My kung fu is strong
Long time readers may recall that I observe the Birthday Fortnight (working my way up year by year to the Month of Birthday). My actual birthday falls somewhere in the first two weeks of May. In the interests of amoniminty, that is all I shall say. As a first of the birthday tributes, Uncle B bought me a drawing program called Manga Studio 3.
Not to worry, I’m not about to start drawing weasels in teeny tiny sailor suits with eyes the size of dinner plates. It’s just a drawing program that is specially designed for black and white line work, à la comix. It does things like calculate vanishing points and make speed lines and comic panels.
It’s kick-ass fun to play with. If any of you still harbor that old, old desire to be a comic book artist, there’s a 30-day free trial. I can’t work out the difference between the $50 version (which I got) and the $300 version, BUT IF THE MANUFACTURER SENT ME A COPY I’D BE HAPPY TO TEST DRIVE IT AND THEN FLOG THE SHIT OUT OF IT RIGHT HERE ON THIS BLOG.
That’s going to work one of these days. I just know it.
May 5, 2008 — 11:05 am
Comments: 35
Nice hat, Senator
Y’all know I’ve been pretty depressed about this presidential election. John McCain seriously harshes my shadenfreude. Every time I start to go after a Democrat, I hear McCain’s evil-grampa laugh in my ear, and my (entirely metaphorical) balls shrivel.
But I’ve listened to the entirety of Jeremiah Wright’s National Press Club and NAACP speeches and I can’t remember a time I have so passionately wished to poke someone in the snoot. Entirely metaphorically, of course.
I think it was where he imitates the way white people talk. Being mimicked reaches right back into my nursery school braincells and makes them throb with screaming monkey rage.
Or maybe that bit about how Europeans and Africans are different right down to the brainal level. I don’t know from neuropathology, I only know if a white man had said anything close to that, it would buy him a one-way ticket to Lepertown.
Listening to Wright made me feel grubby; that he is slick only makes it grubbier. It was like being dipped in a cesspit of toxic racial sludge. Like attending a Klan rally on Bizarroworld.
How bad was it? Bad enough that Obama disowned the man he could no more disown than the black community or his white grandmother (watch your back, Granny).
Wright didn’t develop his peculiarly smelly brand of afroNazism over the weekend. It’s totally implausible that Obama rubbed elbows with Wright for twenty years and never heard a word of his ridiculous, balls-out craziness before yesterday. Clearly, Obama chose this church for these qualities, because he desired that particular flavor of cred.
I doubt Obama believes a word of that crap; he doesn’t strike me as a retard. That makes this ass-bite especially satisfying. It’s dangerous to handle poison, Senator.
Heh. Heh heh. Heh heh heh.
Oh, shut up, John.
UPDATE: I told mesa I’d make a color version, but it was pretty much FAIL. I’ve never tinted a photo using this technique, and it looked awful. Like a tinted photo. So I made some slight adjustments to the grayscale version and replaced the image in the post. I’ve also uploaded a large version and one that is 160 pixels wide. It’s a bit too tall for a sidebar graphic, but I’m not the boss of you.
This is as good a time as any to review my graphics policy: take it. Take anything you like. Change it, if you want. Post it. Have it tattoo’d on your butt. No need to link back or give credit. This is ephemera we’re making here and I need the karma.
Just…say something nice about me when I’m gone.
UPDATE THE TWOTH: Yay! Ace-o-lanche! It’s raining morons! Thanks, Deb!
April 29, 2008 — 3:18 pm
Comments: 141
Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
Meh. Stupid weasel. I had something I wanted to post about, but I forgot to upload the picture that goes with.
So I’ll post this thing, which is a sort of Incredible Hulkweasel.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking there’s NO WAY that’s a lady weasel. I was going to say it doesn’t make much difference with weasels, but the truth of the matter is, I just really hate drawing women.
Seriously. They’re all squishy and wobbly and boring.
April 14, 2008 — 11:22 am
Comments: 59
Finally, a brand that has meaning
So Ace finally notices my pathetic link-whoring attempt fifteen months after I first touched lip to his backside, and where am I? Offline, that’s where. Stupid dead cablemodem.
Actually, I stopped using the moronblogger icon myself when I moved off of WordPress. I decided it was over the line. My understanding of ‘the line’ has always been hazy, but wherever it is I’m pretty sure it has my footprints all over it.
Billy had escaped into the wild by then, adopted by morons everywhere. God speed, little ‘tard!
Today, morons are busting out all over. Conservative Belle is putting together the official moronosphere blogroll (dang! I’ve got a lot of sidebar updating to do) and Sinistar of Double Plus Undead is doing regular moronosphere link roundups.
You know the neat thing about the moronosphere? It actually means something. If you like AoSHQ, you will probably like many of the spinoff blogs. They mainly share the same sense of bedrock conservative values wedded to crude arm-flailing pinwheeling utter drooling retardedness.
Y’all know ‘moron’ was a technical term with a specific meaning, right? Sez Wikipedia:
Moron was originally an English scientific term, coined in 1910 by psychologist Henry H. Goddard from the Greek word moros, which meant “dull” (as opposed to “sharp”), and used to describe a person with a mental age located between 8 and 12 on the Binet scale. It was once applied to people with an IQ of 51-70, being superior in one degree to “imbecile” (IQ of 26-50) and superior in two degrees to “idiot” (IQ of 0-25). The word moron, along with others including “retarded”, “idiotic”, “imbecilic”, “stupid”, and “feeble-minded”, was formerly considered a valid descriptor in the psychological community, though these words have all now passed into common slang use, exclusively in a detrimental context.
Mental age: eight to twelve. ‘Bout right.
March 25, 2008 — 11:35 am
Comments: 37
Platinum by Christmas!
Exclusive! The Weasel Times has obtained this beautiful short audio sample from the Katzenhuffins’ upcoming album:
[audio:bluedanube.mp3]
Or click here to download. You’ll want to save this one and enjoy it with headphones!
March 12, 2008 — 8:12 am
Comments: 44
Whistling up another one
March 7, 2008 — 8:04 am
Comments: 66
It’s a cat’s-asstrophe!
February 29, 2008 — 6:05 pm
Comments: 38
As popular as Ringo!
Okay, okay…one more, then I stop. One of my favorites. 1964. You get the feeling even the antiquated old coot who came up with this cover knew that “as popular as Ringo” ranked right up there in the compliment universe with “as comfy as a supperating boil on your bottom.”
This was one of life’s most important early lessons, though, wasn’t it? No, no…not the supperating boil thing. That the scene on the cover of a comic generally had NOTHING WHATEVER to do with whatever went on inside, which was always more boring but made lots more sense.
Okay, maybe not in this comic: a criminal from the future steals a time machine but can’t operate the controls, so he autopilots it to 1964 to pick up Jimmy, who can…and they both go back to ancient Greece, where Jimmy supports himself making Beatle wigs out of wool. And then…I dunno. It got weird.
Speaking of special needs, Wikipedia says that after George Reeves shot himself (“died of a gunshot wound” as they delicately put it), the producers of the Adventures of Superman approached Jack Larson (Jimmy Olsen) with a series of his own. It would concentrate on Jimmy’s rise in the newspaper biz and feature a stunt double and old footage of Reeves. Larson, horrified, said no.
And thus an instant classic died a-borning.
January 16, 2008 — 6:42 pm
Comments: 19
Monday, right?
My password expired over Thanksgiving holiday. “Please type new password to log in…” it says. So I do that and it answers, “you do not have permission to change your password.”
Huh. Call the Helpdesk.
“Okay, security question: what was your first car?”
“Karmen Ghia.”
“Uhhhh…spell that?”
“K-A-R-M-A — no, E — N G-H-I-A”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Volkswagen?”
“No.”
“Errrr…VW?”
“No. And now you’ve given three wrong answers and you’re locked out.” He huffs in an now look what you’ve done I hope you’re happy kind of way. Then follows a lecture about how it’s extremely important to give accurate answers to those security questions. Well, my answers were accurate, dammit. It’s a stupidly ambiguous security question.
“So what do you do if someone dies.”
-pause-
“Ma’am, I don’t even understand why you’d ask me that question.”
“Well, let’s say somebody gets hit by a bus and you really need to get access to his data. He’s not around to tell you the name of his first car. What do you do then?”
“The manager.” (I swear that’s all he said. The manager, just like that).
“The manager…?”
Then the line went dead. I don’t think he hung up on me. Surely not. Surely. Not. But by then, I’d seen my boss go by. He’s The Manager that all the kids are talking about, so I dumped it in his lap, went back to my desk, and drew these small but hauntingly lovely cartoons on post-it notes until the Help Desk called me back.
I feel like I’ve gone to the Crazy Place.
November 26, 2007 — 5:16 pm
Comments: 49
Seven little nekkid dudes and an apology
Blame Mrs Peel for the ‘things I do when I’m in a long, boring meeting’ meme. Blame me for recent bloggy lameness.
I haven’t quite figured out how to blog from my new digs yet. Being unable to go to sweasel.com isn’t a problem; I can just as easily write offline in Notepad and post it later. The problem is that, without the internet, I don’t know anything worth posting about.
Yeah. Whaddya know. I sit there at my desk all day like a big stupid pumpkin, my mind a perfect and absolute blank.
“Heh,” I think, “I’m thinking nothing. They think I’m thinking, but I’m not.” Who knew I was so Zen?
But fear not, my imaginary friends who lived in the computer. We’ve come too far and debased ourselves too low to give up on it now. I’ll think of something. You can trust a weasel.
Hey, I know! Cute cat pictures! That’s bound to be a crowd pleaser!
November 7, 2007 — 5:35 pm
Comments: 28