This afternoon, I have a thing. It's important. I've pumped myself up by listening to a tape of myself telling myself that I'm amazing.


The premise is that you'll do amazing things for the chicken and once you get the chicken you'll forget all your worries, which might include having been stuck on a deserted island for years and thus losing the love of your life.
Talking to Kyle yesterday about his upcoming kid...

"So, how's she going to have the baby? Is she going to go to one of those places where they put you in a pool and then a bunch of hippies hug you until the baby comes out?"


"Or is she going to go to the hospital and get those drugs that make you so messed up you don't notice that a human being is crawling out of you?"

"Man, that's ... that's not right."

I don't know anything about babies.
From MSNBC.com: "Bush tells Naval grads of post 9/11 needs"

Yeah, way to get right on that.


When I was a teen some bad guy tried to break into our house. Luckily, a cop saw him.

The next day, a police officer came by and told us about what had happened.

My Dad flipped. He was to be damned if anyone was going to get their hands on his VCR or Bombay Company accessories.

So we installed a security alarm. It worked really well at keeping me in the house after 7 p.m. and letting us know with loud bleeps if any wind blew between the cracks of our windows.

Then Dad bought a handgun. And then another one. You do have two hands, you know?

One day my Dad asked me if I wanted to shoot his handgun. I don't think I'd ever wanted to not do something more in my life.

"Thanks, Dad. I'm cool."

To this day, I still have never fired a handgun. Never seen a reason to. Probably never will.

I do keep a Louisville Slugger next to my nightstand. Not for protection, but because I like to recreate the final scene of "The Natural" before I go to bed.

"I'll get the lights, babe."

SWING! CRASH! (round the bed) "Good night."


These are the things I think about when I'm supposed to be paying attention to the road.

And when I do pay attention to the road, I see things like this ...

This morning I was stuck behind a semi-truck on my way to work.

Why were you stuck? Traffic jam? One lane road?


In the bottom left corner of the backside of the truck the words "Passing Lane" were written. An arrow above it pointed to the left.

In the right corner there was the word "SUICIDE" with an arrow pointing right.

To the left was the carpool lane. Illegal for me to be in.

To the right was suicide. Illegal for me to attempt.

So, I stayed put. And stared at "SUICIDE" for 45 minutes. Staring at the word "SUICIDE" for 45 minutes on a Wednesday morning is ridiculous for one man to do.




"Oh man, this is the worst commute ever."


The odds of it happening in your billion year old liberal orgy of history are 1:1.

So, if you want me to believe any of your Darwin-smooching evolution hooey than you better find me that banana.

If not, leave me be. Got plenty of whittlin' and spittin' to do without your man-on-man theories.


This weekend, do it!

(I did. In the woods.)


We are living in a childish time when nerds can't watch Star Wars without it turning into a battle between red and blue states.

Those shoes have a silicone gel in the sole. It feels like your walking around with two strippers laced to your feet. And that feels like Heaven.

"How could you ever think to step on rabbits?!?!"

'Cause I saw this guy do it once. Repeatedly.

It was one afternoon after school in the seventhish grade. My friend down the street and I were building a zipline or hitting bee's nests. Seventh gradish boy stuff.

I'm pretty sure he was singing Radiohead's "Creep". Whenever I remember him he's always singing that song.

We were cutting through the woods behind his house when all of a sudden ...

"Whoa! Dude, you just stepped on a baby rabbit," I said.

"Where?" He asks as he again steps on the rabbit.

"There you go, you're doing it again!"

"Where is he?" At this point he begins shifting about looking for the rabbit.

"Right under you! Stop moving for a second!"

The rabbit went on to be fine. My friend ended up going to the wrong school on the first day of high school. I went on to write this.


At his prom, my grandson will slow dance to Fuck Level: Black's #1 hit, "Fucking Under The Flag".

Why didn't anybody tell me that Coldplay was such a good band?

OK, one guy did tell me. But, he smiled too much and couldn't be trusted. People who smile too much are the type of people who say, "Wait, wait, you just gotta hear this one song by Usher. It's sooooo good."

Just this week I realized how good that "Clocks" song is. And I say that with a frown on my face.


I'm thinking about getting a part-time job.

Something starting after 5 with a boss who goes home at 4 would be ideal.

Job ideas floating around up there?
-Bitter DVD rental clerk
-Older bag boy
-Sore thumb of a GAP employee
-Peanut vendor at Safeco Field


The new Weezer album (like every Weezer album) did get better the more I listened to it ... BUT for a C.D. that had a sticker on it saying "The most important album of their career" it left little room for anything but perfection rock, which it was not.

This morning, sitting at a red light, looking at my keys.

"Man, I need to get new key rings. Those things have lost all their luster. No shine, no shine. I need to get some stainless steel, maybe platinum, kickass rings. I like those thick ones that don't bend. Heck yes, some thick stainless steel key rings, maybe a polish of the keys and I'll be fucking set..."

You know it's going to be an easy week if your main priority on a Monday morning is tricking out your keys.


This is the Frosty I got for free because some lady lied about finding a finger in her chili. It's a historical Frosty. But, look at how small that cup is! I didn't know they made cups that small, man. I palmed the cup it's so small.


This weekend, hug a blind person. Make sure you tell them you're going to hug them first.

Since you want to know me better ....
Dorks Don't Rock Presents: The Contents of The Cohiba Box on my Dresser

-My checkbook (unbalanced)
-My brother Kyle's Zippo lighter, which has "KINKADIUS" inscribed on it.
-A Swiss Army Knife.
-My friend Chris' San Diego Blockbuster card.
-My Blockbuster card.
-My King County Library Card
-A 50 cent piece given to R. Girl by her Grandpa & a 50 cent piece I won at the casino playing blackjack.
-2 of my cat's kitten teeth.
-A mini Maglite.


The thing is, she really IS blind. But then, why is she holding a book like she's reading it? Peer pressure, maybe? I blame society.

Away from the ailments of others ...

R. Girl and I have become fans of that "Nanny 911" show. I'm fond of Nanny Deb. She's the asexual Mary Poppins.

There's always the montage scene where the nanny's coming into town to solve the problems of a problem-ridden family. She's walking through the streets of their specific town and everyone's shaking their heads like "A nanny? This ain't normal."

After that there's the big meeting between the moms and the nanny. The other night all three nannies went to help a family of 23 kids.

Here's what happened when the nannies met the mom.

Mom: Hellooooooooooo-

Nanny Deb: Hellooooooooooo-

Nanny Stella: Hellooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Nanny Yvonne: Hellooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Mom: ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Deb: ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Stella: oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Yvonne: ooooooooooooooooo.

The freakin' hellos went on for like 8 minutes.

Why do women always do that when they meet? The "Long Hello"? Is it some test you give each other? Whoever says "Hello" the longest and at the most awkward pitch is the Alpha Chick?

Man, if I was a babe I'd totally have the longest "Hello". I'd dominate, like I do with dudes and thumb wrestling.


The next time someone is talking about Noam Chomsky look them in the face and say "I'm not sure the dude from E.R. is a good source for the 411 on international affairs."

When they go red and start screaming "That's Noah Wyle!" tell them "Hey, Harvard Boy, I know. Go tie a Windsor knot and calm down."


Thanks to R. Girl and Rachel My Haircutter for helping me come up with this idea.

And you know that if you're close enough to that Bug Eye Lady when she pops, you're gonna get some eye juice on you.


He was just trying to overcome his fear of technology ... by touching a microwave. It's just nuts!

Hey, hey, kids, have you read about this?

Yeah, guess what! That happened just up the road from where I used to live in Western North Carolina. And more, my mom actually worked for the station that broke the story. She was their chroma key operator (or maybe it was the telepromptor or the camera).

Let's see, a state senator in Columbia, SC (where I went to college) announces that women are asking for beatings and then a Baptist pastor in Waynesville, NC (near where I went to high school, hit puberty) says that Democrats must "repent" ....

Can anybody guess why I never joined a church? Any crazy theories on why I might have left The South?

But, to be fair, the Republicans in my new neck of the woods are up to their old gay hooey again. To paraphrase the old joke, all the good men are either married, gay or giving up their sex online to Republican leaders.

When are the non-psycho Republicans going to finish their post-November orgasm and say, "Wait a minute, my party has been overrun by hypocritical born-again backwoods crazies!"?

ALSO! Wackiest headline of the day!

"Sad Story Behind Girl's Decapitation"

Oh, you think? When is there ever going to be a good story behind a decapitation?

"A Seattle man was decapitated Monday. Authorities told his family not to worry, however, as the man had been having a great day of rollercoasters before the decapitation and after the cranium-losing incident his head went on to cure cancer."


Who are these guys? Why do they live in the woods and dress like Daniel Boone? Why did California Nate move out east to join them? It's all NUTS, I tell you!
Violent Stick People


I guess the dude didn't hear the Turkey Race holler.

Psst....Those are the Blue Ridge Mountains in panel 2. I used to live there!

Last night after work. Laying around. De-stressing.


I answer the door. It's a group of four kids. One of them is on a bike.

"Hey, man, you got any, like, money? We need it for school."

Now the generous man in me would have asked no questions and gave.

The evil man in me would have invited them in and taught them how to run a more effective con.

But the me in me just laughed and shut the door.

Damned television is ruining kid's imaginations. Can't even run a half-assed grift no mo'.


It goes The Bronze Age, The Cougar Age, The Renaissance, The Helicopter Age and then The Chicken McNugget Age.


Here it is and there me and my truck are.

I pass that sign on my way to work. It's very close to where Boeing builds planes for the world. Do I reflect on the awesome feats of engineering that are going on so close to me?

Nope. I laugh about transsexuals.

Thanks to everyone who sent in suggestions. I actually didn't tally up the votes for which recurring character should be in it. After Liz suggested Wig Wolf the vote was over.

Violent Stick People
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com