Author - Chris Weagel

The act of creation gives you a sense of certainty. Certainty brings a sense of relief. Relief means this whole mess is somebody else's problem. Thank God you're free of this idea. It can wander around making too much eye contact on its own. Let the world feel this burden. Let them feel it in True 3D, without any hesitation or safety railings. Let them walk around with wet shoes for a few weeks. Let children point at them.
You can do all the push ups you want, but until you vomit up the sickness onto a rubber canvas in front of everybody, you'll never be free.

We've based the last 13 years of Western Civilization on Fear of Stickers. Fear of the Stickermen. And Fear of the Uncles who become them. And for what? The church pews are empty. Most children still have yellow eyes. We've lost a lot of sleep and grown apart from one another because of a distrust of mild adhesive?

The Amy Goodman Pez dispenser Kickstarter has been cancelled.

We’re starting a stationary store.
NO WE’RE NOT!! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO LIE??!!

In this community – a word I have reservations about – but, uh, in this community we practice TV Tray Diplomacy.
That's where we reach over and touch the food on the other fellow's plate. Bare hands and all.
Alright now – Carl, I told you to wait outside.

A fun gift idea who's time has come: 450 Pillow Cases and No Excuses.
Also: A Kitty Ramp.

The Placemat Society is disavowing the work of their greatest living member, tonight, saying his newest pieces evince contempt and hostility towards the eater. Baring the title, “How You Are Viewed by the Lessers,” Spango's latest work, depicts a photorealistic pile of miscellaneous human and animal hairs, mashed and knotted together, thick with grease, floor-pee, and angst.
The artists note includes a diagram which helps servicemen orient the main entreė towards a particularly brutal knot of leg and ankle hairs.

What keeps the workers at Google from killing themselves? Bouncing around all day on giant colored balls. All that mandatory enthusiasm. The forced smiling. The Star Trek uniforms. They probably have a big guy come around every hour and plunge a needle of thorazine in their necks.
Must be the same thing that keeps Pixar employees from strangling their children.
Walt Disney did it right, though. He’d put you in a windowless metal box for four days. Old Walt’d personally rap on it with his hook, “You seeing the colors yet, boy?? ECHH!”
Spend the next 35 years, locked in silence, drawing rabbits shitting in rivers.