Let’s put it this way: “The only constant thing is change.”
Just when some of you boys and girls thought “Ah, Catskilled’s dead, hah hah!”, and “Another funny blog down the drain. Welcome end of good, clean family entertainment!”, Tomcat raised the stakes. With easter around the corner he presents his first season-based killing: voilà, le lapin!
If it was up to me to make wise propositions to all you young, cuddly animals out there: be afraid! Be very afraid!
Cheerio! Have a good one, your humble author. Ba dam tsss!
Well, boys and girls, with all our rock icons dropping like flies (and our daily creative abomination of colorful terrorist groups around the world), we mustn’t forget about the little ones. True, yeah, due to the snow there haven’t been too many casualties lately. Old lazy fuck Tomcat has turned in to a fat furball and Sister O. is usually inside anyways. But nevertheless here is her artwork to mark our anniversary: “Dork on Cork”.
Well, boys and girls, tomorrow we’ll shut the door of 2015 and open the gates for a sparkling New Year. BLING! As far as your humble author is concerned he’ll slam the door and hammer in nails to make sure that stinker of a year stays put forever.
This post is dedicated to the man: Ian Fraser Kilmister, 1945 – 2015.
I know how you feel: caged. Christmas? Fine. Holidays? Good. Another lazy Sunday?
“I have to get out!”
People want to spend the money they received. Exchange the thoughtful gifts of their loving relatives for something real like “Fallout 4”.
And one has to prepare for New Years’s Eve, for christ’s sake!
Most of my friends love fantasy. Expecially the story about that elderly dude with his very, very young wife. Very young virgin to be precise (yes, us old dudes share the same grin here: SHARK!). Very young virgin who is pregnant. But elderly dude is fine with that because she will give birth to the Son of God. Who himself will be humble and forceful, he will work miracles and spread love, but will be betrayed and finally killed. Just to rise again three days after. Which technically also makes him the First Zombie. His wrongly presumed birthday is what my friends and me celebrate every year.
But whenever I dare to mention that there’s billions and billions of stars out there, with billions of planets, and if only one millionth of these planets were inhabitable there literally must be millions of other worlds carrying intelligent life (pretending that our way of life deserves the verb)…
Whatever, here’s your dead rodent and Merry Christmas everyone!
Some of you might miss pictures of the bloody corpses that are Tomcat’s trademark. This is because there are none.
We found out that TC still roams his old hunting grounds. And delivers the gory results now directly to the new tenant of the place we used to live in. That guy (though a photographer) definitely has got less interest in picturing the feline mayhem than your humble author. He nearly puked when he found that still steaming hedgehog. Well, parts of it. All over his studio.
I promised him to tell Tomcat to NEVER DO IT AGAIN, BAD BOY!
Yeah right, and no TV for three days.
Fourty years ago today Saint Laurel & Saint Hardy charted at No. 2 in the UK: “The Trail of The Lonesome Pine”. And just in case you needed some more useless trivia: right between “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “I Believe in Father Christmas”. One turned into a classic rock-anthem, the other is played whenever cheesy Wham! are too cheesy and Chris Rea and Jona Lewie Were already on.