Archive - April 2013

There used to be a video game called County Clerk. You spent time processing deeds and printing up birth certificates. It had an entire level whose goal was to stand motionless at a big picture window and watch life pass you by. Your office overlooked a dying river where locals dumped old folding chairs. The game was eventually banned by religious groups. Which means some judge granted them the right to enter your home and confiscate the game cartridge, right out of your hands. Some of them left you with a packet of salt free crackers.
That explains why there's no evidence of this game today.
The game company later released a sequel of sorts called Deputy Ambassador but it too was destroyed by Christianity.

It's normal to make a clenched fist while praying. It doesn't work any other way.

Yes you can legally adopt a metal shopping cart and raise it as your child. It was made legal as part of the helmet repeal law a few years back. Rather than shower love, devotion, time and resources on a needy human child, you can instead give that affection to an inanimate, cold, steel wire buggy, originally designed to hold a minimum of three 4-gallon tubs of cat litter. This is what the people wanted. And it's happening. They're taking their country back.

I rub the skin between my toes and I feel brand new.

It's reassuring to know that even from a place of utter powerlessness, one still has the ability to use permanent markers to cover one's arms, neck and face with Slovenian curse words.
And buy motorcycles with credit cards.

The primary problem with a cartoon ghost city is one of revolving doors. You cannot build a proper skyscraper without them but no ghost can operate them. Same trouble with those delightful little diner cases of pies.
No you’ll have to completely rework this. Try a werewolf town or a confederacy of alligator men.

We've had a string of those tornadoes that only affect children's tricycles. Sweep through mighty powerful. Winds up to 80. They only suck up tricycles. Throw them clear across the county. Leave everything else untouched. From the leaves on a tree to the hairs on your head. Like nothing ever happened. Perfect. Cept now your tricycles are flung and mangled every which way. Awful. It'll pull one right out from underneath you. Nature doesn't care about your pleasure ride. This is business.
And from the looks of it, we're easing up on that 17 year cycle of flooding that only affects guys named Bill. Whole town does shifts walking around them, holding up garbage bags.
Can't knock it. That's how I met Alice.

The turning point in American decline came with 6 out of 10 adult males self-identifying as “Heavy Diorama Enthusiasts.”