Savannah Cat

So this is house cat that can grow up to be 4 ft tall and 30-40 lbs. Easy. There are some more pictures out on the internet illustrating the beauty of this beast. Some of them feel comfortable being walked on leashes in public! This cat is not an Ashera and that breed is apparently fake and a scam. But this cat, this cat is real. And I want one. I love cats. I would love to have a cat that I could wrestle with for reals.

See! See!


They can get big enough to kill a kid!

Please, help. I've stabbed out my eyes.

I drew this one while dating my last gf. Her birthday was on the exact same day as my mother's. At first I thought it was pretty neat and then I realized how much my mom and I just don't get along. And why. I guess I should be greatful to her. And in a way, I am. Still, I did feel like stabbing my eyes out. That Oedipal thing isn't always the fuzzy bunnies it pretends to be.

Please, help. I've fallen from heaven.

I don't know why I haven't posted this one sooner. But I do know why I left the church. It was a simple argument that tore the congregation as I knew it apart. The argument was over free-will vs. predestination. Simple. With an answer that anybody could see if they just looked. And there was one faction that said it was one way because of x,y and z verses. And there was another faction that stated that it was the other way because of p, y, q, and z verses. Things got very heated. That was when I realized that everything is simultaneously making up their own truths which, in turn, make up their own reality. Constantly. And this is the way that the universe exists. Predetermined or free-will? No. It's both. We will behave as we do behave within our capabilities and one of our capabilities as beings is to choose. So I started making up my own truth, too.

Please, help. I'm about to lose my head.

Watch the little hand... that bastard. It just goes, "tick, tick, tick" so very slowly. Keeping me confined here at me job. I don't know how much longer I can take this, I really don't. I am trying to keep my eyes shut and just lie here peacefully. "This is my job," I tell myself. "To lie here peacefully. Deep breaths. Deep breaths." But I really want to get up and running screaming. Anywhere! Anywhere but here. Please! God! Let me work at something I enjoy and feel fulfilled by.... God? ... God? These fuckers are going to shear my brain from body.

Please, help keep me from shooting up.

So this one is totally true. I wouldn't lie about this ever because I am your King and you are one of my loyal subjects. It's been something I've been wanting to get off my chest for a long time. I am so afraid of doctors. You have no idea how much it petrifies to even think about going to see someone in the medical profession. My mind makes up lots of good reasons why it's completely justified. a) Most of them are probably bought off by the pharmaceutical companies, essentially becoming pushers for whatever untested, quick-fix (with a long list of side effects) medications they come up with b) the more often a person is sick the more a doctor can make off of them and in a capitalist society it would make logical to do just short of all you can to keep raking in the dough c) I fr@¢king scared of getting poked by needles. I hate that feeling of little metal thing sliding under your skin. oh, puke! It's making me wiggle in my seat as I type.

On the Carrie and Ashley Show

Please, HELP!!! The Movie

In this fifteen minute animated sequence the mouse finds his way into a creepy looking shack in the middle of the night under a full moon on Friday the 13th. He knows he should not be here. The old man at the gate warned him to turn back but he was too curious, he had to push on. Seconds after the information is useful, lightning illuminates the message on the wall. "Please, help," it reads in blood. "The FacePlant will kill you." At that moment, the plant leaps off of the table and at the thoroughly suspecting mouse. The mouse lets out a shriek, not very manly but he's never been in this situation before. At least he doesn't have any drawers to mess. His pellets fall straight to the floor. Our hero's only chance is the swinging the rusty axe at his own face! The plant worm it's way down his throat and into his lungs. He's coughing and sputtering... is this the end...? "Wait," he thinks. "I kind of like this plant." Happy 4/20.