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Don’t think I’ve ever posted a kitteh picture before…

You shall not pass!

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“The difference between moving a mountain and not lifting a finger is being in love.” — James Robert Allison

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It’s been a long while since I’ve put out a comic…

Chaudair? Chaudair? It’s chowdah! Chowdah!

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What if our favourite shows were written by stupid Internet people?

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Since I have come across it a couple times in the last few years, I will now explain this concept using the male cast of Coupling. If you haven’t watched Coupling, go buy, download or YouTube it right now, you poor, deprived person! I’ll warn you now, though…just stop at the end of season 3 and pretend that was it…the shark was not only jumped, but humped, bumped, and trumped in season 4.

Jeff, Steve and Patrick are in the bar on the sofa and side chair, as per usual.




Jeff:  Okay, so I’ll tell you about “The Feeling Ceiling.”
Steve, looking skeptical:  Okay…
Jeff:  Right…so…there’s these women, right?
Steve:  There usually are, with your stories.
Jeff:  Okay, and some of them, for whatever reason, don’t want to hear “the big L” from their boyfriends…it freaks them out and they go all crazy…and not crazy in a good way.
Steve:  I’m familiar with these women.
Patrick:  I love those women! Er, I mean, like them…you know what I mean.
Steve:  Go on, Jeff.
Jeff:  Right…so…with some women, you go out with them for months, and things are going great, but you don’t know how far you can go…how high you can rise in your feelings for them.  You say “the big L”, and BAM!
Steve jumps.
Jeff:  …you hit…THE FEELING CEILING!
Steve:  I see. So…
Jeff:  And once you hit The Feeling Ceiling, you’re done! You’ve hit your head…you can’t go any higher.
Steve:  Right…so…
Jeff:  Even if you broke through, you’d be in the attic!
Steve:  Um…
Jeff:  …where your dad keeps his dirty magazines.
Patrick:  Result! Nice.
Steve:  Jeff…
Jeff:  Then the next thing you know your mum’s calling, “Jeffrey! Are you in the attic? Why is the chandelier shaking?”
Steve:  Too far, Jeff!
Jeff:  Huh? Oh, right…so that’s…”The Feeling Ceiling.” If you’re not careful and go too high, you’ll be in the attic, masturbating.

Steve shakes his head, and Patrick looks thoughtful. Jeff is lost in the moment.

Sound of laugh track clapping.

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I started making this up in my head on Sunday, but had to concentrate on driving.

Sung to U2′s Sunday Bloody Sunday:

I can’t believe it snowed today,
Oh, I can’t even drive,
Please make it go away.

How low…
How low can the temperature go?
How low, how low,
Tonight, the ice will form,

Slippy, slidey, under all our feet,
Cars losing control across the street.
But I won’t join those stupid duds,
I went and got some,
Went and got some tires with studs.

Sunday, snowy Sunday…
Sunday, snowy Sunday…
Sunday, snowy Sunday…

And the sleet has just begun,
Many off the road, some more just spun.
Why can’t people drive for crap?
Moving slowly, surely, painfully,
Mind the gap.

Sunday, snowy Sunday…
Sunday, snowy Sunday…

How low…
How low can the temperature go?
How low, how low,
Tonight, the ice will form,

Sunday, snowy Sunday…
Sunday, snowy Sunday…

Scrape ice from your windshield,
Scrape the ice away.
Oh, scrape the ice away,
Oh, scrape the ice away,
(Sunday, snowy Sunday)
Oh, scrape away that damn ice!
(Sunday, snowy Sunday)

Sunday, snowy Sunday (Sunday, snowy Sunday)…
Sunday, snowy Sunday (Sunday, snowy Sunday)…

And I’m sure that it won’t stay,
When it warms up everything will turn to slush.
And today kids make snowmen,
Enjoy them now, a puddle they’ll be then.

(Sunday, snowy Sunday)

I can’t believe I made this song,
This waste of time, it is just wrong.

Sunday, snowy Sunday…
Sunday, snowy Sunday…

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Another plasma blast went over Gareth’s head.  He hunkered down further into the hollow of the fallen tree.  Where the hell was Beatty?

Then there was a flurry of footfalls and Gareth’s partner’s slim form dived down next to him.  He had in his hands…

“Oh my God,” Gareth muttered.

Beatty’s eyes were locked on the round transparent sphere as he fiddled with the controls on the base.  “Yeah, it’s the antimatter drive,” he said, matter-of-factly.  “The Wells is damaged beyond repair, but the drive’s magnetic bottle is still intact.”

Gareth shook his head.  “Naw, man, naw…”

Beatty reached out and grabbed Gareth by his collar.  The man’s eyes put tempered steel to shame, Gareth thought.  “Nothing else we have has even made a mark on the enemy ship,” he said.

With the flip of a switch, the antimatter drive started to emit a keening wail.  Beatty continued, “The date is June 30, 1908 AD, and that river back there?  It’s called the Tunguska.  We have history on our side, Gareth.  Those bastards don’t have a chance.”