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Hello, welcome, bienvenue, vilkommen, and how the hell are ya? Welcome to another Sunday’s worth of content even less serious than my usual frivolity and drivel! Stuff so silly that I just had to call it foobles, or “foobs” as they are known to their small but tightly-knit community of friends, and proceed to make every Sunday’s column a paean to all in the world that is delightful, adorable, ridiculous, fantastic, or just plain fun to look at.

In that spirit, we will open with a dog who has, by canine standards, pulled way out ahead of the pack in terms of sleep efficiency.

And now, Rex does his impression of a Jawa

And doesn’t he look pleased with himself? And rightfully so, he gets to cuddle up in his cage in his favorite blanket and does it all in one smooth, elegant motion. I’m sure if there were other dogs around, they were suitably impressed. I know I am.

I’d guess that he did this once entirely by accident, and his owners saw it, and made sure to put his blanket atop the cage the exact same way from then on, and realized, as all modern pet owners do at least once, “the Internet must see this. ”

And on behalf of all of us who have enjoyed this little clip….. thanks!

Next up, we have a cute and comical little concatenation of nerdity.

You shall click to enlarge. These are not the droids you are looking for. We may pass.

As a comedy form, this sort of “Impact bold on screenshots” kind of thing has been the common grist for the Internet LOL mill for a long long time, but this one charmed me more than this sort of thing usually does.

I think it’s the punchline that does it. Lots of people do the “hey, these two things!” comedy and do it badly, but adding the third thing, and almost as importantly, keeping it nice and short and simple, makes this one a cut above the throng.

I mean, when you can thread together Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Monty Python in a way that is clever and funny, you are officially, in my books anyhow, a Geek of Note.

And speaking of clever and funny, here’s an example of someone taking the art of funny sign writing to the next level :

You, sir, are one funny son of a batch

Granted, the comedy form of “implied dirty word” is quite common and trendy lately, but still, I like this one. For one, it’s modernized with the bringing in of that ever so modern source of comedy, smartphone spell checkers and word completion “assistants” which often subvert the intended meaning in funny and sometimes horribly inappropriate ways.

But from the point of view of a true comedy nerd like moi, the real art is in structuring the joke so that the payoff is on the very last word. If you can do that, and maintain a good natural flow of language, then you are a long way towards being a quality jokesmith instead of just someone with a funny idea.

Next up, an image for the next time you think you have the worst job in the world.

It could be worse.

You could be this guy.

"Finally found my boss' head!"

I don’t know why the hell he’s up there, but I have watched (and read) enough All Creatures Great and Small to hazard a guess : presumably, Jumbo there has something very wrong way up in there, and it was way less invasive to get to it from the inside than to cut through a lot of elephant to get at it from the outside.

I can only imagine that our intrepid veterinary spelunker has a light like on a miner’s helmet and his own oxygen supply in there.

Now that image was fucked up. Granted. But that’s just me warming you up for this next image, which I just have to share with you all because…. well, look at it.

Oh, and roughly as NSFW as the last pic, depending on how your workplace feels about flaccid deer wang urinating…. clouds?

The mind boggles

Now that’s some serious WTF right there. There is so much going on in this pic, it defies analysis. I mean, you have Mister T as a toddler, and someone possibly experiencing apotheosis via their eyeballs, and of course Bambi pissing (on) a bush….

Whoever made this, they have gone considerably beyond the normal bounds of fetishism or obsession and have created something very much like religion with this pic.

Assuming, of course, that this pic is real art, and not just someone throwing together a bunch of stuff to make people go WTF.

No, even someone doing that could not come up with the above pic.

Truly, the Internet tubes are filled with more miracles and wonders than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio.

Because your philosophy sucks.

Seeya next week, foob fans!

Drifting sideways against the current

But am I tacking, or just enjoying the feel of the water on my scales?

Something something nautical image.

Feeling uninspired today, so guess what, you nice folks get another blog entry of me just basically yapping at you. My brain feels fat and vast and lazy and round, floating somewhere between indolent content and fatuous bovine surliness, and in such a ridiculous and useless state of mind, I am in no fit state for doing anything more than my most basic level of this stringing words together on the Internet thang that’s all the rage with the people in my head these days.

Nothing huge happening in my life right now, at least in that small portion of my unwholesome existence that extends into that specific dimension known locally, with charming provincialism, as “reality”.

In that special realm, that places where I keep all my stuff including my physical body and most of my porn, nothing much has changed lately. Still getting over Jon dumping me, but the worst is clearly behind me. Every day, the bitterness and disappointment and self-righteous anger (that’s the fun part, honestly) recede a bit more. Like any healing process, it has its more painful moments, but having good friends who support me and back me up on what a jackass Jon was (and is) for not seeing what a marvelous person I am and just how good my good lovin’ could be really does help a whole lot.

Damn, chicks know a thing or two about how to deal with this shit, don’t they?

Although I tried accompanying my revelation to friends with chocolate, and all it did was give me a headache. Stupid diabetes, I wanted it to make me feel better!

Next time, I will try a muffin or something.

And there will be a next time, hopefully. I get little alerts from okcupid a couple of times a week, and while I am still a little too raw from the saddle to get back on that dating horse just yet, I am peering over at the paddock and rubbing my chaps thoughtfully.

If there’s one fairly compatible man out there in this big beautiful urbanality of ours (and it really did look remarkably good there for a while), surely there is another. I mean, I might be a rather queer duck even by queer standards (or duck standards, for that matter) but surely there’s more of us intellectual hothouse flowers out there, and if the real world refuses to appreciate us for our delicate and impractical beauty, perhaps we just need to make out own hothouses and appreciate the hell out of each other all the more.

Plus, something about fertilizer.

So soonisher or laterish, I will go poking around the site for someone special or at least someone interesting again. It was very nice feeling like I had a boyfriend for three weeks, and I would like some more of that, please kindly and thank you muchly. A lot of long-dormant and radically underdeveloped (to the point of retardation) parts of myself finally got some stimulation into growth, and I would like to move more in that direction.

I want more life, fuckers.

It’s hard to get across to others how one can feel one is not a real person. To me, it’s such a basic facet of my life that there’s no question of questioning it. I have felt like I lacked substance for a long time, like perhaps I was just a picture of a person, a Flatlander wandering in this 3D realm, and only able to fake true existence for short periods of time before I have to slink off once more and hide in the horizon.

But I am not so crazy as to not realize how crazy that sounds. Not full on looney tunes rubber room institutional cuisine crazy, but alien and bizarre and hard to understand, despite my efforts to communicate it to others.

All I can do is point to how very little of life I have experienced, and ask people to try to imagine what it would be like if they were hella smart but emotionally, stuck somewhere before adolescence. Just how long before, I dare not speculate.

More than a bit, I suspect.

But if I keep pressing in the right direction, keep straining against the membrane and fighting for air, surely I will stumble me way into the third dimension, and finally grow up and become a real little boy.

That’s all I really want.