Friday, December 09, 2005

Murder: Eight and a Half by Eleven Style!

I was going through some old things of mine and found a drawing I made when I was in seventh grade. I think that, if you were to take the timeline of my life leading up to the point that this drawing was made, you'd see that, after I did this drawing, there were many directions, many forks, my life could have gone down. This is where I made the decision whether or not I was going to get a gun and shoot all of my schoolmates.

Click the picture to make it bigger.

If you can't read it, it says, "What It's Like Inside A CANNIBALS HOME." I think that I used the all caps as a way of saying, "So, here's my drawing of what I think it would be like in a CANNIBALS HOME (no possessive apostrophe--stupid young me). Bet you didn't see that one coming!" Then, I'm guessing I underlined home as my way of making sure that you know that, not only am I tackling the taboo subject of cannibalism, but I'll take it where it hurts: their homes! "Oh my God. Can you believe how crazy this is? Cannibals don't have homes! Hilarious!"

In the extreme foreground you can see a can with a hand sticking out of it. And on that can it says, "Cannibal's Soup is good food." Like the old slogan for Campbell's. I'm not going to lie to you, I'm actually still kind of proud of that joke now. I was like 12.

However, it's the rest of the drawing I find disturbing. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that I thought cannibals used swords to chop up their victims. Apparently I thought that cannibals not only killed and ate people, but they fought dragons as well. This is further emphasized by the fucking cauldron that the guy on the left is cooking in.

I'm also a little upset that I helped to perpetuate the stereotype that cannibals are a sloppy people. I mean, heads and arms and shit on the floor? You have a hand-built body part-hanging rack right there. Use it!

What is most disturbing, though, is that, if you look closely by the sword in the middle, there's a smiley face. I didn't draw that shit. That's a girl's handwriting. That means that a girl saw this drawing, enjoyed it, and felt the need to add her seal of approval to my fucking dimentia. I never once was called into the principal's office (princiPAL is how you spell it, because he's your PAL!) or talked to by my parents. My parents never talked to me anyway. They sent me a card the day I graduated from high school that said, "Happy Birthday, Kevin!" and that's the last I heard from them. But my princiPAL should have at least done something--called the FBI or some shit. I think Badger Springs Middle School dodged a bullet or two (oh, puns, you slay me--I did it again! A parenthetical pun within a pun. I think I broke the pun flux time capacitor).

On a completely different note, I posted the bearded picture of me on my myspace page to see what those people thought I should do with it as well. By the way, thanks for all the comments regarding that. Anyway, the greatest thing happened: a gay dude messaged me!

Whats up? I was checkin out the local guys and found your profile, damm man your a hottie...drop me a line sometime

Later Bud
George
Oh, my sweet, sweet George. Oh, what I were a man with the man-thirst such as yourself. But, alas, I am not.

Even if I was gay, though, I would not go out with this guy because his two sentences are riddled with grammatical mistakes, the most glaring of which is his use of the wrong "your." If a guy is sucking my dick, he better be thinking, "Your cock is delicious," and not, "You're cock is delicious."

Interesting thought of the day:
The "qwerty" layout of keys on the keyboard was not decided upon because of some investigation of frequency of letter usage in words, but, instead, because, irony of ironies, the man in charge of it was illiterate. Say this out loud to the tune of the alphabet song, "QWERTYUIOPASDFGHJKLZXCVBNM." Personally, I think it's better.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You know Kurt... We don't send the kiddos to the principals office for drawing disturbing pictures... We only send them to the office for running across tables, riding a tricycle into the classroom, and going under every table and kicking all of the chairs out at the other students. Your picture is childs play...