Corrections

Some of you have noted that my pilot is no centaur. the plane is indeed my new ride, but i am incapable of flying it. the grinning mortal is merely my pilot, Ed. it's a well known fact that centaurs are incapable of flying fighter jets. With a few m odifications, however, a fighter jet can comfortably trasport a pilot and centaur passenger. thanks to feynie for coming up with the design and for providing us with the hook up.

Paxilback - Gray Kid parody of Justin Timberlake's Sexyback

canon rock 2 (new version)

play all three at the same time

canon rock 2 (new version)

play all three at the same time

funtwo - Canon Rock (Re-Synched)

the kid that started the whole deal

The NEW Canon rock!!! (not a cover)

one of my favorite youtube 'conversations'

bongoing on a world wide tour OR moving to happyville (a subsidiary of Joyless-tech)

Hello mes amis! Didn’t know the ole t-shirted centaur knew French did ya? Well, he don’t. he barely knows English. I’ve been feeling really shitty about my half-assed posts. They’re so half assed, they’re half human assed, which is substantially less than a half horse assed. Wow … [staring off into space, thinking “really? Did I write that? Saad. So sad]

Anywho, I’ve been busy. I’ve decided to quit the firm. It’s a big step, I know, but I’m tired of being their token centaur. Plus, it’d be nice to wear an informal t-shirt for a change. Did you know that your standard centaur business t-shirt requires thrice as much starch as a human business t-shirt? I’m not sure if this true because I’ve never actually seen a human business t-shirt. Your people are so backwards.

Feynie whole heartedly supports my decision and we’re thinking of embarking on a world wide bongo playing tour. Feynie’s huge in the international bongo playing scene and after a night of interdimensional travel (courtesy of Feynie’s new interdimensional travel machine), a couple of quualudes, and a mind meld with the fine people of ^*&HBHF f (whom you poor 3-dimensional travelers have neither met nor heard off – I mean, you poor saps are still going forward in time for pete’s sake, let alone traveled the multiverse), I’ve become quite adept at it.

The big-titted ghost, however, has not been very supportive. She’s all like, “t-shirted centaur, who, in their right mind, is going to want to date a 1,000lb, 601 year old, 100 year old duck egg eating, big-titted ghost and Richard Feynman clone co-habitating, world wide bongo playing touring, unemployed, and informal t-shirt wearing centaur?” I guess she’s got a point. But, I’d feel like a fraud being a semi-professional world wide bongo tour playing, non-investment banking, formal t-shirt wearing centaur.

Ah well, the hearts want what they want. Although, I’ve gotten into some trouble for following my horse heart (the kids who were at the Kentucky derby that day will never be the same). Still, I believe the multiverse is holding onto something wonderful for me and it’s got nothing to do with investment banking. I mean, sure, I’ll still investment bank as a hobby, but my professional aspirations have changed. it’s scary but that’s what life’s all about I guess: being afraid.

Carlson and Coulter take on Canada

wow!

A Night with Ann Coulter

Bwahahah! Ann Coulter is evil.

Kitty cat DAnce

i'm in serious need of some help.

Punk - Eugene Mirman

me too, me too...

?

now i've seen everything.

boo! it's your ole pal, t-shirted centaur here. what's going on? what kind of doings are a transpiring? any shenanigans to speak of? if not, then i've got a story for you.

i'm sitting at the park, enjoying one hell of a bachio gelatto, when all of sudden, who should appear but Anubis himself! Anubis. wow, that takes me back. See, Anubis and I were co-heads of our high school drama club. man, we had some great times: the time anubis stuffed the principal, the time anubis stuffed old mrs. winklebottom, the time anubis stuffed his sister's dog! oh, that crazy anubis! we were quite the pair, me with a horse's body and he with a jackal's head - what friends we were!

ANyway, he seems agitated so i yell out, "hey lassie, there are leash laws you know!" and sure enough he whips around, teeth bared and snarling like all get out, when the light of recognition flashes over his face.

ANubis - t-shirted centaur? how the hell are you? wow, i haven't seen you since our prodution of equis! you look great. well, actually, looks like you're developing two mini-paunches!

tsc - hah, well done old man, well done. look at those grey hairs! are you a jackal or an arctic fox? how've ya been ya old scoundrel?

a- well, i've had better days, i'll tell you that much. i just got kicked out of a starbucks due to some antiquated "no pets" allowed rule. buch of bull shit! i mean, come on! so i've got a dogs head, get over it allready!

tsc - dude, i hear you. it's not easy for me, let me tell you. how's the missus?

a- wow, it has been a long time! sheila's dead.

tsc - oh man! i'm so sorry. what happened?

a- well, it's a fucked up story friend. why do danger signs look so much like instructions? fucking ikea, ruining lives.

tsc- yikes. i'm soory to hear that friend. how long ago?

a- about 100 years.

tsc - wow. so, still pretty fresh eh?

a- yeah, but i started dating this year.

tsc- that's great! she wou ld've wanted it that way.

a-hah! yeah right! you and i both know she'd want me to tear my ears off and bite through my wrists. in fact, that was in her will. you'd be amazed what a lawyer will omit for an extra 50$

tsc- harsh.

[i've got to get out of here but i'll finsih transcribing this conversation later]

The Last Knit

This one's for Bewilderbeast

Cat Head Theatre

This one's for me.

chicken's feet and fate

quick post tonight. i'm hoofin it over to the kowoloon grocery store - on of the finest Chinese grocery stores in the district –to pick up some octopus and 1000 year old ducks eggs, when I have what can only be described as an epiphany. it was intense, it was life changing, it was…real, the realest emotion/thought/feeling that I’ve ever experienced. the feeling was so pure and overwhelming that I actually broke down and cried right there on sommerset. I’ve never been so moved and I’m ridiculously grateful to the cosmos for granting me this beautiful gift.

The epiphany: I've got to travel back in time, kill the man who invented the 'q-tip,' and claim the patent as my own. it's nice to have a purpose.

the world's a hologram? sez who? Feynie, that's who

laazy, lazy, t-shirtwearing centaur.

It’s been hard to blog lately. There have been a few reasons: my roomate (the second of fifteen Richard Feynman clones created in 1985, not the big titted ghost) has suddenly decided to spend virtually ever moment in his room which precludes me from stealing his internet connection; the internet connection at work has been locked; and, last but not least, the time I have been spending on the ‘net’ is spent reading the blogs of wonderful people whose trials are wreaking havoc with my hypersensitive 601 year old soul (in centaur years, I’m pretty much still a teenager – all those hormones swirling around - I’m a fucking mess. But, here I am.

I’ve not much to talk about. I’m still obsessing over how poorly I understand grammar. It’s an obsession that’s coming perilously close to becoming the biggest non-issue to ever seriously affect a mythological, t-shirt wearing, 601 year old, bigtitted ghost and Richard Feynman clone cohabitating, investment banking, 1000lb centaur. So, so lame. So many beautiful people are fighting for their lives, engaging in real existential struggles, thinking deeply about their lives and the big questions. me? I’m trying to figure out how to Sandy from mergers and acquisitions to abandon her whole “I’ll never fuck a half-horse” pledge. Maybe I’m just superficial. Maybe I’m simply incapable of the kind of emotional depth that you mortals are capable of. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know.

On the plus side, Richard Feynman Clone #2, or “Feynie” as he likes to be called, and I are getting along famously! Oh the fun we’ve had. We spent last night getting high under a bridge and, when the freight trains would rumble through, we’d run towards them screaming and whipping rocks that would, upon contact with the train, explode in a shower of sparks. Oh, the pure unadulterated joy of it all! Then, just as the high was reaching its peak, Richard would launch into detailed, yet accessible, dissertation on why the universe is actually nothing more than interference (apparently a huge departure from ‘source’ Richard’s thought on the matter. I’ve got to rely on Feynie’s word seeing as I know next to nothing about physics or source Richard). In any case, we’re becoming quite the pair – a threesome when we’re at home seeing as how the big titted ghost is really starting to come out of her shell.

Well, I guess that’s enough for now. Talk to you soon.

Ps. Please contact your local chapter of the “Arrested Development” fan club and sign up. We must work together to kidnap the key players, including the writers, isolate them, and force them to perform new “episodes” until we grow tired of them and, eventually, re-release them into the wild.