Carl Winslow Stars in All New Videos!

I've been sitting on these new videos for about a month now. Why? Because I've been busy, out of town, and haven't felt like writing in months. I just got back from Los Angeles, where I struggled to get some groundwork started on my eventual move out there. Yes, barring a cataclysmic catastrophe of tragic misfortune, I'll be moving to LA in 4-6 months. Good weather year round + better opportunities in my field = stupid not to at least try it out. But more on that in a later post...





This here video was a year in the making (1 night random thought scribbled on a post-it, 11 and a half months bed-rest, 2 weeks finding and editing together Family Matters footage). Instead of portraying Carl Winslow as insane, which I've gotten a lot of mileage out of, I portrayed him as clinically depressed/suicidal, and used Gary Jules' "Mad World" to seal the deal. It was really easy to acquire footage of Carl Winslow looking down and out. You might not remember it this way, but Family Matters is essentially a TV show about how much Carl's life sucks...

Carl Winslow - Too Sad to Eat Breakfast





This is just a song I like, paired with random footage I like...

No Age - "Eraser"






Expect more posts coming up, as I'm going to write a little bit every day help jump-start my write-bone. It may be just a few sentences, but I'll have something written and posted every other day. Until then, kids...

Carl Winslow's Corner: Mescaline Matters

Hello dream childrens! It’s your ol’ violent buddy Carl! Carl Winslow! It’s been awhile since we last spoke, and I’ve been mighty busy in the forest with my experiments. So far, I’ve successfully given 12 badgers Crohn's disease and drank a beaker full of meows. Cat meows enhance my animal communication skills, which are pretty good anyway. The other day, a caribou was talkin’ shit, going on about my eye pimples, so I pushed that motherfucker in front of a train. Ol’ Carl knows a thing or two about trains.

Also, I've been shape shifting, baby. Gotta be careful, though. Last time I got caught in a rusty trap. What can I say? The hunters loaded the trap with my favorite food - Dots. I couldn't help myself.





I was in the forest conversing with squirrels the other day, and an itty bitty medicine man tackled me to the ground and force fed me some mescaline he pulled out of a condom. I got high, children. My shirt burst off, as well as most of my back skin. During the first 3 hours of my trip, I suffocated six hikers in my armpit.





I was inside a floating cloud of clear smoke. I destroyed every tent in my path. Met some women whose tents I smashed. When they defended themselves, I laughed. Popped some rattlesnakes at 'em. Wuppaa!!! I’m not proud of it, but also, I am. My spiritual advisor, Neck Bubbles, demands blood. I obey.





Then I ate some sand and had to go to the hospital. Have you ever tried to chew sand? It fucks your teeth up bad. And your insides. My guts were in a state, children. Luckily, the doctors were able to open my stomach up and get that filthy sand outta me. Turns out I ingested four pounds of it. They also found a bunch of super bouncy balls in me, but I made the doctors put 'em back in. Most doctors are shameless thieves. They just want to take what’s inside of you, and those bouncy balls are mine! They can keep the sand.





Let’s see, what else?
-Burned a hole in my bed so the floor can see my ass when I sleep.
-Hid a bunch of money somewhere secret.
-Tackled a polar bear down a flight of stairs.

Oh, I almost forgot! I’ve been writing poetry. Here’s one I call ROBOTS CAN'T GET PREGNANT ...

Gonna dick your coochie hole!

Gonna make your ass explode!

Gonna take a dump, unload!

Gonna bake your face, Nicole!




Time’s up, kids! But don’t worry, I'm in your closet right now, wearing your clothes.

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.

(sigh)

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.

Carl Winslow's Corner: In My Room

Hey gang!

It's your ol' buddy Carl Winslow here.



Wanna know a secret?
I eat nothing but black lemons.




Moldy leftover fruits contain all the nutrients I need to thrive in the hurt-dome. The hurt-dome is my bunk bed. I share it with two dead orangutans. One is Don, who fell out my closet. The other is Lurie... I shot Lurie. Caught him looking at my photos. He knew better. Now, all he knows is my comb, gently teasing his hair. Forever.

The photos I protect are of sad orangutans and their bunk beds.
Have a look...









Yeah, you like what you see, don't ya? Ape emotions + bunk beds = satisfaction. I can stare at these babies for hours. It's too hot in my skin. I hate everybody, including dead people and candy wrappers! Blessed be the man who lights his house on fire with digital righteousness!

Other shit happened since the last time I shared my thoughts with you, children...

Blew my arm off. Regenerated it.
Hang glided into a Pizza Hut. Threw up on the manager.
Googled my name. Cockroaches poured out of the USB port.
Woke up underwater.

Yep. I'm pretty normal once you get to know me. Which you won't.

Until then, you know where to find me. In my room.

Stranger Danger

I was watching The Strangers yesterday, and was I was all, "Where's Balki and Cousin Larry? This isn't what I ordered. You're not my pretty butterfly. Are you my pretty butterfly? No!"




I made my own version of The Strangers and sent it to director Bryan Bertino, who should spell his name Brian like the rest of us. So far, he hasn't returned my calls. I did a mock up poster and everything. I wonder why he hasn't gotten back to me?

(original poster here)


My version would be way cooler. And funnier. Two Jews and a black TV cop from the early 90's? Box office gold.


But I guess there's no use fixin' what ain't broke. The Strangers is a damn fine movie. I felt vulnerable and tense throughout my viewing. Word of advice: If you plan on watching it alone at 2am in complete silence, have a hatchet nearby. For safety swingin'. You're gonna need something to feel more protected. I wanted to buy a gun after watching it...

And that is why I recommend The Strangers.

Smell ya later.

Carl Winslow's Corner: Vision Quest

Hey gang! It's your old friend and comrade, Carl Winslow, back for more amazing adventures inside my vortex of throbbing misery.



Native Americans have strong traditions regarding vision quests. Wandering about the forest in a drug-induced, dehydrated state forces you to confront your innermost fears. And if you are strong enough, you will summon the courage to conquer those horrors, proving your worthiness to the tribe.

That's all well and good for them, but how's old Carl gonna get in on that action? If they get respect from the community by going insane, why can't I? I knew the answer as soon as I posed it to my brain box, my friends... I must get high on exhaust fumes to prove my worth, Injun-style.




Oh, goodness! What a world it has opened up, my children. I've been delirious and unstable for years, but this puts the frosting on the coffin. Fumes have given me powers. I wander the sewers, talking to rats. I give them milk in exchange for their secrets. Now I know where all the best garbage is.



I can control birds with various amulets. My arms play the drums while my legs play soccer. I can write a thank you card to a sailor while stabbing him in the arm-pit with a sharpened paper towel! Multiple tasks, infinite possibilities, and I'm never gonna ever gonna be stuck inside an igloo ever again. Dinosaur sex!



My vision quest has just begun. I must fly away to distant lands and procure meat from the elder owls. Wish me luck on my journey.
Hoooooooooo!

Carl Winslow's Corner: Deranged Orgasmic Rampage

Hey gang! It's your old friend and favorite TV dad again, Carl Winslow.



I just got back from the doctor, and he seems to think that my earlier behavior was the result of a benign brain tumor, and with the help of some pills he gave me, I can actually shrink the tumor, and return to my old sane self.

Well I got news for that motherfuckin' doctor; He can kiss my ass and blow my shit backwards if he thinks I'm gonna be taking any pills! I like who I've become. I like waking up with chunks of my thighs missing. I'm sucking out life forces, and living life in the fun lane.

In fact, I had a little fun at the medical building today before my doctor's appointment. I walked into a dentist's office on the third floor, killed Mister Dentist, assumed his identity, and puked in his patient's mouth.


Then I went to my doctor's appointment like nothing happened. Easy Peasy.

Been spreading my breast milk around, too.


You wouldn't believe how many people were raging to Carl Winslow's sweet milk.

As for me, I'm into latex cat bitches. I see them all day long regardless of whose toaster I tinkle in, so I'd better be into them. They're up in my sandwiches, too. I savor the flavor they leave behind.

You can really taste their shadows.

(original HCP via Uglyfood)

I've found that if you roll with insanity and don't fight it, everything comes into focus. You will become whatever you desire. The meat fortress of life awaits bold souls who cast off the shackles of rational thought and plunge deep into the gaga pond.

(original meat hut photo via Uglyfood)

I'll be there, children, dreaming of sac dragons and crapping black dust.

Hope to see you soon.

Carl Winslow's Corner: Crazy Comics Bag

Hey guys, it's your favorite TV dad, Carl Winslow here.



I was contacted by Kid Douche to share my thoughts on literature and fine arts, two subjects I consider myself to be well versed in. Bet you thought I was just some has-been TV actor from the early 90's. Not me. I used a substantial chunk of my Family Matters money to obtain a PhD in English Literature from Cornell University.



My good friend Sinbag and I host weekly round table discussions on the subject of emerging artistic trends.





Recently, it's been brought to my attention that graphic novels, or comics if you will, have been getting some critical acclaim. I say it's about time. I for one have dabbled in the graphic novel format from time to time, and I'd like to share some of my favorites with you. Let's make some magic, shall we?



(via Fart Party)









(don't know who actually drew these - KD)


Did you like 'em?


Let me let you in on a little secret...I've gone mad. My brain has been melting for some time. It comes out my nose and drips into my porridge. I eat the porridge in an attempt to gain back my brains, but I'm afraid it's just too late for old Carl Winslow.

Don't fight it, Carl, me, him...him?

See?

It begins anew.

Help me...




This has been the first edition of Carl Winslow's Corner. Thanks for reading.