The Nut Cracked Suite

While the Wizard Sangfroid transmutes lead into gin, Bear and Rex argue over what to do about Li'l Edgar's Sartre Affective Disorder.

Never look a gift otyugh in the mouth seriously don't, or, talk to the hand

TPK dungeon mapping, here I come.
Holy shit, this flick can no longer be trusted.

Etch-A-Post, or, Brain Spillage #667

Paint, en fait, but not those oils. Too goopy for the low-skilled.

Toke, ne'er-do-wells, toke for the Wizard Van.



Clap your hands, say Ia.*

*if this means I'm, curses, in a mellow mood, at least my unreasonable mind can be reasonably sure that by this afternoon, it'll be pulling up an uncomfortable comfort in the Bleak House of Doom or its non-union, Mexican equivalent.

Moar ye olde scole, now wt monstres

This is just flat out cool. Gashadokuro needs to be on a t-shirt, play sweeper [ed. note: difficult to score sans head, natch], & take my place as Saturday overlord.

Say you don't know me, you'll burn

Funny not really how precise jumps become drunk buzzed & disorderly drowned. DEATH TO FLYING THINGS. Ends, like days, are weeks that bleed together. See what I did there, Dracula, blood. Symmetric literary genius. I should write a novel, The 0-UP Kid. I'm sure some Very Important Prick [ed. note: no examples, please; different corpse, same embalming fluid] said a thing au moins 42% more HA than the last radio ga ga but I've got a bunch of Hammer reruns to rewatch in lieu of celebrating dead rich fucks' goo goo.

Y'know what Ronnie crooned about listening to fools.

Message in a bottle

Jinn, like graffiti & jaywalking in front of the Space Casino, kills.

+1 for olde schule geekery. Oui, I can reward myself. I'm a loner, Dottie, a rebel. By the way, you, the reader, suck. Don't worry, so do we though the other half of Local no. 13 less so, me gumming up a personal cost-benefit analysis with fewer thoughts on Important stuff & more on verse-y I-stuff, though Important stuff bleeds through, how can it not. Apropos that oxidized blood is the color of rust 'cause all the waste twixt the lands of a completed piece you see where I'm going with this. Ruin porn ain't just for shooting rubble. Fucking hangovers, & that ain't all of the ubiquitous it. Don't be daft, surface phenomena.

On the Town, starring Li'l Edgar

Verily, the Duchess suggested that our morbid pal get some, um, cloud --

maybe take in a show --

& an after-performance chaser --

or five. Take five, Li'l Hangover.

Please, or they'll be murders, you'll rue, & end up in the morgue.

The meat that was used up.

A descent into administration.

The rectangular portrait.

The facts in the case of why this bookstore is always closed dammit.

Quoth the loiterer, I'm going, I'm going.

The ambassador-hoax.

It was many and many an hour ago,
In a kingdom by Erie,
That a grave was not found of whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee.

Premature burials, 10% off.

An imp of the perverse.

Intermezzo.

Almond joy.

You didn't finish the other ones, bub.

Hopped-frog.

Thou art The Man.

The thousand-and-second tale of yeah right.

A predicament.

Loss of breath.

"Big Cheese, did you see anything?"
"No, Peonage! I didn't see you playing with your dolls again!"

Thirty days of suck X: misty cosmic candy memories

When not falling into alligator-infested pits, commanding choppers, cracking whips on Dracula's skull, performing not one not two but three Italian Jobs, or kicking shins back on planet earth (if I had been familiar with Dirty Leeds back then, I would have confirmed that that description may have contained a grain of accuracy), we geeks, being geeks & therefore unfamiliar with the ladies you millennials have no idea how good you've got it, rolled multi-sided bones with gusto.

I was playing first edition before you were born.

Basement chez Randal.

The obvious dungeon crawl classics remain so to this day, & since our gang, thankfully, shunned Monty Haul campaigns, the weird & the wacky were the order of the day, thus --

-- this guy's two-volume take on Charles Lutwidge Dodgson's most famous of works, Dungeonland & Land Beyond the Magic Mirror. Though comical, & disturbingly merciless if your DM was a budding psychopath which I wasn't, I decided to grab the nearest copy of Martin Gardner's The Annotated Alice & spruced it up, perhaps even cedar, or cider or beer or something.

Why didn't I snap the covers? Mad as a hatter, s'pose.

If you worked here, you'd be in an asylum by now.

Not the Viscountess. Probably. Maybe.

It's TuLGey. This makes me so frumious.

This guy, too.

Clearly an impostor or Billy Bremner.
The real Duchess is real s-m-r-t & not so short.

Can't recall which module this comes from, but you see the dilemma I'm in.
Natural twenty, natural twenty, why hast thou forsaken me?

Tomorrow, something blue, perhaps borrowed, likely old.

Thirty days of suck VIII: habits aren't bad, they're just drawn that way

Yo, homeslice, 'tis to be un/pretty pictures, not all revealy. This is the last time I ever trust Georgiastan on anything! Harrumph! I'm taking a nap!

Li'l Edgar's Adventures in Wonderlessland

No, I don't have a drinking problem.
Think civil service pays enough to stay blotto?

Tomorrow, someone I dig, certainly not any of you bastards.

Let's go shopping

Poor little robin, chased into the dark by the Seagull of Doom.

Save the animals, you heartless bastard.

Don't ask.

Let's go stimulate the economy.

Steven Tyler not included.

MX + B = Y not.

Here's your undeniable proof, Californistan. Happy?

If you heard a rumble about 2:30 EST, that was our collective groan.

Green is the new sex.

The Duchess continues to rock the hand model world.

Cheap religious goods & Bratz? The dollar store, quintessential Americana. 

Um, yeah, don't worry about that, pal.

Pal, ye clever dog, worry! I must have dread piratical buccaneerism!

Game over? Not if Space Weapon Equipment has anything to say about it.

Au contraire, coasts. Elite's in the rust belt.

The cheap gift of choice for the CEO on your Christmas list.

What mysteries the Jesus CD-R contains shall remain so for all time or until we cave & shell out the buck, plus tax.

Why I'm always so devilishly handsome.