GLORY ABOUNDS:



OFF THE PRESSES:



Sunshine Incorporated

Posted in General Stuff, diSSent ALC, diSSent Al, diSSent Fe on March 9th, 2010

Take this motherfuckers.

Now try to imagine them more finished.

Because in all likelyhood I will not finish them.
Not much more then this that is.
Finishing isn’t my thing.

In so much as I have a thing.

Joyride tonight.

Last evening was evening five of LADIES NIGHT and instalment two of LADIES SKILL CAMP.
This begs two important questions.

1) By targeting those of the XX has Joyride inadvertently made Monday the new wing night for those of the XY?

2) With Auntie Shannon at the helm (the skills camp) will we see an end to the formation of FLY-LINES at  Albion Hills?

In further digressive news, an unconfirmed rumour has it that ex-semi-pro-quasi-downthrill-race-participant Dan may be up for going down at 150 this weekend.

Take that for what it’s worth and more.

All we know is that Dan et al moved closer FIRST and now pummels Thad to the Court.
By multiple inches!

Son, by son I mean Thad in that southern-like-father-to-you way, it’s not the thought that counts.

A New Frame

Posted in General Stuff, diSSent ALC, diSSent Al, diSSent Fe on March 8th, 2010

Intentions would be to show off the new diSSent Alc.

The revelation an impending acclimation would undoubtedly bolstered pre-orders.

Instead, facts remain facts.
I’d rather lay about (motionless) for the remainder of the ‘off‘ season.

Sleeping on a bed of post-consumer recycled glass as my eyes are sucked out using starch-based drinking straws and packet of caramel dip.

To avoid contamination, the resultant sockets would then be filled with road salt and judgement by the disappointed children.

Then, in mid-April, I re-wake.

No promises.

Blackdrop and black powder.
What they didn’t explain at photo camp.

4lb 3oz – medium.
4lb 6oz – large.

Each of the diSSent grades will, in lieu of an actual (somewhat intelligible) identifying moniker, be appointed with it’s own graphic.

Rainbows, lightening bolts and disco balls.

Regrettably, the antediluvian laws of pictorial awesome (as dictated by the cyber-diplomic terms and conditions of my mock alma matter) do not allow for their combined usage.

Which is stupid.

Because we really need something big.
Glossy.
Confusing and exciting.

The only thing better than identifying monikers flinging poo is, of course, disco ball lightening strikes and their resultant rainbow prisms.

Stay tuned.
This 15 minutes of illustrator work should only take but a week.

Better Than Naked

Posted in General Stuff on March 4th, 2010

Previously and in the past I have discussed how nice, kind, great, super people who are certainly bound for heaven have been sending me things I like.

The summer past was a summer of extreme generosity.
Without prejudice I opened my box and accepted just about everything that came the way of Dingle.
For that, you are welcome.

Not so much so lately.
And I feel I can be honest at this time, these gifts have since of late been waining.

By waining I mean stupid and crap and dumb and you’re totally going to the hell of mine mind.

Think not for a moment that the Empire has been losing fans and admirers.
Unpossible.  It’s more that the things arriving are, well, simply not high on the desirability scale.

Many of these items fall in the low to Dicky range.

Perhaps this is a bi-product of recent success’ and elitisms.
Perhaps this is the result of my indubitable expansion as an artist and primordial villain.

I’d show you examples.
Real live examples, examples exemplifying the kind of shit I occasionally lug home from the post box (other even lesser desirables lay strew about the gutters of Bolton along side Hummer packaging materials and discarded Chinotto cans), but I don’t feel that these efforts deserve even validation of terribleness.

Most recent shipments can’t even achieve a level of craptasticness that would allow they be deemed ironic.
I know irony.  I live it.

Forced I have been to purchase my own individuality.
Gone are the days of event t-shits and commemorative craps.

Prepare to be jealous.

What makes a good t-shirt?

If someone, anyone, of lesser social status owns one…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If you don’t know your social status you are that someone.
If someone you don’t want to talk to is compelled to ask about it…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If someone you would never associate with gives you a thumb (or any extremity) up…it’s not a good t-shirt.
If women scream ravenously and expose their breasts in your general direction…you are probably me and it is not a good t-shirt.

If people you enjoy ask you to never wear a particular shirt…it’s a good t-shirt.
If people you could not care about, even if they were on fire and standing in a box of TNT inside a puppy mill frequented by orphans looks at you with distaste or confusion or fright…it’s a good t-shirt.
If it makes you feel superior (and people believe it)…it’s a good t-shirt.

What should you do if you find a t-shirt that meets the aforementioned criterium?

You should fuckingwell buy it.
For me.
Sharing and caring will ease a guilty conscience.

Do not (Steve Martin) send me a link to a t-shirt that I should BUY myself.
I can no afford things these days…for real…I was blessed with a brilliant mind, incredible looks, strapping body and more talent then I have developed skills for, but all my bank accounts have genetic holes.

Bad Taste Psycles

Posted in General Stuff on March 3rd, 2010

The great vacation is now complete.
Aside from the usual shipping backlog I now return to our regularly scheduled relaxation.

In keeping with things of consistently  poor taste here are at least one of whom I am NOT responsible for.

Unedited, untouched and probtastically uncouth in most countries.

In an attempt to bolster their bad image, Sea World appears to be attempting to attract the danger demographic.

Not a fan.
Not a fan.

Note: The artist, whom we may or may not know dependant on the liability or fame thereby incited, elected not to attach a projectile prosthetic for Floridian effect.

Todays trip to the post office netted some fantastic cotton from WOOT and PALMERCASH.

Photos and subsequent braggartry to follow.

This dual delivery undoubtedly confirms two intensely important factors in mine life to date.

1)  I AM the owner of Bolton’s most fantastic singlespeed bicycle empire.
2)  I AM Bolton’s most inane t-shirt-centric.

Dispute neither you will not never!

Just how hot was item #2 in F.L.A?

Here I am (actual size) with boy #2 (left) and Shorty Rossi (right).

Both are huge Psycle fans.

Time for an extreme off-season close-up.

Bring on team-issue-tight-pants.

Am I Missing Something?

Posted in General Stuff on March 2nd, 2010

So some ordinary people said some pretty predictable things.
Some other less ordinary people scooped pretty good stuff, long before the show.

But.

Somehow.

Quietly.

This.

Became.

Where is the outrage?

Where are the irony police?

Am I missing something?

In related tragic news, WalMart has announced intentions to act as the title sponsor for the 2010 One of A Kind Show.

Finally.  Originality validated by the masses.

Meanwhile back in my temporary America…yesterday, Universal

…projectile prosthesis have evidently become a major nuisance.

Homeward bound this evening…if I haven’t replied to you and your concern/claim/demand…I probably won’t.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

* Of course I did NOT just photoshoppe robo-arm through the skull of mine own spawn…both skull and limb belong to nameless google searches.