A new project

So me and my buddy Tanner might be starting something cool this week, and if we can make anything worthwhile then we might just continue and make some more stuff. I know it's vague, but none of my ideas are definite yet, and they're not going to be until we can meet and brainstorm and see what we can do. But hey, at least I'm updating.

SGT SHREDBALLS

I was feeling artistic after drawing a Cosby for Nedroid's 'Great Cosby Experiment', so I also drew Sargeant Shredballs:

what is this I don't even

Page 2

http://triquetracats.com/?date=2003-11-20

This is actually an okay page. Michael's little pose thing is kind funny. The subtitle below the page explains that this one has been re-done with Jessica's "improved art skills". The problem is that, despite the improvement, even the art here is terrible. The coloring is boring and doesn't do much as far as shading, the lines for the wrinkles in the clothes are all wrong, and his hair is blue.

Really? Blue? I know it's a staple of that animu style to give every character a ridiculous hair color, but it doesn't make it any less stupid. It also just seems a bit lazy here with all the blue.

I guess I should be glad Jessica has yet to re-do every page. The atrocity of Triquetra Cats is the only reason it stands out from every other transgender webcomic (yes, among webcomics transgender is a genre), and if every page is like this the art will just be depessingly mediocre, and the writing isn't bad enough to drag it down to the depths it's at now.

Keep shining, you crazy diamond.

I Ain't Sayin' I'm a Gold Digger

So I'm about to put a link to the Cracked Forums. Specifically, I'm about to link to a thread about the worst webcomics. I should warn that most of them are there for a reason- even the highest-quality webcomics in this thread are disturbing at best. The worst are a blight on the internet (which is quite a feat, because the internet is the worst place).

http://www.cracked.com/forums/topic/36326/the-worst-webcomic/0

Anyways, in that thread, on page 45 (I think) someone linked to a comic called Triquetra Cats. Triquetra Cats is a shitty webcomic that sucks. It's mostly just unabashedly terrible, but occasionaly there's a bit of unintentional humor, which is why I'm writing this. While reading through it can be fairly entertaining (the atrocious writing combined with the surreal illustrations is good for a chuckle), the majority of strips are unfunny, and can ruin the good ones, so I'm going to go through and find the gold so that everyone else doesn't have to cover themselves in shit to find it.


Strip 1
http://www.triquetracats.com/?date=2003-11-19

If you want to know what is so bad about this comic, you need only read this page. It combines a number of stupid things that occur throughout, such as mouths that bear a striking resemblance to a penis, as well as panels prominently displaying the word 'SHOCK' in the background, because you can't tell that the character's ae supposed to appear shocked from the art.

It also pretty clearly states that this is a transgender comic, which is a nice warning to everyone who doesn't like terrible webcomics. Actually, it pretty much beats you over the head with this, because 'Jessica Raven' has no idea what subtlety is.

"Hey Jorgenson, checking her out man?", A boy asks the main character, Michael, who is looking at Trena Warsimmons, the most popular girl in school .While the illustration of Trena might give one hope that Jessica Raven can draw a well-proportioned human-like creature when she puts in the effort, it's more likely she just gets lucky sometimes.

"Oh wait, that's right! You'd rather BE her!", the boy continues, before pointing at Michael and laughing. 'The problem is he's right.' Michael thinks, looking down towards the end of the hallway (one would assume that he is forlorn, but his expression is indistinguishable because Jessica wisely avoids having to draw his uper-face by putting a retardedly huge pair of hypno-glasses on him that magically cover his eyes from every single angle).

This is a painfully obvious attempt to garner sympathy for Michael. Rather than give him any semblance of depth, she makes him exist only for a single purpose that he is ridiculed because of. Of course it all seems unnatural because kids don't get made fun of for having gender dysphoria. If they're flamboyant then maybe, but Michael would seem to be an introvert. How would anyone even know he was gender dysphoric? Maybe he had a friend once that he told, who then turned and told the whole school? Nah, that might make Michael remotely interesting.

untitled story

So anyways this is the latest thing I've been working on. I've got a bit more than this, but not a whole lot, and I need to go over it because I wrote it all in a big chunk and that usually doesn't give good results.

A room is illuminated in a fiery glow from a single candle on a rickety table. A boot casts a flickering shadow on the wall and from the boot springs a thick, tough leg with a bulging calf. The leg is stuck onto a scarred torso in a torn long coat, and on top or in front of the torso are two crossed arms. There is a thick patch of fur with a face attached stuck carelessly to the body, its neck barely visible.

 The man adjusts himself. The candle’s flame spasms for a moment as the table rocks, as if about to give in to the weight of the man’s thick boots. Sensing this, the man picks his boots up and puts them on the floor and sitting up straight in his chair. He takes a quick look about the room but he can’t see anything.

 He is visibly startled when a figure appears in the doorway. She moves forward into the dim light and the man lets go of his pistol. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a dry, breathy gasp. He reaches out and feels around the dark end of the table and pulls from the shade a flagon. It is nearly empty, but the few drops of water are still refreshing, and after his throat is cleared he successfully attempts to speak again.
 “You’re late.” He says annoyance obviously present in his voice. He looks sternly at her and moves to stand but winces in pain when he shifts his weight to his feet.
 “Don’t try and stand,” she says, moving towards him. She sets a tome on the teetering table and stumbles slightly over her cassock, but she keeps her balance. The thick brown cloth falls much further than her feet and is plainly a men’s size. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. There were many casualties.” She keeps her eyes on the floor as if ashamed.
 “It doesn’t matter. Just see what you can do.” The man says, pulling up the left leg of his pants to reveal a deep wound, surrounded by crusty dried blood. Along the center a thick black tar-like substance swirled and bubbled. It obscured a malevolent but faint violet glow, deep beneath the surface. The woman gasped at the sight.
 “I-…” she began and trailed off. Her eyes were wide with fear, as if the wound were demon incarnate. “This is beyond my knowledge, I-“
 “Do something!” The man shouts. The flame flickers in response. “Just do anything! The pain is-… it’s unbearable!” his face turns white and his eyes seem to lose themselves in a separate plane and he falls into the chair again. The woman grabs the tome and quickly flips through it. She passes up the page she’s looking for and furiously flips backwards. She finds the correct page and reads along with the line. 
 She reaches out toward his wound and, her arm trembling with the magical energies coursing through it, slowly draws the gooey substance from the wound. The ichor grows bright then begins to dim as it grows further from the wound. It desperately clings to the hairs of his leg, and a faint scream can be heard from deep under its surface as it begins to harden. In a few moments more it has completely solidified, and it falls to the ground, harmless.
 The man gasps and wheezes, his weak breaths scratching his dry throat. The woman is also breathing heavily, but is entranced by the deep purple globe in the dirt. She breaks her concentration as the man gags, and hands him a boar skin canteen from the table. He sucks the canteen dry in seconds and drops it to his side.
 “Th-… thank you…” He manages to say as he passes out through the pain in his calf. The woman leaves to summon a surgeon.

DADDY WAS A BANK ROBBER

So I've finally gotten over my short stint of writer's block, and I've got around two pages of a story. Once I've gotten a bit further and I'm satisfied I'll post it up here. Not that that will accomplish anything that having it sitting on my desktop wouldn't, but still.

An open letter to the USA Network

Dear USA Network:

You have some of my favorite shows on television, and even though I don't love every single one of them, I can tolerate all of them, because you seem to keep a pretty a high standard of quality for your original programming.

So why, when you get your hands on a show like Burn Notice, do you try so hard to ensure I never get to see it? You've got House for fuck's sake, so why is NCIS always on? Law and Order: Criminal Intent is easily the best Law and Order, but the only time you play it is at 3 in the morning on weekdays and in all-day marathons on some holidays, when it can only be enjoyed by losers who don't have friends or family to spend time with.

I've been a fan of Monk for around 2 years now and I still haven't seen every episode, yet I'm sure I would be able to catch the entire catalogue of NCIS in a month if I felt like it. A new season of In Plain Sight is coming up, so I can understand it always being on, but why the hell don't you do the same for Burn Notice or Psyche?

And the problem isn't just NCIS. Sure, it's a lame CSI rip-off, but it's not terrible. It's that, right now, I guess because you just acquired the rights, it's one of the only things that's ever on. You've got so much great stuff you could be using every day instead of playing the new thing until it's stale and then shoving it in the closet for half a decade.

I already rarely watch USA because I'm tired of watching the same episode of House over and over (that one where House is all grumpy) and with a good schedule I bet you could bring in some much better ratings then you're doing now.

Or, alternatively, send Olivia Wilde to my house naked and I will never watch another network again.

Man if this car just burst into flames right now

So earlier this week I thought I was terrible at being a Spy in Team Fortress 2 but it turns out I'm not too bad so what I'm saying is HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

I think I might try to write something for Blizzard because they have a contest or something. I'm jotting down some ideas as I write this so we'll what happens

flight of the conchords fan art

I've been doodling the various parts for a few weeks and I figured I'd try and combine them, but certain parts of it look sort of empty, so I'm going to cop-out and say it's an on-going project.

I am a hollow shell of a man

I've got nothing. I started writing some stupid story about David Bowie in space, but it's terrible I think. I'm trying this crazy 'write one paragraph a day' approach, which I think is a really good idea because writing for 8 hours straight and then doing nothing for half a month just makes me feel lousy.

I was thinking of writing a story about this guy who goes to the same church I used to go to named Jim Fogg. I know almost nothing about him, but he's so depressing. He smiles and laughs and everything but it always just makes you feel bad somehow, and then that makes you feel bad because maybe he can tell and you don't want him to think he's depressing you.

I do know that most of his family is dead, and I was thinking about expanding on that. Maybe there was some kind of family business that got them all killed, and Jim was active in it until they all died and then he swore to never have any hand in it again, and then maybe for some reason he has to set everything right or maybe he tries to fix some problem he started back in the biz. I'm not sure but it seems like it has some potential, maybe once I run out of ideas for this stupid David Bowie thing.

BLOGS HAVE BECOME OUTDATED SINCE MY LAST POST

Okay, so I haven't posted anything here in like a month at least, so sorry guy who read my blog once. Now I know why you aren't reading it now. So Watchmen came out and it was awesome, I started regularly going to the gym again, and not much else happened. I might be employed again, soon, because a CVS is opening near me and my aunt is friends with the person who is going to be managing it, so she's going to recommend me and then maybe I can get some cash flow going in between all my lumberjacking.

I feel like I've got to write something but I don't know what. So I'm going to sleep on it and see if I get any good ideas.

MICHAEL PHELPS IS A DRUGGIE

Michael Phelps was smoking reefer, and somebody took a photo of it. Now he's been suspended from USA Swimming's governing body (it's probably some type of scaly fish-human hybrid body), and all I have to say is

WHAT?

He should be put to death! Marijuana is the most addictive drug there is! Millions of people are killed every year overdosing on pot, and now here's an Olympic gold medal winner, practically telling our kids to go out and smoke some bud.

I say he should be hanged for causing the deaths of the kids who will inevitably die because they thought weed was cool because they saw Phelps do it. Banning him for 3 months for using this dangerous substance is far too lenient. Also I think he's gay, and we don't want our children turning homo on us.

$819 billion dollar stimulus package

The house of representatives has approved an 819 billion dollar stimulus package thanks to our new commie president. What does this mean?

It means when your check from the government comes in, you should sent it to me and I'll have a big huge bonfire with them, representative of the fires of democracy purging our great nation of socialist butt-buddy Stalinists.

I'll probably arrange them like a flaming sword that has been lodged in the Earth, and can only be removed by the true king: JESUS.

I think it looks pretty spiffy.

Guy

Sorry, guy that read my blog one time, I'm not going to be doing that stupid Fallout 3 thing I was going to do. I'll hold off on doing any real work on this blog for awhile, because it just makes me not post.

Hey, Chinese New Year, for one thing. That's always good. I am a monkey according to their zodiac, which put me off at first, but then I found out that everyone was an animal. That means that the Chinese think I among the smartest people, which is, like, totally sweet.

I'm off to do some lumberjacking for a bit.

BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY

BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY 

BIRTHDAY

BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY 

BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY 

I ordered a Revolver Lighter from eBay as a gift from myself, and I'm about to go out and get some Birthday pizza.

SOCIALISM/APOCALYPSE HERE WE COME

I'm so disappointed in you America. You elected an atheist commie liberal, and soon we'll be waiting in line with our food tickets and wishing we had some shoes. Or a Taco Bell. Or some money and a Taco Bell so that we could legitimately buy delicious mexican cuisine at bargain-bin prices (does food actually have a bargain-bin, or just those big carts for the stale bread?).

Instead of focusing on the dysmal future ahead of us, I'm going to focus on the dysmal future of our 1950's selves and begin telling you guys all about my adventures in the non-fiction action-RPG Fallout 3, which is based on a true story.

First, we'll explore the childhoods of both myself, Grizzly Slate, as well as that insidious evil-doer Xavier Sidious, and the shocking similarities between them. Which you can look forward to next update.

BARACK OBAMA IS A MUSLIM TERRORIST ILLEGAL

It has been quite awhile since I updated, so I'm uh... well, not sorry. But...

Well you should be relieved. I kind of burned myself out with the Logging Adventure (which is a bit pathetic considering its meager length), so I'll regulary update with less exciting stuff. The inaguration of President Obama is happening in a few days, so I guess you commie pinko liberals are pretty excited.

Us true Americans aren't happy at all, though. He is a TERRORIST MUSLIM, and he's on a mission to destroy all that we hold dear. I heard some of his followers blew up a Taco Bell in a mall the other day (don't bother looking it up, those bastards have covered it up and they'll probably arrest you for asking questions anyway), and I'm against that sort of thing.

I propose we arrest Barack Obams, with the power of citizen's arrest! We'll make him answer for the crimes he's bound to commit!

More Logging (with some adventure thrown in)

Well, I didn't update yesterday because I was busy, but to make up for it I've got the longest and final chapter. Tell my tale to the world, because I told it to you and I'm tired of everyone asking to hear my story when I tell them I have a story to tell them.

The Great Logging Adventure, Part the Last

Based on a true story

Recap:  [stupid joke in which I insult you for being lazy and forgetful]

From behind his back, the bear pulled a smoke bomb! I leaped into the air, hatchet ready to strike it, but I didn't connect. When the smoke cleared the bear was gone, as was Xavier Sidious. I sighed and searched the room for the hidden button, and wasn't surprised to find one of the bricks responded to my touch. I pressed it fully, and the hidden door at the back of the room slid open. Inside, Xavier Sidious was preparing to fly out of a skylight to freedom on a jetpack!

I quickly, and painfully, extracted the hunting rifle from my rectum, and took aim. The stench made me pull back, though, and my adversary began soaring towards the skylight. I fired as best I could from the hip, narrowly grazing his leg, when finally a shot connected with the jetpack, and it exploded as the fuel inside ignited. Finally, the bastard was gone! Never to terrorized the Earth with his philanthropic rampages again.

Or so I thought. I grabbed a spare jetpack from the jetpack locker (I shudder to imagine the thought of his cyborg bears should they have ever been given the gift of flight) and gracefully floated through the skylight. I was confused as I entered the darkness of the forest; had our battle taken an entire day? Or had I wandered around in the dark corridor for longer than previously thought?

My answer came as the sun reappeared from behind a cloud- it was still low in the East. Then it hit me: Xavier Sidious' zeppelin! It exuded cloud-like puffs of smoke to provide cover from anti-air fire, the crafty devil. He had probably called it here to pick him up, unaware that he would be dead soon. I began dancing victoriously, when I heard a great rumble, before a voice from beyond the smoke.

"I wouldn't celebrate so soon, Ssssslate!" he said, like a German snake. Suddenly the belly of the beast poked through the smoke, and on its sides were giant gatling cannons! I blasted off in my jetpack just in time to see the ground under me erupt as millions of bullets tore into it. Against the light tan canvas of the airship I could see a brown speck. As I got closer, it got clearer, until I could clearly make out the form of a bear, hanging precariously from the airship's exterior by its claw.

I hurriedly sped towards it, intent on saving the noble creature, bionic freak or not. At first it swatted at me with its free claw, but after the thin cloth gave way a bit and it plummetted a few inches it was too preoccupied to mind me as I flew in and latched onto it. I performed a dangerous maneuver, strapping the jetpack to his stomach (this probably looked a bit like man-on-bear-on-zeppelin action, and I can't honestly say that it didn't turn me on), and then gave him a tug away from the airship.

His claw came loose, and we fell for a few panicked seconds before the bear pulled up, and I realized I was mounted on a flying bear. I now fondly regard this as the high point of my life. At the time, though, there was not a moment for thinking. The bear brought us in close to the balloon, and I chopped ineffectually at the skin with my hatchet, until I realized that the supports were thin enough to cut through.

I hacked through the skeletal structure like a long, thin tree, and in moments the airship was barely afloat. The bear brought us down to the driver's cabin and haphazrdly crashed through the large front window. He contined through and out the back wall, but I was knocked from his back. I barely managed to grab the edge of the window pane, and pulled myself up with my manly Lumberjack strength. Inside, Xavier Sidious stood, an angry look on his face. Also, he apparently wasn't dead, because he was blinking and breathing.

"So, Grizzly, I see you're still alive." he said. He was twirling his mustache, except he didn't have one, so it was sort of like he was tweaking an imaginary nipple on his face.

"I might say the same about you." I said, cool and not giggling at his nipple-tweaking.

"Why are you giggling?" he asked for some reason, "Bah! It doesn't matter." Realizing he had missed a great one-liner opportunity, he added "Oh... eh, I guess you'll die laughing!"

I didn't have my hatchet, so I punched him in the face, which put a stop to his stupid mustache-twirling. He hit the floor with an 'oomph', and then smiled as he produced a small panel with a button on it from his pocket.

"Goodbye, Slate!" he shouted as he pressed the button. I could have kicked the button out of his hands but I was kind of curious and, to be honest, I didn't want to embaress the guy. He had already died once today, so I figured he wouldn't kill himself, but lo and behold, the airship exploded. At first I thought I had died and I was in Hell because it was so hot, but then I realized I was still alive as the flames died away behind me.

I felt a strange sensation, and I realized what it was when I turned around to face the ground- I was falling. I figured I was dead, and I wrote a will in my head, but I realized no one would be able to read it so instead I remembered the awesome moments, like the time I attacked a zeppelin on a bear with a jetpack.

Suddenly something collided with me, and I thought I was in heaven for a second because all I could feel was soft and fuzzy, but then I realized I was still alive as the earth began to grow far again. The bear had rescued me!

We soared around in the air for awhile, cherishing the moment, before we landed. I patted him on the head and he licked my face, and for a second I contemplated licking his face back and seeing if he (or she) was just being formal, or was propositioning me, but I figured bear-human sex might be dangerous. I think they bite off each other's heads afterwards or something.

After we parted for the last time, I found my way back to the mighty Cedar I had felled, only to find it gone! In the snow was my axe, with a small note taped on.

Dear Grizzly, 

HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I have outwitted you again. I look forward to our next duel, and while it would probably be wise if I led you to believe that I was indeed dead so that you wouldn't meddle in my evil charitable ventures any further, it wouldn't be very villainy if I did that, so I'm alive and well!

I wondered how he had survived both the jetpack and airship explosions, but I saw the answer at the bottom of the note.

P.S. Those were just holograms that you killed. Like I said before I'm alive and nothing has changed, etcetera, I have to go bake some evil pies for some orphans.

I flung my arms into the air, fell to my knees, and cursed the heavens for robbing me of my mighty catch. Then I stood up and chopped down a different tree, and when I got home I told everyone about it on my bLog.

THE END

Further Adventure (prominently featuring logging)

Well I just got back from seeing Gran Torino today, and it was a good movie. Clint Eastwood needs to star in an action movie where he growls his enemies to death.

The Great Logging Adventure,  Part the Third

As told by Charles Dickens. Nah, just kidding.

Recap: I was in the woods and some stuff happened and then I found this thing.

I looked under the trapdoor and saw a pit. A deep pit, and since the sun was just beginning to climb above the trees, I couldn't see what was inside. I contemplated shouting down to see if there was anyone in it, but then I realized that that was a stupid idea. Instead, I slowly lowered myself in and then let go because how deep could it really be?

It could be very deep, which it was. Were it nor for my great Lumberjack fortitude, I might have broken an ankle or perhaps my bedroom performance might be poorer (Ladies, I am available), but it would have taken a much deeper pit to stop me.

I stumbled around in the darkness for a few moments, until I stopped hitting a wall and realized I was in some type of corrider. I tripped over something soft and hairy, but I couldn't find it again after I returned to my feet. Stalwart, I continued in the general direction I figured I had been heading in.

I turned a corner, and was bathed in a dim green flourescent light. It was spilling through a doorway at the end of the corrider. Inside the room I heard the whir of a buzzsaw and the tear-inducing whinny of an innocent woodland creature (one of the only things that can bring a Lumberjack to tears), this one of a bear. A single tear slid down my cheek.

I tightly gripped my hatchet and charged into the room, because fuck stealth. Inside were horrors too horrific to describe, so I won't, but believe me, they were freaky (You must be so creeped out right now).

"We meet again, Grizzly Slate!" He said like a Bond Villain. "I see you're still growing that disgusting face-mat. I don't suppose you've dropped the fake American accent?" (for the sake of story-telling imagine that I am Liam Neeson, but with a rugged beard and a completely authentic American accent).

"Doctor Xavier Sidious? I should have suspected." I said in my deep, sultry, manly voice. "How long do you expect your... creations...." I gestured to the horrific things around the room (seriously creepy shit you don't even wanna' know) ,"To let you torture them before they turn on you? Have you gone mad?"

"I don't know." he said, in his unmistakably german accent (he is a nazi, I'm pretty sure I mentioned it) "I don't keep my pets for very long. After I have made sure they are sufficient killing machines, I sell them to the highest bidder! Soon men will no longer have to die for the petty wims of mad politicians! By sacrificing a few bears, I will save countless human lives, and hopefully make enough money to finance further philanthropic causes!" he said, very evil-ly.

"Not if I can help it." I said, and sprang into action. Before I could chop his evil head off with my trusty hatchet, I heard a heavy growling behind me, and turned to find the bear I had encountered in the forest, and tripped over on the way to Dr. Sidious' lair!

Also suddenly, the bear revealed a hidden weapon. He had been hiding, behind his back the entire time, a-

CLIFFHANGER

More Logging Adventure

Apparently, as a result of that BART shooting I was talking about in that first bLog post, some people in California are rioting. Because nothing brings people of different races together like lots of mindless violence aimed at innocent people.

Before I bore you to death on my opinion of that whole shlock, here's the second part of my epic tale that happened like 2 days ago.

The Great Logging Adventure, Part the Second

Still being told by me

Recap: Read the first part, you lazy fuck

I turned, and saw, towering over me, a giant bear. I was unphased at first, having wrestled down my fair share of the hairy beasts, but this one was different. Perhaps it was the color of his claws, or the way his eye glowed red, or maybe it was the way half of his face was gone, replaced with a steel bionic eye and jaw. Looking back, I think it was the claws.

Suddenly he swiped at me, and I moved toward him to avoid the 5 foot long bony protrusions sticking out of his hand (by bony protrustions I don't mean boners, although that would be pretty sweet). While I avoided a nasty decapitation, I didn't avoid a hard blow to my rugged, manly chest, and I was flung a good 10 feet to the side. I remained motionless, and the bear strode up.

I held my breath, praying he didn't have heat vision in his bionic eye. He nudged me with his nose, let out a roar that I feared was a precursor to a meal, then walked away. I quickly rose and followed him as closely as I safely could. Had he somehow grown a bionic implant, or had some madman turned him into a cyborg killing machine?

I contemplated forgetting the bear or trying to retrieve my axe before giving chase, but I knew that by now it would have been firmly cemented in the tree. I still had my hatchet at my side, as well as the large hunting rifle I had cleverly hidden in my ass.

For many hours I followed the bionic bear, waiting when it stopped, and having to hide behind trees quite a few times when the beast deined to take a peak back, praying that the trees didn't detect any danger from me and leap out of the way. Thankfully, non did.

Finally, after a particularly long stretch of walking followed by a rapid sprint, the bear turned one more time, peered around, and then seemed to sink into the ground. I raced to where he had been only moments before, but it seemed the titan had vanished. I jabbed the handle of my axe into the snow where the tracks disappeared, and was met with some kind of barrier. I swept the snow away, and saw a large wooden trap door under my feet. I hadn't seen the bear trigger any switch or press a button, so I jumped up and down on the door hoping to break it. Then I remembered I had a hatchet in my hand and quickly began swinging at it.

The wood was thick but I was thicker (I'm talking about my penis). Through perseverance I cut through it, and lowered myself onto my stomach to get a better view of what lay inside. I was shocked to find that under the trapdoor was a

CLIFFHANGER

The Great Logging Adventure

Dear friends, the other day, whilst logging (which any lumberjack such as myself is wont to do), an extraordinary thing happened to me. I will try to explain now what it was, although, to be honest, even now I'm not entirely sure of what all transpired.

The Great Logging Adventure, Part the First

A true story

The sun slowly grew, towering over the great forests of... let's say Dongland (Names are changed for the sake of storytelling). Thick coats of snow melted into slow rivers and shallow ponds only to be licked up by the thirsty tongues of cute woodland creatures. Silently the early birds got their worms and the deer pranced around and taught the rabbits the tenets of witchcraft and satan-worship.

I silently stalked my prey- a mighty Cedar, coated in ice from the frozen morning dew. I hid behind a nearby Pine and waited until it turned its gargantuan wooden back. I heard a chitter, and looked to see if I had, perhaps, caught the Cedar at its mealtime, but it stood still as a rock. A small squirrel was eating a nut high up in its bows, and I contemplated making a pun. I am above, that, however, and reconsidered.

A shiver swept up my spine and I felt eyes upon me- the Cedar had spotted me! With as much gusto as I could muster, I let out a fierce battlecry and swung my axe at its vulnerable spot (you know, that one spot). The blow connected, and the giant stood motionless as the life drained from its frozen carcass.

I sighed in relief and took a step back, my axe still deeply embedded in its trunk, right in its vulnerable section, and marveled. She was a beauty. I found myself whistling that thing you whistle when you see something impressive.

After a moment of quiet reverence for the mighty beast I had just brutally murdered, I went about taking the ice off its bark. Happily I went about the arduous process, whistling a cheery tune taught to me by my grandfather (The song was 'Just Want to Play Videogames', a song passed down the generations from our German ancestors), when suddenly a shadow loomed over me. I spun around at the sound of menacing growling, and there I saw a...

CLIFFHANGER

How I yearn for the forests of olde

Okay, I really want to pad out this blog a bit, seeing as I have only one other post so far, so I figured I'd write down a bunch of random words and hope that anyone who did a google search for any of those things would get my page.

Then I realized that it might not work like that and so I got out my 'Retarded' stamp and went to town (I do not actually have a 'Retarded' stamp).

So I figure'd I'd tell you guys about the America's best doughnuts, but those fuckers at Yahoo! stole my thoughts (psychically) and then went back in time and wrote the article before I had the idea, so I'll just talk about logging.

The Great Forests of North America

A non-fiction historic tale, retold by me

I love logging. It's what we Lumberjacks do, and being a Lumberjack without knowing logging is like being an edgy hipster college student and not knowing Che Guevara.

There once was a time when America was completely enveloped in trees of all sizes. Giants, like the mighty Redwood, delicate ones like the Larch. The native americans were celebrated loggers, and cut down every tree they saw. They completely decimated the ecosystem, and they also ate and sodomized each other (not in that order). Also they were really fat. When the first Europeans arrived, bearing gifts and knowledge and dietary supplements, what did the natives do? They threatened to cut down all their trees for a reasonable sum! The bastards!

Now, being a logger myself, it seems that if either of these parties should appeal, it should be the natives. But, contrary to the name, logging is not just about chopping down trees. It is about cultivating nature by dominating it. Yes, we cut them down, but then we plant houses and malls so that all the people have places to live and can be civilized (I've never seen a civilized person who lived more than 50 miles from a mall) and ensuring that nature knows that we are its masters.

So we should celebrate our European ancestors for fighting those barbarians who frolicked and did gay stuff with nature. Had they let the Natives accomplish their vile plots, where would we be? We wouldn't be, because we would have all been strangled in our sleep by vines, or eaten by Venus man-traps! There would be nary a mall or a Taco Bell in sight! Can you imagine a world without delicious authentic Mexican cuisine, prepared quickly and sold at low, low prices?

I shudder at the thought.

Years on down the road, you will remember this.

So this is a blog, eh? Spiffy.

I guess I'll be writing shit down on here, and then you guys will read it and somewhere in there somebody sends me a large check or something (that's how it was explained to me I think).

Alright, now if you're here than it means you probably want to learn about my opinions and my mind-blowing insights on stuff (cupcakes are delicious),  so go ahead. Ask me anything.

...

What the fuck? Internet you are disgusting. From here on out, I'll do all the talking and you, Internet, will do the listening, okay? Seriously, that was gross.

Now, let's get right on with this sexy blog. If anyone of you currently non-existant readers didn't know, some guy got shot on a BART station on Sunday (January 4th) by one of the cops they have there after he was resisting arrest.

Here's the story from an actual news site:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/01/04/BA0R153LGU.DTL

Also this is a YouTube video of the whole thing, captured on somebody's cellpohone:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKy-WSZMklc

It just doesn't make any sense to me. I mean, if this were some Steven Segal movie and the guy was a witness for the prosecution in a murder case against a criminal kingpin (whose name is Xavier Sidious) , and the officer was secretly working for him and recognized that the guy his fellow officers had restrained was the very same witness that was about to put his boss away for good, and then executed him to protect his boss, then it would make total sense.

I don't think that's happening, though, mainly because Steven Segal would have to have been there and then been framed, so that Xavier Sidious could force him to go do stuff (EVIL stuff), and none of the articles mentioned Segal's prescence. Also, the guy they shot was just a butcher at a supermarket so they probably could have made it look more like an accident than shooting him at a crowded BART station, like making it look like he tripped on a knife and then fell on another knife or something.

So anyways, I think what must have happened was that this guy was really stupid for a minute and thought that his gun was his taser and then he shot the already-restrained guy (I said he was really stupid for a minute shut up).

Of course, the guy was black, so the officer probably thought he had a gun as well as an extra arm with which to shoot it with hidden in his coat. You never can trust those blacks.

I'll see you next time I have something to say, or next week if that never happens (don't hold your breath).