States and Jeff and lexi's wedding... and all of the strip clubs therein! Until then, try not to hurt yourself!


Back like a Vertebrae

Gimme a Pound

Greetings and salutations friends and countrymen! It has been forever and roughly two days since my last post. The last time I wrote, I said goodbye, but now I give you all a big HELLO! I couple this 'hello' with a slightly uncomfortable (and definitely pelvic thrusting-filled) snuggle. Ah, just like the kind Uncle Hank used to give. But his moustache tickles more than yours. Plus his tight leather pants fit better. You should really exercise more.

Anyway, here I sit in a nondescript internet cafe in the middle of beautiful Edinburgh, thinking of all the (mis-)adventures I should tell you about. I'm not exactly sure where to begin or precisely where to end, but I'll give it the old college try. Here's a list of the stuff I can remember doing since I've been heer. I'm sue

The List of Stuff I Can Remember Doing Since Moving To Scotland List

1.) London - Greg and I showed up to the UK, were quickly greeted by El Katy with two swift punches to the groin and were whisked to every corner of London. I caught up with old friends and Greg saw the sights, getting really drunk in the process. It was good times. Unfortunately at the time, Katy's mom's flat was getting 'gutted' as they call it here. Unfortunately, that term does not imply the aftermath cleanup of a cataclysmic fight with the undead in their living room as I had hoped. No, it just means that they were 're-doing' it, which again does not mean that they were performing acts of necrophelia on their would-be zombie overlords. Anyway, the end result was hacing to sleep in a place that was not much better than a crack (or frat) house. Luckily, they had an operating toilet... for a couple of days. It was basically like going camping in one of the world's finest capital cities. The only real difference was that I didn't kill any bears with my bare hands... or my bear hands for that matter. Damn, now I wish I had bear hands. They'd fire super bear laser beams and fuck your ass up! Anyway, I instead took out my feral aggression (normally reserved for the aforementioned bear-kind) on an predator of equally dangerous repute... the homeless. If they bite you, you become one of them... like reindeer. So yeah, London was fun.

2.) Beltane - We moved onto Scotland and after more than a few nights out, we went up to the yearly pagan festival on the top of one of the many hills in the city. It's called Beltane and is filled with fire, dancing and brightly painted naked people simulating sexual intercourse. It kind of reminded me of the Our Lady of Angels church bazarr, but with less spaghetti and funnel cake. Anyway, it was a good, if not weird time and fun and imaginary sexually transmitted diseases were shared by all!

3.) The French Connection - After Greggor left, Katy's mom treated us to a long weekend in Boulogne, France, which is only a ferry ride away from Dover in England. We stayed in the old town, which is a quaint little place inside these ramparts from one of the wars that France lost. We ate shitloads of amazing French food (including cheeses, fresh fish, cured meats and, if we've learned anything from National Lampoon's Eurpoean Vacation, dirty dishwater), drank beautiful wine and are now, after a short argument over a bill, the current rulers of France.

4.) Newcastleton Folk Festival - Katy, our friend Fin and I took another long weekend to visit a folk festival in a place called Newcastleton, which in turn is in a place called the Borders, which not surprisingly is the area where Scotland borders England. Are we all caught up now? This was a fucking great time! It was in the above little town, which was about as big as Potomac Mills Mall in beautiful Woodbridge, VA. We basically just walked around to all the little pubs where old men and women were sitting around playing all of the stereotypical instruments of Celtic folk music. We also drank alot. Luckily, we also had free accommodation since Katy's family friend, Valerie, lives in a house in the middle of a sheep field, which is bifurcated by this classic little brook. It was a scene out of Little House on the Prairie, but without the manly visage and untamed frock of the pure acting force known as Michael Landon. It was a hell of a time and a hell of a road trip.

5.) My Best Job - I'm running out of time at the cafe here, so I'm just going to skip right to the present. Up until recently, I had finally found the job I was born to be fired from. For about a month, I was working as one of many groundskeepers at a golf course in Roswell, Scotland, which is also in the middle of a small village and surrounded by farms. It's probably the best job I have ever had, and I write that with more passion than I could ever express without lubricant. Why did I love it so much? Was it the fact that I watered trees and cut grass all day? Was it the fact that most of the day was actually spent sunbathing and getting a good workout? Was it the fact that I got to drive around on kick-ass machineryup to and including a B.F.T. (bick fucking tractor) and 6 wheeled all terrain vehicles? Was it the fact that I was making £210, tax free every week? Well, yes, but the true reason this job was so blindingly beautiful was because I got to work with the living incarnation of Groundskeeper Willie. His name is Bobby and I swear to god he was as breathtaking as the mountainous views from the vistas at the golf course. I never thought that the words cunt and fuck (or as he pronounced them: coont and fook) could ever be so skillfully and poetically employed. I'll go further into his other vocabulary usage in another post, since I am defintiely running out of time. Suffice it to say, Bobby is now the face of my new ideal. Unfortunately, I was ripped from this womb of bliss last week as Scotland is suffering from a draught and the millionaire that owns the place informed me that there just wasn't enough work to keep me on board. Now though, I am working at one of the hundreds of venues at the yearly Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I'm helping out with the merchandising for a very popular comedian over here by the name of Bill Bailey. I got to see his show last night for free (sold out for 9 nights, 1200 people every night, something like £16 a ticket) and the people I work with, while not on par with the Jesus-like Bobby, are pretty damn stellar in their own rights and I'm having a hell of a time. Plus I'm getting paid handsomely.

Okay, nearly out of time, so I'll just say that I'm having a fucking blast over here right now and I'll post more updates and shit I've no doubt forgotten along the way. So until next time, always remember to wipe front to back!

$ + £ > £ - 0


good night and good luck

Hit it, hit it then quit it.

So here I am, alone and quiet on my last night in America for, other than one planned trip back, an indefinite period of time. Ever since I made the not unexpected announcement that I was leaving, people have been asking me how I feel about the move - nervous or excited? It's a pretty formulaic question that I guess everyone has to ask. It's actually more like a rhetorical statement, if anything, because inevitably the answer always comes back the same: both. I feel like I did nearly three years ago when I left to map out what would be the first leg of my fantastic voyage... no, not the one with Coolio. That's a whole different story and involves 40s, gats and an epic Rainbow bridge battle against the indescribable and unexpectedly formidable Sugarplum Brigade. Let me just interject real quickly and say that you should never accept what appear to be Flintstone Vitamins from a guy who has pipe cleaners for hair. Not a sermon, just a thought.

Honestly, I feel, if I may be so bold, bitter$weet. I remember coming back from my first year in Scotland feeling very much like the bastard brainchild of Lazarus and Alice, after coming back through the looking glass. In essence, I died, participated in an infinite number of misadventures with some impossibly interesting characters and suddenly, right when I was getting used to my surroundings, fantastic and surreal though they may have been, came back. On my return "home," I found that life had moved on without me and I never really secured a solid grasp on who I was before or what I had left behind. It's something that I've actually come to respect about life. It always moves on, no matter what you do and how you change, it always stays one step ahead of you, like the ideal of God. In my nearly two years back in NoVa, I tried to attain some level of past comfort, but in the process, lost my former idea of home. I don't belong here anymore. I say that with a somewhat heavy, but resigned heart. I need to go where I belong (cue the Cheers theme song), to a place which can help me, on a personal level, to grow up some more - possible failure be damned!

So I move, not back, but on, and in my wake I leave reinvigorated relationships, dead friendships, new acquaintances, failed projects and fond memories. In my future, I face what I've always faced: the possibility of everything, with no constants this time, but one. And she is my new idea of home.

I apologize if I've been cheesy or unnecessarily cliché, but it's late and tomorrow's a big day... and that totally rhymed, so I must be a brilliant poet. This won't be my last post to this blog, but it is my long goodbye; my moment of overly-emotional bittersweet twilight. No, it's not the end, but for now at least, it is goodbye.

Thanks for everything, even if it was nothing.



Mind Bullets

Home Alone 2099

I enjoy thoroughly a proper mind fuck. In my opinion, there's not much better than reading or seeing something that leaves you a little bit dead inside, like that time you walked in on me and your mom slamming groins and swapping gravy. I love it when you see a movie or read a book and everything in your head just kind of... hums. You can't really think about what you've just experienced, regardless of wanting so badly to do so. That, my friend, is a beautiful thing. It's kind of like an emotional brain freeze: it feels strangely arousing and immensely painful all at the same time (I'll let you make your own inappropriate joke out of that one). It's like going to the gym after not having done so in years. You feel sore afterward, but it feels like you've earned it. That pain and the resultant payoff - that's yours. It's beautiful agony. At the end of these mind-fuck stories, in the same frustratingly clear moment, you want to laugh, cry, fight, fuck and all the while enjoy this serene numb. If I could describe postmodernism as a physical feeling, I think that might be it.

I've really started to loathe horror movies of late, just because I think everything's a re-hash of a re-hash. However, I think I can understand why there are "horror junkies" in the first place. I think we share this enjoyment of fear, or at very least hesitant paranoia that our respective chosen poisons offer us. More often than not, the surreal and the horror intersect. Many say that the former cannot exist without the presence of the latter and vice-versa, but that's not really my point. The point is this: I can understand an "addiction" to something that should be, for all intents and purposes, aversive.

It usually takes something, not so much special, as completely unexpected to get this reaction out of me. The few works that have "gotten me" aren't necessarily groundbreaking or even particularly good for that matter, but they came out of nowhere and did my head in something fierce: Vonnegut did it to me in Breakfast of Champions; Samuel Beckett got me in The Unnamable; Scotland's own Alasdair Gray has done it a number of times (but mostly in Lanark and 1982, Janine); Will Self just recently tickled me with it, Neil Gaiman got a spark out of me with some of the Sandman and Death stuff and Grant Morrison (who I just found out was also born in Glasgow, Scotland) did it in Arkham Asylum and promises to do so again in something that went entirely under my radar called The Invisibles, which I'm literally chomping at the bit to read. He claims that the story, "was information given to him by aliens that abducted him in Katmandu, who told him to spread this information to the world via a comic book." Awesome. For an issue guide click HERE. I recently just discovered Morrison and frighteningly realized how much we thematically have in common. I now consider him my personal Jesus, a position once held by Robot Jesus.

It's also just happened to me today in another story that, again, is not particularly life-changing. Most people will probably find it relatively banal and covered with that "it's been done before" filmy residue, but it got me. I'm talking about a short story called, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. That name just hooked me from the word go! I'm usually the last one to find out about cool stuff like this, so I suppose that alot of you have read it or at least heard about it. It was apparently one of the major influences of The Terminator movies. If not, I'm not going to sum it up for you, but it's very short and is presented in its entirety at Scifi.com. Check it out.

Some of you may remember a computer game of the same name - it's based on the book and was co-rewritten for game play by the author, Harlan Ellison. While the game doesn't seem as simplistically mind altering as the story, I'd love to play it (or hear from anyone who's played it) just because it's apparently rife with sadistic choices based on human ethics. I bet it's great holiday fun for the whole family!

It's stuff like this that really makes me excited about continuing to write the comic. It's also really fucking daunting, considering that writers Morrison and Ellison have already done similar stories so brilliantly. I'm in absolute awe of these guys and am insanely intimidated by them at the same time. I'm inspired by the accute numbness that they have been able to elicit in me and am painfully aware that I'll probably fail in attempting to accomplish the same thing in others. My only solace is not from others (since no one has really read it) but more because my head feels like it's gone through a mental enema after every time I write or re-work a part of the story. But that could be because I'm profoundly stupid, so who knows?

Anyway, this was a strange post replacing coherence with unnecessary length and boredom. More stupid jokes about penis next time! Enjoy I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. It's good shit!


** Shut-Update: I've been looking around the internet, as I sometimes have been known to do, and found some other things that "get me." These come in the form of Samuel Beckett plays presented via BBC Radio online. Radio 1 has apparently been celebrating Beckett's centenary, so they've been re-broadcasting some of his plays. They are very strange and almost completely without any coherence, but as such, they're brilliant. The ones they offer are Embers, Krapp's Last Tape and the monologue Not I. Check them out if you get a second. Here's the site: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/speechanddrama/beckettevening.shtml. Enjoy.



First off: Happy Birthday, Blog. After a full year and 43 posts, you have maintained your meaninglessness with style, grace and ambiguity. I often think, when pondering your birth a year ago, that I should have done the right thing and gotten that abortion. There's a good lesson here, kids - this is the price you pay for getting drunk, not wearing a condom and having a "no-strings-attached" night of passion with your home computer. You end up with a blog that is nothing but a huge disappointment and a strain on your young, unwed life - which has now become a blur of alcohol, whip-its and male prostitution. So hey, this is a message from $teve-0 to you: if you're "fiddling" with any household appliance, throw on a latex glove, you feel me? Okay, good. And by the way, Jesus saves.

And now for the real reason of this post...
$teve-0 & Magoo Present:
Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, that comic that we've been putting together for the past fifty years is actually getting some new life breathed into its near-dead carcass. The title for the comic is
Meanwhile in Nevermind:
Placebo Dreams ©
It is most likely poorly-written, mindless drivel; however, we won't know that unless you tell us to our stupid, ugly faces. So here's what we're gonna do: every week or two, we're going to post pages of the comic up on the website and we ask that you check them out and comment on them. Then, we'd like for you to tell your friends, so that this glorious circle of life can continue. So, If you're up for it and would like to help us out, go to the following blog/website:
and let the reading and commenting flow like the joyless tears of a pregnant stripper in the middle of a lapdance. If that doesn't entice you to read our comic, I don't know what will! Remember to start with the earliest entry (03/17/06) and then every sequential date thereafter. Readers should be reminded that this is just our first attempt of actually getting stuff online. There will be more content coming soon and eventually a website upgrade, but until then, this is what we've got. Enjoy and God bless!



April 24, 2006
God $ave the Queen.