A Word From the Crimson Lizard

Into the darkness with you, reader!

Welcome to Death4Yes. As the title suggests, this blog is mostly about the current political state of blah blah blah.

Time for a poem!

Little dog, little dog,

I will make you eat this frog.

When you're done, sit on a log,

Hold on! I have to write this blog.

I'm back, valiant readers. Question: What is art? Answer: I don't answer elitist questions like that. Today I have done nothing but sit on a couch, complaining to the Silver Bat about how much we need to write this blog. At first I tried to convince him that my creative juices only flow when he posts first. But his retort was that his creative juices require that I post first.

Question: Why is creativity always measured in juices?

Answer: Because people are generally disgusting.

Here's a movie idea:

A very tall man is actually just average height but only hangs out with short people and plays basketball on children's hoops. HE IS A DANGER TO HIMSELF! The doctor tells him to make friends with normal people which really offends his short friends who KILL and EAT the doctor. The whole thing is way too intense to be explained by this synopsis, so here's the climactic scene:

DOCTOR: You gots to find yourself some normally normals!

TALL/AVERAGE GUY: Are you calling my short friends freaks?

SHORT FREAK #1: WHAT what WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?!

SHORT FREAK #2: Let's eat that doctor's FACE!

They do.

I shall call this film: AveRAGE!

And the tagline shall be: They all said I was too normal. Well, they were wrong...DEAD wrong!

And the disclaimer shall be: They were actually right.

I feel like I've thrown a lot at you for a first post. You doing okay there, champ? Need a drink or something? Go take a nap.

Glad to see you've returned, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (word of advice: get that tail checked out, could be cancer). Now I'm going to tell you a story about addiction. It is very sad and I won't be offended if you cry.

A bunch of addicts walk into a bar and they shout up to the bartender, "Snag us some peanuts!" The bartender says, "I can smell the peanuts on your breath from here, you've had enough!" The big fella in front says, "Don't think we can handle our peanuts, huh?" Bartender retorts, "Don't get all riled up, Herb, I'm just trying to protect you from yourself." Herb starts ranting and raving, "I'm fine! I can stop whenever I want!" The guys over in the corner are like, "Let's toss these junkies out." And the bar goes into pandemonium mode.     The addicts just start wetting themselves because they've lost all their mental faculties. The guys from the corner grab the addicts and start beating the doody out of them. A lady at another table turns to her young daughter and says, "Don't look, honey. Those people are lost souls." She covers the girl's eyes as the two pound down their fourteenth consecutive whiskey shots. The addicts are thrown out into the street where they lie in a crumpled heap. A homeless man shakes his head slowly and mutters, "Peanuts'll kill ya. Shoulda tried heroin."

THAT STORY IS TOTALLY TRUE.

A poem:

Opium I've never tried,

For if I had, then I'd have died,

But not because my body's weak,

Or 'cause my heart would spout a leak.

It's just that China is so far,

And I just cannot trust my car,

To drive over the ocean blue,

So no cool drugs for me or you!

That poem suggests that I would like to do drugs. How dare it?

Question: If a three-year-old piece of cheese still looks edible, can you eat it?

Answer: No, because I already did, and it was delicious.

To close, a word from out sponsor:

Since we don't have a sponsor, this is just a word from me:

A word from me, our sponsor:

Cancer is bad news. Don't touch it. It's probably contagious. Right? I mean...right?

Yams and codfish,

CL

P.S. To prepare you for Silver Bat's entry, I have constructed a brilliant anecdote about cake balls.

Lord Forsythe and his crew of merry marching marauders wandered the deserts of Littleton Township, seeking the orb of Lycastra. They had battled through the most deadly terrains, slashing ruffians and other nasty types in their quest to find that most holy orb. Forsythe himself worried that their actions may endanger their very souls in the eternal realms, for he feared that perhaps there was innocent blood on their hands. And blah blah blah blah blah cake balls.