Nuke the Fridge at the 2008 Summer Failympics

I thought a good Triathlon for the Failympics would be a “Shark High Jump,” “Curve The Bullet Skeet Shooting” followed by the “400 m Fridge Nuke.” Maybe I should write a letter to the Failympic Committee.

Not that this comic makes ANY sense at all, I can try to offer some context:

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Tragedy + Irony = April Fools Comedy!

Multiply that equation by “orphans” and you have a recipe for hilarity.

Josh is basically a monster. More like Charlise Theron (in that movie), than say like Mothra or Nancy Grace. I don’t think he would actually burn orphans alive, but I doubt he would go out of his way to stop it from happening. Like if he saw the orphanage a blaze, but the phone was “all the way over there.” Well, then you got yourself some teriyaki orphans. Oh, forsaken children, when will you STOP being funny? My sides can’t take it.

Experiment Update:

I’m into my second week of full time comic’ing. This is the first Wednesday strip I’ve ever done, and with promise of a Friday strip, this will be the first 3 comic week for me ever. I’m already behind on pretty much everything I had planned for the week, including THE STORE, THE DONATIONS PROGRAM, MORE SITE ENHANCEMENTS, THE MANIFESTO, THE PODCAST and THE VIDEO BLOG.

That’s a lot of items. If I am slow to respond to comments this week, don’t feel bad. I read EVERY SINGLE COMMENT that you post. You guys have been so encouraging since my announcement. I really do appreciate it.

Expect the Podcast later today (in 2 parts!). We have an interview with someone who worked with Joss Whedon on “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog” for your geeky ears to devour.

Assignment 1: Name “The Experiment.” I’m fine with calling it just that, unless you have a better idea.

Assignment 2: Name yourselves. What are HE readers called? I’m leaning towards “The Fancy Bastards.” I am absolutely making a shirt for GYFB.


America voted, and… IT’S A TRAP!

The only question is after he was done with the song, would the judges or viewers even know the crime he had just committed? Probably not. I’m sure his performance would illicit the usual:

“Dog, it was a little pitchy. At first I wasn’t feelin’ you but then you hit a couple of big notes and it was HOT! We got a HOT ONE!”

“First let me say that you are a breath of fresh air. You are an absolute joy and your shoes look fantastic. (sobs uncontrollably into an empty pill bottle).”

“Rubbish. Absolute rubbish. I wish you were tied to a tree with razor wire, covered in barbecue sauce and slowly eaten by a pack of rabid former idol contestants.”

The first time I fell victim to a ” Rick Rolling” I was at lunch with people who I thought were my friends. One of them mentioned this awesome Photoshop tutorial he had seen online. Another affirmed its awesomeness and added that it contained the secrets to Photoshop techniques that would open up a whole new world of flares and filters. I chimed in, “That sounds cool. Send me a link.”

Send. Me. A. Link. Four words, spoken alone they mean nothing. Together they are a dark and ancient incantation that invokes the most insidious evil. How many nights did this squadron of assholes stay awake planning my demise? Was I even the original target or were they just waiting for a wounded animal to snag their trap? Where the fuck was Admiral Ackbar when I needed him?

A few nights go by and I remembered that I was supposed to get a link to a certain Photoshop video, but no one had sent it. I IM’d Jeramy “Final Boss” Ook, who was so vocal that day about the wondrous knowledge contained within the tutorial. Why didn’t he send me the link? He wants to keep the magics all to himself! No, it was simpler than that. He had actually forgotten to follow through with his nefarious plot. I REMINDED him to make a fool of me. He sent me the link.

Judas! Betrayer! Lord of treachery! Prince of Lies! General douchebag! Lunch was just the set up and he was supposed to Roll me later that evening. It letting him hold out for two days I somehow made the Rolling more potent. Sweeter for him, but twice as deadly for me. Clicking that link, with enthusiastic expectation visible behind my childlike grin, was like a fucking poison dagger covered in scorpions shoved in my gut. Ever since that day, I’ve been planning my Rick-Revenge. I might just wait and Roll his kid in 20 years or so.

So tell me, what was the best Rick Roll you ever gave or the worst you ever received? Any more elaborate than mine?

An Oscar Caliber Performance

I still haven’t seen “There Will Be Blood” yet. And for that I am sorry. After “Gangs of New York” I wanted to find out the exact moment I would die, so that I could arrange to be murdered by Daniel Day Lewis (as Bill the Butcher) 5 minutes prior to my death. That would really be the best possible way to go out. Moments before I succumb to the grips of cancer or heart disease, Day Lewis appears behind me with a waxed up mustache, waxed down hair and a top hat and runs me through with a skewer. Then he would climb atop a nearby potato box or tree stump and make a short speech about what an honor it was to kill me. Classy. That’s all there is to it. Classy.

Twenty years later (Day Lewis is still 45 or so because he’s also a Highlander or some sort of Vampire) my daughter would infiltrate his ranks, befriend him, earn his trust, then stick him like a pig when he least expects it. She’s a good girl like that.

OK, wait… that’s basically EXACTLY the plot of “Gangs of New York.” I guess if I had to pick a different movie-themed death I would want to be sent into space and set on a collision course with earth so that Bruce Willis could fly a rocket to me, land on me, drill a hole in my face and plant a nuclear warhead in my skull then save the rest of his crew by staying behind to make sure I blew up. He’s an American hero.

I tried hand-drawing the speech bubbles for the first time with this comic. I think it looks pretty cool. I also liked the hand lettering in the last panel. Let me know what you think in the comments. Also, (this may be a morbid question) but what movie-themed death would you choose? Die Hard? Dukes of Hazard? Hannah Montana?


Go check out the Podcast. People seem to like it.

Since I’m getting a lot of “Whuh?” and “Buh?” in regard to this comic, I’m just going to spell it out. This is a parody of the (apparently not so) popular meme “I drink your milkshake,” which is based on the movie “There Will Be Blood” for which Daniel Day Lewis just won Best Actor at the 2008 Academy Awards. Sorry for the confusion.

Tom Cruise is terrifyingly insane

Tom Cruise is a super hero from outer space with unlimited cosmic power. The only downside is that he serves a dark master bent on devouring the world and extinguishing all life… is Tom Cruise the Silver Surfer?

My hatred of Tom Cruise courses black through my veins like crude oil. It poisons my soul and robs it of all joy. I will never take him seriously as an actor or a human being because he bases his entire life philosophy on the idea that a galactic despot brainwashed, then h-bombed billions of aliens inside of volcanoes trillions of year ago and now they are stuck in our bodies and that’s why we get depressed some times.

I loved the “Scientology Indoctrination video” that’s been showing up online this week (and Jerry O’Connell’s response). I love it for the fact that it shows beyond a shadow of a doubt what a smarmy, shallow, “glib,” mind-fucked little shit Tom Cruise actually is. I especially LOVE that he claims to have helped people after 9/11, despite really doing the opposite. And I LOVE LOVE that he says being a Scientologist somehow grants you the wherewithal and physical strength to be “the only one that can help” when you see a car accident:

Tom Cruise is driving down the freeway in a black BMW. His Sciento-sense starts to tingle as a sees a 4 car pile up just ahead. He skids to a halt and leaps through the roof of his sedan, flying high in the air and landing in the middle of the twisted wreckage rippling the asphalt beneath him. He is calm. “Stand back, emergency workers,” he announces, “Put down your jaws-of-life and crowbars. I am a Scientologist.” A collective gasp is audible as the gathered crowd of firemen, paramedics and onlookers collectively take 3 steps back. “Give him room,” a fireman says, “let him do his work.”

Tom Cruise makes his way through the wreckage to the first vehicle. The smoke is thick and parching, but he can sense a woman, mid-thirties, is still alive. He claps his hands together once then parts them as if brushing back curtains. The smoke lifts. He is using his mind to keep the woman’s vitals stable. Her blood pressure and heart rate are approaching normal. She is experiencing his mixture of science and love. His Scientology.

He closes his eyes and takes two handfuls of the twisted metal encasing the woman. Anne is her name. She isn’t afraid. She is in the most capable hands in the world. The hands of a Scientologist. The hands of Tom Cruise. The car wrenches and shrieks as he cleaves the metal husk in twain. As if cracking an egg he deposits Anne safely on the ground, holding two halves of an automobile above his head. Tom Cruise heaves the vehicle skyward and it disappears; a speck over the horizon.

“How can I than…” Anne begins as a well manicured finger is pressed to her lips. “Your thanks isn’t necessary. I’m a Scientologist. This is what we do.”


Give that man a fucking medal.

I get the impression that most people think Scientology is just a crazy club for rich Hollywood weirdos. I’m hoping all that changes now that their insanity is receiving greater exposure. Secret documents have been popping up all over the place, and a hacker group is hell bent on laying waste to their entire organization. They might actually be succeeding… like today.

Anyway, until the day that we are all clear, there are no more SP‘s, and everyone is OT7 just remember to salute your portrait of LRH, use your tech, and KSW, KSW, KSW!