I could wish this way forever

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Scare Punch

I guess the lesson here is, when scaring someone, stay out of reach.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Palmtop Bubbas!


How to Make Green Eggs & Ham


More recipes at Seussville.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Rise of the Silver Surfer -- Now with More Silver!

Looks like Apple's got a better one online here.

See kids, obeying the law does pay off in the long run.

(And the Thing's still a crybaby.)

The Rise of the Silver Surfer

Just in time for Christmas (okay, one day late) we get a sneak peek at the new Fantasic Four trailer without having to sit through the godawful 'Night at the Museum' -- muchas gracias, YouTube.

As near as I can tell from this poorly lit bootleg video (apart from that it's violating about nine thousand federal copyright laws) is that (a) The Silver Surfer is faster than the Human Torch, and (b) The Human Torch is stupider than the Silver Surfer.

Oh, and the Thing is a weepy little Mary.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Leroy | The Client Meeting

Yeah, this is pretty much how I act in meetings.

(You can see the real Leeeeroy in action here. Welcome to World of Warcraft.)


This cartoon is almost 100 years old. Wow.

Transformers Trailer

You know, this looks a lot cooler than I expected.

It looks like a lot of fun.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Sadie is not a Baby

(Seriously man, don't mess with Sadie. She will put you down.)

Moths are @#&*$s

A species of moth drinks tears from the eyes of sleeping birds using a fearsome proboscis shaped like a harpoon, scientists have revealed. The new discovery – spied in Madagascar – is the first time moths have been seen feeding on the tears of birds.

Man, moths are total @#&*$s, sneaking up on sleeping birds and drinking their tears? That's cold, dude. Ice cold.

Too Late for Christmas

The Nativity of the Awesome

(You know, I used to get into trouble for putting Batman into the nativity scene.)

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Gypsy Kitty

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Evan almighty

Q: What do these four people have in common?



Joan of ark


A: They've all seen God.

Balls of fury

this looks pretty funny cause, y'know ping pong+japan=funny so, there.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Gotham Girls

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

A Very Star Wars Christmas

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Instant Karma

Monday, December 11, 2006

Christmas Candela!

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Scary Poppins


Santa . . . or Satan???

He knows if you've been sleeping.

He knows if you're awake.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Trapped in Pixel Land

Poor little guy almost makes it out.

Ironically enough, his previous adventure was making his way through a marathon session of Half-Life 2.

He ended up with 137 confirmed frags.

Monday, December 04, 2006

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01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01100100 01100100 01111001 00101110 00100000 01001000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01101110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00101110

Sunday, December 03, 2006


Cute... He dies on the spike s huh?


That's dumb... Why don't e just live? Y'know wit a broken leg n' such


Friday, December 01, 2006

"Shoveling Snow With Buddha" by Billy Collins

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.

Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.

After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.

Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.