GORGE – FROM THE LOON’S IMAGINATION

December 27, 2009

This is Gorge, a troll. He is trying and failing to develop a disarming smile.

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HYPOTHERMIA AVERTED

December 26, 2009

The loon threatened to go for a swim here yesterday. Fortunately, a compendium of international jewel thieves talked him out of it, and he settled instead for standing on his head while reciting the alphabet backwards.

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HOLIDAY EXHORTATION FROM THE LOON

December 25, 2009

MARRY CRISPNESS!

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CARTOON FRIDAY 30, THURSDAY EDITION

December 24, 2009

“Sir, you appear to be a crazed half-wit psychotic cretin with the brains of a sea slug and the sensitivity of excrement. However, you can prove me wrong for the tenth part of a dollar.”

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EMILY DICKINSON KWIZ

December 23, 2009

At least one, and possibly all, of the following statements are true. Circle those you believe to be factual.

Emily Dickinson:

a. collected scalps.

b. drank herself senseless every Thursday.

c. was quite an accomplished baseball player.

d. dipped snuff.

e. had a pet turkey named Stan.

f. could fly.

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CRUMP – FROM THE LOON’S IMAGINATION

December 22, 2009

This particular crump is the Prime Minister to the Quing and the Quang of Blossom Castle. The head is on a swivel, thereby allowing the faces to take turns seeing where the crump is headed.

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THE TREE OF LIFE

December 21, 2009

This is the Tree of Life. Too bad it died.

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THE HAT AND THE MICROPHONE STAND

December 20, 2009

The hat and the microphone stand quietly played cards in the revolver’s dressing room. They weren’t due on stage until Act 2, Scene 2. Therefore, with the revolver’s full knowledge and permission, they continued their nightly routine of playing gin rummy during Act 1.

“Gin,” whispered the hat, and he neatly displayed his winning hand.

“Damn you, you bastard,” whispered the microphone stand. “That does it. You win all three streets.”

“You shouldn’t hang on to so many face cards,” clucked the hat.

“Shut up. How much do I owe you?” hissed the microphone stand.

“Let’s see … That makes it … You owe me all of your baseball cards and your feather boa and your Mickey Mouse watch.”

A shot rang out, the revolver’s big moment at the end of Act 1.

“Hurry up. Deal ’em. We got a good 25 minutes before we’re on,” said the microphone stand in his normal voice, the play having reached intermission.

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A SELECTION OF LOON TOASTS

December 19, 2009

1. May you never be bitten by a rabid librarian.

2. May you never have to rely on a cobra for moral support.

3. May you never sign a contract to invent something in Antarctica.

4. May you never be required to send get well cookies to a bison.

5. May you always have harps in your parlor and a nose full of butter.

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CARTOON FRIDAY 29

December 18, 2009

I'm sick of painting

“I’m sick of painting. Let’s invent agriculture instead.”

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