Your song made me say naughty things!

Speaking of "strip," I finally put another one on my Stripgenerator page. I think I'll do another one pretty soon, too.

You always fall for what you desire or what you fear

I was walking on campus and listening to "The Well and the Lighthouse." About the time this line came up, I nearly started to weep.

I want to write music so beautiful that it affects me on that visceral, subconscious level. How?

Also, for sir and madame's consideration

So, last Saturday Andy and I recorded some sweet beats. We wrote, arranged, recorded, and mixed a song in about three hours, which I think is pretty sweet. Listen to "Ashamed of My Game Show" and many other things at his imeem dealie! I'll put the lyrics below because a) it's hard to understand it in the mix and b) I feel like it.

(p.s.: my car broke down, and I didn't get a job. We in the business call this "acquiring songwriting material through life experience." Also, my dog died and my wife turned out to be a killbot.)

"Ashamed of My Game Show" by Prof. Nick Clark and Andy Myers, Attorney at Law
I'm afraid to show my face
My producers called it the national disgrace
Both viewers say "Cut your greasy hair!"
The female guests have to face my inappropriate stare

I'm ashamed of my game show...

I left my wife for my assistant, Denise ("There's no Denise!")
And she left me for some kinda lobster-beast
The prizes cause Lyme disease and Epstein-Barr
And the losers get trapped behind a brick wall

(chorus, including my favorite falsetto backup vocal from Andy, "His game show is a game shame!")

Our money goes to a charity
That takes poor children's lunch money
But for some reason I don't understand
It's huge in Europe, or maybe Japan

Tanks for the memories!

Thanks to the help of the powerful Genuine, I now have a Stripgenerator dealie. Go to it!!!
GO TO IT!!!! Maybe not immediately, though. I only have one strip up.

Thank you, Superman, for teaching us to love...again

Not a comic.

It has come to my attention that I'm moist. Frankly, I don't recall ever being this knowingly moist, perhaps with the exception of the summers I spent in Japan. And when I covered my entire body in flour, yeast and secret hobo spices, it only made things worse as people tried to smother me in gravy, Texas style. Also, the a/c in my aparrrto doesn't really work. Ain't that a drag? Not a J. Edgar Hoover kinda drag, but more of a "I'm going to dump your books and drag you through the mud after gym class, twerp!" kind of drag.

Item!: I cannot tell a lie. My roommates are kinda slobby. As a result, I spend my days fantasizing about how they will someday do their own dishes or at least not culture anthrax and Clostridium botulinum in the half-full bowls they leave around. This is different from my usual fantasies, which, interestingly, also involve flour, yeast and secret hobo spices. (Gross!!) Anyways, sometimes I think about real passive-aggressive ways to handle the problems. I thought I was being really original when I came up with the idea of placing dirty dishes on the bed of he who dirtied them, but this concept apparently originated with the concurrent work of Newton and Leibniz. Thanks for making me creative, MFG 202.

I move back to Orem next month, children. It's been fun living among the bunglers of the urban...ish jungle of Provo, but I think it's time to cut costs and play more Guitar Hero III, so back to Mom's it is!

Update: I forgot to use the word "hobotomy" in this post. I'm truly sorry, everyone.

The continuation!!

I apologize for the explicit violence and frank depictions of sexuality in these next two, entitled "Hired!" and "Hired! Part 2."



P.S.: These are a little old (I drew and wrote them a few weeks ago), and they look weird to me now. Ah, whatever.