Thursday, Evening There seems to be some kind of odd glitch with the pictures. Just highlight them [or anything] and they will appear.
Firstly, I must apologize for the long delay. I wasn't really that busy and had many chances to update, but I just
didn't feel like it. Finally, the day has come, and I will now be able to move on with my life, never to be stuck in
this limbo state again.. unless I promise to make another sequel.
 So, we did it the gun's way. We all decided to go to the game! It was the bottom of the quarter
of the set of the period, and the Goose-Doers were up by Pi. Suddenly, without warning, the man sitting in front of us
sprouted vast quantites of hair all over his body. It was the Jewish Werewolf! The Torah warned that the wrath of
Yahweh would be carried out by such a creature. Luckily the concession guy was selling silver bullets of Jesus.
 Before we got a chance to shoot the Jewolf, another character somersaulted onto the scene. This
friggin' idiot cat, bro.. I'll tell you! He'd come to save the cat that was still on my leg, and was one serious
customer. He lunged at me with his knife, and I was surely doomed. However, the Foul Knave dove in front of me,
sacrificing himself for the good of ham-kind. Now that he was dead, the cat lunged at me with his other knife and
stabbed me in the appendix.
 Both cats disintegrated because of the Sumerian Appendix Stabbing Curse that was set upon me.
Still, I had to find an appendix, and I had to find one quick. Luckily, I found a donor. She was made of ceramic, and
wouldn't need her appendix until the Porcelain Epidemic of 2007. I signed that lease, baby! Unfortunately, the clumsy
fool I am, I stumbled and knocked her off the desk. "You dim-sum and you lose gum," my Kendo teacher once iterated.
Then a gypsy tried to sell me leaves off a tree, and when I denied her, she made it look like I was trying to injure
her.
 Luckily, a goat ran up and dislocated her leg before I did. But this goat was one tough cookie.
He explained, "This cute little hobbit guy with big curly hair asked me if I majored in Linguistics, so I told him that
I majored in Biochemistry. But then I felt bad that I lied, so I told him I was a goat." Then, he revealed that he was
Siddhartha Goatama, and achieved nirvana all up in my grill. I cursed him and swore that the next time Buddha screwed
up my Gypsy leaf purchase, I was converting to narcissism.
 But for now, I just decided to convert to Foul Nudism. I went to a Foul Nude Beach, and you'll never guess what I saw! By the beard of the bearded quelque chose, I saw the most revealing chicken ever! It had a nice, baked complexion though. It realized I was giving it the eye, and said to me, "Would you like a thigh, big boy?" I said, obviously, "No, I would like a poncho made of chain mail, because if I don't copy the letter and send it to at least ten people, I will be cursed!" Then, the chicken turned into a red olive.
To Be Continued.. Possibly. Comment! (51) | Recommend! | Rate! Monday, Afternoon Sorry for the delay, I assure you this new entry will be posted by the end of this week.
The reason I have called you here is quite simple. Please comment with URLs to images you think would be good for the second part of my story. They must be silly and random, and should ideally feature a single entity or character, much like the pictures on the last Picture Book entry.
I will be picking the top 5 pictures and writing based on them [as soon as I receive enough quality pictures].
Thank you from the bottom of my appendix. Comment! (42) | Recommend! | Rate! Sunday, Afternoon What is the deal with ketchup? I don't really see what's so special about it. Everybody seems to love this tomato concoction and slather it on everything they stuff into their orifices. I'm sick of being prejudiced against because I consume french fries at a fast-food joint without this sickeningly-sweet substance. Don't even get me started on the different-colored ketchups. What the fuck could they have possibly been thinking? "Maybe some people just don't like the color red. This will boost sales tenfold!" Ketchup is just one of those things that you know has to be the center of some grand conspiracy just because it's so popular [see Chicken Noodle Soup].
Today, however, I draw askew from my conspiracy-busting exposés and will instead focus on a likely occurrence of events should tomatoes suddenly become stricken with a concealed, yet fatal, plague.
Ketchup Petey
It all starts one misty morning with a small boy named Petey. Petey awakes and sluggishly makes his way to the kitchen, where his mother has been preparing a tasty delight for him. Little Petey inhales the aroma of a cheese omelet, breakfast sausages, and home-fries [of the diced-up cube-shaped variety]. He sits at the table and immediately drenches the previously-scrumptious delights with about a liter of ketchup. After consuming this meal of ketchup-with-a-side-order-of-breakfast, he continues on with his day.
Now Petey is at school, and lunchtime has just begun. From the cafeteria, he selects the hotdog/french fries/milk combo and proceeds to the condiment buffet. He bathes the hotdog and fries in a pool of ketchup, and in a fit of spontaneity squirts some ketchup into his cool beverage as well. He joins his fellow classmates in the almost-ritualistic consumption of nearly a metric ton of ketchup.
Lil' Petey is finally at his residence, awaiting a hot, home-cooked supper. As it hits the table, he gazes in awe at the juicy steak, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn. Suddenly, as Petey is filling his plate with these delicacies, his father comes running with a bucket of ketchup and tosses it all over all the food and everybody in the family. As they all bathe in the glorious wonder of all that is ketchup, suddenly Lil' Petey notices a strange tingling feeling on his skin. He looks down at his arm and notices a strange smoke with a pungent odor permeating from his pores. Before he knows it, the ketchup has dried and withered off of his skin, which has turned a pale yellow color and begun to stretch and sag off of his body with excruciating pain. The ketchup had been laced with an invisible, odorless substance, unbeknownst to billions. All of his family and the human world has been extinguished in one swift blow to the ketchup-consuming constituency.
Now, I'm not implying that I would personally commit such a grievous act; I'm simply explaining the sheer possibility of such an occurrence. Hopefully you all understand the danger in consuming a food that the rest of the world also eats. This ideology is based off of the same principle as how Prince William and Prince Charles both fly in separate planes just in case one crashes. Therefore, masses of the world, I call upon you to cease from consuming ketchup of all varieties. Lest we shall be known as the Contomatons!
On a side note [to those of you who are eagerly awaiting it], the second installment of my picture book will be up soon. And by soon, I mean like tomorrow probably because this ketchup entry sucks and is totally not funny. Comment! (54) | Recommend! (1) | Rate! Thursday, Evening I know you're not going to believe this, but I'll tell the story under the assumption that you're mentally retarded and will believe anything.
 So yesterday, I was mindng my own business walking down Edinburgh Boulevard, when suddenly, this guy came up to me. He asked me, "Mister, would you happen to be carrying the Scarab of the Seven Wisdoms?" I immediately retorted with, "Who sent you?!" I could hear the snake coming out of his nose hiss. His eyes lit up like two or three exploding peanut carcasses. Suddenly, he vanished into the sands of time, and his essence crept through the sidewalk like a lemur searching for his car keys.
 Just then, a real lemur came up to me. She was short, stout, had pink skin, pointed ears, a big snout, and a squiggly tail. Before I could say a word, she swept me off my feet with this catchy phrase: "You're standing on my java." I peered down below me, and to my surprise, a crate of java was submerged into the dewy sidewalk like the ship of that pirate you can tell had a few too many. Then it happened. Rays of light as brilliant as Einstein's fingernail protruded from the cracks. It was judgement day.
 So, I walked away from the crate and forgot about the whole incident. Yet, I felt something funny in the way I was walking. I took a glance down at my legs to realize some hobo cat was getting a free ride clinging onto my shoe. I politely stated, "Excuse me, but the fee to ride is $2 and a pack of licorice." The cat stared daggers at me. I knew that look oh so well, but couldn't determine where from. I thought I recognized his face, but the cat from my past had a smaller nose and didn't wear glasses.
 At that point, a weeping man stumbled in my path. He was tossing three small balls about the air in a hypnotizing pattern. I suppose something brought up depressing memories at the sight of juggling. However, I was concerned about the black spades above his eyes. If one were to slip, it'd sever his cornea without a hitch. And by the nose of Gafaldi, if his skin weren't pale like the elbow of a Portuguese mongoose! Suddenly, a Portuguese sandwich was expunged from his nostrils at the speed of smell.
 Everyone stood in awe of this rare occurence, while I proceeded to consume the tasty treat. Then, the foulest knave arose from a crest of the Sea of Monte Appendix. He was sitting there staring at my delicious sandwich, so I knocked him one right in the teeth. He replied, "Dost thou desire a voyage to the very depths of the River Styx?" As he stood there, showing off his little guns, I lifted my .226 caliber AR-15 semi-automatic gas-powered carbine rifle and said, "Mister, we can do this my way, or the gun's way."
To Be Continued Comment! (66) | Recommend! | Rate! Tuesday, Morning I've always wondered why people in general like donuts. I don't think I've ever met a single individual who would pass on a donut. There are so many different types of donuts, so I assume that the sheer customability inherent in the selection of donuts would attract anybody.
Still, there are those that cannot seem to function correctly without donuts. Police officers for years have been equivocated with the consumption of donuts. I did some research and gathered some opinions on the matter, and came up with a few simple explanations: - Donuts contain carbohydrates and sugar. This energy may be needed in tight situations, so it's always good to be pumped up on sugar.
- Donuts cost very little. Their inexpensiveness allows them to be tossed aside if an important situation arises, like a criminal burgling the apple stand across the street. You can see cops throw down their donuts in many movies. Just look for it.
- Donut shops are oftentimes open all night. This, coupled with the fact that there are always donut shops in the middle of the city or town, makes the donut shop a prime location for a police rendézvous.
- Donuts are obviously delicious.
In fact, they are so delicious that it prompted Renee Perry to write a poem about their apparent qualities from the viewpoint of Vash the Stampede, a lover of donuts:
"Ode to a Donut"
O donut, donut, round and glazed,
your sweet brown form in sugar hazed,
your yummy taste leaves my mind amazed.
Hallucinating dozens, I think I'm dazed
by donuts. I heard shouting and gazed
upon boxes full of them. I was fazed.
Believe me, I have left bakeries razed.
I would let ladies leave me maced and tazed
for love of the donut, powdered or glazed.
As you can see, some people are insane.
 Comment! (42) | Recommend! | Rate! Thursday, Morning I have recently uncovered a most frightening scandal.
When you get sick with a sore throat, headache, stuffed nose, or whatever, what is a common piece of advice you normally hear? "Go eat some chicken soup."
Now, everybody gets sick in their lives. Thus, everyone eventually will eat chicken soup. In fact, more people have eaten chicken soup in history than any other type of soup, mainly because of its ambiguous ability to cure any sickness. Doesn't this sound a bit odd?
In 1869, Ulysses S. Grant was sworn into office as President of the United States. But at the same time, the Campbell Soup Company was formed. It is widely known that Grant was a lover of soups, and saw potential in the soup industry. Still today, the issue over the ties between the American Government and the Campbell Soup Company sparks many heated debates.
The 1932 German election saw the Nazi party gaining 37.3% of the vote, a vast plurality over the other parties. The United States, at that time being a world power both because of its economy in trade and its show of militarism in World War I, felt threatened by yet another Socialist revolution in the form of Nazism. Seeing the effectiveness of surprise bombing attacks, the United States Air Force began to receive abundant funds for research. Coincidentally, the Campbell Soup Company released its successful Chicken Noodle Soup for the first time in 1932. And with Adolf Hitler, a known radical, being promoted to Chancellor of Germany in 1933, the pressure was on.
Vast marketing ploys ensued, one such ploy being a rumor that Chicken Noodle Soup helps you feel better when you're sick. This rumor, making the soup a must-have item, ensured that Chicken Noodle Soup would never lose popularity. That's right, government uses the funds from the popular sales of Chicken Noodle Soup to research their stealth and bomber technology, specifically in Area-51. It's a fool-proof plan.
In the 1960s, with the Cold War on the rise, the government sought to gain more popularity for the Campbell Soup Company in order to boost much-needed funds for research on stealth aerial surveillance. Thus, they contacted artist Andy Warhol.
Through the 1960s, Andy Warhol became more and more famous for his modern art depicting Campbell's Soup cans. He has painted many, many different pieces, varying the type of soup and the style of the art itself. A simple search on Google Images returns dozens upon dozens of pictures of his. When I saw just how many paintings this guy has made, my Bullshit Detector went off. Tomato Soup, Black Bean Soup, Chicken Noodle Soup, Onion Soup, Vegetable Soup, Beef Soup, Green Pea Soup, Pepper Pot Soup, Cream of Mushroom Soup, Consommé Soup; it's all there. the guy paints fucking soup cans for a living. Nobody can live off of that, unless of course, they were secretly paid to do it by the government.
Now, you might be thinking to yourself: "What the hell is this guy smoking? He has no evidence of a relation between the Air Force/Area-51 and the Campbell Soup Company." As it turns out, you are very wrong. I do indeed have evidence, thanks to Russia's 1-meter IKONOS imagery satellite. Crisp, clear pictures of Area-51 have been gathered, and I think you will be stunned by what you see.
Look closely at the sand patterns in the light, top-right region of this satellite picture of Area-51:
If you can't see it, here is the same image enhanced with a stereophonic depth field:
i rest my case. Comment! (55) | Recommend! (3) | Rate! | 
