This is the page where you will meet my family in a series of nostalgic style photographs. If you are often moved by Hallmark movies, you will probly cry. i would cry too, but for different reasons. Here is the page's disclaimer:

BEWARE: Do not view this page while in the process of operating heavy machinery or clipping finger or toenails. Doing so exposes you to the possibility of a fine not to exceed $400 dollars. If you see someone viewing this page under the above-stated conditions, report them immediately to the authorities, as they are posing a dangerous threat to your continued state of well-being. Winners don't let losers spend all their time on the Internet!

So now i am absolved of any injury resulting from using or viewing this page in any context. i am glad that i can't be blamed since i am a child of the 90s and i don't believe in personal responsibility, as the media repeatedly tells me. It is good that i am not responsible, as i would otherwise feel very badly about creating this web site and would delete it quickly from the Internet, which, admittedly, isn't that impressive anyway.

You'll notice that this page is very low-key. This is to minimize possible offense, since whenever anyone gets angry at me, it violates my media-given right to not be responsible. Lots of people get mad at me all of the time. They yell about things and i just say, "Hey, that's not my fault." Then they get even more angry and yell at me even louder and i cover my ears and cry until they go away. This works for the majority of my confrontations.

One time, there was this girl who had a dog and there was me, and i didn't have a dog, only a cat. Anyway, i said to the girl, "Well, i can't help it if i like Rob Zombie. He is a very good artist and his music has a lot of soul. All of the music you listen to is like illiterate street people strumming a guitar and talking about how they break the law in metaphors." She got really mad and stole my fillings so i couldn't eat. i thought i would starve to death until i discovered the blender.

Without the help of Thomas O'Darby, i never would have realized the power of the blender. He sacrificed his life in a horrifying liquidation to clue me in on how to utilize what is quite possibly the most potent device of mankind. Had Aristotle possessed a blender, he would have had his supreme happiness (eudaemonia) at the touch of a button. If the tortured Franz Kafka could have made himself a shake during anxiety attacks, he conceivably would have finished a novel. They say the War of 1812 started for want of a creamy fruit swirl. Such is life.

If i was more attuned to the malaise of the modern individual, i would write more poetry. As it stands, i can knock out a couple verses and then i automatically start to rhyme. It is sad in the same way that all poetry you read on the Net is sad. Somebody thinks they are being profound and transcending their existence when all they are doing is writing in the most conceited manner possible. How is that profound? They disguise their feelings so, in a way, they are regressing by making language into a cypher.

And yes, i know there is poetry on my site, but i didn't write it. YAHWAYTH made me sign a contract when i joined that forces me to host whatever folly they insist on. If they decided to topple this site by adding a large database of carnal furniture encounters, i would be legally required to not only let them, but help them.

The moral here is to carefully read contracts you sign. This doesn't apply to most of you because you will never leave your parents' home, but for the occasional college athlete that stumbles across this cyber-abyss, let my woeful tale be a warning sign for your future.

Hopefully, that was suitably depressing so that your weakened emotional state will allow more direct emotional manipulation to make my family photographs moving in some fashion. If not, i have failed horribly so you can let me know and i can describe the four corns on my left-most toe in the preceding paragraphs to acquire the desired effect.

Here are some members of my family. They like to stand around, just like me. We are on a battleship. The name of the battleship is the USS Baconfat. She's an experienced vessel, as we had to brave all sorts of horrible and dangerous situations aboard her gleaming hull, from a showdown with a giant octopus to fighting off a whole flock of evil birdmen. You'll notice the glowing orange object. We were holding it for the United States government. It's a secret, but i will tell you anyway that the orange object is plutonium. They build garden gnomes with it.
Are purple people innately hilarious? This stimulating question was posed to me at a Battered Alcoholic Forum and it consumed me, my mind yielding instantly to the fiery implications of its answer. After all these years of trying so hard, could i have finally found the means to actually make people laugh with minimal effort? Could my user-defined Corel Photo-Paint filter of purple propagation lift me into comedic euphoria? Probly not. But i am up for trying anything these days.
i always submit this picture when i am looking for modeling work because it really shows my skill and range as a performer. You'll notice my cleverly subdued pathos as i reach out at the viewer in a desperate bid for acceptance on the basis of my jocular expression and my emphatic gesticulations. After they saw my portfolio, the producers of Free Willy 3 asked me to play a free-spirited dolphin companion to the whale. Unfortunately, i was too chubby to fit in the dolphin suit so they tossed the role out. This all proves that success comes to those who wait.

Was that not enough for you? Well, the true horror awaits you at this point. It is the most devastatingly vile thing you will see in your lifetime. i put it on my site because i hate you. If you want to avoid my malevolence, you can scoot back to the page with the cute pink dog on it.