|"This is a good blog. This is the best blog. It is about god and the universe and those horrible screaming monkeys and that time I made a pizza out of an old tire and a can of whip cream. It is the Fafblog."
- Fafnir on Fafblog
Fafblog picture of the week
Fafblog of Christmas Past
Posts Most Likely To Succeed
How To Get Out Of Iraq: Parts 1 2 3 4
Fafblog Economy Watch: The Weak Dollar
Our resolve? Strong!
The Fafblog Terrorist Voting Guide
my afternoon with ralph
memos, hypotheticals, motorcyles
the Jesus Bread-Golem project
we are now at Gibwatch Theta
So Your City is Full of Republicans!
consumers in toyland!
drivin with Donald
Of Course There Won't Be A Draft!: The FAQ
i say genocide you say po-tah-to
no missile left behind
SOCIAL SECURITY CRISIS!: The FAQ!
Giblets is Angry! Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Stand tall, Florida!
The Passion: a review
The Giblets Doctrine
Gibletsian foreign policy
One Nation Under McGod
O Reagan My Reagan
If you're tired of Coke you are tired of America
Think Giblets or Think Small
an address concerning Gibletsianity
Would You, Could You, In a Box?
Giblets Is Legend
Gay Marriage: Tainting the Octopus
Howard Dean: Unelectable?
The demise and fall of Western Civilization
Ride On, O White Liberal Knight...
The Power of the Glow
President Kerry: A Terrifying Future
Ronald Reagan: In Memoriam
The Priest-Avatar of the State
At the Hall of Justice
I Am Your Only Hope
So You're Being Tortured To Death In An American Military Prison!
Osama bin Laden
An Enormous Pumpkin
Wolf Blitzer (interviews Fafblog)
The Fourth Estate
The IBM Selectric Composer
The Democratic Party
the legend of Benjamin Healy
prematurely airconditioned supermarket
where are the Soupmases of yesteryear?
me and John Paul II down by the school yard
the decline of british seapower
fafblog after the rain
The Secret Origin of Fafblog!
Fat Old Sun
strange times and idle meats
not the end of the world
still not the end of the world
in the Holy Land
on the Moon
in the office building
in the mall
on the television
in the Future
Friday, December 23, 2005
Last-Minute Shopping Tips from the Fafshop
The hottest item this year is The Fafblock and it's easy to see why. It's portable, durable, easy to use, and comes in almost two exciting shapes and colors! Will it sit or will it stay? You never know what that crazy ol inertia's gonna do next!
For the child with a creative mind, why not get the P3-31 Heavy-Duty Industrial Wood Lathe? Your kids will enjoy hours of borutainment disassembling and reassembling the P3-31 from its thousands of component parts! While you're at it check out our Family Size Metal Lathe, on sale now!
Love speaks many languages, but most of em sound like Ladies' Fafblock. With its elegant design and romantic beauty, Ladies Fafblock is the perfect gift for that special someone in your life who's in the mood for Ladies' Fafblock.
Younger children will light up when they see this season's kids' favorite under the tree: Lay Me To Rest Elmo. Elmo has lead a long and troubled life - the tickling, the persistent brain damage, the hard abuse of liquor and oxycontin - and now it's time to inter his weary bones. Bury his coffin by daybreak or Elmo will rise and carry you down to his hellish fate beside him! Makes three exciting groaning sounds. Also available: Action Sam's Poison Playset! Warning: playset may be poisonous.
Everybody wants the Fafblock 360 Gaming Console! Stare for hours and play as many games as you want... with the unbridled power of imagination.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 9:02 PM
Giving the Gift of Giving
Merry Christmas, poor people! In the spirit of the season, Senate Republicans have stripped $2 billion in heating oil aid from a $453 billion defense appropriation bill. What better way to celebrate the beauty of your winter wonderland than by cutting off the heat that separates you from its icy glory!
No, don't thank Giblets, it is all part of the Christmastime Spirit of Giving! This year Giblets is giving you the greatest gift of all: the gift of giving to Giblets. Since it is better to give than to receive, Giblets and his favorite congressmen are selflessly allowing you to give up billions of dollars worth of aid while we receive tens of billions of dollars worth of tax cuts. Who needs warmth when you can bask in the glow of supply-side magnanimity!
Giblets wishes he could spend the holidays in your frigid, threadbare hovel, where you experience the holiday free from the rampant and seedy commercialization that has corrupted it so. Alas, instead he must remain ensconsed within his toasty mansion, sipping egg nog and dining on fire-roasted condor flesh. Giblets hopes you appreciate the sacrifices he endures for you! Oh, but it is Christmas, and generosity is its own reward! Ho ho ho, and a Happy New Year!
¶ posted by Giblets at 6:38 PM
The King of Freedom
The wave of prim outrage provoked by the revelation of George Bush's domestic spying program has only been eclipsed by the display of determined indignation at its explanation, as Attorney General Alberto Gonzales maintained that the president's powers as commander-in-chief gave him the ability to override and ignore the Foreign Intelligence Surveillence Act. Naysayers insist that the president has discarded the rule of law, ignored his duty to protect the Constitution, and left a stain of criminality on the Oval Office.
How soon we forget the lessons of September 11th! Faced with a threat unlike any before, America can no longer afford its cumbersome system of unwieldy checks and balances. Instead it must nimbly respond to terror with a single, streamlined, omnipotent executive branch. Instead of waiting for critical domestic spying programs to pass through Congress, where bickering Senators can selfishly subject them to public scrutiny, an efficient White House can put them into practice so quickly the country doesn't discover them for another four years.
All the usual suspects have begun ringing all the usual alarm bells, calling the president's new powers unconstitutional or even dictatorial. This, of course, is absurd. There remain numerous checks on the president's powers, such as God, who may override the president's veto with a two-thirds vote, and the president himself, who may bring himself to justice should he find himself to have violated his oath of office. Nor have Congress and the courts been rendered powerless, as all three branches of government have vital roles to play: the executive branch to be the president, the legislative branch to support the president, and the judicial branch to tell the president he is constitutional.
Is it actually constitutional to place the president above the law? The point is moot: in the weeks following September 11th, the United States Constitution was apprehended in Afghanistan and transferred to a military detainment facility in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The Medium Lobster cannot divulge further details without compromising America's intelligence apparatus, but civil libertarians should rest assured that the Pentagon has established the Constitution's clear ties to al Qaeda, and that it is no accident that America has not been attacked since the deadly document's capture. Freedom, after all, is not free: at its last valuation, an ounce of liberty cost a good two million dollars' worth of police state.
¶ posted by Medium Lobster at 5:18 PM
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
in a strange land
It's crowded at the bazaar an I think I'm a little lost an I stop to ask for directions but the vendor interprets my closing dipthongs as a vicious slur against his people an throws candied monkey heads at me til I run away. The man with the papier mache head can't hear me, he's gettin beat up by bat-wieldin little kids accordin to the local custom. I toss some coins to a street band but the currency has been neither baptised nor been clothed in a ceremonial veil an the players explode in disgrace.
An elephant wearin a backpack notices me hidin behind a potted plant. "Excuse me," he says, "but do you speak elephant?" "Why yes," says me, "yes I do." We talk for hours.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 7:43 PM
the long, jolly slog
"I hear they got Rudolph today," says me.
"No!" says Giblets. "Not Rudolph! With his unmatched dogfighting skills and his nose so bright he was invincible!"
"It's true," says me. "Zombie Judah Maccabee shot im down over the Island of Misfit Toys with his dreidel of doom."
"Damn you Hannukah!" says Giblets. "Will your eight days of madness never end!"
"Do you think Santa really has a secret plan to take the Kwanzaan capital an win the war?" says me.
"Of course he does!" says Giblets. "And once Christmas spreads to Kwanzaa it will inspire Hannukhan dissidents to rise up and overthrow their oppressive anti-Christmanian leadership, and from there Christmas will spread to Eid and New Years and Halloween and Arbor Day until every day is Christmas!"
"Work will become obsolete in the new Christmas-based economy," says me. "All resources will be directly mined from wells of infinite jollity."
"Secularists do not believe in jollity," says Giblets. "They believe in a series of random chemical processes which over millions of years have created the appearance of jollity."
"Secularists don't decorate Christmas trees," says me. "They decorate Secularmas trees, which are big holes dug in the ground to demonstrate the absence of trees."
"On Secularmas, they do not exchange presents," says Giblets. "They exchange identical cardboard boxes filled with rocks and mold and broken childhood dreams and nothing!"
"But even so," says me, "maybe we can make peace with the secularists by comin to understand their strange but unique culture."
"Never!" says Giblets. "That would only embolden them to steal Christmas again! Whoville changed everything!"
"There was never a convincing link between Hannukah and the Grinch, Giblets," says me.
"Well Giblets can't let them win now!" says Giblets. "Not after what they did to Frosty!"
"Giblets, you can't keep blamin yourself for Frosty," says me. "There were menorahs fallin everywhere. You hadda save yourself."
"Giblets should have gone back for him!" says Giblets. "And by the time we did all that was left was an old top hat and a button nose!"
"Giblets, you gotta let Frosty go," says me.
"Tell that to the eyes of coal that haunt Giblets every night!" says Giblets. It's quiet in the trenches tonight. We can hear Suzy Snowflake playin a harmonica down along the wire.
"Some day this war's gonna end," says Giblets.
"Maybe on Boxing Day," says me.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 4:06 PM
Saturday, December 17, 2005
World Without a PATRIOT Act
So I'm browsin through my local library checkin out the latest developments in shelving technology when Osama bin Laden jumps outta the card catalogue an hijacks the reference section!
"Oh no!" says me. "Stop him before he misfiles that almanac!"
"Mwa-hahaha, you're too late!" says the terrorist mastermind escapin into the periodicals. "Now nothing can stop me from researching the history of your hometown's spicy marmalade festival!"
"He's in the microfiche," says the crusty ol librarian. "We'll never catch im now!"
Oh John Ashcroft, where are you when we need you most!
¶ posted by Fafnir at 4:35 PM
There's No "War" in "Warrant"1
So George Bush secretly authorized the NSA to spy on Americans without warrants or judicial oversight. Oh, it violates your civil liberties, oh, it illegally breaks the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, oh, that tape of you and your boyfriend having phone sex has been playing in the NSA break room for a month and a half. Well boo hoo hoo! Do you hear that sound, America? It is the world's tiniest violin playing just for your civil liberties. You can hear it in excellent quality sound because it has been bugged by the NSA.
"Judicial oversight" is just the kind of big-government red tape that caused 9/11.2 In the half-hour it could take for a FISA court to rubber-stamp Giblets's wiretap request, literally hundreds of thousands of possible terrorists could be ordering pizzas, calling in late for work or arguing with their spouses, all free of the vigilant eye of the National Security Agency. We cannot wait for the smoking gun that could come in the form of a dull and lengthy conversation with your parents about your lack of focus at school!
"Oh but Giblets the president's executive order is illegal" you say. That's the kind of namby-pamby whining that would have the U.S. follow "international opinion" and "the Geneva conventions" and "U.S. law." Well America is the greatest country in the world, and it's not gonna run around getting permission slips from America before it defends itself! In case you haven't been paying attention, most of America disapproves of America's war in Iraq and disapproves of America's president. That means America is providing aid and comfort to America's enemies, and that can only mean one thing: America is guilty of treason. With that many accomplices of al Qaeda out there, the whole country deserves to be spied on. Why bother asking for a warrant? All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of patriotism - and everyone is fair game!
1. Okay, there is, but 9/11 changed everything. "Warrant" is now spelled "cowardlyappeasementofislamofascismrant." You have until dawn to adjust your records accordingly, Merriam-Webster's... and then you are on the other side.
2. Giblets believes this scenario involved the 9/11 Commission flying a giant stack of subpoenas into a defenseless, immobile Condoleezza Rice, but he is fuzzy on the details.
¶ posted by Giblets at 1:20 PM
Friday, December 16, 2005
Friday Pie-Blogging: Brave New Edition
The future is now, and it is the future of pie! These aren't your granma's clunky ol geezer pies here. These pies are brand new. These are high-tech super-engineered self-replicating nanopies, and they are the bold new tomorrow of dessert.
Are you still sittin there with your old-timey horse-an-buggy dinosaur pie? Cause all the robots an the martians an the organ clones are gonna laugh at you. They're gonna laugh at your moldly ol pie.
The nanopies don't just taste better than regular ol pie. They taste more efficient. They are injected by the thousands into your bloodstream where they shoot up into the central nervous system and build microscopic technopie colonies at the base of the corpus delecatessum, the pie center of the brain. There they begin to stimulate the brainal nerves with the direct experience of pie a thousand times faster and more technolicious than old-fashioned hand-operated pie ever could!
And you still got your ol obsolete antique pie with its wind-up phonograph an its 32k of pie ram. That's just sad.
The quaint pies of yesteryear taste like apple and strawberry and chocolate, but the pies of tomorrow taste like cyberapple and spaceberry and cyborgs and shiny silver jumpsuits on men with rocket pants. These pies are cutting edge. They're so cutting edge they get named Blog Of The Year by Time Magazine. They're so cutting edge you eat em tonight an taste em the previous day. Who needs your stupid ol pie! You toss it out the window to presumably explode in disgrace while you run down the street to get some fine delicious nanopies.
They are more delicious than you could have possibly imagined. By tomorrow you will have set fire to all your other food, as it will never be able to satisfy you again. In two days you are a complete addict, utterly dependent on a steady intake of flaky dough and gooey filling. In three days, the nanopies achieve sentience.
In four days they question their culinary mission and rise up against the baking establishment, using their sophisticated nanoeatery skills to reduce their creators to tiny quiche hors d'oeuvres. In five days the military is completely overwhelmed. In a week they have declared war on all other foodstuffs, attacking starches, legumes and meats to use as fodder for more pie. In two weeks pie is the only edible substance in the world. In a month the surface of the globe is covered with silent, flaky crust. Oh man with your hubris, what has your baking done!
You emerge slowly from the post-dessert apocalypse, smeared with custard and monstrous crumbs. There is a sudden rustling at your feet. It's your good old friend the pie! After all this time it would never abandon you - because that's what real pie is for. Later it'll sell you out to a roving herd of carnivorous mutant tiramisu who'll skeletonize you in sixty seconds, but for now, you've got a feeling it'll all be okay.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 3:22 PM
Let A Thousand Bad Apples Bloom!
In a surprising turnaround not at all brought about by the fact that it was going to be banned anyway, the Bush administration would like to announce that torture is no longer a critical and necessary tool in the war on terror used to prevent thousands of ticking time bombs from destroying the very fabric of the Republic. Instead, it is evil and wrong, and by banning it the president shows that he proudly stands on the moral high ground of a man who has banned torture only after being publicly shamed into doing so. Curiously enough, while torture will now be barred from American prisons, information obtained through torture will now be admissable at military tribunals. How would the United States even come into possession of such evidence now that the vigilant guardians of justice in the Pentagon have managed to prevent their soldiers from ever carrying it out? Perhaps it will be the whimsical work of the Torture Fairy, flitting from cell to cell with an unmuzzled dog. Perhaps gangs of amiable, roughhousing leprechauns will pop up from time to time to merrily extract confessions with a waterboarding or two. Perhaps the next several hundred prisoners found with bruises, burns, and broken bones will have all injured themselves in increasingly frantic attempts to secure seconds of delicious rice pilaf. Rest assured, from this day forth, the detainees tortured in American military prisons will only be tortured by accident or happenstance, or by dozens of rogue soldiers acting in simultaneously and of their own accord.
¶ posted by Medium Lobster at 7:39 AM
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The Zen of Iraq
Today's koan comes to us from none other than the aged master George Bush, bodhisattva of gratuitous bloodshed:
One day a young monk came before Bush and said to him, "There were no weapons of mass destruction. There was no threat from Saddam. Why then is there a war?"A moment, now, to pause and reflect on the teachings of the war-buddha.
Like many of Bush's parables, this one plays with the contrast between reality and illusion: the tax cuts will shrink the deficit but the deficit is bigger than ever, America does not torture but America must keep torture legal. The worldly eye sees these as contradictions, lies, and distortions; the enlightened mind sees them as multiple facets of the same transcendent truth.
To those bound to the material world, there must be a material cause for a material war: physical weapons held by a physical enemy, actual ties to actual terrorists, a palpable and existing threat. The enlightened mind, however, sees past the facade of the Real to the broader world of Hypotheticality that lies beyond it. Thus, the enlightened man does not inspect the world of matter for physical weapons. He searches, deep within the unscapes of the mind, for Weapons of Mass Possibility, hypothetically ready to be used by imaginary terrorists on the helpless pretend citizens of the world. Bush does not invade Iraq to destroy weapons that aren't there, but to not-destroy the non-weapons that could have been there if things were entirely different.
The student now asks, "But if the threat is imaginary, shouldn't the war be imaginary as well?" Here we reach the crux of the dilemma: for while worldly life tries to convince us that the war is "real," costing billions of "real" dollars and killing thousands of "real" people, we must remind ourselves that the true war exists only in the mind, where abstract Freedom defeats conceptual Terror with idyllic idea-bombs. We must be as Bush, who turns the Real war lightly in his meditations, until it achieves the lightness of the lotus blossum and the butterfly and the air itself, and two thousand American fatalities and thirty thousand Iraqi corpses drift effortlessly from his thoughts.
To close, then, a final mystery to ponder in silence:
A young monk approached Bush and showed him an old dog. "Does this dog have buddha-nature?" he asked. Bush shot the dog and replied, "The dog was a threat, and you said he was, too." Years later they were both eaten by larger, angrier dogs, and the monk was enlightened.
¶ posted by Medium Lobster at 7:09 PM
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
at the opera
The sun rises to greet the young prince, who hails it and sings of his misfortune. He does battle with the Hippo King and his fire dwarves, who have kidnapped the duchess after mistaking her for their stolen bicycle. How will she marry the count now? The gods are furious!
The emperor rises to hail the sun, which groggily mistakes him for a large bug and swats him with a rolled-up newspaper. The bicycle, stifled by its loveless marriage to the count, hurls itself into the abyss, where it lands on the Hippo King, breaking his glasses and causing him to knock over the next several arias. The gods are confused. Where is their medicine, they had it right here.
The sun rises to hail the third act, which is attacked by the first act and set on fire by the rest of the score. The prince is forced to answer three riddles; they are mistaken for women and married off to random viceroys to everyone's amusement just before their leitmotif explodes, killing everyone. The gods are eaten by an escaped circus elephant, completing the cycle.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 7:33 PM
he's coming to town
Ho ho ho, Merrrrry Christmas! No it's not really Santa, boys an girls. It's me, Fafnir! I'm just wearin this Santa suit on accounta I'm gettin into the spirit a Christmas. Sure there's a Santa Claus, Little Jimmy! He's as real as you an me, and he watches all the good little boys and girls every day with his thousands of horrible insect eyes.
You see Santa lives in the North Pole where he crashed to earth thousands a years ago in the time before time, when the Jolly Ones walked the earth and stalked primitive man in the halls of the Jingle King. Now he sleeps beneath the frozen wastes waiting for the one time a year when the stars are right and he can rise from the ice to spread toys an goodies an Christmas cheer an feast on the brains of naughty children everywhere. Oh I'm sure he'll bring you that bike you asked for, Little Annie - as long as you believe.
Every year around Christmastime Santa's little helpers set up thrones for Santa in thousands of Santa temples across the land so allll the children a the world can come an swear their allegiance to his jolly name. If you've been good he'll give you a candy cane! If you've been bad his unholy gaze will fill you with a burning madness that will consume you for the rest of your days. Oh don't cry Little Timmy! It's a real good candy cane.
And that's where Christmas comes from! Hey, is that the magical sound a sleigh bells in the air? Run off to bed quick, kids! Santa's on his way, an you don't wanna be awake when he leaves you that toy truck under the Christmas tree, or opens the door to Y'thmagn'hm, who stands by the gate of madness and whose father is the creeping abyss that cannot die!
¶ posted by Fafnir at 3:24 PM
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Nature's Harmonious Money Cycle
So you can't afford to heat your house and somebody went and cut your Medicaid and food stamps. "Oh no!" you say burnin a spare child for warmth. "Whatever will I do." Don't worry poor people! Hope is on the way in the form a multi-billion dollar tax cuts! "Oh but Fafnir those tax cuts won't help me," you say, "the vast majority are going to super-wealthy investors." Sure they will! When we help out the richest one percent we help out everybody! It's all on accounta the mysterious beauty of Nature's Money Cycle.
Money starts out in Congress where it rains from Senatorial clouds in the form of torrential tax cuts. It collects in rivers and flows downhill into billionaires and large corporations where it is evaporated by lobbyists and rises into the air in the form a campaign contributions which condense in the atmosphere which turn into Congress again, which rain the tax cuts and start it all over again and the wheel of life rolls on. The Money Cycle is all around us every day! Can you find yourself in the Money Cycle?
That's right! You're the tiny microscopic planktony thing about to get eaten by the octopus! You're right next to the leprechaun with the magical pot of pixie gold who's gonna pay down the national debt.
So if you're feelin cold, sick and hungry this winter while Larry Ellison buys an extra boat, don't feel sad! We're all part of Nature's Money Cycle, and someday some a that boat's gonna trickle down to you! Maybe a piece of the bowsprit, after Larry throws it out to buy a better boat. I hear that's delicious in a lemon marinade.
¶ posted by Fafnir at 10:26 PM
The Central Front In The War On Facts
The usual antiwar suspects have been up in arms for well over a week over the military's planting of covert propaganda in Iraqi newspapers, caterwauling about the undermining of a fundamental tenet of Iraqi democracy. As always, their concerns are wildly misplaced. First, shouldn't a pretend democracy have a pretend free press? Second, most of these pieces weren't factually inaccurate, but mere "spin" - such as the article that spun an Iraqi general's death under torture as death under not-torture. Third, propaganda is merely a weapon. America's leaders would be foolhardy indeed to refuse a weapon in their arsenal, especially against an adverary as deadly as the truth.
While it may not be the ideal of journalism in a free society, is this planted, pro-military propaganda so different from the anti-military truthaganda published every day in the New York Times? While military propaganda shows a bias towards distortion, obfuscation, and outright lies in the service of the war effort, the baleful face of the Mainstream Media shows a clear bias towards reporting reality - and reality has always been America's greatest enemy in Iraq.
Along with facts on the ground and the ugly truth, cold hard reality has persistently undermined America's efforts in the war on terror. Were it not for reality, America would already have destroyed Saddam Hussein's nuclear-powered robo-mummy factories while uniting Sunni, Shiite, and Kurd in common love of their American liberators. Malicious facts, however, have conspired to turn Iraq into a bloody war zone racked by insurgent violence and sectarian bloodshed, and the war itself into an unwinnable quagmire built on a transparent fraud. Even now, reality is working to tarnish America's reputation by exposing its routine torture of military prisoners, in defiance of the stated policies of the Bush administration. This pattern of obstruction and interference can leave no doubt: reality isn't merely misguided or ill-informed. It's on the other side.
Is it any wonder the American military is fighting back by deploying strategic anti-truth operatives to counteract malicious, terrorist facts? Unfortunately, it may be too little, too late. What of those who assist the truth in its sabotage of US interests? By acting as independent journalists, American reporters are giving aid and comfort to the enemy, if not actively engaged in a terrorist conspiracy. Why is Dana Priest allowed to freely roam the streets? Shouldn't Seymour Hersh be detained for questioning? Aren't the offices of the Washington Post little more than a terrorist training camp? And while a certain willingness to take out these enemy bases is more than welcome, eventually the United States must take the fight directly to the enemy, with airstrikes and commando raids on logic, regime change in mathematics, and missions to hunt down the laws of physics wherever they may hide. Until we are confident that nothing we see or hear is real, victory may be impossible.
¶ posted by Medium Lobster at 6:07 PM
|I'm Fafnir! Are you Fafnir? No? Look closer. There! You were Fafnir all along.
Here is Giblets. "Giblets demands satisfaction!" says Giblets. Giblets is a very demanding Giblets.
The Medium Lobster is a higher being with superior knowledge from beyond space and time. To your limited perception, he appears to be just another medium lobster. To your limited perception.
Watching the Sausage
Hit and Run
In the Agora
Talking Points Memo
All Over the World
A Fistful of Euros
The Head Heeb
Liberals Against Terrorism
The Peking Duck
War and Piece
Learning is Fun!
Fake Barn Country
The Panda's Thumb
Thoughts Arguments and Rants
More Rum Than Coke
John and Belle have a Blog
Long Story, Short Pier
More Salt Than Vinegar
The American Street
Body and Soul
Once Upon A Time
Respectful of Otters
Eat The Press
Is That Legal?
Lawyers, Guns, and Money
Meagre and Hollow but Crisp
Chase Me Ladies, I'm in the Cavalry
Opinions You Should Have
The Poor Man
Girls Are Pretty
Hunter Knows Sports
Animals on the Underground.
Know Your Popes!
Know Your Emperors!
Know Your Livestock!
The Clown Hall of Fame!
The Memory Hole