Sketches, and musing on BREAKING the ART RULES [Pussinboots]

You see Mr. Mayberry had unknowingly been issuing forth into my lovely polished tubes the drek of unsolicited email oft advertising creams with which to increase the length and breadth of your manhood or the ferocity of your disgusting organic spurtings. Mr. Mayberry was shocked! “How did this happen?!” he asked. “Well sir, you have a virus on your machine that comes with a set in instructions that tell it to send out email while it runs in the background so you’re unaware of it’s existence.” was my reply. “But how did that happen?” he repeated, which is actually fairly standard when you’re telling someone that the sanctity of their digital realm has been violated. Remembering that there has been a rash of e-card based virus payload spam going around recently I asked if he had recently gotten any e-cards and if so had he opened them.

Mr. Mayberry took a moment to reply. The pause itself felt loaded.

“Well…yeah…but, y’know..it was my birthday just a couple days ago and…y’know, I just thought maybe those were real.”

Mr. Mayberry’s Melancholy [In Qais of Emergency: photo by Chromogenic]

From our abusive godfather, Warren Ellis, on the subject of yesterday:

It’s Independence Day, yes, when we here in Great Britain celebrate our Great Project — creating an entire country for comedy purposes in the guise of ceding America its independence. Thank you for giving us literally hundreds of years of laughter.

And thank you, my dear, for the absolutely mesmerizing (and highly informative) accents. Why, one need only perk up one’s cornfed American ears to determine who the villain in any given situation is (the limey), and what their weakness will be (stodgy hubris).

And that, my friends, is how we blew up the Death Star. Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker.

Yes, It’s That Day [Warren Ellis]