Reading about Parkinsons leaves scared and...shaky.

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.

I'm AFRO of black people.

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.

FIN.

I swear to God I did not know she was a baby. I guess she can't ride rollercoasters now that she's dead!

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.

Here's my comic. I guess you can say it's pretty MAJOR.

Here we go:

FIN...

...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.

I'll try for another blog post tomorrow.

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.

Till then, adios.

Oh boy! Daily post up in this Bee!

Regarding my previous post, "Did Someone say weaboo?":

AnonymousFeb 14, 2012 06:41 PM

"I find this to be crude and offensive. I request a ballet for this to be taken off the internet" 

   Let's scrutinize my faithful fan's response to my lavish blog post...

- "I  find this to be crude and offensive."

   You're getting warm here.  

- "I request a ballet for this to be taken off the internet."

  So hot my dick might as well disintegrate.

 - "I request a ballet for this to be taken off the internet."

   THERE YOU GO!!! DING DING DING! My dick has melted off, my good sir!

You should probably be careful for what you wish for, jabroni, because it may come true.

FIN

Did someone say weaboo?

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!

FIN