Tuesday, May 26, 2009

New Book

I am currently in the process of self-publishing a book, written in three seperate sections. 

It's a story about a cursed teenage half-blood werewolf. At least in the first section. In the other two, she fights vampires and the zombie apocalpse, respectively. The book is mostly comprised of high adventure and sarcasm. But not in that order.

I'm trying to work out the cover online, and it's taking a while. Here's a preview of the art being used: 

Friday, May 22, 2009

The tale of Happy the Sloth. And of Doofer. The dungbeetle.

Happy is a happy sloth. 

A very happy sloth. 

A very very happy sloth. 

A really happy sloth, you might say. 

Then one day, Happy died. 

This made him sad. 

He was now Happy the sad sloth. 

To be precise, Happy the sad dead sloth. 

To make things worse, Happy did not go to a happy place when 
he died. 

He went to a sad place. 

Even worse, none of his freinds were there, like he thought. 

It turned out that they all went to the happy place. 

Which bummed Happy out. 

All his friends had been sad. 

There was Lucy the sad mushroom. 

And Elbert the sad hyena. 

And Spicy the sad wildebeast. 

And finally, Doofer the sad dungbeetle. 

Happy and Doofer had been best buddies. 

They used to hang out a lot. 

Happy would make a joke about dung. 

Then Doofer would make a joke about slothful activity. 

They would have a good laugh. 

But they each secretly disliked the other for it. 

One day, a while back, Happy stepped on Doofer. 

And killed him. 

Killed him dead. 

This was why Happy hoped to find Doofer in the sad place. 

Although by now, Happy wasn’t sure they would be the best of 
terms. 

Anyway, one day, in the sad place, Happy decided to do 
something. 

He had never been much for doing things. 

He was a sloth, remember? 

Before, when he was alive, he sometimes got teased. 

"It won’t kill you" the other animals would say. 

"Maybe not, but why take the chance?" Happy would reply. 

It was his only reponse. 

He used it a lot. 

But now that he was dead, he couldn’t. 

With no reason not to do something, Happy decided it was 
time. 

The thing that he wanted to do involved an exploding beetle. 

You know, those guys that shoot fire out of their rears with 
some strange chemical reaction. 

There were a lot of them in the sad place. 

I’m not sure why. 

Happy found a whole pile of them. 

So he climbed on top. 

Then he scared them. 

They blow up. 

Happy was shot up in the air. 

Similar to a cork from a bottle. 

If the bottle looked like a sad place. 

And 

If the cork looked like a sloth. 

A sad sloth. 

A sad dead sloth. 

Anyway, Happy flew up really high. 

Really high. 

Really really high. 

Very high, you might say. 

He reached the happy place. 

He was surprised. 

He pretended it was his plan all along, of course. 

"Yay me!" He yelled. 

There was no one to hear him. 

So he stopped yelling. 

There was no need to do too many things, after all. 

He set out to find Doofer. 

First he came to a ring of flaming lemon trees. 

He made flaming lemonade. 

It didn’t taste as good as you might think. 

Next, he found a semicircle. 

But he couldn’t handle it. 

Then he found Doofer. 

Then he found bicycle tire. 

Then he put it down and said "Oh, wait, I was looking for 
Doofer." 

He went back to Doofer. 

"You’re looking sadder then usual" Doofer said. 

Happy explained that this was because he was dead. 

Doofer looked embaressed. 

So Happy decided to slap him. 

He had nothing to lose. 

Doofer wasn’t amused. 

But then they decided to find a way back to the world of the 
living. 

It took them a while to decide. 

It was either that or taking a seven-month night class in 
cheese-sniffing. 

Doofer really liked cheese. 

However, Happy was able to bring him around with his 
argumention skills. 

They involved slapping. 

But that’s beside the point. 

The point is... 

Sharp. 

But that’s beside the point, too. 

Anyway. 

Happy and Doofer found a ladder down to the world of the 
living. 

It was a long way down. 

So Happy pushed Doofer down it. 

To test it out, of course. 

But Doofer grabbed Happy at the last minute. 

To pull him in. 

But dungbeetles don’t have much body mass. 

So neither fell in. 

They decided to take the elevator. 

There was a long line. 

So Happy pushed them down the ladder. 

It was the happy place. No one expected it. 

Happy and Doofer got in the elevator. 

It was a big elevator. 

And it was shiney silver too. 

But you didn’t need to know that. 

It took a couple days to reach the bottom. 

When it did, they stepped out in the world of the very 
living. 

The very very living. 

The... aw, forget it, where was I? 

The world of the living. 

They had only taken ten steps when all the people that Happy 
had pushed into the ladder fell down on them. 

Doofer lived. 

Happy didn’t. 

Doofer thought this was kinda funny. 

Happy was not amused. 

But he was dead, so there wasn’t much he could do. 

Not that he did much anyway. 

Doofer went back to his dung-home. 

And there was no one to poke fun. 

The end. 

Monday, May 11, 2009

You know what?

I'm not allowed to change the date of my various posts. 

I was hoping that I could make this post from September 67, 9208, but no such luck. It automatically switches it back to the real date once I post it. How depressingly realistic.

On another note*, I recently conducted an experiment on my iPod. I went to the settings, and changed the date and time so that the iPod thought that it was 11:59 on December 31st of the year 2099, which was the highest my iPod could go. (I guess Steve Jobs has high hopes, since he seems to think that it'll still be around in a hundred years.) After a minute passed, the iPod reverted back to the year 2000. 

This means that, ninety years and seven months into the future, my iPod will not be able to tell me what year it is. By then, I'll be 107 years old, and most likely be at the point in my life where it would be handy to have something that tells me what year it is. 

I'll jsut have to track down the 144-year-old Steve Jobs (in his cryogenically-sealed chamber next to Walt Disney's forzen head) He just better give me a refund. Or maybe I'll settle for a trade-in. I bet by then, iPods will plug directly into the brain pan, and can give people the ability to fly.




*technically, the same note, but I bet no one pays any attention to these footnotes.**

**hey, a footnote. I guess that would be a different note...

Here, have a Cookie Monster.

He'll cheer you up.

















Saturday, May 9, 2009

Friday, May 1, 2009

DEEP THOUGHTS by Jack Handey


Jack Handey (born 25 February 1949) is an American humorist. He is best known for his Deep Thoughts, a large body of surrealistic one-liner jokes, as well as his "Fuzzy Memories" and "My Big Thick Novel" shorts. Although many people assume otherwise Handey is a real person, not a pen name or a character.

Between 1991 and 1998, Saturday Night Live included Deep Thoughts on the show as an interstitial segment between sketches. Introduced byPhil Hartman and read live by Handey (neither actually appeared on screen), the one-liners proved to be extremely popular. Hartman would intone "And now, Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handey...", and peaceful easy listening music would play while the screen showed soothing pastoral scenes, much like a New Age relaxation video. Handey would then read the Deep Thought as the text to it scrolled across the screen. They became an enduring feature of SNL, often having multiple Thoughts in each episode, and made Handey a well-known name.*


You can find random quotes read in a correct manner on this link: http://www.deepthoughtsbyjackhandey.com/random2.asp 

Here's some good ones:



If you ever drop your keys into a river of molten lava, let'em go, because, man, they're gone.
If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason."
To me, it's a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?" You can say, "Sorry, got these sacks."
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. "Oh no," I said, "Disneyland burned down." He cried and cried, but I think that deep down he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.
The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face.
If you lived in the Dark Ages and you were a catapult operator, I bet the most common question people would ask is, "Can't you make it shoot farther?" "No, I'm sorry. That's as far as it shoots."
Is there anything more beautiful than a beautiful, beautiful flamingo, flying across in front of a beautiful sunset? And he's carrying a beautiful rose in his beak, and also he's carrying a very beautiful painting with his feet. And also, you're drunk.


If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is, "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is, "Probably because of something you did."
If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror, because I bet that's what REALLY throws you into a panic.
Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk, my first instinct is to laugh. But then I think, what if I was an ant and she fell on me. Then it wouldn't seem quite so funny.
To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography and the dancers hit each other.
I hope if dogs ever take over the world and they choose a king, they won't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas.
If life deals you lemons, why not go kill someone with the lemons (maybe by shoving them down his throat).
Instead of having "answers" on a math test, they should just call them "impressions," and if you got a different "impression," so what, can't we all be brothers?
Probably the earliest fly swatters were nothing more than some sort of striking surface attached to the end of a long stick.
I wish I would have a real tragic love affair and get so bummed out that I'd just quit my job and become a bum for a few years, because I was thinking about doing that anyway.
I think a good gift for the President would be a chocolate revolver. And since he's so busy, you'd probably have to run up to him real quick and hand it to him.
Maybe in order to understand mankind we have to look at that word itself. MANKIND. Basically, it's made up of two separate words "mank" and "ind." What do these words mean? It's a mystery and that's why so is mankind.
If you go flying back through time and you see somebody else flying forward into the future, it's probably best to avoid eye contact.
It's easy to sit there and say you'd like to have more money. And I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money.
If you ever reach total enlightenment while you're drinking a beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose.
To me, clowns aren't funny. In fact, they're kinda scary. I've wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad.
As the light changed from red to green to yellow and back to red again, I sat there thinking about life. Was it nothing more than a bunch of honking and yelling? Sometimes it seemed that way.
I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching.
Whenever you read a good book, it's like the author is right there, in the room talking to you, which is why I don't like to read good books.
What is it about a beautiful sunny afternoon, with the birds singing and the wind rustling through the leaves, that makes you want to get drunk? And after you're real drunk, maybe go down to the public park and stagger around and ask people for money, and then lay down and go to sleep.

Instead of a trap door, what about a trap window? The guy looks out it, and if he leans too far, he falls out. Wait. I guess that's like a regular window.
During the Middle Ages, probably one of the biggest mistakes was not putting on your armor because you were "just going down to the corner."
If I ever get real rich, I hope I'm not real mean to poor people, like I am now.
When I found the skull in the woods, the first thing I did was call the police. But then I got curious about it. I picked it up, and started wondering who this person was, and why he had deer horns.
I remember how my great-uncle Jerry would sit on the porch and whittle all day long. Once he whittled me a toy boat out of a larger toy boat I had. It was almost as good as the first one, except now it had bumpy whittle marks all over it. And no paint, because he had whittled off the paint.
Here's a good thing to do if you go to a party and you don't know anybody: First take out the garbage. Then go around and collect any extra garbage that people might have, like a crumpled napkin, and take that out too. Pretty soon people will want to meet the busy garbage guy.
Sometimes I think you have to march right in and demand your rights, even if you don't know what your rights are, or who the person is you're talking to. Then on the way out, slam the door.
If you're a cowboy and you're dragging a guy behind your horse, I bet it would really make you mad if you looked back and the guy was reading a magazine.
If your friend is already dead, and being eaten by vultures, I think it's okay to feed some bits of your friend to one of the vultures, to teach him to do some tricks. But only if you're serious about adopting the vulture.
Broken promises don't upset me. I just think, why did they believe me?
If you ever crawl inside an old hollow log and go to sleep, and while you're in there some guys come and seal up both ends and then put it on a truck and take it to another city, boy, I don't know what to tell you.

One thing vampire children have to be taught early on is, don't run with a wooden stake.
If you go to a costume party at your boss's house, wouldn't you think a good costume would be to dress up like the boss's wife? Trust me, it's not.
Most of the time it was probably real bad being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you'd look out your little window and think, "Boy, I'm glad I'm not out in that."
Consider the daffodil. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff.
For mad scientists who keep brains in jars, here's a tip: why not add a slice of lemon to each jar, for freshness?
I'd like to see a nature film where an eagle swoops down and pulls a fish out of a lake, and then maybe he's flying along, low to the ground, and the fish pulls a worm out of the ground. Now that's a documentary.

If I was the head of a country that lost a war, and I had to sign a peace treaty, just as I was signing, I'd glance over the treaty and then suddenly act surprised. "Wait a minute! I thought we won!"
Sometimes you have to be careful when selecting a new name for yourself. For instance, let's say you have chosen the nickname "Fly Head." Normally you would think that "fly Head" would mean a person who has beautiful swept-back features, as if flying through the air. But think again. Couldn't it also mean "having a head like a fly"? I'm afraid some people might actually think that.
Somebody told me how frightening it was how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared.
I hope that after I die, people will say of me: "That guy sure owed me a lot of money."
I wish I had a dollar for every time I spent a dollar, because then, Yahoo!, I'd have all my money back.
I think a good product would be "Baby Duck Hat." It's a fake baby duck, which you strap on top of your head. Then you go swimming underwater until you find a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them. Then all of the sudden, you stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla. Man those ducks really take off! Also Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.
The tired and thirsty prospector threw himself down at the edge of the watering hole and started to drink. But then he looked around and saw skulls and bones everywhere. "Uh-oh," he thought. "This watering hole is reserved for skeletons."



*That's Wikipedia, not me. I'm sure they know what they're talking about, though. No, really, I'm sure. Mostly.

MAY DAY

May Day!! MAY DAY!!! MAAY DAAY!!!!!

MAY DAYY!!


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Sorry, just felt like saying that.