technobang

I was going to start this off with something witty but frankly I just don’t have the brain for it. Let’s get to the point:

I was looking through an old set of bookmarks when I found a link to this old webcomic I used to read. By the way, yes, I’m a webcomics nerd – there’s some brilliant humor to be found on comics that will likely never find their way to the newspaper. One of these days I’ll get around to coming up with a list of ones that I find are especially brilliant.

The comic in question is called A Modest Destiny. Frankly the comic itself is more or less unremarkable, but what caught my eye is the fact that it has generally been untouched for years. After a little digging it turns out the author decided he didn’t like the direction it was going and decided to stop writing it. If that alone were the reason I would totally respect that – especially considering the direction it was going in really was a humorless vacuum from which nothing escaped.

No. In fact, it’s even better, he blames his fans.

His name is Squidi. You might remember him as the internet’s whipping boy a few years back when he went apeshit over someone who stole his “pixel art” – which, by the way, makes me laugh to this day. I checked out his blog and came across this gem:

People always ask me why I don’t finish AMD, and the truth is that I’m locked into a path I don’t like. I can’t change it. I can’t just finish it. I either follow it to the end I set for myself, possibly a year or more worth of comics, or I move on and hope everybody else does too.

If it were left at this, again, I’d totally respect it. However…

I sometimes consider going back to making webcomics, but AMD would always be hanging over my head. Even when I did Zombies of the Living Dead – which is only like twenty comics – I had people yelling at me every day because I was wasting my time with that and not with finishing AMD.

It’s ironic that its the fans who are keeping me from making more webcomics, but I totally understand. If I was in your shoes, I’d feel the same way.

A moment of silence to let this sink in.
…
…
…
Okay.

Blaming the fans because you wrote yourself into the fucking grave. Okay. Let’s dissect this a moment.

You write a comic. It starts off good but begins to go down the shitter, although the fanbase seemingly continues to grow. Your fans demand more, you decide to stop it because the direction, by your own admission, was shitty. The fans STILL demand more even though you move onto other projects, so you decide to blame them even though it was in fact your own inability that ground your mediocre webcomic to a halt?

It’s the arrogance that just seeps out of that statement that makes me want to punch him in his sanctimonious mouth. It’s because of your fans, REALLY? Honestly I think Squidi should be grateful that anyone actually bothers to read this tripe, much less beg him for more. But looking beyond that, the fact that you hold that begging against them is just incredible. How the fuck does he have fans at this point?

My guess is that the lot of them are idiots. I can’t be sure.

Also, yes, I realize that picking on the dork of the internet is pretty low. Honestly I don’t usually go for these targeted letters of annoyance but that one sentence just made me irate. Fans, if you somehow are dumb or lucky enough to have them, should be treated at least somewhat well.

I admittedly have a thing for calling my readers complete retards but I’m fairly sure I don’t actually have any anymore.

Just a guess.

kbye

Now with more fiber!

It still feels like I just came out of a trip to the Twilight Zone. In reading the previous blurb about it I made it sound like I was like… complaining about it.

Not really, it just rained a lot. It actually stopped raining; that was nice.

Over the past few weeks I’ve started several different drafts. One of which was titled “T” and contained absolutely nothing but a series of spaces and the word “rattle.” Honest to fuck have no idea what I was trying to accomplish there as “trattle” isn’t a word as far as I know and I don’t believe at that particular point I was hearing anything rattling.

Another one was a draft I started forever ago about Lost. Some shit about being on an island and how occasionally I feel like I’m on an island except there’s less weird disconnected storylines confusing me and there isn’t some dude with an attitude and long hair getting in my face every five minutes with his teeth always clenched.

There were several others I started and then abruptly stopped although I could not tell you why. I think laziness has been eating at my soul.

This isn’t one of those “I’m apologizing for not posting” posts because really that’s the sign of a terrible website with terrible content. Which, yes, while this would absolutely qualify… I can’t finish this sentence, really.

I can hear my roommate thumping around downstairs. He walks like a fucking elephant which amazes me because I’m considerably fatter than he is and I’m generally silent on my feet. I actually tried reproducing the amount of noise he makes and had little success. I still hate his fucking dog. Moreso, in fact. I come home late at night sometimes and he wakes the entire goddamn house up. Just once I’d like to sneak in at 2am and not have my presence announced by some tiny rat looking bag of shit and just relax. I have often considered punting it off the expressway bridge but I think PETA or various law enforcement agencies would have issue with me launching a dog off an overpass and into oncoming traffic with the express purpose of watching it splatter into several bite-sized pieces.

Okay look, I don’t condone animal cruelty… but this thing has to die.

I kind of hit that point where I’m bitter but not angry enough to be funny. I’m forcing this pretty hard (lolinsertjokehere) and it’s not really coming out particularly good (lolmorejokes) or witty.

Is it possible I should actually start some kind of PERSONAL BLOG that could perhaps be read?

I decided today that feeling shitty was stupid so I decided to go wander about outside. After harassing some strangers and ruining some kid’s game of hide and seek by telling the boy finding where the all the other kids went I stumbled upon a fantastic Jewish deli where the owner was interesting and the patrons were just as interesting.

I’m convinced I bit into heaven. It’s made of corned beef.

I sold my funny bone for a sandwich. I’m okay with it.

It occurred to me the other day that I haven’t actually updated this in 2010 other than with a couple of short blurbs. Today the mood struck to finally get around to putting something here so that this damned website isn’t completely lost in internet obscurity.

Hello.

I’ve come out from the other side of a really fucked up trip. It was like chilling out in the Twilight Zone or something. At any moment it felt like I’d turn a corner and find gremlins going to town on the wing of an airplane or I’d be on some distant fucked up planet where we’re the cause of ALL EVIL EVER or something.

Also it was really cloudy and always rained.

That’s kind of shitty.

Suffice it to say now that I’m back here in reality I feel much more like myself. Somewhere along the line I kind of lost sight of where I was and now it’s 60 degrees out and the sun is shining.

I’m sure the two are unrelated but goddamn do I love me some sunshine.

Blogging. Yech.

A good friend of mine once said “normally it is fucking boring when people do this, but the difference between me and you is that my life is a hilarious drama clusterfuck, and you probably live a well adjusted life.”

To be honest, I think my life winds up somewhere in the middle. Although I admittedly have had it pretty easy on the drama front for the past few months… until recently, that is. My drama, however, truly is boring as fuck. If I ever come across actually interesting drama I’ll make sure to let the internet know in some hilarious yet convoluted way.

I’ve had the hardest time updating this thing because I really don’t feel as if the persona I’ve portrayed here actually exists anymore. I’ve kind of said that on and off over the past couple of years but as time goes on it feels like I’m just forcing something that isn’t here. That leaves the alternative of writing shit like this – the problem is I’m quite sure this would put a fucking insomniac to sleep with how boring it is. This is the written equivalent of jamming Ambien down your throat and demanding you tapdance while jerking off.

I don’t know why the latter part of that sentence needed to be added but I thought it’d be a fun image for you visual people. Looking at you, Nik.

I’ve taken a shining my young Bengali friend Goat’s writing. He can be found here. He, in fact, is what inspired me to even pick this back up and say something. The kid at 15 has a lot more focused humor than I do now. Hell, his writing kicks the shit out of mine when I was 15.

Read down this page a little ways, there’s an example of my 15 year old writing. It’s terrible.

I honestly get really annoyed with this generation of kids these days but I look at ones like Goat there and I feel a lot better about them. Although I think it’s safe to say that every previous generation dislikes the next one…

Either way. Stay tuned, I’ll say more soon. There’s a funny bone yet left in my body.

I mean sure it’s buried under fat and probably is my penis but whatever. Still funny.

14:50 < @Goat> You have Twilight in your title.
14:50 < @Goat> :(
14:51 < ~Danno> it’s because it sparkles with sexinses
14:51 < ~Danno> *sexiness
14:51 < ~Danno> it sparkles so much I can’t see my keys
14:51 < ~Danno> I’m gay

16:48 < ~Danno> WIGGERYDOO
16:48 < whoreface> heh
16:49 < whoreface> you’ve found a “word” for which google returns no results
16:49 < whoreface> something needs to be done about this
16:49 < ~Danno> really now
16:49 < ~Danno> hold please

There you have it. Wiggerydoo. Hi Google.

I will say this once and once only: Count Chocula is quite possibly the best cereal ever.

Don’t even try to argue it. Whatever you say is wrong.

By adding chocolate and vaguely chocolate-flavored marshmallows together General Mills stumbled upon the formula to immortality, not to mention the cure for cancer and the way to end all wars ever. If you’re feeling even more dangerous you could perhaps scoop yourself some chocolate ice cream and sprinkle some Count Chocula on top to make what I lovingly call a “Choculadae” – not particularly original, I know.

And I wonder why I’m fat.

this motherfucker means business

This afternoon I received a package from my girlfriend. Contained in this package was a scarf (I know, I know, awwww) and a box of the cereal in question. After having several Polaroids taken with me and both objects, I hungrily opened the box and poured myself a bowl. It was delicious. Like a chocolatey-marshmallowey orgasm being shot down my throat, except not as explosive or sticky or as question-raising. I did however swallow, which I guess makes me a good girl.

The one unfortunate downside to my most recent encounter with Count Chocula is that over the years they’ve dumbed the ingredients down. Last time I had it, it was still made with sugar and not some 18-letter replacement designed to keep your heart pumping and your kidneys from failing after you eat three boxes of it. Back in the 80s and early 90s this shit was so delicious that it could easily be traded for weapons or drugs on the black market. If I had a time machine 1987 likely would be my first target if only to obtain a box of it and poke myself in the soft spot to see if I come out as fucked up 20 years later.

I’m so glad they’re thinking of my health. Really. I am.

Oh, and by the way, fuck Lucky Charms.