Time travel and other concerns
STICK WITH WHAT you’re good at. That has always been the advice of my young friend, Maxim. I have always been very careful to maintain a career in cartoons, caricature and comic writing. If I […]
Tag: stupid
Clown For Hire
Name: Fuckles the Clown Age: Old Type: Not so freaking happy Skills: Can pull anything out of her ass Traits: Drunk Props: Vodka bottle (filled with the real thing), instrument for her main trick (see […]
My Last Hurrah: Pot Brownies
I read in the news today that three senior citizens had to be taken to the hospital after attending the funeral of their good friend. I thought to myself, wow, they were so overcome with […]
Nightmare at Macy’s
YOU’RE WALKING DOWN a crowded street and to your horror, you notice the people looking at you and laughing. They’re pointing at your nether regions and when you look down, you notice that you are […]
The difference between Brits and Yanks
1) You say tomato 2) We say tomato 3) We clap politely and might, if extremely excited, mutter ‘Bravo!’ 4) You whoop and holler and let loose with your Smith and Wesson six shooters 5) […]
Michelangelo – The Missing Years
Hello! I’m back! I thought I’d let a suitable hiatus intervene after my recent epic daily postings of the Eric Preet Serial. This whimsical article was inspired when an airbrush illustrator friend of mine told […]
Eric Preet’s Week of Sins: Sunday
AND, INDEED, I was. Brenda was relentless. The next day was Sunday and she was still hard at it, or, rather, me. If I had been hoping to commit the seventh deadly sin of sloth, […]
Eric Preet’s Week of Sins: Saturday
“AYE, AYE, WHAT’S all this then?” It was Saturday morning. Through my bleary vision I could just make out the form of a policeman. I thought the film makers must have come back and that […]
Awkward Priest
Summer is good and bad. The “good” is going to the beach, eating ice cream when it’s hot, swimming in the pool and playing outdoors. The “bad,” as an adult at least, is that it […]
Eric Preet’s Week of Sins: Thursday
BROMLEY! THE SORT of sleepy suburbia that should be the bed-manufacturing capital of the world. I was going to claim what was rightfully mine. I rang the doorbell and got no response. I pressed harder. […]