Greetings one, and all. Rex has offered me a spot as a writer on this blog, and I have accepted. If you cannot guess who this is; which is quite likely. Allow myself, to introuduce...myself.
I am Josh Shear, 15, native of Maryland. I know Rex quite well, to the degree of brother; and not in a homosexual way if that's what your thinking! Anyway, nothing fancy for today, just some shit I saw/heard yesterday.
...So my Thursday looked like it was going to end up like a typical Thursday for me. This consists of going to a local spot and hanging out with friends until around dinner time and heading home.
I was off in search of a nearby bathroom, when this event took place. After returning to the local store my friends and I were hanging at I was alerted that they had heard the sound of a engine gunning it really loudly.
Someone comes into the store to tell us that on the street nearest to the store, a motercycle had hit or was clipped by a car.
We all rushed out to see it; in retrospect I guess it just shows you how morbidly facsinated man is with death.
Upon getting to the nearby street, we are greeted by the sounds of a ambulance, and three police cars croweded around a body. Looking under one of the cars, I saw a blue Yamaha motercyle, smashed to pieces, with the lights dented, and the whole thing missing tiny pieces.
People were gathered all around the area; further illustrating the point I made eariler, but had yet to actually see in action. Cars were also passing by the accident scene, the people inside each one turned their heads to stare at the scene, before driving by, on the one lane that was allowed to stay open.
Anyway, the rider of the bike himself was in pretty rough shape if I do say so. When my friends and I had made it there, his clothes had already been torn off, and he was on a strecher.
They were using a defibrillator on him too. (For those of you that don't know what that is its the thing in movies you see people yelling "clear!" before shocking the person.)
His face was covered in blood, he had his eyes closed as well. I'm not sure if they were able to revive him, before deciding to put him on the ambulance.
We stayed where we were, watching the clean up of the scene. They went through the riders effects putting it into a biohazard bag. His backpack was also rifled through, it as well had a stripe of fresh blood going down it.
What sent a chill down my spine was seeing the clean up guys spreading blood killer substance down, in about a 20ft long streak; I couldn't see the streak from where I was standing to the side. I wonder if he's ok....
Also, the cure I've discovered are a cool band.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bitch Killed My Buzz
We march on in the name of progress.
I upgraded my Firefox today - the upgrade, of course, being that it doesn't work anymore, forcing me to write this very entry on what amounts to the high-school dropout of browsers, Internet Explorer. But I'm not here to talk about browsers, I'm here to talk about people and their attitudes. Namely, how much I hate both.
It's no secret that I'm not limping through this minefield called life sober. Personally, I think anyone who even tries is an idiot, but that it's their business and I'm certainly not going to force my lifestyle upon them. Likewise, I expect the same courtesy in return. That's why it came as such an immense shock today when someone who I could've sworn was my friend all but burned me at the stake because I admitted to her my drug use.
Yeah, you heard me. "Admitted" my drug use. Because, yeah, it was such an intensely guarded secret before. In order to illustrate more effectively how truly daft this is, wrap your mind around the following mental image: Bill and Hillary Clinton are sitting next to eachother on a park bench, enjoying the cool September air. "Hillary," says our former President as he turns to his wife, "I hate to admit this to you, but there are times in our marriage where I have been sexually unfaithful to you."
"Oh my GOD!" Would say Hillary, her face sporting disgust and unadultered surprise. "Oh my GOD, how could you?! I never knew! It's over, Bill!"
What hurts the most is that this bile, this venomous hatred that She-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless spouted, came from the very same mouth of one who had just twenty four hours had a very fufilling discussion with me about the virtues of tolerance.
Setbacks aside, though, we march on in the name of progress. Sorry for the depressing post, I'll have a story or comic tomorrow to make up for it.
I upgraded my Firefox today - the upgrade, of course, being that it doesn't work anymore, forcing me to write this very entry on what amounts to the high-school dropout of browsers, Internet Explorer. But I'm not here to talk about browsers, I'm here to talk about people and their attitudes. Namely, how much I hate both.
It's no secret that I'm not limping through this minefield called life sober. Personally, I think anyone who even tries is an idiot, but that it's their business and I'm certainly not going to force my lifestyle upon them. Likewise, I expect the same courtesy in return. That's why it came as such an immense shock today when someone who I could've sworn was my friend all but burned me at the stake because I admitted to her my drug use.
Yeah, you heard me. "Admitted" my drug use. Because, yeah, it was such an intensely guarded secret before. In order to illustrate more effectively how truly daft this is, wrap your mind around the following mental image: Bill and Hillary Clinton are sitting next to eachother on a park bench, enjoying the cool September air. "Hillary," says our former President as he turns to his wife, "I hate to admit this to you, but there are times in our marriage where I have been sexually unfaithful to you."
"Oh my GOD!" Would say Hillary, her face sporting disgust and unadultered surprise. "Oh my GOD, how could you?! I never knew! It's over, Bill!"
What hurts the most is that this bile, this venomous hatred that She-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless spouted, came from the very same mouth of one who had just twenty four hours had a very fufilling discussion with me about the virtues of tolerance.
Setbacks aside, though, we march on in the name of progress. Sorry for the depressing post, I'll have a story or comic tomorrow to make up for it.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Just what did they witness Jehovah DOING?
Dear Readers:
I'm sorry I haven't updated lately, but - oh, who am I kidding? Nobody reads this shit anyway. Here, I'll start again...
Dear Imaginary Readers:
I'm sorry I haven't updated lately. Were it not for the crushing apathy and cynicism that have choked my talent like a Japanese whore in a bukkake film, your imaginary minds would no doubt be filled with the witticism and wholesome morality that comes from the stories and comics I so dutifully provide. Anyway, to make it up to you, I'm going to tell you about my day. Or, depending on how you look at it, punish you with anecdotes about my dull, unfunny day. Personally I'm a glass half full kind of guy. At any rate, here it goes:
My day began at 10:22AM. I was awoken not by the shrill scream of my alarm clock nor by the crushing weight of my impatient dog, but by a series of loud, purposeful knocks on the door. I immediately jumped out of bed, forgetting that I wasn't wearing any pants, because by the intensity of the knocking I could only assume that it was Iron Man himself coming to visit me.
No Iron Man, though. Instead, I got a group of Jehovah's Witnesses - three woefully overdressed Christians, lead by a rotund old black woman in the centre, flanked on her right by a small, sniveling, slightly balding man and a fourteenish-looking boy to her left. Both of them looked terribly dead inside, their spirits completely broken like an army recruit or a circus bear forced to leap through flaming hoops day after day. Written all over their faces was 'KILL ME!', and it was immediately apparent that Fat Black Lady was the alpha female of the group.
"Good morning," she said with a smile that could give Judas Iscariot a run for his money, "Jesus Jesus blah blarg Jehovah blarg the gays are invading blah blarg. Is your mother here?"
"No," I replied as a gust of wind alerted me to the fact that I was not wearing any pants. Fortunately they didn't make a point of it, so I continued, "she's at the store. Hey, you know-"
I stopped. Just as I was about to offer Fat Black Lady (hereby known as FBA) my counter-preach about the virtues of Great Cthulhu, it dawned upon me: I've seen this woman before! She was a relative of one of my mother's friends. As fear of punishment crept into my bones, I stifled the intense desire to throw as many snarky remarks at FBA as I could think of. Now, I know what you're thinking, Imaginary Reader. You're thinking, "Marlon you pussy! You could have at least taken a FEW shots at her, it's not like your mom would find out any time soon." Ah, but that's where you're wrong, imaginary reader! My mother has networking skills that put MySpace to shame. She'd have known, and I would have got the sneer of disappointment. Since the sneer is to me as water is to the Wicked Witch of the West, I calmed my inner jerk and politely requested that the FBA and her slaves come back another time, which she agreed to do, although not before leaving me some fireplace kindling in the form of back issues of The Watchtower.
You know, it has just occured to me that Christians like her must be the number one source of deforestation in all the world, what with their constant printing of Bibles and pamphlets. It has been subsequently theorised that Atheists like me must be the number one source of CO2-induced atmospheric thinning in all the world, what with my constant burning of the Bibles and pamphlets that Christians unload on you like old people unload candy corn to Trick-or-Treaters on Halloween.
PS: The new Iced Earth album (Framing Armageddon - Something Wicked Part One) is really good. It releases on September 11 in the United States, and I very much encourage you to go buy it if you're into (power) metal. The observant among you will, of course, notice that this entry is dated September Ninth, and that I live in the United States. While this may seem like a tactit endorsement for illegal file-sharing, what it REALLY means is that I took a plane to Germany two days ago to buy the CD there since the European release dates are earlier. Yes. That's what it means.
I'm sorry I haven't updated lately, but - oh, who am I kidding? Nobody reads this shit anyway. Here, I'll start again...
Dear Imaginary Readers:
I'm sorry I haven't updated lately. Were it not for the crushing apathy and cynicism that have choked my talent like a Japanese whore in a bukkake film, your imaginary minds would no doubt be filled with the witticism and wholesome morality that comes from the stories and comics I so dutifully provide. Anyway, to make it up to you, I'm going to tell you about my day. Or, depending on how you look at it, punish you with anecdotes about my dull, unfunny day. Personally I'm a glass half full kind of guy. At any rate, here it goes:
My day began at 10:22AM. I was awoken not by the shrill scream of my alarm clock nor by the crushing weight of my impatient dog, but by a series of loud, purposeful knocks on the door. I immediately jumped out of bed, forgetting that I wasn't wearing any pants, because by the intensity of the knocking I could only assume that it was Iron Man himself coming to visit me.
No Iron Man, though. Instead, I got a group of Jehovah's Witnesses - three woefully overdressed Christians, lead by a rotund old black woman in the centre, flanked on her right by a small, sniveling, slightly balding man and a fourteenish-looking boy to her left. Both of them looked terribly dead inside, their spirits completely broken like an army recruit or a circus bear forced to leap through flaming hoops day after day. Written all over their faces was 'KILL ME!', and it was immediately apparent that Fat Black Lady was the alpha female of the group.
"Good morning," she said with a smile that could give Judas Iscariot a run for his money, "Jesus Jesus blah blarg Jehovah blarg the gays are invading blah blarg. Is your mother here?"
"No," I replied as a gust of wind alerted me to the fact that I was not wearing any pants. Fortunately they didn't make a point of it, so I continued, "she's at the store. Hey, you know-"
I stopped. Just as I was about to offer Fat Black Lady (hereby known as FBA) my counter-preach about the virtues of Great Cthulhu, it dawned upon me: I've seen this woman before! She was a relative of one of my mother's friends. As fear of punishment crept into my bones, I stifled the intense desire to throw as many snarky remarks at FBA as I could think of. Now, I know what you're thinking, Imaginary Reader. You're thinking, "Marlon you pussy! You could have at least taken a FEW shots at her, it's not like your mom would find out any time soon." Ah, but that's where you're wrong, imaginary reader! My mother has networking skills that put MySpace to shame. She'd have known, and I would have got the sneer of disappointment. Since the sneer is to me as water is to the Wicked Witch of the West, I calmed my inner jerk and politely requested that the FBA and her slaves come back another time, which she agreed to do, although not before leaving me some fireplace kindling in the form of back issues of The Watchtower.
You know, it has just occured to me that Christians like her must be the number one source of deforestation in all the world, what with their constant printing of Bibles and pamphlets. It has been subsequently theorised that Atheists like me must be the number one source of CO2-induced atmospheric thinning in all the world, what with my constant burning of the Bibles and pamphlets that Christians unload on you like old people unload candy corn to Trick-or-Treaters on Halloween.
PS: The new Iced Earth album (Framing Armageddon - Something Wicked Part One) is really good. It releases on September 11 in the United States, and I very much encourage you to go buy it if you're into (power) metal. The observant among you will, of course, notice that this entry is dated September Ninth, and that I live in the United States. While this may seem like a tactit endorsement for illegal file-sharing, what it REALLY means is that I took a plane to Germany two days ago to buy the CD there since the European release dates are earlier. Yes. That's what it means.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Dresser Bears #3
Short story (tentatively entitled "Best Two Out of Three? or 'Oops I Did It Again' the untold story of Jehovah") coming soon. For now though here's another comic. Enjoy it, while I resign myself to an evening of loneliness and cold, quiet hatred. Cheers! =)
Dresser Bears #3 featuring Dragon P. Sexyjaws!
Dresser Bears #3 featuring Dragon P. Sexyjaws!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Dresser Bears #2
I'm going to be posting a short story on here pretty soon, but until then, here's another stupid comic.
I have to link to it because the picture gets truncated otherwise.
I have to link to it because the picture gets truncated otherwise.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Quick Aside
The best thing about having your girlfriend spend the weekend at your house: Frequent snuggling and kisses.
The worst thing about having your girlfriend spend the weekend at your house: Having to actually make up your bed in the morning, instead of just making it appear to be made.
The worst thing about having your girlfriend spend the weekend at your house: Having to actually make up your bed in the morning, instead of just making it appear to be made.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Dresser Bears #1; First Post!
Bonsoir all. My name is Marlon, and this is my blog. I don't know what the fuck you're doing here, but since you already are, you may as well have a nice look around. This is where I'll be posting all the shit that makes me feel arrogant and important: comics, fiction, rants and poetry mostly, in addition to the occasional hardcore goat pornography.
For now, though, I've jumped on the webcomic bandwagon. Proverbially of course, although if there actually IS a webcomic bandwagon... uhh.. maybe it could swing by around noon to give me a ride to 7-Eleven? I'm thirsty.
Click here to see the pretty bears?
P.S.: Apologies for the fact that I can't draw, thereby resorting to poorly-angled photos of my stuffed animals. I also apologise for the fact that I'm not funny.
P.P.S.: Apologies for the graininess. I converted the bitmap to .GIF with the wrong program, and... well, it was either post a somewhat fuzzier comic or go back and spend seven additional minutes redoing it.
For a shiftless young man like myself, I think the answer was clear. Hell, I'm barely alert enough to finish this sente
For now, though, I've jumped on the webcomic bandwagon. Proverbially of course, although if there actually IS a webcomic bandwagon... uhh.. maybe it could swing by around noon to give me a ride to 7-Eleven? I'm thirsty.
Click here to see the pretty bears?
P.S.: Apologies for the fact that I can't draw, thereby resorting to poorly-angled photos of my stuffed animals. I also apologise for the fact that I'm not funny.
P.P.S.: Apologies for the graininess. I converted the bitmap to .GIF with the wrong program, and... well, it was either post a somewhat fuzzier comic or go back and spend seven additional minutes redoing it.
For a shiftless young man like myself, I think the answer was clear. Hell, I'm barely alert enough to finish this sente
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