Offline IMMY BLOGROLL
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TEDDYBEARANTICHRIST is a webcomic now in Season 4. I create this based on headaches, pills, amaretto and various voices.
- The Rant of an Architect . . . as if.
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Insert foot into mouth, hand into pants, toes into sand, conscience into fog. It's margarita night at the Evil Toys Is Us.
I have too much conscience. If I were a dog, I would lick my balls in public and feel good about it. If I were a player, I'd tell women what they want to hear and fuck them till they were dry, then leave, and feel good about it. Possibly, feel bad about it, but still leave.
But I'm not a dog, and I can't reach my balls with my tongue, and yes, I've tried and tried. It's the only plausible reason Yoga was invented and we both know it. Well, that and to squeeze women into tight leotards and make them poke their asses in the air. Aerobics was invented by men to squeeze women into tight sportsbras (and tight leotards) and to make them jump and down for the breast action. Politics, so we could fuck an entire nation at once. Architecture, so we could parade naked buildings around and model them after the hips of the girl that took our virginity when we were 12.
Everything we do as men . . . is about women. Not women though. They do things for themselves. Sports, so we could run around showing our speed and agility and pad our asses. Computers, cybersex with "women", whether or not they are in fact women, what do we care as long as we "think" their women. Remember that bit about your brain being the largest sex organ? It's true. That's why you have so many holes in your skull.
God, I'm tired of penis joy. I want some real excitement, but I don't want to pay for it, which means it's free porn night again at the TV Corral. I'm thinking about stealing something small and dropping it down my pants just so the store dicks will have put their hands down there. I'd do it, but who knows where there hands have been.
You ever wake up and wonder where your own goddamn hands have been, then realize, yes, someplace fun, but familiar. For once, I'd like to wake up to the scent of a tangy muff I don't recognize, but then I'd probably have to do an emergency stop on all my credit cards. The kind of women that lubricate your dreams with lip service or usually bent on getting you out of your pants for one reason and one reason only . . . it's easier to get your wallet out.Monday April 21, 2008 - 04:16am (CDT) Permanent Link | 0 Comments - Entry for January 12, 2008
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It started as a joke, a bad dream, too many chicken wings before bedtime. Now it's in its Fifth season. Why won't it stop? Can't someone make it stop?
Come one; come all . . . or you can all come at once, or one of you can come as all, or one of you can come once and the rest of you can come all the time, makes no difference.
The breakdown (so you can see how things have progressed):
Season 1:
Lucy is given a sweet stuffed teddy bear who promptly calls her mother a whore and convinces her it would be best if they just went ahead and "offed" Unkey Jewwy. They taint a glass of O.J. with rat poison (A.K.A "Yummy Flakes").
Season 2:
Lucy is given a doll with a happy smile and Sunshiny curls. Teddy is not amused. Unkey Jewwy realizes Teddy is a bad influence and decides to get rid of him.
Season 3:
Lucy doesn't get along with her foster parent, "Father" Barry. He's a little too "personal". Teddy wonders if there isn't a better place for the old guy, say . . . 6 feet underground.
Season 4:
Lucy's father reappears and takes her away from her misery. Lucy is so happy, she could burst. Unfortunately, she doesn't stay happy for long. Despite a spat, Teddy and Lucy find a little ingenuity can make things right.
Season 5:
Begins January 14th, 2008.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled forum.
TBAC
read the damn COMIC!!Tags: comics, webcomics, webcomic, evil, darkhumor Saturday January 12, 2008 - 07:36pm (CST) Permanent Link | 0 Comments - Entry for December 11, 2007
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I'm officially drunk after having spent the day Xmas shoppping. The third "p" is for pee, which I had to do most of the day but held off because the crowds would not permit even my access to the fucking bathroom. You people are fucking crazy. And I should know, my medication is the type that allows me to penetrate your brains (except the smart bastards that wear aluminum foil over their skulls) with my thoughts.
Here's what I know. The messiah myth (that's right, I said, "myth") is awfully fun to explore. Believe it or not I have friends and family for whom which I must and do buy Xmas gifts. Well, family anyway.
I've had a credit card denied twice in the last two days, and strangely enough I have a zero balance on it. It's a strange universe that desperately wants you to use its service but makes it impossible for you to do so. How bad does a business have to be to disallow you from its service? It's like getting all the way to the counter to buy that burger only to have the cashier refuse you. "I'm sorry, I can't sell you a meat substitute with pseudo-mayonaisse, cheese product and glucose enhanced buns, you're not our 'type'."
The girl I had a crush on turned out to be a fatty, but shit, at least she's got a boyfriend, which is more than I've got.
I have every intention of sending an Xmas card to my ex-wife RIGHT before Xmas, therefore preventing her from buying and sending me one in time. I'm devious that way, and vengeful. Fuck God, why should He have all the fun? TBAC Season 5, btw, in case you were wondering is on its way, soon to be on an internet site near you.
I like parking sites. These little arbitrary stripes don't rule me. I park where I want to. What are they gonna do exactly? They've got a case for one place and one place only and that's the fire lane, anyplace else is game I figure. It's fucking private property, heh, heh. They want to give me a hassle? March out the fucking owner, or even the C.E.O. since the shareholders might not be available. But they can't do even that, because the bastard is busy looting the company, dipping into the pensions of its employees.
I hope to be a C.E.O. looter someday. Congress loves those guys. Shit, congress is COMPOSED of those guys.
I hate to tell you that the election has already been decided, but you'll find that out soon enough. Back to Xmas shopping. Next time you park one of those carts in my way . . . I'm going to run over your big toe with a floor waxer. It's your fault for wearing sandals and socks in the Winter, or anytime really.
That's it! I've got more gifts to buy, and I'm too damn poor to steal them like a normal criminal.
read the damn COMIC!!!!!!Tags: psychotherapy, xmas, shoppingcarts, thebigtoe Tuesday December 11, 2007 - 07:46am (CST) Permanent Link | 0 Comments - Entry for January 27, 2007
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Which are you, the-tell-them-what-I-think-and-fuck'em or the I'll-keep-it-to-myself-and-avoid-confrontation kind of person?
Do you spend more time trying to decipher the mask-like expression of your conversation partner than you do listening to their words?
I can't draw worth a shit. My writing is marginal. My sexual appetite is mostly for the intangible . . . well . . . there is SOME touching.
Do you realize I've spent almost the entire month dreading yet another annual inspection of my car? It's a test, you see, that I would prefer not to fail. I would rather shop from this chair than ever set foot inside a store. That would mean people. That would mean feigning interest, faking politeness, expending vital energy on a pretend smile.
I don't like pissing next to another guy. Those open, non-sequestered urinals drive me crazy. Oh, I do it, because I won't let the bastards win. Let them think I'm normal, at least until I burn their fucking house down with a blowtorch, and gasoline filled balloo--but I've said too much already.
Ahem. . . .
Urinal Manners:
1. Stand next to an occupied urinal ONLY if there are no other empties available.
2. If necessary, piss in a toilet, but DO NOT dribble on the seat you disgusting fuck.
3. Do NOT look, you insatiably curious, insecure pervert. You've got your own dick. If you really want to know what someone else's looks like, visit a gay bar or buy a hard core magazine.
4. Flush. The last thing I want is to feel your steamy, toe-curling piss peeling away the hairy lining of my nose.
5. Do not dump gum, cigarette butts, loose change, etc. in the damn thing. There is a trash can 3 FUCKING FEET AWAY! Someone's got to clean that shit up, you inconsiderate Nazi.
6. Do NOT try to start a conversation. I'm concentrating on getting a nice flow going and letting out a polite and silent fart. I don't give a crap (pardon the pun) about your imaginative peek at the secretary's tits.
7. Aim.
8. Wash. Your. Goddamn. Hands.
9. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT think just because you have your dick in your hands that it is TIME TO PLAY!
10. There is no #10.
Okay, I'm done.
read the damn comic
Tags: inspection, hermithood, urinals Saturday January 27, 2007 - 05:19am (CST) Permanent Link | 0 Comments - Entry for January 18, 2007 -- politics?
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wanna know what it's all about? no, you probably don't. not really. if the English live their lives in quiet desperation, Americans live their life in quiet debt. we love our stuff, don't we? don't you? you love your stuff. you know you do. your car. your phone(s?). your computer(s?). your software. your multimedia center. your game station(s?).
syllogism:
no one hurts you like the ones you love. if you love yourself, then you are your own worst enemy.
syllogism:
power corrupts. absolute power corrupts absolutely. government (any government) is power, therefore. . . .
c'mon . . . you know the words.
and if that's true, then what does that say about God? He is the ultimate power after all . . . Isn't He?
speaking of which. . . . got a phone call from the Almighty just the other night. don't laugh. God is very active socially, especially with new methods of communication breaking out like rabid viruses every 2 seconds. Moses heard Him. Mohamed. Noah. Jesus. George W. Bush Jr. And me, of course.
God said that if I didn't buy a cell phone, a terrorist in the Middle East would starve to death. It was meant as a warning, or possibly a joke, but who can tell with the ole Supreme Deity?
He said it works like this:
we should be in a recession . . . Hell, a full out "Black Tuesday" scale depression, but we're not. wanna know why? would you be willing to give up your Xbox for the answer? or your new playstation or your fucking Wii? No, didn't think so.
to postpone a lifestyle-shaking recession you have to find money to pump into and through the banks. if the banks have money (from drugs, oil, gold, terrorism, diamonds, slavery, doesn't matter, money is green is green is green is green), then they have more to loan and interest rates stay low. see?
Iraqi oil is held in a "trust fund" for the Iraqi people in a bank in New York, of which the biggest borrower is . . . guess who? oh, c'mon, be a guessing kinda of person. fine. I'll tell you. the United States of America.
it's not money that makes the world go around, it's interest. how much did you pay for that cell phone? 100$??? did you pay your credit card in full? bet you didn't. which means you'll be paying triple the price by the time you're done.
see?
buy a 100$ item; pay interest; postpone payment; pay interest; postpone payment of principle; pay interest. that item will cost you 300$ by the time you're done. so fuck, why not just save up your money and go buy 300$ worth of shit? Why? because people are stupid. you are a person, aren't you? yeah, me too.
people under 30 don't care. people over 50 don't understand. people between only worry about their next bill and whether or not the new paste is toxic to their child.
read the damn comic.Tags: iraq, corruption, god, i'mdrunk, duh! Thursday January 18, 2007 - 08:44am (CST) Permanent Link | 0 Comments
