In response to Eva's question about whether I had heard of the "Flying Spaghetti Monster" religion, I said "Yes" and that I had a similar idea.

Well, this is it. Batmanity.

Batmanists follow the teachings of Batman, a.k.a. Bruce Wayne of Gotham City, the only son of Thomas Wayne. They believe that Thomas Wayne died for his son.
At the core of Batmanity is the resurrection of Bruce Wayne as The Batman after falling into a cave.

The religion of Batmanity was founded when Brent Kinkade told his brother Kyle, "If everyone else gets to believe in a myth about a God-like guy walkin' on water and helping the poor, then I get to to. Except, my guy's got a boat shaped like a bat to get around on water."


Why you gotta ask 'dem questions? Dem questions is killing our boys in I-Rack. It not their shoddy equipment, limited troop numbers or lack of a long-term plan. It cause you an' some dead boy's momma ask dem questions.


Angels ain't got nothing better to do.

Confused? See previous post.
"Intelligent Math": Everything beyond 6th grade addin' and dividin' is just too complicated. God knows the quadratic equation so I don't have to.

"Intelligent Commuting": I don't understand how all the gears and internal combustions work in my car. It's too complicated. I'm going to go wait on the corner for an angel to pick me up and fly me to work.

"Intelligent Humping": The naughty parts on a girl are too complicated. Too many folds and nubbin's and what-have-ya'. I'm going to just go make a sandwich.
Something for my Western North Carolina peeps: Have you noticed what's behind my head in the "I Wonder" title picture? That's the exit sign for Bat Cave off of Hwy 64.


Did you read about the Utah rave that was busted up by the police? Using guns and helicopters to scare club kids and beating to the ground those that resist? Come on.

Why would you do that? Could it be because Boy Prince George W. was coming to town? Maybe the ravers would get all wired on their Rockstar sodas and their herbal extasy and then, OH NO!, someone might say some mean things about the president! Lordy, NO!

Maybe you read about the Pittsburgh cops that used dogs and Tasers on protesters. Hurry! They plum dislike the Boy Prince and his policies! Can't have that! Let's Taser us some wimin folk!

Of course, as a good patriot you've read about how the Pentagon has recently made "its first ever war plans for operations within the continental United States, in which terrorist attacks would be used as the justification for imposing martial law on cities, regions or the entire country."

"They" attack us and suddenly no more protests or criticizing? It seems to me a major terrorist attack on this country just might benefit one man more than anyone.


Man, get that song stuck in your head. It jazzes up any situation.

"Back then I didn't want chips, now it's lunch and I'm all 'bout chips."

"Back then I had clean socks, a week later I need to do laundry."

That's right, jazzes.


It's the oldest joke in the squirrel world.


If I, say, held a journalism degree from a respectable institution, I'd have a weekly segment on the nightly news called "Dream Comes True".


This is where people come to see pictures of dudes flexin' their stuff in Tiananmen Square.


On Daddies

Me: (Seeing something about "Daddy" on T.V.) Oh, she just wants her Daddy.

R. Girl: What about a Daddy?

Me: You need a Daddy, you bad lil' girl.

R. Girl: Ooooo!

Me: Speaking of Dads, how are your parents doing?

R. Girl: OK, that's an awkward change of topics.

On Eminem

Me: Remember when Eminem was new and dangerous? It was like "Hey, this dude's a little crazy and he's hanging out with Dr. Dre". Now it's like "Man, he's a little wrinkly and hanging out with puppets".


A gorilla skull for me. Notice how it isn't a human skull with flames shooting out of the eyes? That's the look I was going for. The non socket flame look.

And new toe tattoos for R. Girl. You can't be a pretty girl if you ain't got red stars on your toes, ladies.


Sometimes, late at night, I wonder what Hamburgarr is up to.

Fight injustice this weekend, reader. Stand up for the little guy named Democracy.

Remember, Democracy isn't Bill O'Reilly and Matt Drudge telling a grieving war mother to shut up. Democracy isn't stealing billions in oil money and then dipping your finger in purple ink.

You know what Democracy really is. Now go get 'em, Tigers.
Thoughts on that first Hamburgarr cartoon:
-I fuckin' misspelled "here".
-That's supposed to be Matt Drudge wearing the hat in the press confrence.
-What the hell happens next?
We see him at different points in history, but we never find out how Hamburgarr's assault on Fort Bragg played out. Or, for that matter, how he and Ben Franklin defeat Evil James Madison or how he stops the future bots from killing Young Abe Lincoln. Huh. I really need to finish what I start.


We were short a "follower" at swing dancin' again this week. That meant our instructor had to fill in. This means dancing with a dude is becoming a regular thing in my life.

So, we were reviewing the underhand turn. You know, rock step, basic triple step, back into a rock step, hand up, follower turns, finish out triple step, back together, basic triple step. The usual.

Everything's going just fine unitl I put up my hand to start the turn and Mr. Too Good To Turn doesn't do his turn. What's this? When we turn, we turn without questions. This isn't Anarchy dancin'.

We're just dancin' away with our arms up in the air. I bet we looked ridiculous!

He goes up to the front of the class and goes over what we just did. "Did it great, blah, blah, blah."

Then he throws in a "Even though I didn't turn when I was supposed to ... sorry about that" my way.

Outside I'm all "That's cool. No prob." Right?

Inside I was saying "You better appologize. Making me stand there with my arm up. Looking like a triple-stepping orangatan."

Whatever. ;)


Anyone feel like breaking the law?

I'm trying to find a copy of Danger Mouse's "The Grey Album", but I just can'ts.

There's a backrub in it for whoever helps me.


During the 1990's, at the height of the "War On Drugs" and the D.A.R.E. campaign, there was an increase in drug usage.

The "War on Terror" has created more terrorism.

So, our "Wars On (Fill In Politically Popular Action)" tend to lead to more of whatever we're fighting?

Man, I can't wait until we start the "War on Free Hamburgers".

Come on people! Get behind the "War on Free Hamburgers"!

We need to fight this evil at McDonalds before we have to fight it at home. A true patriot stands with President Bush against the tyranny of hamburgers without profit!


R. Girl had the power to stop Evil Brent all along. Kind of makes you think, dorks. What evil could you stop if you really tried?

Could you dethrone an evil king? Could you make it all the way back to Kansas? You think about that while I go make out with my girlfriend.

President Bush phoned Discovery's astronauts on Tuesday, thanking them for being "risk takers for the sake of exploration." ... "We are with you and wish you all the very best. Thanks for taking my phone call. Now get back to work," the president said.

And then, the very next day the man went on a FIVE WEEK VACATION!

Oh, the new precipices of evil this man is reaching! The evil balls it takes to tell men and women risking their lives IN SPACE to "get back to work". Even joking around, that's EVIL!

But then, to leave the next day on your 49th vacation as president, 320 days total so far, the longest presidential vacation in 36 years, mind you .... POP! POP! There go the horns!

I tell ya, the young and evil like myself are really going to have to come up with some wicked shit to top this guy. Kudos to you, Mr. President, the Michael Jordan of Evil.


(Oh yeeeeeaaah, did you see how she got carrots instead of a remote ... FIVE HOURS LATER! Best plotting on my part yet.)

Tonight at swing dance lessons we were short a chicky.

That meant our male dance instructor had to fill in a chicky spot. So, you dance with a chick for a while (usually old smelling like carmel) and then switch. Well, guess what, I've now danced with a man.

We were practicing this particular turn where you go from an open position to a closed position. I kept messing it up ('cause I'm damned evil, not dancetastic). After a couple trys dancing with the dude I pulled it off.

We locked eyes and he said "Yes. Yes!".

For a moment I was full of the glee Peter Pan must feel when he gets his tights on right the first time. "I did it! I did it! He really thinks I'm a good dancer!"

Then I realized I was standing in a community commons center, holding a mid-30's dance instructor who happens to share the same genitalia as me, just smiling away like Jerry found the cure for my disease.

F that. F that situation. I grabbed my chicky, a steak and headed home to build a fire. F that.
Evil Brent's List of Things To Do

1.)Don't return my Mom's phone calls.

2.) Put a cage in the fridge. Don't give key to cat. If cat gets key, don't teach cat how to use key.

3.) Make sure that cat isn't touching my stuff (This includes stuff in fridge. {SEE: Item #2}).

4.) Vote Republican

5.) Prank calls. ("Do you have men in cans? No? You should. They are good for business." Talk to people about long distance phone calls while they try to eat dinner.)

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