Thursday, April 29

Following the path beaten by the lovely Miss Melting Dolls, there are now t-shirts for sale. I"ll update it every now and then with new stuff that you'll want.

Wednesday, April 28

Howie the little girl cries and cries over the loss of her best friend, Mr. Happy Severed Head. Who will she whisper secrets to every afternoon while the sun beats in the windows and they hide under her brother's bed? Who will laugh at her jokes and keep her company while she uses the bathroom? What if vampires come out of the bathtub drain? Who will scare them off?

Nobody. Howie has no other friends. The other kids laugh at her funny hair and boy's name. And her brother likes to pull on her nose.

But there is a time for crying and a time to stop crying and take action. Howie may be young, but she knows this much. She has to go out there and find her best friend. That stupid dog kidnapped him and could be doing who knows what, but not forever. She'll find him.

She fills her backpack with flashlights, extra underpants, a towel, her toothbrush, and a box of crackers. She thinks about taking a knife for protection, but her mom would probably get mad about that. She settles for a spoon.

So spoon wielding Howie swings the door open dramatically and stands on the front stoop looking out at the world before her.

"Don't worry, Mr. Head!" she calls out. "I'll find you." And she goes running down the street, yelling and waving her choice of cutlery in violent circles in front of her.

Tuesday, April 27

Adventures in SPACE!
******************

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are suspended by wires in front of a blue screen wall. Our tech crew has chromakeyed it so it looks like we're in space. In space... having adventures.

Hey Mr. Happy Puppet Head, I think I see an alien over there. Let's float over and talk to it.

My cape is also on a wire, and one of our interns in the rafters pulls it to simulate billowing.

The alien is a stuffed racoon wearing a red and tan plaid suit. Someone off camera shakes it to make it look like it's talking. It says how glad it is to meet us and asks if we'd like to drive around really fast in its space pod. He knows of a really great asteroid field where we can zoom around.

We both decline. You shouldn't be driving around really fast anywhere, especially not in an asteroid field. That's just asking for trouble.

The racoon shakes as it laughs, its arms posed to look like they're waving around in the air. He is pulled off stage.

A space pod replica zooms past on a wire above our heads and bumps into an asteroid. There is an explosion sound effect and the pod is dropped to the stage floor. A disembodied racoon head is thrown into frame and sits underneath us, staring blankly at the audience.

I'd like to say something important about not driving fast, but Mr. Happy Puppet Head explodes in tears, and struggles against the wiress to go to the racoon head, but he can't. He yells for the tech guy to drop him, and after a moment he does.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head picks the racoon head up the only way he can, with his big puppet mouth, and runs off stage sobbing loudly.

The tech drops me to the floor as well. I motion for the intern to continue billowing my cape. I forgot what I was going to say. I hear the door to Mr. Happy Puppet Head's dressing room slam shut. There is about ten seconds where I just stand there, staring at the cameras and the stunned children. Ten seconds is a very long time to not be doing anything on tv. Especially in front of a live audience full of kids. They begin to get antsy.

I've been doing this show for a while now, and usually know how to handle stuff like this. But this time I run away. Only I'm still attatched to the wires and I fall, except I don't hit the ground. I just swing around in circles a few inches above the floor. The kids laugh. A stage hand asks if he should come help, but I wave him away. The kids continue laughing.

And that's good public access television.

Monday, April 26





TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW
***********************

The Midnight Mailman and Big Scary Monster sit accross from each other in the backyard. There is a silence both awkward and amicable.

The Monster holds up a stack of index cards, shuffles through them, and puts them back down on his lap.

"I thought you were going to ask me some questions," says The Midnight Mailman.

The Monster looks the other way and scratches his armpit.

The Midnight Mailman watches a wasp fly around the camera lens. The Monster tries to catch it, but fails. Shuffles through the cards a few more times, drops one, but doesn't seem to care.

"Do you want me to tell you about myself?" asks The Midnight Mailman. The Monster picks at his teeth. After a moment he inspects his yellow tooth-picking finger before wiping it on his chest.

"I've been doing the show for a little while now... people seem to like it." says The Midnght Mailman. "I enjoy doing it."

The Monster hears a noise behind him and turns quickly around. He drops the remaining question cards, stands up, knocks over his chair, and walks away.

END OF INTERVIEW


Pants Look Good on Everyone!

a NEW Educati-Fun video.
**********************

Hey Timmy, where are your pants?

Oh, I don't like the way pants look on me anymore. I'm just gonna go bottomless from now on.

No way, man. Pants look good on everyone. I'll show you.

(he breaks out into intricate and impressive song and dance number. he points out that it can be cold and genitals need to be kept warm and that pants ar real good for that. he also sings about the mystery of hiding the legs and butts and stuff, and how we all like mystery and not looking at everyone's legs and butts and stuff.)

(the two boys are out of breath and smiling from the exertion of the dance number)

Wow, thanks Johnny! Now I'll go straight home and put me on some leg coverin's.

You'll be glad you did!

I know! Thanks!

Yeah!

See you later!

Sure!





Friday, April 23

Now we dance a little party jig for all the good little kids to fall asleep to.

dancedancedancedancedancedancedancedance. yay!

Sleeping is the most important time that you get to do nothing at all. Sometimes you'll dream that you killed your parents with an axe and feel all guilty about it, and sometimes you'll visit parties where everyone is vommiting into grocery bags and offering you drinks, but you don't have to worry about it. Just go with it. Tell yourself that yeah, you killed your parents. It's just a dream. So go fly around and make things change color.



Howie the little girl stares at Mr. Happy Severed Head. She's lying on her stomach in the front lawn, the sun is shining and it's all nice and warm. They're such happy friends in the springtime.

"I love you, head," says Howie. She imagines him saying that he loves her back.

Arpit and his unemployed pirate captain friend, Bloodbath, come walking down the street.

"Hey Howie!" yells Arpit. Arpit and Bloodbath are also such happy friends in the springtime. "What are you doing with Mr. Happy Severed Head?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Happy Severed Head. That's him. He's on tv sometimes," says Arpit.

"Oh, Head! You're famous?" asks Howie.

"He's on The Midnight Mailman Show," says Arpit.

"That show's for babies," says Howie. "But I'm still glad we're friends, Mr. Head."

Just then a very ugly puppy scampers towards them. It's missing a lot of fur and has one really big eye. It goes straight for the head and begins sniffing furiously.

"Hey puppy," says Howie. "That's my friend Mr. Head." The dog grabs the head by the nose and runs away with it, bumping and dragging it along the concrete. "Hey!" yells Howie. "Hey! Come back!" The dog disappears much faster than one would think possible.

"Well, we'll be moving along, then." says Bloodbath, grabbing Arpit's arm.

"My pet old man head! Oh no!" wails the little girl as she runs off after it.

"Yup, later kid." Bloodbath begins walking away."

"No way." says Arpit, hands on his hips. "We're gonna help her find Mr. Happy Severed Head. He's not just her friend, he's a national treasure. Come on."

Bloodbath sighs all sad-like. Howie runs away down the street in the direction the dog went, Arpit and the pirate follow.










The adventures of Mr. Fork-for-head-no-arms, coming soon.

Thursday, April 22

Mr. Happy Puppet Head has a puppy now. Apparently he woke up in a ditch last night and the little thing was licking his face all loving. It's real ugly, the ugliest puppy I've ever seen. It has more bald spots than fur, on of its eyes is almost twice the size of the other, and it drools a lot. Way more than normal. But now they're best friends. This is the hapiest I've seen Mr. Happy Puppet Head in a long time.

They're playing in the backyard right now. Mr. Happy Puppet Head floating around the yard, doing spins and flips, the little puppy thing yapping and gurgling up at him.

I'm inside, sitting by the phone, waiting. Except for leaving the house to do the show, I've been here constantly. I've resisted picking up the reciever to make sure it's working like they do on tv. I'm sure it works. She just isn't calling.

Oh, the puppy fell in my digging hole. Mr. Happy Puppet Head just laughs at him. It's ugly, but cute in that real ugly sort of way. I need to work on that hole some more. Women distract me so easily from my creative endevors.

I'm glad he has his puppy. Maybe he'll stay sober for a few days. It sure is nice when he's sober. And maybe the pretty girl with the dislocating jaw will call me. That'd sure be nice, too.

Wednesday, April 21

I woke up today feeling like I was a brain in a jar, like Descartes suspected. All floaty and surreal. Is that just what today feels like, or is it just me?

Tuesday, April 20

We're in the grocery store buying things. Things like candy and aftershave and milk.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head is debating whether or not to get black liccorice. We always have this big long debate on whether or not to buy it since both of us hate black liccorice, but feel bad about it. We wish we liked it, but we just don't. We hate it. Maybe it's an aquired taste, so we keep buying it. And buying it. Yet we still hate it.

Maybe this time will do the trick.

Hey Mr. Happy Puppet Head, isn't that the actress from "Disability in the Living Room?" The pretty girl in the red dress. Yeah, she's wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt now, but I think it's the same girl. She was great, what with the unhinging of her jaws and everything.

You're right, I should talk to her. I already know her, so it shouldn't be difficult to strike up conversation. Okay, here goes.

Hey, remember me? Hi. Yeah, sorry. You look great. Yeah... don't worry about it.

My boots suddenly are squeaking very loudly on the grocery store tiles. And my goggles get all foggy.

Yeah, I understand... okay. Yeah, see you later. Hey! Here's my number. Call me sometime, or something. Alright. Alright. Okay, bye.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head aks how it went and I just look at how my hands are shaking. I should've gotten her number. Oh well.

Black liccorice it is.

Apparently this was sent to me as junk mail, but I don't understand what they're trying to sell.
*****************************


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*******************

I just don't get it.

Monday, April 19

Mr. Happy Severed Head sits in the cardboard box in the corner of the room. Howie the little girl pokes her head around the door and eyes the box. Her brother is out riding bikes with his friends, and probably won't be home for another hour or two.

Howie sneaks slowly into the room and goes directly for the box. She'd peeked inside before, but her brother had always yelled at her to get out of his room and not to mess with his stuff. But now he was gone and she had his dismembered head toy all to herself.

She pulls him out of the box by a tuft of wispy grey hair and drags him down the hall to her own bedroom.

They hide in her closet, a place Howie imagines no one would ever think to look for her. She closes the door tightly and turns the flashlight on her new friend, the light reflecting in the milky eyes sitting accross from her.

"My name's Howie," she says. "What's your name?"

She imagines that the head says "My name is Howie, too. Let's sing a song." So they sing a happy song about dancing and the sunshine. They make the words up as they go along and they sing for a very long time.

Once they're done singing, Howie the little girl makes Mr. Happy Severed Head and herself cheese sandwiches. She eats both of them, but pours a little milk into his mouth because he looks thirsty.

Several hours later she puts the head back in the box in her brother's room. As she closes the lid she whispers "I'll see you later, Howie. We'll have great adventures, we will. I love you. Goodnight."

"Hey! What are you doing?" her brother yells at her as he stomps into the room. "Get out of my room and quit messing with my stuff." And Howie the little girl runs away imagining all the wonderful times she'll have with her new friend.


Sunday, April 18

AN EXPERIMENT
*************

Try this with your friends. Next time you have something sincere and heartfelt to say to someone, try saying it while poking them violently in the chest, arms, or shoulder. Say it like you mean it, but poke them while you say it. Make sure to poke hard, too. And maintain eye contact.

Observe what the contrast in what you're saying and what you're doing does to the entire interaction.

Let me know how it goes.



Saturday, April 17

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are shooting an Educati-FUN video. It's about this kid who has no arms and one hell of a learning disability. He's pretty funny.

So we've just been following him around all day, showing the kids what happens if they don't listen to their parents and teachers. What happens is you lose your arms and get brain damage. Like little Hector, here.

So we went to the ice cream place and Hector got all messy and made some teenage girl vommit all over her sunday. Then we went to the park and watched as he tried to get up the slide, but kept falling over.

Now we're in his basement and Mr. Happy Puppet Head is asking him questions. Like "How does it feel to be completely out of place in any and all social environs?" and "How do you use the bathroom? What if no one's around to help you and you really have to go?" Little Hector tries to answer, but it's mostly mumbling and drool.

"Hey, where're my car keys?" asks Mr. Happy Pupet Head.

Hector laughs hysterically.

I ask him if he's seen Mr. Happy Puppet Head's car keys. He nods his head and shoves most of his foot in his mouth. I ask him where and he just laughs some more.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head gets really mad and lunges at the kid, knocking him off the bed. I quickly take the camera off the tripod and go handheld for the struggle on the floor. Our mustached puppet friend is biting Hector's fat stomach, and Hector is screaming.

I tell him maybe he should stop, and he jumps up and gets all in my face and yells at me. He says I'm not his best friend anymore and I should get a new roomate and co-host because he's not doing that stuff anymore. He spits a lot and drools all over his mustache.

Hector is crying. Mr. Happy Puppet Head yells at him to shut up and sulks in a corner. There is a baseball poster on the wall and he rips it down with his puppet teeth.

How do you go to the bathroom, Hector?


Friday, April 16

A kid is at my door. I guess he's twleve or thirteen. He wants to mow my lawn.

I ask him how much he charges. He says thirty dollars. I say ten and an autographed photo. He squints at me and asks if I'm famous. I say sure, I'm on tv. He says that doesn't make you famous, and that he's been on tv on the news when they were doing a story about his school and he talked about the bake sale. I tell him that it's different, and that I'm the star of my own show.

He says thirty dollars or nothing. I ask him if he has his own lawn mower. He does.

My lawn sure needs mowing... it's all long and dying in some parts.

I tell him I'll be right back, and that I have someone I want him to meet.

I come back with Mr. Happy Severed Head in a cardboard box. He opens it up and says Wow! all ecxited-like. I tell him that his name is Mr. Happy Severed Head and that he's looking for a good home. I tell him that he's famous, too, and was the guest host for a few days on my show. He sniffs the wrinkled head and makes a face.

I tell him Mr. Happy Severed Head can come live with him in exchange for three lawn mowings. He nods enthusiastically. I should have asked for four.

The boy scampers away down the street, cardboard box nestled lovingly under his arm.

I'll sure miss that severed head.

Thursday, April 15

I am now going to teach you kids possibly the best game ever. And I invented it. And no one will every play it with me.

THE SPICE GAME

It takes at least two people for it to be fun. Go to someone else's house and stand in front of their spice cabinet. You take turns picking out which spices to eat a small handfull of. If the first person picks garlic powder, you each pour about a teaspoon of garlic powder in your palms and eat it. Then the next person picks one. Like nutmeg. Do this with all of the spices.

You don't keep points or anything. Everyone's a winner. Just make sure to eat the spices, especially the really gross ones. That's what makes it fun.

"Disability in the Living Room"
A Play in one act.
***********************

Lights fade in. We see a living room set, old and musty. An OLD WOMAN, played by Mr. Happy Puppet Head sits in a wheelchair staring at a broken television with a large crack down the center of the glass.
A YOUNG MAN, played by The Midnight Mailman, enters.



YOUNG MAN: Hey grandma, how're you doing?

OLD WOMAN: I'm crippled and the tv is broken.

YOUNG MAN: Grandma, you know I work real hard just to feed us. I can't afford to buy you a new tv all the time or your non-cripple medicine.

OLD WOMAN: You're a failure and I hate you.

YOUNG MAN: Oh, granny, don't say that. I love you. Even if you are so mean and crippled. I guess.

OLD WOMAN: Make me a sandwich. And don't look at me.

YOUNG MAN: I met a girl today, grandma. She's real nice. Not crippled and mean like you.

OLD WOMAN: Where's my sandwich?

YOUNG MAN: She's perfect in every way. Beautiful and smart, and most importantly, neither crippled nor mean.

OLD WOMAN: Sandwich.

YOUNG MAN: You know what, grandma? I'm getting pretty sick and tired of your bossing me around. I'm gonna move out of here, you know. Maybe I'm gonna go marry this girl and maybe I'm gonna make something of myself. You can't keep me here forever.

OLD WOMAN: This life... this life with you here... is like... A Handicap Ramp to Nowhere! A Handicap Ramp to Nowhere! A Handicap Ramp to Nowhere!


The Old Woman passes out with her excitment. The DOORBELL RINGS. Young Man answers it. A PRETTY WOMAN in a slinky red dress stands outside the door.


YOUNG MAN: My love!

PRETTY WOMAN: I love you.

They kiss passionately. The Young Man points to his unconsious OLD WOMAN on the floor. The PRETTY WOMAN unhinges her jaw and begins to swallow the OLD WOMAN like a snake.

YOUNG MAN: Goodbye, grandma. I loved you because you were family.

Lights fade out. THE END.

Tuesday, April 13

"Lemonade Stand" is working again. enjoy.

the man can keep me down only so long.

Performance Art Piece
*****************

As all the expectant young audience members watch, I stick my thumb into my mouth and blow real hard. My head starts expanding first, then my neck, chest, stomach, etc. Soon I'm real big, but I don't stop blowing. I get like a giant and start smashing things. Not angry, but gentle smashing. Smash Smash Smash. Just enough to step out of the studio.

I go over to the local high school and juggle some sexy teenagers, as well as some not-so-sexy ones. They laugh and laugh. Everyone laughs. Except me, who's concentrating on not dropping the teens to their dooms. I drop one of them, but i'm juggling five of them, so it's still impressive. I'd like to see you try that.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles up and yells up to me to stop. That they are calling the National Guard. He says they do that whenever anything real big like me treats people like juggling objects. I palm one of the teachers--he looks like a science guy--and tell him to guess which hand he's in. He picks my right hand, correctly. I tell him he wins the science teacher and gets to keep him forever. Yay! Everyone cheers.

I do the same trick with some of the other teachers. Some kids lose and don't win any teachers, but some of the kids are real good at the game and win several. They walk home with big smiles on their faces, their newly won teachers in tow.

When it's time to deflate, I pull on my ears and scriech like a monkey. That's when the National Guard gets there. they're all confused with the carnage and giant footprints, but all they find is me naked standing in a pile of really stretched out Midnight Mailman costume. They tell me to put some clothes on and I run away. They shoot at me with one of their tanks, but they miss by, like, a mile.

We cut away to an Educati-fun video teaching kids why they shouldn't play with cute bunnies and razor blades while running. It's one of our favorite videos.



Spring sure is great.

Sunday, April 11

New Big Scary Monster movie. Lemonade Stand. Watch it.

And learn.

Easter is the one day of the year when we celebrate the zombification of a religious figure, everything turns shades of pastel, anthropomorphized animals deliver us chocolate eggs, and everyone seems to understand why.

This year, maybe you should try something new. I bet your lord and savior Big J would show up at your party if you did something different. Who wants to go to the same party year after year for over two thousand years? You should have an Easter underwear party with your family and burn effigies of each other. Crank the heavy metal all the way up and throw bricks at trees. Make it a game. Whoever can throw the fastest brick along with the loudest ripping guitar riffs wins the game.

I think people forget that messiahs like innovation and free-spirited ridiculousness. Especially when it comes to celebrating their ressurection. If and when I ever come back to life after an especially excrutiating death, I want the biggest, most awesome party ever waiting for me. I'm sure Jesus would want the same.

So fucking rock it hard, kids. Rock it hard.

Prostitutes with a heart of gold, condoms made out of gold, a sheep craving a bologna sandwich, a bologna sandwich for a hat, two bologna sandwiches masturbating as they think about each other's condiments.

Friday, April 9

I'm standing in a big grassy field. Mr. Happy Puppet Head floats next to me as we talk to three nearly identical men in business suits.

"I get a castle?" My cape billows dramatically. Billow.

"Yes, on a big mountain overlooking the town," says one of the be-suited men.

"Why?"

"So you live there and kidnap people and turn them into monsters."

"What?"

"So you live there and kidnap people and turn them into monsters."

"Oh." With cape still bilowing, I signal Mr. Happy Puppet Head to have a private meeting a few feet away from the suits.

"So what do you think, cap'n?" His big plastic eyes glisten with anticipation.

"I don't know." They're staring at me. It's creepy. They're creepy. I always wanted a castle.

"What's not to know? We get a castle, we get to kidnap people and turn them into monsters. Come on."

"Why do we have to kidnap anyone?"

"It's part of the deal. Now don't mess this up. It took me a long time to set this up, okay?"

"But..." The big red mustached puppet has already bobbled back to talk to the men.

Maybe I should ask for a ball pit installed in the castle, like they have at fast food restaurants. That'd be awesome. And maybe a trampoline room.


Today's show is in video form. Click on the link "Mr. Happy Severed Head." He's covering the show while me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are out on business.

Thursday, April 8



it begins.
So Mr. Happy Puppet Head took me all the way to this big tall skyscraper out in the middle of nowhere. Five hour bus ride. There were all these fields and cows and stuff in the country, then this big office building skyscraper jutting up completely out of place. Black and shiny, maybe twenty stories high. Far too high to be out in the middle of the country.

Looks like a growth or a disease.

And now the doors won't open. The skyscraper is abandoned, Mr. Happy Puppet Head. Now we're going to have to wait for that stupid bus, and it'll be hours. Thanks.

Right. Then why aren't they opening the doors if they knew we were coming?

Yes. Maybe they are out to lunch.

Oh, there they are, behind us. Hello.

Three business men, young guys, all in the exact same suit carrying the exact same expensive briefcase. Their eyebrows are their most differentiating features. The one on the far left has big bushy white ones, the middle guy has real thin black ones, an the guy on the right doesn't have any at all. I don't usually notice people's eyebrows. Something strange is going on when you're noticing people's eyebrows.

They seem real nice, a bit too casual-speaking for guys in suits and briefcases. Stiff backs and shiny shoes. Something's not right. Who are these guys? Why won't they let us in their skyscraper?

Wednesday, April 7

Check out the movie trailer. Hopefully the sound works. If it doesn't, I'll fix it soon.

More to come.

I only threw him away for a minute. I panicked. I didn't want Mr. Happy Puppet Head to see me with another disembodied head friend. But I got him back out, cleaned off the garbage juice, and now we're okay.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head has a surprise for me, he's all excited about it, and he doesn't seem to care at all what I'd been up to. How I worried or anything. And he won't tell me where we're going now. It's a five hour bus ride to get there, whatever it is. He says it's what he's been working on for the past week and a half or so. Big time stuff he says. But he won't tell me any details.

So Mr. Happy Severed Head is hosting the show right now. I think he's going to sing some songs and play some games. Or whatever the kids imagine him doing. I wrote a sign for the kids telling them to imagine him doing all sorts of clever things, because severed heads can't do anything without a lot of imagination. I hope they read the sign.

Much like severed heads, long bus rides can be boring without the use of your imagination. I'm going to imagine the woman accross the aisle with her clothes off. And then I'll imagine that she's young and attractive. With hair.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head is back.

He came home and locked himself in his room. He seemed all excited an happy, but didn't want to say anything to me. I tried to be all discreet about throwing Mr. Happy Severed Head away, but he didn't seem to notice or care. Too excited about whatever he's exctied about. And he is excited about something.

He's still locked in his room. I can hear him humming. Humming the theme from "I Dream of Jeannie." my favorite.



Tuesday, April 6

Today we're going to talk about PROOFREADING.

Proofreading, among many other things, is one of those ways that They "get" you. As in "the man" or "they."

It's part of a species-wide conspiracy to control the masses through watered-down communication. By following the rules of proper grammer, we are simply falling into
Their trap. Becoming another gear in the great Combine.

Other ways They "get" you:
-Manners
-Making You Wear Clothing
-Hygene

For example, take little Jimmy who is expressing himself by painting his naked body bright pink while screaming the national anthem for Show and Tell. There is no way he could convey those feelings with a properly punctuated sentence.

Proofreading is for suckers. Do your homework with your eyes closed.


Monday, April 5

Monday night's are always so lonely. Especially when your best friend either skipped town or died and all you've got is a rotting severed head for companionship. And I don't have cable. I never missed it before, but sitting around with a partial corpse really makes you hate the situational comedies networks try to pass off as entertainment. I'd like to go out back and work on that hole I've been digging, but it's kind of cold, and holes are best dug in the nude. And I hate to think of Mr. Happy Severed Head all alone in here. He lives here now, but he still feels like kind of a guest.

Maybe I should get a Mrs. Happy Severed Head. I could have a little wedding, set up a little honeymoon. Take some pictures... have some cake. Maybe invite some people over.

I don't know any people. Maybe I could just get some severed hands and assorted other body parts and dress them up. Like cute little tuxedos and dresses and stuff.

This sounds like a lot of work.

Maybe I should just throw him away. He's starting to get pretty gross, and I don't think the kids like him too much. I couldn't be sure, but I think the audience was smaller today. I was blindfolded most of the show. we played hide and seek, and Mr. Happy Severed Head found a really good hiding place. He was in the corner.

He's also useless as a cameraman.

Maybe i should get ready for tommorow. Maybe I'll do a segment on Proofreading.

Saturday, April 3

Me and Mr. Happy Severed Head are at the park. It's for a segment called, FLY A KITE, DON'T KNOCK UP YOUR 13 YEAR-OLD GIRLFRIEND. So we're flying a kite. And it's a lot of fun.

I hold an ice cream cone in my left hand, the kite string in my right. I have a very pretty kite soaring in the sky above.

See kids, it isn't about "getting laid," or "fucking her brains out," it's about love. Flying kites is also like love, in that flying a kite doesn't make a girl pregnant and ruin both of your lives irreparibly. Both ways you get some exercise, but only one of those ways all but promises you a life of alcoholism ending in suicide.

Oh, and make sure you hold onto your kite. Not like Mr. Happy Severed Head over there. But he can't help it. Duct tape will only hold a kite string to a decomposing forhead for so long.




Friday, April 2

So I went with the only suggestion I got, which was to use a re-animated severed head. Funds were lacking, so I couldn't get the actual head from the movie The Re-Animator, but I was able to get a pretty good one from a friend. Strong jutting jaw, good skin, some hair.

Kids, it's always a good idea to have friends that can get you things that are either illegal or cheap. Like having a friend who can sneak you into a movie theater, or get you severed body parts.

So, I hooked the head up to some car batteries. Nothing happened. I then busted up the toaster and hooked it up to the head and plugged it into the wall socket. The head never came alive, but that's alright. He's got sort of a stoic look about him. Noble. Mysterious. Only a little charred from electricity.

I'm not really a science person.

So meet Mr. Happy Severed Head. He's the quiet type.