My indulgent fantasy that you care

So anyway, this page has me included in every single picture. If you think you can handle such a blatant attempt at self-service, worthy of any gas station effort, then go on. Of course, the pictures take a long time to load, so you have a few choices as to what you can do.

You could assume this will be more of the same and go back to the page before this one, then reread it all.

You could remove all your clothing and dance around with the nearest family member. This may disturb them at first, but once the initial repugnant novelty has worn off, i'm sure that it will prove a fruitful experience.

You could, in disgust, turn your computer off and swear never to return to the Internet.

You could salivate some, in hopes that you'll cause an electric shock that will jar your sense into a nether realm from which you won't perceive the passage of time, making this page appear to load very quickly.

Or you could leave the room. i would go with this one; it's what i did while i was typing all the crap above.

While you wait, whatever you decide to do, i will present the following text piece for your, at best, fleeting enjoyment:

Mud

i think that perhaps the greatest inanimate object ever discovered was mud. After all, you can get a big bucket of it and carry it around, then pour it on the ground and let it turn into dirt. Mud is like portable dirt, and how handy is that? What person hasn't needed dirt immediately on hand?

With that in mind, i hereby declare myself founder of Portable Dirt, Inc., dedicated to the movement and perpetuation of mud as a viable source of dirt. Anyone wishing to get in on the ground floor of this exciting new venture, contact me at Wetdirt@mudmoney.net and put 'Money for your business' in the topic.

Hopefully, the pictures have loaded by now:

Here i am threatening a photographer with my sidekick Bobbo Smackie. Shortly after this last, desperate photograph was taken, we took the photographer outside, viciously cut him down with clever repartee, and then ran away when he brandished his shoe threateningly. Bobbo and i are dangerous, and if you see us coming, you'd better either flash some footwear or run like hell.

Here i am with my friend Brett Burmingham, who you may know as the lead singer of Pyrrhic Victory, a band that harkens back to the music of the 1940s. In fact, he was recently jailed for allegedly directly ripping off some authentic 1940s music, putting his voice over it, and selling it on street corners (although maybe it was the embezzling that sent him up the river). Here, Brett has been surprised by the arrival of the his parole officer.

As far as me, curled up oh-so-cozily in the table cloth, the story behind it is long and involved, but basically, i couldn't find a prom date so i took a sheet and we were slow-dancing when this picture was taken.

Although i could have been sneezing; whenever i'm involved, the two activites are virtually indistinguishable.

Whenever i am in a bad mood, i often perpetrate violence against random people. Here i am snapping some unfortunate cheerleader in half, using only the body i've honed to lethal perfection for whatever mayhem i'm in the mood for.

And here's the end of my story. Following my encounter with this officer of the law, i was arrested for drunk and disorderly and shipped to a maximum security installation in Nevada once my numerous and flagrant parking violations were discovered as i was being processed. In a horrific prison riot, i climbed atop one of the guard towers, declared it my new kingdom, lost my balance, and plummeted to my death. Voodoo doctors re-animated my body and sent it on an unstoppable killing rampage until some small children rigged their house with traps that tore me into lil pieces which they then liquidated in a blender. Someone wandered in and ingested the liquid, which turned them into an unstoppable zombie too, culminating in a violent shoot-out on the streets of New Orleans with the grown-up children who'd destroyed me.

Man, those were the days. i just don't feel the same sort of excitement that i did then.

return to that other page that was better than this one (wait, that was a different *site*! darn.)