These nude bitches are just 10 gesture practices that I felt were worthy of being in my blog. Granted most of my blog is aborted fetuses, but I guess it's passable as a shitty art blog. Video-games.
Again, both are only ten minute gesture practices. Most of those ten minutes are me masturbating to the model, washing off, crying, washing off the impurity with acid on my dick, and back to drawing, which I have 30 seconds left. 10,000 hours on MS paint. Ignore the fucking college bullshit, I imagine some poor sap might find my drawings good enough to hire me in the industry without any credibility, hurry up FROM SOFTWARE I want to design my waifu with you!
Imagine how many fucking booms Sakura the Bitch-Nigga would Sonic if she fought in Guile's ALL AMERICAN BEEF PATTY EATING fighting stance. Like a clap-thousand.
After a hard day's work she likes to rest on a couch that slopes downward and takes only one shoe off. That is my fetish. Girls and one shoes.
I haven't draw much lately aside from this. The first two pictures required references, the schoolgirl Sakura Kasugano didn't. She's my waifu. Fin niggers.
Holy sweet mother of God. So, a certain internet persona emerged from the depths of internet Limbo. Like she drowned herself into some sort of weird stupor, and unlike other fucking e-celebs who bitch in the internet for whiteknights to polish their knee deep little chode-swords for, she took the normal way out of internet fame, if that's something to aim for, which I hopefully one day gain - even if it means sucking some huge cocks on Brazzers. Shove a guitar of my ass and play some Nirvina, and blow my face with a shotgun. Regardless, randytaylor69 rose fucking released a video of her talking about indie games. Nothing says exciting like playing the games of people trying to counter-act the "massive amounts of violence in video-games" with shitty pseudo indie games with child-like personality, because nothing says creativity like a forced reactionary movement against a medium that never needed a movement to begin with.
Fuck I hate intellectuals.
The point is OH MY GOD ROZE IS BACK TO TALK ABOUT GAMES IN FRONT OF A CAMERA FOR 10 MINTUES: GAMES THAT Are on the PC, something I don't have because I'm a poor sack of ethnic shit who owns a Xbox 360. My collection is so depressing, because the last thing I bought in years was the Metal Gear Solid HD: Collection.
Roze mentioned Call of Booty: Muh Friedums edition, but I thought I heard her say HIDEO KOJIMA games. The slight mention of Kojima completely rocked my cock, because METARU GYRU: GORONDU ZIRO's(Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes) trailer made want to praise Allah the Merciful all the way to to Mecca, fourth base baby.
"Did she fucking play that new Ground Zeroes game? Oh God muh dick. Big Boss you're my husbando, I'd sneak in your love-box all day everyday, if you know what I'm sayin." But then my mind deciphered what my ears actually heard. And she's a PC mustard rice, so I bet she's not interested .
The point is Roze made videos about videogame expos only, without the humor or the wit and more of a disgustingly informational and journalistic approach. So I guess she's really cereal now. I'll miss that strong eccentric borderline necrophiliac appriving attitude about her, but if she feels like changing her shtick, then far be it from be, a low-life common denominator of a blog-posting loser fuck, waifu adopting, neck beard to demand change of behavior of someone so brutally intimidating, short, and British as her. She probably sips tea out of her jolly wopples doots magoops. That probaly means nipples or something. Crazy Yuropors. You little Queen-fucking shit eaters, or is that United Kingdom, or England. I don't know. Geographical illiteracy is aboard the ship if victory(FTW for internet-referecing fucktards).
Regardless, Roze, if your reading this( and I kinda think you will at one point)just know this; My nipples are dark brown, yet my body is pretty light-skinned. Explain to me how the fuck does that happen? In my sleep, do I lather my nipples in chocolate, ? Tell God-damn it, ;_;
Stay tuned for more mediocre drawings from a mediocre blogger with mediocre writing with a mediocre life, and mediocre libido, which probably makes me conservative. Thanks for reading my bitch fans, which in total consists of some weird Porn site referrer that's fucking up my traffic from Germany, and that one dude living in some igloo in Alaska, probably fucking some husky native-American bitches with diabetes while playing Halo 3 on a oil-powered generator, some glow-in-the-dark techno-dildo-dicks from Russia who've no understanding of the English language but read my shit anyways, and that one viewer from the United Kingdom, and that weird dude who finds my site through searching randytaylor69 every other week. Relax dude, I'll draw her in every hair color. Jesus, Chill.
You don't even know how much of a useless piece of dragon-dilods I feel right now for not providing you references. I mean they're there in my computer, but I haven't organized them in their appropriate folders, so it may take a while. This post has been rendered obsolete, since I know must of you fucks only come here for the images.
I should be able to update sooner or later. Within this week. I'm sorry to leave the dick limp, but trust me, I'll try to give you something that'll leave you somewhat erect.
Until next time on the Dude Who Fucking Sucks at Making Blogs 8pm East Central.
Here's some notes I was taking during class today. Lol feminism
I haven't updated my blog in eons. My voyage to the Himalayas may have been an obstruction to such goals like ironic shitty hipster blog-posting. Perhaps. But I feel like I am indebted to you dedicated 0 followers of mine. However, there is a problem. I haven't been keeping a firm grip on the pencil (my penis however...) and I haven't drawing much lately. It's a sad state of affairs for a fat-man who is not Gabe Newell, but rest-assured, nigs, I'm back from the dead, to yet again inappropriately overuse curse words like a kid turrets who just found out he can abuse his illness in front of a church mourning of the loss of a baby who had retarded autism... The fuck? That doesn't make a hint of sense. Regardless, the dead autistic baby was buried in an coffin made of legos, in which all pieces were organized in set colors, just how we would've wanted.
Okay, here comes the art dump. Not much, but - well I don't know brah - my chronic masturbation and porn habits have gotten in the way of productivity. Damn you left hand, you accursed blessing!(Oxymoron mother-fucker haha!)
I have several problems with the way I drew Malcolm X, basically my only beef that I didn't tilt his fucking chrome enough to justify the fingers holding his head up.
That's the white woman hovering over Malcolm. She has a great youtube channel, randytaylor69, look her up.
I can't cite this reference, because I don't know where it comes from.
This is from an old painting, by French Impressionist White-Flagging Renoir
Some of it, I admit, is pretty weak, imcomplete, flacid, impitent, shallow, offensive(considering there's a pair of breasts OH NOES!!). Therefore, I'm going to try to step it up this week, considering I know have an audience anticipating my work. And by audience, I mean ghosts. And by ghosts I mean fuck yourself bitch I'm still posting anyway. If you jerked-off to any of these sketches, I applaud you. You have wanked to something drew with my hand, therefore I have literally given free hand-jobs. I'm a dirty slut.
As always, critiques wanted, appraisals not becuase I can't be happy with myself. I don't deserve to have myself. I hate myself. Just kidding, I love myself, and my penis. Thanks for your time, bustas.
So horse walks into a bar, and he has emphysema. It's an all-smokers bar. That horse is fucked.
So the chick on the left I drew her for a friend, so there you go, cheers. You cunt, I hope you enjoy.
And there's this mulchy yeasty fuck comic about the ass-holes from Gamestop.
And for this piece of shit. It's the comic I was working until my bastard of a friend Ceasar, who's chronic masturbation is a cause to his virginity, defiled my already vulgar comic with his filthy fucking macabre pencil sausages you call hands. I hope you enjoy.
I was listening to this track this whole weekend, and it got me thinking to some Sam Fisher fan art.
It doesn't really showcase the best of my abilities but for some profound reason, I'm considerably proud if this sketch, and I will never return to finish it unless you dicks have some critiques then, as always, I am happy to oblige those typed letters of envy/genuine not-impressitude. Regardless, I hope you guys stay focused on the shitty blog of mine until I have my PART II OF MY GHOST IN THE SHELL COMIC.
...For now. This comic isn't over, it's just I haven't enough time to just sit down and just draw and write it down and bring the wit. I apologize for any of the unfunny I may have wrought, but this comic ain't over yet, motherfuckers, so stay tuned and what not.
Till then, drink your milkshakes, you lactose intolerant degenerate cereal killer.
Honest to Dog, I'll try to release a new illustration and what-not. Actually, it's a comic, which hopefully you bastardos will enjoy. In the meantime, keep your Bible-reading hands firm, gentlemen becuase my new comic strip is gonna be steamy as fudge.
Okay, so let's get this off the record: It's been a long while- a very very long while since made a blog post, like - like a married couple for twenty years not doing the funky stuff for twenty years.
I'm so so so so so sorry. I know you guys have been anticipating my shit fro ages, but I had a very (in)valid reason. He's my muthafucking story, bitches...
The reason I took a while is because someone - well, rather a prick - told - well, rather he asked - me something that I took offense to:
"Why don't you draw orginal content? Look at my anime bullshit hur dur Poky!!!Kawai!"
And I told him the same thing I usually tell other people, "How dare you speak to me."
Kidding of course. But it got me. I've been drawing from references all this time, trying to figure out how the fundamentals of reality can be applied on a piece of paper, so that later I can be able to convey the original ideas I would otherwise wouldn't be able to convey if I just went for broke. Basically I was being stupid.
True are artists are able to portray whatever they want to by just drawing it. No person draws real people with flesh out tones and shit - we just draw points for noses and dashes for the rose colored blush we draw on our weaboo faces. Now that's originality. Suck my lemons, you little mongoose of a Japanohile, I hope you choke on whatever fattening imported canies you ordered from the "legit" non-Hentai website.
Well, here's my annual drawing:
Welp, right there's your original content fat-goat. The wheelchair toting, missile launching hero is - well -fuck you it's none of your business (yet) and that's something of a project of mine. You'll read an SEE about it more after Wewaboo Hate Month is over. And below that is a girl with a hand for a boner. Deal with it.
If anyone's interested in the reference here you go:
Sike(!), you thought I was going to give you a reference when my whole blogpost was about originality. You're such jabronis!
Today, I saw a guy - or rather a fucking hipster-bitch tool - show off his weaboo drawings to some chicks who probably wanted his dick after being shown the spectacle of his Japanese inspired penile ejaculation. Of course, I wanted a piece of that action, so I waited. He was sitting, his hands clasping his douchy-as-fuck earphones that were bigger than Yao-Ming and Shaqeal O'Neal's lovechild. So of course I wanted to shit on his little appraising dick-licking parade of his.
I approached this moon-speak-infatuated degenerate and asked if he drew.
"Of course I know how to draw," said the little cunt.
"I asked if you drew, not if your knew how to draw," I retort.
"Well I do," he insisted with this sense of menstrual sass.
"May I scrutinize your drawings(you little shit)?"
-"What?"-
"You little sugar bunny, I said."
He gave his little sketch book with one sparkly gigantic eye on the cover.
"That's me."
"You're dicking me"
Can't you tell? Are you blind?"
"Considering you're a darkie, fully fleshed, a round nose, not limbless, with hair that belongs on the head of metro-sexual dumb-ass, and a fashion sense of a ghono'rheic hipster-bitch from France, I'd say I can't tell."
"Well, you don't have an eye for art."
"You're probably right."
I should've stabbed him in the eye and thrown him in the sand gardens of Okinawa.
Someone said I was so dull and lame. I disagreed. She gave a rebutted. We both went home. I then ripped my braces off my own face and killed my family. Then I woke up. But all's well. I'm eating a yogurt because braces don't allow you to fucking eat anything. It sucks. I can't think, and I can't draw well because I'm too focused on being aggravated by these intrusive wires of metal in my chrome-dome of a face. Jesus!
Here's a sketch, you twat:
It's not the best I was able to conjure up, and I'll probably get to it later, but right now, I just need to rest.
Rest a reference, jabroni.
I know, I'm a lazy cunt, but think about it: Someone could be masturbating in your sandwich as we speak, or a super-pedophile could be fucking your unborn child whilst your pregnant girlfriend sleeps, or you could have a terribly boring life jerking off to porn all your life, so shut the fuck up because I'll get to it as soon as I can, you troglodyte homunculus.
Maybe it's just me. I surf around, seeing these weaboos and teeny-boppers reveling in their own glittering waste, flattered by the self-proclaimed title of "artist" flung towards their direction by their insane monkey-like. bracelet wearing, sparkly necklace suffocating fans. It's a pretty disgusting site, being they are- for one- not talented whatsoever, and clearly are not paid for their talents.
Their sonic-recolors aren't art. It doesn't convey any original idea or expression meant to arouse of offend. Even their ideas they express with originality, it's executed poorly and rough to begin with.
The anime isn't the thing that pisses me off the most though, it's the refusal to progress that irks me the most. There isn't an inability to be better than what you already are, it's their talented ability to shout "NO" to braces donning face and continue their road to a straight line of progression; no curve being present in their practice.
Just the same recolors. The same fan-art. The same traces. The same swords those America-ho(!) neck-beards draw all the time. The same guns those aforementioned hicks draw all the God-damn tiem. The same spiky hair. The same GIANT FUCKING SPARKLING EYES THAT GLITTER EVEN IN THE DARKNESS. The same faggotry that will continue to ensue even when their next batch of inbred offspring arise from their Naruto sticker, Beach bracelet, J-Pop band t-shirts, shitty anime-infused techno music infested graves.
Maybe it's all just a phase, and I get worked up by small things that shouldn't affect me. I would say it's like cancer, but you can't contract cancer from other people. If anything, it's AIDS.
I don't know what do at this point. I mean I had a great day. My lesbot and I had a riot today, being evil as fuck, contemplating the various deeds we would do to babies, like make them eat their vegetables and make them do their homework. I know, we're evil as Satan on an ice-cream trip.
Well here's my completely half-assed sketch of the day. I'm not proud of it, and neither should you, you bastard.
I've actually been given criticism, which I absorb like a sponge trying to suck up the God-damn ocean. So thank you, fellow viewers. At this point, I'm gonna have to find some inspiration, but I may not have to look any further, because I have a naked old man standing in front of my house. Ask him if he likes me, but don't say it was me.
Here's the references of your interested, as always:
Woah, HOLY SHIT!!! Double jeopardy up in this bitch!
But odds are I'll be living in exile and anonymity, forced to suck the juices of dead, decomposed babies who's wasted excrement could be used somehow, though I wouldn't know - though maybe I would know when I'm that Bohemian bum I speak of; I guess we'll see.
Nice beats that correspond to a MC's flow is just phenomenal. Just take a look at this link.
To call this hip-hop is an understatement. I don't care if hip-hop isn't really your thing, give this song a chance, and I'm certain you'll like it. If you don't, then fuck it we all have different perspectives, it's cool.
Oh and daily sketch:
Another Tyler the Creator fan-sketch I guess. I really like drawing dat black mofo . Maybe it's dem lips, I don't know.
Here's the reference sketch if your interested:
The little sketch under the black-face is just another stock reference, but unfortunately I wasn't able to find it, sorry roody-poos. Regardless, kissy-face bitches. As always, criticism. I really don't give a shit whether it's constructive or not. Do your worst, you punjabi.
Well, it's been almost a week now, and so far so good. I have an audience that's worth writing for - but drawing for? Well, you're gonna have to suck sour lemons bro because I draw on behalf of myself. Seriously, you think you're going to dictate how I handle my shit, bro? Because we can go down, bro! Wanna do this, bro? Maybe I respect you bro? Maybe I tear at the sight of confrontation? How about we make some sweet-sweet love and watch Jesus resurrect...
...these phresh beats! Bro!
Regardless, here's my mashed sketch of the day:
I draw the most expressionless eyes, with little to no personality...ffffffudge!
Welp, here's the reference for any of youz curious:
Well, lately, I'm been slacking like a minority construction worker on a mad stupor, because anything less than drunken retardation is just not ethical. So here's my numbered-SOMETHING(!) sketch of the day
Well here you go you ungrateful son's of mothers:
Well, it's brother Shabazz, commonly known as Malcolm X. It's a reference study from somebody's else illustration of him. I have nothing but respect of El Hajj Malik El Shabazz, and from his story manifested an amalgam of traits that I embraced, though militancy is a small part of it. Regardless, his biopic and his book was a great watch and read, and I highly recommend it. It, surely enough, spurs lots of justified anger and - paradoxically - this inner embrace of not peace, but patience. He's a martyr, not of the same level as Martin Luther King or even Jesus, but he is to an extent that he still changes lives of the young black youth. I encourage that a lot.
Regardless, peace be unto you, my followers, and the world.
- That's a hip-hop lyric Credited to Kendrick Lamar. Talented man, that black man is.
- Well heres my numbered-something daily sketch challenge.
- I skipped the weekend because I'm lazy, fat scum of the earth and because wuteva, I do what I want, that's why.
Here you go:
God, I suck so much lemons and limes when it comes to drawing lips, it's not even funny. It's pisses me off like - like a scared toddler having his face dismembered by a thousand sharks, and he pees himself.
Welp, here's the reference. It's a masters study so - you know - sue me. As always, constructive, and hopefully harsh criticism. Tear my ass a new one. Beethoven became a fucking genius because his life wasn't all lily-gagging and sunshine you know. His life was Sadism and Masochism all the way. And he smashed his fucking face with the lid of his own piano because was he couldn't hear his soul-wrenching music, becuase he was terribly deaf. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?! YOU DEAF DEAD PRICK! I LOVE YOU, YOU ANGRY SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!
I hope you guys enjoyed my shit, and don't forget to critique and read my labels.
Damn it all, I'm nowhere near a scanner. I'm no where near a sketchbook. I don't know what to say. I'm under my sheet, typing this stupid, fucking blog post, stalling for tomorrow till I get my next drawing up here. A Marilyn Monroe portrait I'm staring at is quite pleasing to the eye, and I have no idea where my juice is. I'm pissed, aroused, and lost. I'm hungry, and I have an aching for a veggie burger. As I watch Al Bundy do his thing on a clip from Married With Children, I stand here - actaully laying here - realizing how fucked the 90's was, and I'm glad I live in the 21st century. No more fears of a nuclear winter, but fears of a lack of purified water in the late 21st century. Shit, looks like the Fallout universe will inevitably be a reality. I would ask for Fatman, to nuke the orange, Godless-mutants of the night, but I'm standing right here [Fat joke, jabroni].
I miss my daughter, and most of all, I miss my wife. As I now sit here in this small cage, I etch the days left I have in this forsaken hell-hole of a room.
