We may get stuck with Bryn Christopher. That big.
So I jacked a link from Gawker? Weird times? And, now, I am searching for a word?
Aside from the rap Pope, these drawing made me be all crying, buckled over and having comedy problems. I don't even know what to do. Marry Kate Beaton? Send Kate Beaton to the moon? Elect Kate Beaton? NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Here we are: fund someone to run around assisting her. There must be some dumb-ass grant we can give Kate Beaton.
UNLESS. Kate Beaton is twelve? Could happen. IS PROBLEM.
Did you watch that? I said WATCH IT. OK. So. What else have you got?
NOTHING. If this tour gets within 500 miles of your house, go.
I should have been more generous about this tune. Seriously. Look at them. Imagine how hard it would be—with limited flexibility, no lower body strength, and polyester fur covering your entire fucking body—to write a song, much less lip sync it over and over for a video shoot. The fact that we have this at all is a miracle.
I apologize to Mr. Wolf, Mr. Gorilla and all the automated animals. You guys are an inspiration. I don't care if you use Garageband or Fruity Loops or Bananawiggles. You are turning dreams into REALITY.
“Wall-E” is the sweetest misanthropy in town.
Also: way to make fun of iPods. Or fetishize them further. Or both. Also: “E.T.” in reverse? Also: secretly a “Lifetime” movie about near-death experiences? Also: Huxley? Also: please see Death Star hallway chases in “Star Wars” as template. Replace stormtroopers with ambulatory aliens/stormtroopers in different colors/Aaron Sorkin characters.
Thee Cyclotron 5000 processed every single blog post, including those written by cats and ex-WalMart employees, and arrived at this average:
“I was new to the city and scared, so I drank too much and met someone.”
Note to self: explain why Mars 2112 is like a strip club, or prep for the protocol of strip clubs.