(no subject)

"You are agents of Iran and Zionism. We will crush your heads," Hussein shouted.


  +      = COMEDY GODDAMNED GOLD!

(no subject)

talkingcricket is a hystericalist webcartoonist.

He is also behind on his rent, and he's doing a fundraising thing where he's doing a comic an hour until his time to pay his back-rent is up.
For every 20 dollars raised, he will also not smoke for a day.
If he raises 600, he'll quit for good.

He's a great guy, a great cartoonist, and really deserves the assist. Every dollar helps. I'm currently in the State of Poor, but I think I gave about seven bucks, which is seven more than he had.

We all like to think people would do the same for us, yes?

Go Here For Full Information then rummage through his comix, which are awesometastic.

Thanks,

benjamin

(no subject)

Remember me mentioning talkingcricket?
It was ages ago, like, maybe a few hours.

Anyway, HE DID A COMIC OF ME!!!

And he's just become dangerously poor.

So go give him a few bucks.

He's a starving artist, and he deserves, at the very least, a grilled cheese.

You can help.

b

(no subject)

atomic_robo and Sir Reginald team-up for yet another hilarious misadventure, in which our intrepid heroes are cast...oh, just read the fucking story.
------------------

            “I’m afraid that I must, to some degree, accept responsibility for our current predicament,” said Sir Reginald, refusing to open his eyes.

            “I, too, must admit that I made mistakes,” offered Atomic Robo, refusing to activate his optics. “I feel obligated to add, though, that I end up in far more parallel universes than I would care to when you and I work together.”

            “Oh, don’t you dare start! If I had a dime for every instance I’ve ended up lost in time because of you, I’d have thirty cents! And that wretched Grandmother Paradox idea…”

            “It would have fixed things very quickly—”

            “—and would have required me to have sex with my grandmother!”

            “Well, technically, she wasn’t your grandmother yet…”

            “You insufferable tin can!”

            “You’re just jealous because robots don’t have disgustingly saggy jowls.”

            Over the sound of their shouting, a booming voice echoed.

            “Ho ho ho! It appears, Sir Robo, that these villains can scarcely speak to each other with civility, let alone team up to wreak havoc! Destroying these freedom-hating freaks should be as easy as ordering Freedom Fries at McDonalds!”

The speaker was floating fifteen feet above the ground, wearing a garishly-colored costume so tight that Sir Reginald wagered that the fellow wasn’t Jewish. His eyes were glowing green and his cape flapping in the wind, in spite of there being none. On his chest was a stylized radioactivity symbol superimposed over an American flag, above the words TREAD ON THIS!.

            “Tally-ho, Atomic Reginald!” said a nearby robot. It was thin, gangly, and had a face that appeared to have been applied with magic markers. “We’ll kick their knickers and be back in time for tea, wot?”

            Atomic Robo and Sir Reginald turned to look at each and said, at exactly the same time:

            “This is your fault.”

( But whose fault is it really? And who's Captain Floaty and His Clangy Sidekick? )

 benjamin