OK. Apparently there are a tremendous amount of you "ready for the Looney Bin" Psycho Wacko Wingnuts out there. Literally hundreds of you visit my blog each week looking for the truth behind SATANISM IN CARTOONS. Many of you email daily begging me to tell all I know about THE SATANIC CIRCLE OF UNITED PRESS SYNDICATE ARTISTS/CARTOONISTS/PRINT MIMES! (TSCOUPSACPM) (They're cartoonists not acronym geniuses). First of all, and allow me to make this as clear as possible, ALL CARTOONS ARE SATANIC! " Ooooh No! Not Peanuts." BULLSHIT! Fucking PigPen! Satanic! Snoopy? A dog who SLEEPS on the very uncomfortable part of his doghouse? SA-FUCKING-TANIC! OK. How about LUANN? Luann is a trashy little Satan Slut. She is constantly showing off her tight little 16 yr old body-Bikinis, Lingerie,Short Shorts! She is obviously an agent of Lucifer himself! If you make a few slight alterations to her name, you in fact wind up with the name SATANLULULUCIFERDEVILWOMANBITCH which is fairly obviously NOT a wholesome "Girl-next-door I Love Jesus so let's go to Kenya and build a Water Wheel" kinda name (also you can just get the name Ann). THE FAMILY CIRCLE? Family Circle is so annoyingly wholesome and "Christian Value Oriented" that it has to be the work of Minions of Hades (who are also available for Freelance). If you are a God Fearing individual who would like to go to HEAVEN after your death then you should avoid ALL cartoons! (tough not to sneak a peek at Luann tho, the little tramp).
Monday, August 26, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Gay John has returned to Kitchens and More! Gone for more then a year, The Gay One quietly slipped back in by climbing through the garbage shute and hiding out in the storage room for a week. When he was discovered sleeping on the floor of new ASM Boisterous Bob's office (in a pile of Boisterous Bob's hair re-growth pamphlets using some of Boisterous Bob's hair dye products as a pillow) a new friendship was formed. Gay John, when asked where he has been for the past year, would only say he has become very familiar with the Mens Room of the Rest Area on I-75 just North of Brighton. Anyhow, since Gay John was presumed dead his old job had long since been filled by a retarded monkey - And there is no way we are getting rid of the monkey, he is Twice as efficient as John ever was! But fear not faithful readers, Gay John is once again employed by Kitchens and More. Only now his name is Go-fer Bitch Jonnie because he has become Boisterous Bob's little pet n fetchit. Yesterday B.B. was hungry so Go-fer Bitch Jonnie ran (literally. He's too stupid to drive) to WENDYS and bought B.B. 2 orders of spicy nuggets, ran them back to B.B. and proceeded to hand feed him while adding his own "special sauce". Later in the day B.B. got bored and requested Go-fer Bitch to dance for him. Sickeningly, Jonnie jumped up on a register desk and began the GAYEST quivering dance steps ever performed before God or Man. Jonnie had his eyes closed, biting his lower lip, while he swiveled his hips and shook his extra 20 lbs. of semi digested junkfood like a deranged Boo Boo Bear on acid attempting to seduce a gold chain clad Ranger Rick with gelled hair. It was absolutely disgraceful. Our new GM, Tubby Red, thinks their relationship is "cute", "normal" and somehow "good for morale". Tubby Red also thinks lesbians are just "women who love Home Depot".
Friday, August 9, 2013
Things are much quieter here at Kitchens and More since last week. This past Saturday was the day the Ogre fell. The Deep Fried Ogre. More legend than reality. More myth than truth. But real. Make no mistake, the Deep Fried Ogre was real. I met him. Saw him. Felt the rumble of the Earth when the Ogre roared. Watched his prey tremble when confronted with his rumpled awfulness. I remember once, when I was younger and more daring, how I tracked The Deep Fried Ogre from his fast food wrapper stuffed backroom lair to his territorial walk about resting spot near the candy display at the side exit. I remember following the trail of peon faces who were still attempting to look busy as the Ogre passed to the Cardboard Mountain of unfinished stock in the Electronics Department. I caught a quick glimpse of the Nasty Brute when he paused to sniff the air. Legend states that with one snort from his mighty nostrils The Ogre could sniff out responsibility on the air and immediately head in the other direction. Sometimes, on a Sunday morning, I would come in early for the "signing" ritual [the signing ritual dates back to the Dawn of Ogrehood and is now primarily used to irritate humans but had onced been a rather ativistic coming of age/mating right of passage]. The Deep Fried Ogre would drunkenly stumble around the sales floor changing the prices on dozens and dozens of products while loud Heavy Metal blared from cheap speakers and Ol' Deep Fried growled amiably. Then when the store opened for business all Hell would break loose as the register price was of course utterly different from the sign on the product. And oh how Ol' Deep Fried would laugh. The terrible laugh of the mortally wounded-but still a laugh. Then without warning THEY took The Deep Fried Ogre to conundrum corner and waved torches in his face and screamed at his hairy back and taunted his soul with broken promises of nothing and let the black abyss swallow all hope of a Technicolor Future while the Pain Demons swam free... OK. Sorry. A little too much O.S. (ogre shit). Suffice to say the Deep Fried Ogre is gone and the one called Mad Ox will never put another chain saw away.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
I KNOW. THE HEADLINE IS A WTF IF EVER THERE WAS ONE. THE DEAL IS THAT THE SHADY ONE HEARD ABOUT PEOPLE LICKING TOADS TO GET HIGH (remember? This was a big story 10 or 15 years ago. Shady just heard about it). Anyhow, since people compare Shady to toads frequently he figured he can save a ton of money by licking himself to get high instead of buying and snorting laundry detergent (apparently, TIDE will get you high or kill you). It seems to work for Greg; licking himself that is. He licks his grubby palms and babbles incoherently for an hour or so. We figure with Shady's refusal to ever bathe his skin is probably toxic. Greg babbles incoherently anyway so it's tough to know for sure if he is really getting high from his disgusting toadlike skin or not.