Monday, May 25, 2009

Carl Winslow's Corner: Free Meatus

Hey gang! It's your ol' buddy Carl Winslow! Long time no ssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...


Derangement has re-nestified in my skull, folks. Gotta keep the turban on or else rat-thoughts spill out of my ears like wild rice. I just paid a visit to the sky doctor, LePete, and the outlook is very poor for ol' Carl. My symptoms are...

Collapsed left nostril.
Hazelnut-creme filled moles where my nipples should be.
Burning sensation when I shit piss...

Prognosis: Super lupus.

LePete prescribed a size 7 medicine hat and some cracker amulets, but that shit don't work. And he ate my fries when I went to the bathroom, too.


Been watching The Bozo Show on DVD. One episode over and over. Crystal forcefield protects my fridge. Haven't eaten in 11 days. I beat myself all across the head because of the hunger. Need to replenish or I'll die soon. My life flashes before your eyes...

Here's me as a young murder-honky...


Here's me dead...


Here's me midgetized...


Here's me in the astral realm. Met my wife there. Murdered her. Had to. Her neck was filled with circuits...


Oh yeah! I'm invisible. The freedom of invisibility allows me to stick things into other things. I can smoke PCP in the sewers freely. My love sprays forth. Chocolate sprinkles. For the first time in my life, I am content. Walk a mighty walk, Carl, for this is your day. Sleepy, though. Very tired. Asleep...

I'm awake again. This is a red and barren world. A place of torment. In the distance, a dark figure moves swiftly. A giant strobe light pulsates strongly in this realm. It's disorienting. And here come the whispers! What!? I don't believe in those ghosts! It tickles. My cargo shorts are soaked with a red liquid. My blood? No, it's just pigeon blood. Everything is alright. I just rained deathblows on some pigeons. Nothing new. Typical Thursday for Carl.


Other things to report...

1. Glass omelette turned nephew's insides into shredded garbage.
2. The price of slacks has risen.
3. I found a Chinasaur egg on the bus.

Glue glue sniff sniff, right? Simple beauty appears in the center of all things. Always.


CIA put a tracking chip in my arm. Loppin' it off tomorrow. Who cares? Not me.

That's all for today, Carl fans. Remember, I love you! Take my hand. Dream with me.


Saturday, May 23, 2009

Dismissive of Portals Guy Says...

"Meh. I've seen better portals."


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Sink or Swim


How come fat rockabilly chicks and aggro-lesbos are into roller derby, but not water polo? Ladies, instead of boring-ass rollerskates, I humbly suggest you give the fine sport of water polo a try. Here's why:

1. You can show off all your bitchin' tats in a revealing bathing suit.

2. Chlorine from the pool will clean your filthy skin and armpit hair. Your dad doesn't love you.

3. Water polo is way more dangerous than roller derby for the simple fact that you can drown. Drowning can cause death. Death is pretty dangerous. Just picture it; fat Betty Page lookalike #7 is floating face down in the water like she had too much chili. Awesome!

4. You can psyche out your opponents by spraying menstrual blood in the pool, re-creating a Jaws nightmare. Better yet, give birth when nobody's looking, throw the baby at a bitch's face, and score the winning goal!

5. Cheeseburger beer farts make tickler bubbles in the water, and create an impenetrable noxious forcefield. Take advantage of your gaseous nature, hoglins.

See? Water polo is way cool. Much cooler than this...


Actually, that looks really fun. But the girls are all ruddy-cheeked sacks of flesh, right? The roller skates transform them into giant dumpy wheelbarrows, correct?



Sunday, May 10, 2009

Raising a Healthy Brood

"Family meeting. In the attic. Bring the dog."


Thursday, May 7, 2009

San Diego Part 1: Soup Splode

I'll start with the end result. The money shot.


I feel better. Now, here's the story behind the splosion...

My friend Solomon resides in San Diego. He is a man of peculiar smells, probably from all the vitamins he takes. He strongly encourages me to take the same supplements as him, but I'm not falling for that shit. The lord gives me all the nutrients I need.

He works security in an upscale condo building, and rich bitches are always trying to hop on his bandwagon. Oftentimes they attempt to seduce him with food, ranging from delicacies like lobster ravioli to ordinary containers of leftovers your mom sends you home with.

On the last day I was in Big Sandy, Solomon received a ziploc bag full of squash soup from a female admirer. It looked like a sack of gremlin vomit. Bitch, please, supplying a bag of soup is not how you win a man's hard, pulsating love. At least not an American man. Perhaps a Slovenian man would appreciate your grody liquid gesture.

Needless to say, the soup sat untouched on the kitchen counter for at least 12 hours. Around midnight or so, Solomon asked me if I thought the soup was safe to eat after sitting out for so long. I told him it wasn't. He asked me what I think he should do with the bag of slop. I told him to whip it out the kitchen window, which is my stock answer to most questions. He agreed.

Grasping the bag, he backed up from the window and gently began swinging it like a horseshoe player readying a toss. I found this amusing. Then he looked me in the eye and asked if I thought he should take a running start. This confused me, because even though the whole operation was stupid as hell, his question was really dumb. This wasn't an Olympic event, a simple toss would suffice. But before I could answer, he was off and running. Pop! I saw an upward explosion of yellow slime followed by a sickening splatter sound. He had missed the opening completely.

There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the laughter began. For a good five minutes, we laughed like the idiots we were. Then, after our best chuckles were spent, he got to cleaning. I watched and took pictures.


Shit was everywhere. It was all over the ceiling, the plants, the blinds, and the fridge. Not to mention Solomon's clothes and hair.


I'm still impressed by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. And to have witnessed such an event, I am honored. All I can say is bravo, sir. Bravo.


Tuesday, May 5, 2009



..."Classic-Style" Kid Douche posts from here on out, kids...