“Someone’s been in the kitchen with death.”
“Looks like the Doozers are back in Fraggle Rock. That can’t be good.”
“Basically, your liver’s late for dinner”
“Not even Cameron could save Ferris”
“Picture yourself as the lame caribou of the herd, but you have a jet pack and a light saber.”
“How’s my favorite terminal success story today?”
“I don’t know tumors, but I know what I like…”
“If I were to place you in the witness protection program, I’d call you ‘Lumpy McHotchkins.”
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… But these are all true and fer reals…
1. Newspapers will be triumphantly resurrected as the Nation’s cold climate populace realizes junk mail is just too glossy to start fires.
2.The Yankees will win the World Series, sending Boston fans back to their bitter, worthless lives, thus returning the Earth to its proper axis.
3. Bubbles. Millions of them. We won’t know where or when.
4. Dr. Phil will physically merge with Oprah Winfrey, to become a giant bi-polar hermaphrodite with Southern charm and propensity to spend cash on everything seen on, or near a celebrity. “Dr. Phoprah” becomes the Democratic nominee in 2012.
5. Somebody will piss me off. I won’t know where or when.
6. Spring will follow Winter, with Summer following Spring, giving way to Fall and then onto a total erasure of the World’s population, due to a cancer cure gone wrong and Will Smith’s incompetence.
7. Sean Crepso will reveal his true identity as the guy on “Psyche”.
8. I will lose 40 pounds – You here me, guy-I-never-met-before-but-felt-he-needed-to-point-out-my-weight-problem-on-New-Year’s Eve? Yeah, you. I’m lookin’ at you. Jerk.
9. Freejack.
10. I will be spotted at Gritty McDuff’s in Portland, Maine.
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(click on disturbing baby for story)…Then his hand, now free of it’s horrible puppeteer, proceeds to kill everyone that wronged it in the past. Good times. Good times.
The disembodied hand: Now available for your deadly revenge AND child raising needs!
(Available at all Macy’s and Bamburger’s)
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Dear Sir,
While I appreciate you and your team’s continued perseverance to keep my biological faculties in order, and functioning enough for this Fake Rockstar to be accepted into society, I have some issues with a few of the operational choices you’ve made as of late. I’ve made a list to post on the Medulla Oblongata break room fridge:
1. There’s a definite problem with the motivation drive. I’ve plenty to do, but seem to be making a seat on the couch in underwear and covered in tears a priority. Please run a full diagnostic ASAP… That backstabbing cleaning guy may have switched everything to “chronic depression” again.
2. I’m not sure who runs the hunger reflex, but could you stop in and see if they’re sitting on the “execute” button? I eat and never seem to be full. This is causing some undue stress on the boys in blubber production, especially in the ass and gut quadrants. Please troubleshoot this situation when you have a nanosecond.
3. A similar problem seems to be happening the alcohol craving department, particularly around 3pm. Don’t get me wrong, I love the drink… I just need a break from falling asleep in a drunken haze, giggling at Colbert every night.
4. The sex drive still seems to be stuck on “Dirty old man ogling from his front porch”. While I do enjoy porn, I worry that I’m quite close to seeing all the Internet has to offer. This seems to worsen with age. Please investigate the possible correlation and what steps are needed to scale things back a tad.
Everything else seems to be humming along… No new obtrusive hair on the body and little hair loss on the head… And the Joke Transmitter 2600 seems to be churning out the funny nicely.
Thanks for your consideration of these concerns. I appreciate your continued cooperation.
Cheers,
Corey “Fake Rockstar” Pandolph
Cartoonist/Writer/Human Species
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