BadMonkey4 Says...(Shamelessly stolen from his DeviantArt Page)

I am a bipedal carbon based sentient being (depending on who you ask). A male of the species Homo Sapien, a mutated and evolved mammal of the primate family who's major pastimes seem to be killing their own planet, all other life on the planet including each other, and reproducing (or the act of, mostly confined to their own species, but occasionally other species are involved e.g. hamster, sheep, giraffe). At present I am residing in Northern Ireland (although not a native), the United Kingdom, European Continent, Northern Hemisphere, Earth, Third planet from the star in the Sol system, western spiral arm of the galaxy known as "The Milky Way" or AA0 (WARNING TO ANY VISITOR TO THIS GALAXY : Ballet, Opera, and Religion are still practiced in this galaxy and are not outlawed as they are everywhere else in the known civilised universe, in fact these are classified as culture because the inhabitants are just a bunch of dirty perverts who don't know any better), in the Universe 148 where the weather is amicable but a bit wet, and where a banana is a curved soft pulpy fruit covered in a yellow skin and not an unstoppable killing machine. A universe with 11 known dimensions and where a good supply of mind-altering drugs and a cup of tea are needed to get your head around the local quantum physics and tax forms. Only 5 dimensions show up on a normal day, the others are usually found in a coffee shop in Soho, with a good supply of mind-altering drugs, cups of tea, a calculator, and their tax forms as they try to find their receipts for 1839-2003. The only time all 11 dimensions are present is when they make a brief personal appearance in particle accelerators or on a Tuesday when it's poker night. In other universes the dimensions are a little smarter, they have figured out that if they push their tax department into a 12th dimension, shove that dimension into an envelope and send it to a local war zone, the war ceases and both sides die from being taxed to death. Some smart-arsed dimensions just transport their tax department into the heart of a sun or into the gravitational pull of a black hole, but this has been seen by many as unsporting.

Having been very well educated and after I left school with the highest marks anyone had seen in a generation in subjects like disillusionment and disappointment, I went on to have failed careers in such diverse industries as a penis puppeteer, a traffic cone, and professional gimp, I have now chosen to settle into normal employment and sell electrical goods, (not the ones that vibrate or require lubricant), to idiots.

I like to relax by reading books, watching films, being tortured by a beautiful Norwegian dominatrix (and since I don't speak Norwegian and don't understand a word she says, I get punished all the time! :spank: :horny: :love:), and occasionally a bit of painting.

I live in hope that one day I'll meet a nice lady, who is sensible enough not to paint herself orange with fake tan in a country where it rains all the time, and instead of the usual hitting me with her handbag, a brick, baseball bat, electric cattle prod, restraining order (of which I have an impressive collection), she might be nice to me, as they say small miracles happen everyday. The problem is this would not be classified as a "small miracle" as that would be a matter of biology and attraction. Even a certain Palestinian Jewish carpenter's son with more than a slight aversion to large planks of wood, nails, and dry white wine tasting would be scratching his head on how to make this possible. The probability calculation of such an event gives quantum physicists a headache and so they turn their attentions back to something less taxing such as trying to bend Space and Time to their will. Space and Time get really quite sick of this and often think about writing a "polite" letter to quantum physicist everywhere asking them to "pack it in and go and get a life or get laid, or otherwise they will come to their home and the physicist will have a nasty little spacial or temporal accident".

If you would like to read the collected short stories of the SAS Hermit please click here :iconsashermit:
Please visit this lovely pretty lady's page :iconicequeenofwinter: she is an inspiration to us all.


Note to all the sad stupid people who get their jollies winding actual creative DA members up:-

If you can't "play" nicely while your in my domain, I WILL block your dumb ass!

I Might Be Wrong...

You might have come across this before...but I'm archiving it here for my own sake.

Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a High School about 11 things they did not, and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of children with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.

Rule 1: Life is not fair - Get used to it.

Rule 2: The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3: You will not make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a Mercedes until you earn both.

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is rough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different name for burger flipping; they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault. So don't whine about your mistakes; learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before yous ave the rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your own room, first.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to anything in real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers of and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is not real life. In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.


© SEASE Productions. All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.
Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Only In 'Murrika...

Fourteen-year-old Brandon McInerney entered the computer room at EO Green Junior High School in Oxnard, California at 8:15 am on Feb 12 of this year. The eighth grader walked up behind 15-year-old Lawrence “Larry” King and in front of 20 other classmates, shot him twice in the back of the head. McInerney then fled the school, though he was apprehended soon after.

King was pronounced brain dead the next day. Two days later, his organs were harvested and he was allowed to pass away. Why did this tragedy happen? Because Larry was gay and dressed “effeminately.”


This shits just too sad to comment on...I'm gonna go dwell in self-hatred for my own species. Peace.

Between The Lines

Sometimes reading the fine-print is worth it. The warranty info on my latest pair of headphones amused me greatly.



LIMITED LIFETIME PRODUCT WARRANTY
Skullcandy is proud to proved the best product warranty in the industry. If this product should fail in your lifetime, we will replace it at no charge. If the product is damaged by aggressive music listeners sliding a rail, sliding down the emergency ramp of your aircraft, slammed into your locker, slammed in your car door, run over by a car, running into a wall, getting run out of town, mountain biking, road biking, sky diving, beating your boyfriend unmercifully, getting beat down by the man, blown up in an accidental experimentation with flammable substances, or damaged in any other every day experience, it means you are living your life the way we want our product used! In these, or any other damaging events, we will replace the product for a 50% discount from retail.
Love Skullcandy.

Rest In Peace, Ashly.

OK Computer...

they lied to us.

this was supposed to be the future.
where is my jetpack,
where is my robotic companion,
where is my dinner in pill form,
where is my hydrogen fueled automobile,
where is my nuclear-powered levitating house,

where is my cure for this disease?

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

Care To Go For A Spin?

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

In anticipation of Christmas, ya'll!

Art Versus Evil (Byline)

Carving with synthetic mechanisms, producing sounds and shapes with the authority of stone, waves and frequencies surround our earthly cell.

Understanding the knowledge of connection within the context of separation makes us better people.

All successful hustlers have the soul of an artist, journeying to the end of the night, hearts filled with hope, hands filled with grime. Creative business always follows the craftiest of arts.

Those in deviant precincts know cops can lie better than you can think as they set off for some stimuli that makes the sensation stick then settle in with said substances to soothe the system's sting.

Basing virtue on the dogged and indiscriminate application of effort, making a lot out of a little, wraps madmen around cans of metallic chrome. Cats with fat caps seek self-expansion in the face of self-deception forever forsaking flat black and gloss white.

Recorded music, digitized archives and last years' lost loot become long distance love affairs. But good things happen when echoes from the source refuse to sour.

Art versus evil and gets its can kicked cold, counted out on the canvas, sporting an abstract expressionless gaze and black, blue and burnt sienna bruises.

Don't be fooled. They really are old friends. They go back like ancient heart attacks, selling services to each other and fornicating mutual disgust.

The desire to connect is in everyone's game plan. Passengers make passage scratching signs on the walls of the internet, self administering dosages of affluence and anxiety while finding ways to kill the things they love.

Art is a lonely thing. High adventures and epic vacancies await all gamers looking to escape or create narratives they are forced to live up to.

But even the king of outcasts knows living for oneself has its price and we can't avoid feeling overcharged when we're ignored by the ones we adore.

(C) 2007 SEASE Productions/Buford Industries. All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Jutified.