Monday, April 14, 2014

LOL! WTF? I Am Sorry...





If one tries really hard, one can almost hear the clip being ejected.

Maybe.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

More For The Patriots In Nevada...



Inspired by and with apologies to the late great Chris LeDoux...

Somehow, I don't think he'd mind, and would be pleased...





Friday, April 11, 2014

For My Pals In Nevada...









Now...I freely admit I stole a buncha these graphic elements from various places on the innerwebs and enhanced them and glued them together and added some text, so I don't need any of you cunty sonsa-bitches telling me I didn't get permission from Marlboro or from some other far-flung unknown asshole.

Fuck them, and fuck you, and fuck the federal scumbags in Nevada.

To everyone else...how is your day going?

Exhausting Intardnets Meme

This is one of the intardnets memes floating around that looks cool and professional.  The "cool and professional" part is your clue to know that I had nothing to do with it.

Check it out.  It is chock full of useful and probably mostly accurate information.

Yes.  It's cute and all, but, personally speaking, I'm sick and fucking tired of the bullshit legalese mumbo jumbo.

It is exhausting.

It's like the constantly changing rules and regulations I must deal with in order to drive a commercial vehicle and make a living.


One (of the many) rule books is the size of the New York City phone directory.

Who the fuck is gonna read all that?
Who the fuck is gonna remember all that?
Who the fuck is gonna understand all that?

Most importantly....who the fuck cares?


Ain't nobody got time for dat.

I'm a big boy.  I am responsible.  I know what I need to do.  I know when I'm sleepy.  I know if my equipment needs repair.

I don't need a government stooge to insert himself into my day to instruct me how to live my life or do my job or to tell me where I'm fucking up. 

This party needs to get started.

I'm getting grouchy.


The only meme you'll ever need...



Saturday, April 5, 2014

LOL! WTF? Then, It's Gonzo!


So I'm bumping around the intardnets this morning, checking out my favorite domesticated terrorist blog-sites as I do every morning over coffee, and this catches my eye.




I think to myself, "Damn!  That looks familiar, but something's different."

I examine it a little closer, and there, amongst the dithering and horrifying pixelation, I see a bastardization of one of my sophomoric and cartoonish graphics.




Holy fuck!  Did this unidentified ass-clown use a crayon to "create" this abomination?

Here is the original, produced by yours truly, two years ago.

Ain't it purty-full?




I'm flattered, a little angry, and amused all at the same time.

I am a riddle wrapped in bacon.

Or something...

Anyhoo...I type up a quick, witty retort and am amazed an hour or so later when it is published.




Now, some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  Who gives a fuck, and anyway...how the hell do we know that the image YOU say is yours is really YOUR original intellectual property?  You steal other people's shit all the time and claim it to be cool because it's satire or protected free political speech.  Fuck you, hypocrite!  Hurry up and die already!"

I suppose there is some truth to that.  I will sometimes take elements of pictures or art and use them for my own nefarious purposes.  But, if the shit is in the public domain, or I get permission, it's all good and I try to give credit where and when it is due.

Yes. I am lawyer-like and amazing!

It is also true that I have given blanket approval for patriots across the innerwebs to use my shit for free whenever they want and maybe give me a little credit.  Thing is, it ain't kosher to alter my crap and then make it look even shittier than I made it look originally.

I admit my stuff sometimes contains content and messages of dubious value, but I take pride in producing something that, if nothing else, looks good and is technically pleasing to see on a computer monitor.  No pixelated bullshit if I can avoid it...

I try to not put out stuff that looks like a bag of smashed assholes.

I gots standards.

Your mileage may vary.

Here is some more evidence that what I say is mine really IS mine.

This is the Bowie knife.  There are many like it, but this one is mine.  This stock image I created by putting the knife on my scanner and scanning it at alarmingly high resolution.
(This image was the foundation for one of the apps in the "There's an app for that" post). 
 



The knife was probably made in some Chinese or Pakistani shit-hole, but it is mine and I keep it in my secret arms bunker with all my other stabby and shooty things.

This next image is a picture I took with MY own camera in MY own back yard using MY telephone pole with MY own Bowie knife stabbed into MY copy of the Declaration of Independence.

See the resemblance?

It is the foundation I used for the creation of some of my agitation propaganda pieces. 




Do you people also see that I had to create the concept?  I had to use my intellectual abilities...slight as they may be...to take that concept I created in my head, and actually do something to build it and make it happen.

Gather up and create the props used in the photo...wait for good afternoon lighting and shadows...compose the picture.  Crop.  Edit.  Enhance.

I know.  Big fucking deal.

Well...several hours later, the offending post with the fucked up version of my intellectual property was deleted with no explanations or excuses or apologies given.  

Don't be a man and fess up to it.  Sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn't happen.

That's OK too.

It's not like I was gonna threaten to sue anybody if the picture wasn't taken down.

I'm not that guy.

But I will be a wise-ass and talk tuff on the intardnets about it, though.

I am definitely THAT guy.


__________ 


So there!

Suck it, bitches!





Monday, March 31, 2014

For My Pals In New Mexico...



It has come to my attention that maybe a few of you don't know what the fuck I'm trying to say with this latest cartoonish and shitty image I created.

...and that's OK.  Don't feel dumb.  I'm kinda weird, so sometimes my idiotic crap might not make any sense.

So...what is this red slash through the blue bar all about?

Well...it's the "thin blue line"...cops.  You know...the small number of guys and gals who bravely protect all us quivering, terrified, and defenseless masses from the bad guys who want to rape our dogs and kill our women. 


You see these in license plate form or bumper stickers on cop cars and on vehicles owned privately by holster sniffers and badge polishers.

I saw one on a minivan yesterday, and with the gunning down of several folks in Alba-Kracky recently, the whole thing kinda pisses me off.

(Then I remembered this other wonderful story about New Mexico cops.  FUBAR.)

Here in Indy, they wanna add another 500 cops to the street 'cuz the ghetto apes and meth-heads are slaughtering each other wholesale.

...and I'm like, "I don't need it done.  Thanks anyways."

I'll pass.  I neither want nor need a cop on every street corner.

I don't need a cop, (or anyone else), inserting themselves into my day and/or life, because when it happens shit most often goes sideways.  This is a lesson I learned first-hand several years ago when I voluntarily involved cops into my life with (what I thought) was a relatively cut-and-dried and trivial matter.

Never again.

Some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  Why you hatin' on cops?  You would be the first to call them if zombies attacked your house.  Hell...your dumb-ass life was saved by two cops when you were a kid.  Hypocrite.  Fuck you and die already!"

Ha!  About 5 years ago, I spoke to (and thanked) one of the two cops who prevented my family from being shot to death by an escaped convict 45 years ago.

Know what he said?

To paraphrase:

"I retired a long time ago, and I'm glad I'm not a cop anymore.  These new guys are fucked up."

He don't need it done either.

Some also might be saying, "Zoomie!  What about the frail old ladies and cuddly small children and kittens who aren't innernets tuff and threatening and angry and capable of defending themselves like you?  Should they be left to the tender mercies of the thugs?  Answer that one, smart-ass!"

Good question.  I am first inclined to think that old ladies and children and kitties should be protected by their men-folk (fathers, older siblings, sons, nephews, cousins, trusted capable neighbors), but that would be sexist dinosaur thinking.  I mean, what if the children and old ladies and kitties don't have any men-folk?  Then what?

Hell.  I dunno.  I'm not very bright.  Who needs a man?  I guess they're fucked.  Call 911...

In conclusion...as far as cops go, am I paintin' with a broad brush?

Motherfuckers, I'm paintin' with a roller.

And it's turbo-charged...

I'm tellin' you good cops...you'd better get your shit in one sack and clean up your mess.

The world's a big place, but I'd hate to paint it.


Thursday, March 6, 2014

Anybody Play WarThunder?

Zoomie Boyington


I am a closeted fighter pilot.  Have been since I was a kid.  I loves me some WW2 airplanes, and I get aroused at the sound of a Rolls Royce Merlin (Packard) engine.

Yes.  I have issues.  Multiple issues.

You knew this.

At the risk of sounding like a computer geek asshole, I admit to playing WarThunder.

WarThunder is a free multi-player online flight-sim game I play from time to time when I grow weary of the mind-numbing treason I see all around me every day.

WarThunder is from a company called Gaijin.

Gaijin is a Russian company...and therefore suspect...so that is the reason why I use a PC dedicated solely to gaming so that they and Vlad Putin can't spy on me and the important other shit I do online.

(Being Russian also means Gaijin has seriously fucked with and amped up the flight models of the Russian planes and has made them almost indestructible...which I think is terribly amusing.) 

Anyhoo...I find it loads of fun to swoop down on unsuspecting noobs and shred them to pieces with .50 cals and cannon fire.

What's not to like?

Actually, I also admit I am not a very good WarThunder player, and I get shredded and flamed more often than not by mouthy punk kids from all around the world.

One needs an updated rig and high-speed intardnets to play this game, though.  My shitty DSL can barely keep up, and you'll need a decent video card and a good processor to take advantage of the stunning graphics.

If I wasn't such a cheap bastard, I'd get a Comcast or Verizon intardnets connection or whatever the fuck is out there that is faster and make my wife and kids and me happy and no longer have lag problems and stuff.

But apparently, my family's happiness is not of paramount importance to me.

I know.

I suck as a father, husband, and provider.

So...in conclusion...if you play and you wanna team up and blast commies outta the sky, look for WalterZoomie or leave a note in comments and we'll wreck some fools.

Or not. 

Tally-ho motherfuckers!



Monday, March 3, 2014

A Song For Eric...

Yes.  I know.  Welcome to last week.

I've been busy.

Anyhoo...so our buddy Eric Holder almost vapor-locked?

Lol.

Got me to thinkin'...






With apologies to Bonnie Raitt...


Rainy night, you’re all alone
Sittin' there waitin' for the launch of the drone
 

Fever turns to cold, cold sweat
Thinkin' about things you ain't done yet

 

Tell us now, we’ve got to know, do you feel the shame?
Do you just light up at the thought of the game?

 

Don't worry Eric, it ain't nothin' new
That's just karma creepin' up on you
If your whole world's shakin' and you feel like you do
That's plain justice sneakin' up on you

 

Nowhere on earth for your ass to hide
Once karma comes sneakin' up on your blindside
And you might as well try to stop the rain
Or stand in the tracks of a runaway train

 

You just can't fight it when a thing is meant to be
What comes around goes around, to put it simply

 

Don't worry Eric, it ain't nothin' new
That's just karma creepin’ up on you
If your whole world's shakin' and you feel like you do
That's real justice sneakin' up on you


Sunday, March 2, 2014

Bringing It

My take on a vintage anti-Bolshevik poster...


Saul Alinsky would be so very proud of me.

Maybe.