And The Poop Disappears, Too!

Family gag—7th grade woodshop—don’t ask.

A Star, a Script— And Funding Cratered

Couldn’t make our Kickstarter nut.

Cat Encouragement Fail

Might've crossed the line on peer pressure.

Think or Sink

Somebody’s still writing philosophy books, wow.
“Brief” is in the title but it’s still about three thousand tweets long.

Here’s a Twitter synopsis:
Money competes with God for our brain. Argue a couple millennia. No clear winner but money’s got the edge since God pays a suckier salary.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie— Luc is actually pretty soft on the idea of higher ideals. He’s for instance not a fan of Nietzsche. Spends a lot of ink going after the “God is dead” guy— which is weird since anybody who claims the death of an Immortal Eternal just plainly craves attention. But in philosophy, you can cover your eyes, smirk and declare “you can’t see me” and it’ll launch a hundred excited egghead arguments.

I’m more a fan of the applied sciences— curing disease, figuring out how to stick up longer bridges and taller buildings, shooting dune buggies onto Mars. I also prefer just drawing conclusions from obvious evidence. Quantum physics is nuts, they’re torturing all logic and sense— look what it’s done to poor Stevie Hawking. The bionic man ain’t what it used to be, any more than the future is.

So I look around me right now to see how that God vs. Money argument’s going and draw my conclusions on the evidence, using tried and true scientific observation:

Talking To My Cat


I bore him to distraction.

Porn Aversion Therapy

Banishing the scourge of smut.
(Caution: aggravates symptoms for the over-60 set)

Reality Isn’t If Untelevised

The only  proof of existence is TV. Being off-camera is being a tree in a forest in Mongolia in a zud. Don’t be irrelevant, be famous. Everyone was promised their fifteen seconds by a mystical, ghostly wizard from Pittsburgh late last century. Okay, rounding errors and sequestration have altered the numbers, but still.

To get on TV you need to have killer connections or surrender all  morality and dignity. Or, less redundantly, you need to be resourceful. Crushing up against the Times Square morning show broadcast windows only counts as being a televised shrub in a zud, think bigger.

Offer to polish Donald Trump’s pinky ring with personal adrenaline fluid while under lethal injection. Juggle burning kittens at a Tea Party rally. Hire a blind, autistic personal stylist, pump up your tattoos with some ’roids and an S&M fitness regime, have a double sex change, create a religion based on incontinence, unionize sperm donors, get busy and get famous!

Remember: the world’s your oyster, and you’re its saliva!

Sorry About That.

A Zud spokesman extended apologies to the residents of Mongolia, where the maiden launch of collaborative missile project with Raytheon went awry.

“Obviously, this is a disappointing setback for our defense systems initiative, and a full investigation is underway to determine the cause. Ongoing talks with the Pentagon promise future interest in the program’s potential as a livestock deterrent.”

The affected residents of Mongolia, an 87 year old farmer and his wife, seven yaks, eleven sheep, nine goats and a dog refused evacuation for medical attention.

Through an interpreter, the farmer, who huddled nearby the burning wreckage remarked that “this is the warmest I’ve been in half a century.”

What’s a Zud?

Wikipedia tells us a zud is a bummer Mongolian winter where all the livestock starves.

There are several kinds of zuds: white, black, cold and iron zuds—which are snowy, dry, lethally frigid and frozen rain zuds, respectively.
Livestock have no stated preference for the sort of zud that causes their starvation.

Those who thankfully do not live in zud zones still have the cleaning product Zud. Which is apparently the tough answer to limp-wristed competitor Bon Ami, although this is sheer speculation.

What’s important is the monosyllabic perfection. Zud. Marketing gold. There are multinational plans and a rumored IPO launch. Frozen government and global warming be damned.

Wag the Werewolf

Vamping up for Halloween

Phil’s Dog

Every dog has his day.
Phil’s dog seizes the day.

Charlie is World’s Dumbest Bird

...and has a potty mouth, too.

video

Cat Caught Skyping

Egad - a Maine Coon in Bangor, an Abyssinian from Albania, a calico in Rio, a Portugeuse Siamese—they’re everywhere! Pried his little paw off the mouse which he claimed was so named because it’s remnant human memory of implanted computer tech from alien cat scientists.
Overheard them gloating “the feline mind invasion nears completion.”
Met with hostile silence trying to elicit more info. Threats useless—critter crapped in my slippers and went on a three-day hunger strike.
Odds are it’s just harmless delusions, but can I risk it?

Monsanto Invites You to Eat This

Here’s a nice, juicy, red-ripe tomato, fresh from the garden. 100% organic, nothing genetically altered or anything, really.
 
Nature is imperfect; can Monsanto make that claim?
Nature occasionally does stuff like that on its own. Reminds you of a ____, doesn’t it?
And if it was genetically altered? By Monsanto?
You’d eat it?
But that’s stupid. Monsanto wouldn’t sell tomatoes looking like that. Maybe nature makes the occasional tomato with its ____ sticking out; Monsanto makes perfect genetic tomatoes...the ones we get to see, anyway.

So it’s odd that Monsanto is against genetic labeling—since nature, its competition, is so obviously prone to careless mistakes.

Einstein Was On About Bees, Too

Einstein fretted about frogs but he banged on about  bees, too.

Hives die—planet dies, what’s for supper?
You’d think Al might have fixed his attention on why they supposedly can’t fly. How bee aerodynamics defy physics. You’d expect Einstein might have come up with a Special Theory on Bee Flight. No.

Albert studied global ecosystem determinants and narrowed down the harbinger of doom to when frogs and bees start disappearing. Which if you’ve been paying attention is happening.
Naturally, a worldwide initiative was immediately mounted to ignore this problem. It’s not like such information can be applied to anything useful, like blowing shit up.

So don’t try taking Einstein’s case of imminent biological collapse on account of defiantly airborne honey junky genocide to any serious business investors.
Bees equal empty stares.

Funnier in the New Yorker

Maybe not so funny to the New Yorker though.
Never submitted it to them. Thought it might get us off on the wrong
foot...being a kind of a meta-gag on their crowd-source gag-writer thing.
Their back page cartoon caption contest divertissement has driven ninety-four professional cartoonists to suicide. Ninety-four. 
That’s high, even for professional cartoonists.

Hey, if they wanted to create something all by themselves that thousands of random, quasi-literate alcoholic loafers couldn’t improve, they should’ve been rocket scientists or gymnasts or something.

If He’s So Smart How Come He’s Dead?

Not to mention here’s a patent clerk who never even bothered getting so much as a copyright on the world’s most famous equation.

Bleeding Edge Balderdash

Never underestimate the value of fraudulent news
listeners have a predisposition to want true.

Not a Franchise That Worked Out

Initially, it seemed a natural fit; from the savings on grease alone to the biofuel futures potential, to duh-simple police vehicle repair contracts— kind of a “garage and gorge” package deal, like if Jiffy Lube and Pancake House merged, only bigger and bolder. But the Lehman IPO went belly up right along with them, back in ’08. A bug on Wall Street’s windshield and a darn shame for auto enthusiasts and avid eaters alike.

Groan Up Advice

Avoid taking advice about putting away childish things
from people who had obviously shitty childhoods.

That Word Game Thing Mensa Started

Take a word, switch a letter, make a new word. Or something like that.

Rutabago (n): Ethanol-fueled motor home.









Umbecile (n): A pre-natal idiot.



Flornication (n): What naughty birds and bees do.

The Secret Life of Retail Ads

con•sum•er [kənˈsoōmər] noun
life form with eyes larger than its stomach, wallet and brain, yet unable to see its nose.

Yes, the Free Market Self-Regulates

No, you're not defining “Free” correctly.  Or “Regulate.”

Puntoon Tuesday Not

A day late and several brain cells short.