whiskers

I want to become a recluse and grow the type of facial hair that cave-dwelling men do. I want my beard to say, "Yes. I can fight a beast and I can win." I want my moustache to speak for me. I want the hair on my face to hijack planes and to make demands that only the glory of my beard will understand. I want to stay up all with my sideburns, watching Brewster's Millions, drinking vodka redbulls, and trying to call into C-SPAN. I want my whiskers to run for president...and when they win, they will say, "No thanks. This place is dead anyway."

the legend of bidwell: a link to the past

Did John Bidwell plant talking trees in Lower Park so that they might one day help the Hero of Hyrule? You be the judge.

Looka looka looka looka looka looka looka looka here, looka shorty got back

Dear Internet(s),

Guess who learned how to get himself a gmail account so he can blog blogs again?

Love, Josh