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Posted by Andrew Hilbert on Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Uh Oh Storytime LIVE on Tuesday
Uh Oh Storytime LIVE on Tuesday.
We will say bad things together to make ourselves laugh and then when we all log off we can cry.
We will say bad things together to make ourselves laugh and then when we all log off we can cry.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Monday, April 6, 2020
New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: I TALK WITH MY TONGUE STUCK BETWEEN MY TEETH EDITION
I FEEL LIKE SCREAMING. SO I WILL. ON THE INTERNET. AND YOU WILL ALL HEAR ME.
Closers left this place a fuckin' mess.
Somehow I doubt a human's legs would fit comfortably under this table.
Oh, him? He eats dumb bitches.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Yo. Fuck this, right?
Yo. Fuck this, right?
I've never been so existentially numb in my life. We're watching everything collapse around us together. We all know it. We're making memes and jokes and trying to keep it together.
Right now a lot of us are playing videogames and doing video chats and shit but it feels like we're all telling each other this effort won't last. We'll soon retreat into our own cocoons of dingleberries and bodily fluids until the sun comes out and miraculously spanks the shit out of this coronavirus.
Let me be the first to tell you, I've seen the greatest minds of my generation (foreheads, we'll call them) talk about 5G and what have you and how 5G brain-controlled a random thread of code to fuck humanity in the ears. These foreheads know something you don't and you should listen to them because they have secret information and don't you want secret information? Don't you want to look as far down as the length of your forehead slope at somebody? Isn't that what this is all about?
Some foreheads don't believe in conspiracy theories. Some foreheads go out in public to shame others out in public. "LOOK AT ALL THESE IDIOTS?!" one forehead will say as he takes a selfie-video with himself always at the center with a shit-eating grin on.
I can hear my neighbors next door work on their cars. Their cars are always broken down. One of them is a nurse. One of them has tiny ankles. My other neighbor looks older and fatter than I am and is taking up skateboarding. My dog smells like hot ass. Another neighbor is taking pictures of HOA violations. Time doesn't stop. Weeds will grow. Jupiter spins.
We should apologize to Hideo Kojima. We made fun of his ideas of the apocalypse. Delivery boys would be what kept us together. We'd run on an economy of likes. I'm going to livestream myself crying naked in the bathroom with a tattoo of my Venmo QR code on my ass.
We will get through this. We are probably not collapsing as bad as it seems. I wear a bandana around my face and my glasses fog up. I take my glasses off and squint at everything. My eyesight is getting worse. I put away the groceries when I get home. I take off my clothes. I run to the shower.
My daughter grabs my glasses instinctively. If she breaks them, I'm fucked for at least a month. I don't really care though. She'll do what she wants to do. It's okay. I am happy.
I've never been so existentially numb in my life. We're watching everything collapse around us together. We all know it. We're making memes and jokes and trying to keep it together.
Right now a lot of us are playing videogames and doing video chats and shit but it feels like we're all telling each other this effort won't last. We'll soon retreat into our own cocoons of dingleberries and bodily fluids until the sun comes out and miraculously spanks the shit out of this coronavirus.
Let me be the first to tell you, I've seen the greatest minds of my generation (foreheads, we'll call them) talk about 5G and what have you and how 5G brain-controlled a random thread of code to fuck humanity in the ears. These foreheads know something you don't and you should listen to them because they have secret information and don't you want secret information? Don't you want to look as far down as the length of your forehead slope at somebody? Isn't that what this is all about?
Some foreheads don't believe in conspiracy theories. Some foreheads go out in public to shame others out in public. "LOOK AT ALL THESE IDIOTS?!" one forehead will say as he takes a selfie-video with himself always at the center with a shit-eating grin on.
I can hear my neighbors next door work on their cars. Their cars are always broken down. One of them is a nurse. One of them has tiny ankles. My other neighbor looks older and fatter than I am and is taking up skateboarding. My dog smells like hot ass. Another neighbor is taking pictures of HOA violations. Time doesn't stop. Weeds will grow. Jupiter spins.
We should apologize to Hideo Kojima. We made fun of his ideas of the apocalypse. Delivery boys would be what kept us together. We'd run on an economy of likes. I'm going to livestream myself crying naked in the bathroom with a tattoo of my Venmo QR code on my ass.
We will get through this. We are probably not collapsing as bad as it seems. I wear a bandana around my face and my glasses fog up. I take my glasses off and squint at everything. My eyesight is getting worse. I put away the groceries when I get home. I take off my clothes. I run to the shower.
My daughter grabs my glasses instinctively. If she breaks them, I'm fucked for at least a month. I don't really care though. She'll do what she wants to do. It's okay. I am happy.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: COVID-19 edition
Ha! Ha! Cough! Cough! Haugh! Cahaugh! Cough! Ha!
It's just allergies, I swear. I'm allergic to eating live possum.
Listen, folks. It isn't eating bats that caused the virus. It's stacking wild animals on top of each other and letting them fuck. God caused this. Blame God. He's the real invisible enemy. Let's kill God! Yay!
It's just allergies, I swear. I'm allergic to eating live possum.
Listen, folks. It isn't eating bats that caused the virus. It's stacking wild animals on top of each other and letting them fuck. God caused this. Blame God. He's the real invisible enemy. Let's kill God! Yay!
Great. The whatever-the-fuck-that-thing-is band is playing the elevator today.
Listen, kid. I can do a trim. I can do a shave. I can do a live de-feathering. But I can't do them all at once.
Did you have an erection lasting four or more hours? Did you call your doctor? Whom but yourself is to blame, sir?
I believe it prudent to say that the New Yorker contacted me and offered me a job at their not-funny department. I told them I would cooperate. They emailed me back with simply: "coöperate." I haven't heard from them since. Too bad, too. Because I had a bunch of zingers lined up about going to a therapist, and organic free range whatever the fuck. Impeachment, what have you.
I LOVE RUSSIA.
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