Carville’s Angels

It’s been a long time since I posted or even read a blog, and I apologize for that.  My computer went nuts and then I decided that I would build a new computer to replace the old one.  And it really is a sweet computer now that I have it together.  But what a fucking ordeal.  And it wasn’t one bit cheaper in the end than buying a system already made.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the election season a lot as it winds down.  I worked on this comic a little while I was not working on my computer.  I can’t really post a lot of very long comics because they literally take me days and days to do and I just don’t have the time, but here you go.

More very soon.  No more breaks for me!!

Leave a comment....

Back Soon!

I’m sorry about the lack of updates but I had a computer meltdown.  So far, I’ve spent a ton of time and quite a bit of money trying to resurrect what was a pretty sweet computer system before this shit.  I bought a new graphics card and replaced the power supply and have optimized everything blah blah blah.  The computer runs now, but it runs like shit.  I mean, loading a web page takes forever.  Photoshop never finishes adding a filter.  Stuff like that.

So, today I went online to The New CompUSA and bought a brand new computer system.  Well, actually, I bought a bunch of parts that, when I add them together with my new graphics card and power supply, will give me a Brand New Computer.  I chose two-day shipping, so it should arrive on Thursday.  In the meantime, I am going to work on a comic and try to post that on Thursday, assuming that I get home from work and manage to put the computer together before, say, 2am.  Or maybe I will even be able to pump out the comic on my halting, shitty computer.

Anyway, this fucking sucks.  I will blog about this some more sometime.

Leave a comment....

Cake

I love cake.  I have been very busy outside the blogofarm in the Real World lately, so I have not had enough cake or a lot of time.

That’s it by way of introduction.  Here is a comic.  It might take a long time to load.  Too fucking bad.

Now go eat cake.  And watch porn.

Leave a comment....

Alabama Needs Dildos

I have discussed the ban on the sale of sex toys in Alabama before.  I want Alabama to repeal this law.  In September of 2007, a bill that would have repealed the ban on sex toys was killed in Alabama’s House of Representatives. The good news is that, at the same session, the Alabama House of Representatives also killed a bill, called the Alabama Academic Freedom Act, that would have made it okay for teachers in Alabama schools to teach children that Jesus served dinosaur steaks at the last supper.

In fairness, I should mention that, until very recently, Texas and Mississippi had also banned sales of sex toys.  In February of this year, the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals struck down the Texas law.  Since Mississippi is also in the 5th Circuit, that decision renders the ban in Mississippi essentially unenforceable (though it is still on the books).

That leaves Alabama.  Alabama, in the 11th Federal Circuit, is unaffected by decisions in the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals.

Alabama is, of course, otherwise a thoroughly modern state.  It even repealed its law against interracial marriages in 2000.  At the dawn of the twenty-first century, only 42% of Alabama citizens voted against allowing white people to marry black people.  How fucking progressive.

A little more than a year ago, the 11th Circuit, Alabama’s Federal Circuit Court of Appeals, found that a ban against sex toys was perfectly fine as far as the United States Constitution is concerned because “there was no ... right to sexual privacy” and “concerns over public morality” are a legitimate basis for any law. In the spirit of romance, they filed this opinion on Valentine’s Day, 2007.

Also about a year ago, the same 11th Circuit Court of Appeals found that mental retardation is not a disability.  They wrote, “It is unclear whether thinking, communicating and social interaction are ‘major life activities....’” This explains a lot.

Anyway, I am not here to rag on Alabama.  I want to celebrate Alabama.  For your benefit, Alabama, I am here to show you that, with your silly ban on sex toys, you are missing out.  There are sex toys out there that would especially appeal to the people of your fine state.  This is really just a random sample of a few of my favorites, but it will convince you to repeal your ban on sex toys.

You have seen blow-up dolls, Alabama.  You obviously don’t really think blow-up dolls are all that special or you would be screaming about this whole sex-toy ban.  I can’t imagine why you don’t find blow-up dolls as attractive as the rest of the country.

But Alabama is also the third fattest state in the nation, narrowly (or not so narrowly) behind Mississippi’s and West Virginia’s fat asses. So, Alabama, have you seen this?

Come on.  You know you want one.

Also, Alabama has the second highest rate of uninsured motorists in the nation. A whopping twenty-five percent — yes, 25% — of drivers on the road in Alabama are uninsured.  (Again, Alabama was beat narrowly only by Mississippi.) And most of those uninsured motorists are fat.

Uninsured motorists are responsible for a disproportionate number of accidents that result in serious, life-changing injury.  As a result, there are probably more than a few people in Alabama (and Mississippi) who look like this sex toy.

Sexy, huh?  It’s like it was made with your state in mind.

Finally, as the 11th Circuit stated, Alabama passed this silly sex-toy ban because it is concerned with public morality.  I suggest that, if that is truly Alabama’s concern, it could pass a law instead that says people shouldn’t play with their sex toys in public.

I suspect that there is also a religious motivation.  Alabama is squarely in the bible belt with the bible belt’s higher-than-the-national-average rates of divorce, crime, alcoholism, and domestic violence.  In addition, Alabama is the home of ex-Judge Roy Moore.  Roy Moore was the Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court who refused to remove the ten commandments from the state courthouse in 2003.  As a result, he had to be forcibly removed from his post as Chief Justice: he was violating the law by ignoring federal courts.  While Alabama is concerned with public morality when it comes to sex toys, it stands steadfastly behind a Chief Justice of its Supreme Court who publicly defies the law.

Sex toys can offer Alabama the best of both worlds without any hypocrisy.  Alabama can enjoy sex toys and religion in private.  And sex toys can enhance the religious experience.

First, we have Baby Jesus buttplugs, which I have discussed in the past.  The same company that makes the Baby Jesus buttplugs, Divine Interventions, also makes Moses dildos.  If you buy both you can use them in the privacy of your own home or even under the cloak of your judicial robes, enjoying the old and the new testaments in ways you never before dreamed.  You can bring Moses with you to the courthouse every day parting your sphincter just as he parted the Red Sea.  How is that for sticking it to the Constitution and its Separation of Church and State?

So, come on Alabama.  Get with the program.  Sex toys are okay and you know it.  Stop giving people reasons to write blogs about you.

You know, re-reading this entry, I think maybe I should write something about Mississippi some time.

Leave a comment....

How to be a Superhero

I always wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid.  Not one of the lame-assed superheroes like Aquaman, but one of the cool superheroes like Superman, Batman, or Spiderman.

John Holmes was ten times the superhero that Aquaman was.

I realized a little while ago that I cannot be a superhero.  That is because I missed the opportunity.  You must begin the process of becoming a superhero when you are very young.  So that you do not make the same mistakes I did, this post is about some of the things you will need to do for yourself (if you are very young) or for your children in order to become a superhero.

As I said, I realized a few years ago that I had missed my opportunity to become a superhero like Superman or Spiderman.  These superheroes have super powers.  I have very mediocre powers, like the ability to sleep for twelve hours straight and the ability to drink very hot beverages but only later realize I burned my tongue.

When I realized that I would not gain superpowers, I decided to become a sort of human superhero like Robin Hood.  The only problem was that stealing from the rich and giving to the poor seemed totally fucking stupid.  Rich people have good security and poor people have big mouths.  Also, poor people scare me.  I didn’t want to go through all the trouble of stealing from the rich only to get robbed on my way to drop off the loot.

So, I came up with a fiendishly clever plan.  I would steal from large corporate retail chains and I would keep the stuff that I stole.  Large retail chains like Wal-Mart are rolling in money and they don’t have all that much by way of security, either.  Still, I am not stoopid so I knew that eventually I would get caught.  But when I got caught, since I had no criminal record to speak of, I would almost certainly get community service.  That’s giving to the poor!  Voila!

Unfortunately, I have very mediocre powers of thievery.  I got caught after only about ten times.  I was stealing a big bottle of vitamins from a chain drugstore.  I tried to talk my way out of it.

For my community service, I volunteered in an orphanage on weekends.  Really.  An orphanage.  My job was to keep the orphans company.  So I would tell them stories.  Wonderful stories, about my own childhood and family vacations and Christmases when I was a child.  Sometimes I would bring pictures and Mother’s Day cards I had written.  Invariably, these stories had the kids in tears because they were so touched by my mediocre storytelling abilities.  Then, to cheer the kids up, I would share the first important lesson of being a superhero: your parents must be dead.

See, Superman’s dad packs Superman up in a spaceship when Superman is only an infant and shoots him off to earth just minutes before Superman’s home planet, Krypton, explodes.  Batman’s parents are killed right in front of him by a street thug who undoubtedly thinks that they are bringing goods stolen from the rich into his shitty poor neighborhood.  We don’t even know what the fuck happened to Spiderman’s parents.  They are just dead.  And those are the nicest parent stories that superheroes have to tell.  For instance, Catwoman’s mother committed suicide when she was very young and her father eventually drank himself to death.  Sweet, huh?

So, rule number one: if you are a child and you want to be a superhero, your parents must die.  If you are a parent and want your child to be a superhero, what are you waiting for?  Your child is not getting any less mediocre while you continue to breathe.

On to rule number two: if you are a parent of a superhero, you must be a total fucking douchebag until your last goddamn breath, which will hopefully come sooner rather than later. 

Superman’s dad was a scientist on the planet Krypton.  If he could save his own baby, he probably could have saved hundreds or even thousands of babies.  What a fucking selfish prick he was to save only his own goddamn son!  I mean, the least he could do was build a rocketship that could fit, let’s say, ten kids.  Oh, but he wouldn’t want to send dozens of Supermen to Kansas in little infant-sized rocket ships because then his son would not be so fucking special.  So let them all die.  Fuckhead!  And think about it: through this act of utter selfishness, he guaranteed that the entire race of people of Krypton would perish because he didn’t even send one infant girl along with Superman so that he could later procreate.  What earth woman could possibly withstand Superman’s Superdick?  And forget about procreation with earthlings.  A superbaby probably breaks the fucking sound barrier on its way out of the womb.

And for those of you thinking of Supergirl, look her up.  She, along with one entire city, is saved by luck from the explosion of planet Krypton.  Superman’s father could have cared less about her or her city and, if he had known they would survive the explosion, probably would have gone out of his way to kill them all.  As it turns out, though, Supergirl is later sent by her father to earth just like Superman was after — you guessed it — her father watches everybody in the entire fucking city die but does nothing.  Nothing!  Then — correct again! — her father dies, too.  Boo-fucking-hoo.

Batman’s father was like an uber-billionaire in Gotham City.  Gotham City is just about the shittiest, grimiest rat-filled maggot den on the face of the fucking planet.  It is the Calcutta slum of modern American cities.  What is Batman’s father doing to help the good people of Gotham City who fuel his empire?  Well, on the night Batman’s father dies, he gives the wife some jewels worth about a million dollars and then they head out for a night on the town.  I’m sure some of that wealth would have trickled down eventually.  Maybe you’re wondering why I’m getting all socialist on your asses, right?  You’re asking yourselves why the fuck Batman’s father should have helped anyone?  Well, for one, self-fucking-preservation.  He would probably be alive if he had spread the wealth a little instead of being a cheap fucking billionaire bastard.  Second, what is Batman’s awesome superpower?  How the fuck does Batman become a superhero?  He is mad fucking rich, that’s how.  Batman hasn’t got one fucking superpower to his name besides his dead father’s money.  The whole goddamn comic book is about how, given enough money and leisure time, we could all be superheroes and stop suffering entirely.  Who’s the fucking socialist now?

I already mentioned Catwoman’s traumatic childhood.  But I didn’t mention that her mother loved cats more than her daughter.  I also didn’t mention that her father abused her because she reminded him of her off-her-rocker fucked up mother.  She was much better off with her parents dead than with those two insane losers.

Spiderman is harder to call because we don’t know jack shit about his parents except that they are dead.  Or are they?  Peter Parker lives with his Uncle Ben and his Aunt May at the beginning of his story.  We learn then that his parents are dead.  But where are his paternal grandparents?  Umm, dead too, I guess.  His maternal grandparents?  I guess they’re dead, too.  He doesn’t have any living relatives at all except for Uncle Ben and Aunt May, and we don’t even know which of Uncle Ben and Aunt May is actually related to Peter Parker by blood rather than by marriage.  But the biggest problem with this whole goddamn story is that Uncle Ben and Aunt May are both about fifty fucking years older than Peter Parker!  Now, there could be some nasty explanations for this, because families can be pretty fucked up.  And that would explain why at least one set of grandparents is dead: they died of old age, probably before Peter Parker was even conceived!  But here’s my explanation: Aunt May and Uncle Ben really are Peter Parker’s parents.  It’s a goddamn miracle that he is not a deformed freak.  Either that, or they are really his grandparents.  Or they kidnapped him from his parents because they were old, childless, lonely losers.  At the very least, the police should investigate why every fucking body except these two in Peter Parker’s family has mysteriously died.  Whatever the explanation, there is douchebaggery afoot.

So, those are the first two rules.  If you are a parent of a child you want to be a superhero, you must in some way, shape, or form, be a rotten douchebag to the core.  Then, when you die — and you must die soon! — you will pave the way for your children to be superheroes.

If you are a child, you know that your parents are already douchebags.  It’s true that your parents may not quite live up to the Catwoman standards of loving household pets more than you and hating you for how you look.  And they may not be quite as bad as Superman’s dad, who let an entire race of children die in an apocalyptic explosion although he obviously had the means to save many of them.  But, let’s face it, they don’t really understand you.  And they are cheap.  That’s enough.  Now, they must go.

Stay tuned for more tips on how to become a superhero.  But first, probably more porn and cake.

Leave a comment....