Man, this would be awkward. I could easily bring up the man-tights, but I wouldn't 'cause of the batarangs.

Oh no ...
Howardstern.com is saying that Mitch Hedberg has died. No news outlets are saying anything about it. Maybe it's a mistake.
Update: Mitch has died. It's a sad, sad day.

And someone else died too. Maybe she'll take the Wrath of The Jesus Right (guest starring Jesse Jackson) with her.

And in case I haven't been crystal ... I don't have a problem with the everyday religious people in the Republican party. It's those wolfs in WWJD braclets who have hijacked the party and use Jesus as their rallying cry for war, oil and health care cuts that really chap my stick.

Violent Stick People


I have to find a new job. Oh, I'm serious.

The chance of my brain actually falling out my nose has reached a critical level.

Yesterday, life-changing yesterday ...

An old woman approached me. I knew she was going to talk to me. I knew it was going to smell like Marlboros and I was going to be stupified by whatever conversation was coming up.
"Uh, say, I need you to run me up an X6-Slipper."

"We don't have any more X6-Slippers. Company policy."

"Jesus Christ! I mean ... For the Fuck of ... What The Christ? We are in the middle of a ... Jesus! Fuck MY ARM!"

Something snapped in my brain.

It was 8:00 in the morning and I was being cursed at by a woman who by time and excess nicotine had convinced herself that she was my superior. That, and she felt she was free to take the Lord's name in vain around me.

The yelling continued and all I could do is look at her bloody, chapped and yellow lips and think "What the hell am I doing with my life?".

I walked away in silence. I made it to my office without losing any organs out of any orifices. Then it was an hour on the phone with various managers explaining to them company policy.

"But what I don't understand is why I don't have it."


"But why don't I have it? Where are the e-mails? What about Feburary 7th?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You see, the policy means I need to be ..."

And on and on and on.

It used to be a joke, this office. Now, over a year later, it's a scary reality.

I have geared up the resume pumper again. This time I will not stop filling the offices of Seattle with the tales of my accomplishments until one of them offers me a job.

You hear me, World? I'm grabbing your tail again!
Violent Stick People


The story behind this is ... nothing really. I just drew a pretty amazing looking Easter Bunny at 8:30 this morning and couldn't think of anything to do with him.

I had him fighting sharks, running a laundromat, rambling on about soda, etc.
Then I drew a shocked Easter Bunny and it all came together.

My Day of the Revived Rabbit finished off with me playing 'truck races' with one of the kids at R. Abbit's place of work. The kid is a quadlaplegic and just happens to be my favorite of them all.

We put a couple Hot Wheels trucks on one of his pillows. He then (gently) hit his head against the mattress to get the trucks rolling. The first to reach the end of the pillow won.

It was more fulfilling than ham.
Violent Stick People


Here he is, my little nephew William. That's right, he's flipping off the ultrasound.

He's decided to skip infancy and go straight to his rebelious teenage phase. If you look very closely you'll see that he's wearing a "Co-Ed Naked Womb" t-shirt.

This kid is going to rock.


I drew my own "sad animal" picture.

Do you know why the eagle is crying? Because you don't understand zoology.

And you know why you don't understand zoology? Because you're allergic to learning, you duct-taped babies. Can you believe that it's come down to the fact that you might actually need a "Student's Bill of Rights" that says your brain is entitled to learn?

Universities are places to let your mind grow. You hear crazy things. You hear wonderful things. And if you really listen, you learn to think for yourself.

That's the best part of an education. You don't need a crazy neo-con or your mother to point out the horseshit for you. You can pick it out by yourself.

But you all cry "They don't talk like me! Where's Momma? Where's Jesus?". Pat Buchanan would be disgusted by you panty-huggers, you radicals who stole the party of Lincoln.

And did you ever stop to think that MAYBE the educated people sound like Noam Chomsky and not Bill O'Reilly for a reason?
Violent Stick People


Here's another one. Again, what the hell does this mean?

It kind of looks like the Michael Stipe fella has realized that he looks like an ass and is giving up. Not fatty 4chin. She's meditating on pie 'til the bitter end.

Oh, you crazy Magical Jesus People ... Does anyone know what the fuck this means?

Does it mean, "Terri Schiavo is muted, but she speaks life"?

Or, "I have been silenced by the blood of something and life is dark"?

Maybe it means "All I got to say is 'LIFE' and the only duct tape I got is red".

Why does CNN show us these pictues without asking, "Um, why are you doing this?"

Why did the Southern Jesus Senators put purple ink on their fingers trying to look like Iraqi voters? Why is the mailman wearing the bucket?

I think one of my single male readers should try this tactic. Or a single lady. This isn't a sexist site.

And, please, let us know how it works. 'Cause we here at "Dorks Don't Rock" are really trying to become more interactive with our readers.

For example ... What song was stuck in YOUR head yesterday?
Violent Stick People


I have "Pictures of Lily" by The Who stuck in my head.
Violent Stick People


Yelling "I DON'T DO DRUGS!" in public is not a very good way to make your case.

What is not shown is me agreeing to undergo a drug screening followed by a lengthy debate between George Washington and myself on the merits and perils of illegal substances. This, however, was very hard to draw.

For those of you interested in my public appearances ... I will be at the Southcenter Best Buy in Tukwila, WA each Sunday from 12:30 'til 1:30.

As my atheletic girlfriend will be practicing with her softball team, my consumables-addicted me will be making slow and methodic circles about the store.

I'll be the guy in the Dodgers cap staring at the cover of "The Dirty Dozen" for 10 minutes.

And, seriously, I don't do drugs. Thanks to all of my family members who were concerned enough to ask "Did you really eat garbage in an alley with a hobo?" and "Seriously, do you have a mustache?".

Violent Stick People


Since it's such a great Friday in Seattle, here's a "Teddy Roosevelt Raunchy Blonde Joke".

Violent Stick People

This isn't over, George Washington or reader. Be sure to stay tuned for more of George's whacky drug related humor.

After that? Roosevelt's raunchy blonde jokes.

Weekend to you all.
Violent Stick People


Today's topics are drugs and the homeless.

One night in San Diego a man came up to me outside a bar. I had just been inside the bar, so I was a little Jack Danieled. The guy asked me for a couple quarters.

"For what?" I asked, having a journalism degree and all.

"I want to play that video game," he answered.

"OK. But I'm playing with you."

So, we played that Area 51 shooter game from the early 90's. We made a good team. Until I lost because I chose to shoot forklifts instead of the alien zombies.

"Shoot the alien zombies."

"Now, now. I feel the forklifts present a more immediate threat."

More quarters. More beers. Pass out. Wake up. Coffee. Water. Sun up. Sun down.

"Wait a minute ... I think I played video games with a hobo last night."

I made this revelation out-loud inside a public restroom. People just looked at me.

"Well, I did."

And now, my favorite story about drugs and neighbors ever.

In college I lived next door to a trio of security guards. They were ultra-tense and had many guns. This tension was increased when one of them decided that he would fight crime during the day and sell weed at night.

One day as I was watching Kids in the Hall ...


"Come in!"

"What's up, dude. I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to buy some bud or something."

"No, not really."

It was silent for a moment. Then he just kind of shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, then, do you just want to come over to my place and smoke some for free?"

"You know, you're a very bad drug dealer."

"I know."

Later in life, that guy would jump out of a second story window when a stripper's boyfriend came home to find him pants-less in his apartment.

Violent Stick People


And ...

As I was going through the gauntlet of airport security yesterday morning, there was a lady in front of me who was very much so taking off almost all of her clothes.

"I just need to take off my jacket."

"Wait, here are my boots."

"This shirt might be a risk to foreign oil independence."

Holy junks, was this not-at-all-attractive lady about to strip to the buff to prove her hate for shoe bombs?
Why weren't the security people saying something to her? They were just letting her take off more and more layers of clothing.

"I think I might, wait ... yep, socks."

They knew she could keep her socks.

I was returning from a week of no television, no internet and no news. I really hadn't had much human contact beyond "A Bud, a Miller Lite and two Jacks".
I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be on edge at all times.

"Oh, America. What a dweeb."

Also! Extra!
I know I've been pretty weak on updating the progress of Kyle's fetus.
But I do have some very exciting news.

It's going to be a boy!

I'm going to be an uncle to a little nephew. This weekend, I shop for a Tonka truck and a badass t-shirt that says "Black Market Material".
Violent Stick People


Why is Ronald McDonald hanging out at this hipster pad? I don't know.
My sense of irony isn't worth a million dollars.

And, I think that's it for me before the big vacation. I have a bunch to not catch up on around my non-office in preparation.

Will I really be doing all of these amazing things in San Diego?

I will try. However, my honest and main goal is to get a Batman tattoo.
See you in time.
Violent Stick People


My Axl Rose dancing ruined the bad guy's day.

A story about flirting with disaster flavored pie:
This past weekend I felt that my girlfriend deserved to be treated to a nice sit-down breakfast. She works so hard to heal kids, make our bed and listen to me talk about Batman.

And she didn't want to cook.

So we got a booth at our local smoke-filled regional Denny's equivalent.
Mmmmm pancakes.
Mmmmm bacon.
Coffee! More!

A sign hanging over our booth tells me "Any pie for 5.99!"

"What a deal."

I look to my right and there they are. The pies. Pumpkin, apple ... pies.
subconsciously, I start raising my eyebrows in a flirty manner as I look at the pies.

"Oooo, I'd eat that one and that one at the same time. And that one? That one could watch."

"Are you flirting with that waitress?" I hear and snap out of my baked-porno-goods mindset.


"You're looking over at that waitress with a big smile on your face. You keep raising your eyebrows like you're flirting."

Sure enough, there is a waitress standing right next to the pie case. From where R. Girl was sitting it must of looked very bad.

"Jesus pie no! I'm looking at those pies!"
Violent Stick People


A week from today I'm heading out on my Grand Diego adventure.

It's now time for "Brent Admits The Horrible Truth"....
I, Brent, can only draw half a bald eagle. That's why the eagle is flying in from off the frame to accept my hand of friendship.
Violent Stick People
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com