Dinner and a Show and a Bribe 2: Bork, Bork, Bork
on January 27, 2012 at 12:01 amPosted In: VW Archives
10 Comments
This is mainly for our American readers since it directly effects them. But never forget that we love you even if you’re one of our many non-American fans.
I wanted to write something up to help explain to everyone why SOPA and PIPA are bad and what they could do to help fight against them, but as per usual it came out as terribly rambly and disjointed. So instead here’s some helpful links ranging from simple breakdowns to why all this is problematic, to what you can do to help keep the internet free. Please don’t look at all this and think “What can I do, I’m just one person. Government never listens?” though. It’s because of people like you speaking out, directly to representatives and politicians that these bills haven’t already passed. But we need to keep up the momentum now until we’ve nuked them from orbit.
Folks That Can Break It Down Far Better Than I:
http://www.girlswithslingshots.com/comic/gws-1313/
http://www.somethingpositive.net/sp01182012.shtml
A Start to What You Can Do:
https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/
But please don’t just sign a petition and then simply spread word through Twitter and Facebook. Write to your representatives and such. If you don’t know who represents your area in Congress, look it up. That’s the great thing about the internet remember? So much information at your fingertips! Unless all this balderdash gets passed.
Help up to continue to exist.
We love you all.
Hi all,
I’m doing some back-end work on the Voodoo Walrus site, so if anything appears to be wibbly-wobbly or timey-wimey, don’t fret; it’s just me.
EDIT: All done for now. Enjoy your Walrusy goodness!
Because Sometimes You Look Back and Wish Someone Had Been There To Tell You These Things.
on December 28, 2010 at 9:13 pmPosted In: Updates
Hi. I’m Grymm Grymmowski. I’m a(n) artist/(web)cartoonist/comic artist/writer/webcomic creator. Whichever you’d prefer to use. Its all the same no matter which way you slice it. Webcomic creator may sound better to you than cartoonist. Cartoonist to you may sound better suited for animation. It really makes no difference.
I’ve been creating comics for something like fifteen years now and there’s a part of me that’s always going to consider a vast chunk of that time wasted. However, all that time has also led me to exactly what I’m doing today, so maybe its not too bad. Mind you, I don’t consider the time wasted because I spent it working on comics. I consider it wasted because I wasn’t REALLY working making comics.Don’t worry. I’ll explain that in a bit.
↓ Read the rest of this entry…
This comment recently appeared in response to me uploading the latest Voodoo Walrus page to one of my gallery sites:
(Don’t try clicking the links or sending this weirdo any emails. We don’t know where they’ve been. They could give you the gonnorrsyphilherpeAIDS)
Hello
My name is Miss favour am 24yr old . I saw your profile today At (www.foxhilitesdfw.com) and it really attract me a lot i believe that you are the man i have been looking for to share my love; How is your health? i hope all is well with you. I believe that we can move from here ; but remember that distance;age and color dose not matter what matters is the true love and understanding; in my next e-mail i shall include my picture; i been waiting for your reply mail me with this mail address (favourdesmond_10@yahoo.com) for further introduction.
Bye hoping to hear from you soon.
p Ls contact me with this mail (favourdesmond_10@yahoo.com)
The following was my response:
Yes, yes hello. I’m a 2′ 4″ Mexican/Welsh/Japanese/Pacific Islander medical dwarf with a mutant strain of tuberculosis MK. 3-02. I have an immaculately groomed neckbeard and I recently attained my goal weight of 400 lbs! I enjoy long walks along the beach, having my toe fungus scraped, and seeing how many small children can fit in a sack of gene-weevils. Tell me, are you currently involved or interested in being a dwarf’s gimp slave? I could really use a new table. My old one died from starvation and bloodloss.
Please reply to Grymmbloodywellhatesspammerscommentingonhisart@godrinkbleach.com.
…
Mmmmyep.
(Reconstructed from a series of Twitter posts made by Grymm earlier in the week. Transcribed and re-edited by his team of so-called “skip-weasel” caretakers/personal assistants.)
Sometimes ya just gotta grab the Day by its ruffling, oozing, neck-fat and wrestle it into submission. But watch out. The Day’s all sweaty and greasy and gross. Shiny with liquid-filth.
So you put on your trusty Day-Wrasslin’ gloves first. Then you put an apron, just in case. Then the Day starts squealin’ and flappin’ its arm nubs all around, all angry like.
So you’re all “Screw this noise” and you break out yer dual, dull, meat-forks. And you just start flailing around. Stabbin’ at the Day’s nubs and crevices. But the Day starts vomiting acid on you and crying and squelching and rumbling. And you’re glad you wore your kevlar that day. It buys a little time.
But time runs out and reality doesn’t issue refunds, so y’toss the fumin’ smoldering kevlar at the Day, and the Day screams like roasted koala that’s getting eviscerated by dingos. The Day rushes you, wailing on you with its nubs and its growths, and its squeaking, shrieking tumorous gut-growths of a thousand hideous, unloved abortions.
So you take your acid-raped meat forks and drive them home, deep through the Day’s face, right for the brain. Too late you realize the horrible skittering truth… The Day has no brain! Just spiders! Billions of spiders! And they’re biting your forks! The Day is bellowing, and you’re screaming and stuff all around you is on fire for some reason.
So with one last bedraggled burst of filthy, spider-bitten vigor, you rush the spastic mental cripple that is the Day, screaming with all your fury. All your frustration. Teeth gnash! Fingers curl and twist and tear and gnarl! Nostrils flare and things explode for no reason! The viscera flies and splatters! Smearing the ground. Wobbly chunks stick and jiggle on the tattered remnants of your bloodied apron.
Soon enough, you stand in the desiccated ruins that was your opponent. Chest heaving. Breath hitching in your throat. Eyes burning. Gore caked to you. You feel your blood on fire and your fingers mindlessly flexing and curling around the empty air. Its right then that the fury begins to subside. The primal lizard brain going dormant once again and mammalian reasoning shakes itself back into liveliness. Realization strikes you. You have just wasted the entirety that was the Day. And you fall to your filth-caked knees
You sleep then. The Day is gone and you sleep the sleep of the dirty and victorious. Grime under your nails and muscles cooling from the fire of your kill. Another day… comes to a close.
