Exit Mundi.

So..long ago, I discovered a lovely site..called Exit Mundi. Perhaps not so oddly enough, even though I generally loathe and avoid the inaccurate and overdramatized end-of-the-world movies, I like this website that lists even more far-fetched end world scenarios. But the main point of this paragraph, is an introduction to this cartoon, which I think is especially marvelous.

more on funny things

Some things are semi-funny. Fewer things are very funny. Many things are barely funny. Everything isn't funny. Funny things are always funny. Funny things aren't everything. Many things aren't semi-funny...semi-funny things aren't semi-funny all the time. Barely funny things might not be funny more than once a week. Or less. The end.

some things are funny.

A two-story outhouse...funny.











Whoops.

















Danger!






















Really.

Something worthy of note.

Today is a day set apart from other days. Today I received my very first fake credit card magnet, which is, of course, too weak to hold anything up except itself, being useless in the extreme. I have, for a couple of years now, collected fake credit cards. I would actually waste time by noticing that 10 of my cards are identical, except the 1-800 number changed. Why would a company change their 1-800 number so frequently? It's competely ridiculous..not only that it occurs, but that I have wasted time thinking about it. But now my truly sick hobby can develop in a new direction. I can collect fake credit card magnets. I'm open to handouts.

The time came. And went.

So, there are many things I grew up believing. I was sure that my dad was the tallest guy in the world. (No way.) I thought that moving was the worst thing ever, what with all the difficulty in physically picking up a house and transporting it. I thought that being fired was cruel and unnecessary, and who would ever burn their employee? I thought that islands were floating piles of dirt. I thought that if I ate a watermelon seed a watermelon tree would grow in my stomach. (This is aside from the fact that watermelon grows on bushes, and that having a single watermelon growing in my stomach would be bad enough--no, it had to be a tree.)

I forgot how to spell my own last name once. But nobody believed me. The only time I ever cheated..was in kindergarten. It was a spelling test. The word.."of." Amazingly enough, I thought it was spelled "ov."

But the really irritating thing is that I'll never know what my sisters were always whispering about when they felt the proper reply to my questioning was: "We'll tell you when you're older." Yeah, right.

another ode.

Ode to Reija (a poem of two)

...a light shone brightly in the dusk
from whence it came none knew
except for me and you.

Mwa ha ha! We laughed, reprehensibly,
we saw it too, but none would flee
except for you and me.

The mischievous gleam was from your eye
it sought, it grew
but that was you

and what was I?
Behold, my eyes are wicked too.

--written for a beloved friend.

Latest Attempt

So, in a moment of great abstraction, I wrote the following poem, dedicated to a good friend of mine. Not that he embodies the poem.

Ode to Shwam.

The Shwam comes up the road
and grins unabashed
the rain gets him wet
and the grin slides to smirk
since he is wearing a slicker
and he dumps it on a passerby.

The end.