Roundtables: How To Go Meme featuring The Virals Doctor: Charles Mouth

angry doctor at a table

Charles: I offer you the opportunity to buckle up, audience. Cause, it’s time for the best take on the net. It’s “Roundtables”

(The opening stinger is the sound of 14 french horns playing different melodies simultaneously as a smart take on how much the internet is.)

Charles: Alright, Ladies and Sperms! It’s time for the smartest minds on the neter-stry to give their take on what’s fresh web-side. TO-night, it’s: How Do You Go Meme? Lot’s of folks out there in the region know they have viral content just ready to spread like cinnamon butter on so many bread-minds. But, they may beg the question: just how do I animate my dreams into 30 second video clips, doc? You’re gonna find out a lot about us and yourselves this evening. Alright, turning to our left here we’ve got Dr. Shreves from the 

Portrait of confident handsome doctor

Shreves: Thanks for asking, Charles. At Zoneload, we are always looking for talented voices. And by talented voices, I mean animals getting harmed in some way. If it isn’t a drunk guy backing his RAV 4 into a reptile enclosure, it’s an endangered Giant Panda getting lost inside a building and ultimately falling down some stairs. The point is that animals are like weird versions of people and it’s about celebrating those moments that make you say: “Uh oh!” Memetastic and also… MEME LIKEY!!!

angry doctor at a table

Charles: As far as takes go, I just burnt my handles on it cause EW BABY THAT’S A HOT ONE! I’ve actually noticed myself trying to get more involved with environment since I’ve started this career. That’s why I regularly fly a Bowing 747 over southern Africa and throw raw meat out the door. Now over to Dr. Twinds from


Twinds: Every body out there knows the thrill of learning a science in less than a minute and then explaining it to your opposite gendered office manager in the brake room as if you have been performing arduous scientific research in your spare time when really you saw me telling you that Roos got pouches. So, first rule of making your viral vid is: What am I teaching America? If it is some quasi-science thing like all bugs are constantly contending with rigor mortis and that’s why they are all crunchy, then yes. Do that. Or like apples are actually tree poops, then you nailed it. Look for that.

angry doctor at a table

Charles: I’m responding to that observation faster than I can to my own wife. I have actually seen some dead bodies before and I accidentally thought giant bugs exist. Thank the heaven man I did not employ the giant fly swatter that I have ready for just such an occasion. Okay, onto you Dr. Risque from


Risque: I place the spotlight on family oriented content that can be modified later to be taken outside the insanely boring confines of family life. Such as Donkey from Shrek asking where the nearest strip club is or the snowman from Frozen wanting to be made into a special snow cone with non-family beverage in it. The point is that family things need to be taken to a depraved area where we can be free to explore our non-family identities. BACK TO YOU MOUTH.

angry doctor at a table

Charles: Yes. I need to see “when you finally get it” beneath a picture of Woody making a face. That’s really hitting the areas for me. Memes are the new Calvin peeing on a car company logo. Alright, we are now going to get a massive sermon on internet from our mystering guest: Dr. Spanish from show-me-alls.coin


Spanish: I request silence! The others have played into the hands of the internati and the webleetists! Those are played out and boring concepts and I demand something straight off the counter! I don’t care how easy or pointless it is! It needs to be NOW! Hear me, you saggy drabs! First, gimme something that doesn’t even explain it’s own premise. Like, I just want it to be a baby stuck inside one of those bouncy ball containers in Walmart and you can kind of see it’s face and then suddenly something violently drags it towards God knows where and then you hear people laughing. Or, okay! How about an old lady yelling the N-Word inside a bank? Or how about someone who has won a contest to be invited to the red carpet premiere of some movie and he prepares a sandwich that secretly has industrial grade staples and carpet bindings inside and then the guy throws the entire sandwich in John Stamos’s face? Or how about a woman in a wedding dress running from the altar by being carried away by a dude wearing a Tetris block costume? Listen, I could go all day and I do. Because that is what is internet. The point is that I can have anything in any combination at any point and it makes me powerful to have access to that. There is no turning back. We have to embrace it like Tyga embracing terminal children… publicly!  Otherwise, we have nothing. If I fall in the forest and no one is there to see me then do I make a sound? If you don’t hear me, I AM NOTHINNNGNNGNGNNGNG!!! CHARLES!!!!

angry doctor at a table

Charles: That ends Roundtables.

– The Superb


RC Cola & The Paul Harvey Memorial and Endowment for the Blogging Arts Presents: The 4th Annual THE THE SUPERB BLOG ACADEMY-INSTITUTE OF AWARDS FOR BLOGGING EXCELLENCE AWARDS or THE PERBIES (Part 1)

(Adorned with faux Gothic vaulting and ornamentation, evoking an implacable divine authority, comparable with great Catholic cathedrals, the Boomchickapop Theatre is buzzing with expectation.)

(Lights; Near to deafening applause)

Announcer: Good evening and welcome to the 4th Annual THE THE SUPERB BLOG ACADEMY-INSTITUTE OF AWARDS FOR BLOGGING EXCELLENCE AWARDS, presented by RC Cola and The Paul Harvey Memorial and Endowment for the Blogging Arts.

(Somehow, the volume increases.)

Announcer: And now… here’s the host for tonight’s proceedings: NEIL PATRICK HARRIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!


(Along of the reverberation of the floridly crafted ceiling arches, the echo and volume of the applause seems to compact physical space like a vice.)

(Strings and horns erupt, cutting through the applause, playing a 50’s style show-tune at breakneck tempo, accented with harmonic bleeps and bloops that represent the presence of the electric medium being celebrated. Harris, suddenly ascending from the podium begins his verse.)




Harris: Gooood day! Let’s all say it the Paul Harvey way! Gooood day!  The blog is where everyone has got a say! We don’t ask for much else! We needn’t gone to CALEL! YALE, PRINCETON, UC SANTA CRUZ, we all get to comment on the news! It’s bloooging! Ew baby, we’re all oogling! Looky-me, I had a thought! You’ll all hear it, like it or not!! It’s bloooging! No time for slogging! Cause we all a flash in a pan, we’re each our one and only fans, but (the tempo slows down to about half pace) EW BABY, AT LEAST I GOT MY DRINK, EW BABY, AT LEAST I GOT MY ARRRRCEEEEEEE!!!

(Applause again and it almost physically hurts)

Harris: Alright! Ladies and Gentles, it’s I! You’re man of the SOUR, the guy who always does these things, your lovable fancy man! I know, I know, they’re gonna have to pay me to not do award show now, but hey, I guy needs a hobby and unfortunately I’m running out of space in my house for self-portraits.

(Neil does a ballet kick.)

Harris: So, I think you know why I would be invited to do a blogging awards show… I’m a narcissist! No, but seriously every man, woman and child enjoyed Dr. Horrible without a known exception.

(Another kick)

Harris: So, what’s up for tonight? Tons of great prizes are being delivered to the all time greats in all of blogging without an conflicts of INTEREST!

(Kick, more applause, but now it’s seems to be funneled in from the speakers)

Harris: Mkay, let’s let us have it! Okay, our first award is presented by Jennifer Aniston and Jack Black!

(The body of Neil swiftly plummets into the floor via trap door, only to be regurgitated a few feet away from the podium. The stage set is constantly shifting in appearance, hypnotically shuffling between shapes and colors, styles and motifs. The audience is apparently unperturbed by this, perhaps only further enchanted as Aniston and Black make their way to the podium. Both Aniston and Black are exquisitely dressed. Aniston, accustomed to events such as these, strides with dignity, whereas Black seems to be deliberately walking so as to accentuate his belly.

Aniston: Good evening!


Aniston: Is everyone excited to be at The Perbies, huh?

(Audience applause)

(Black doesn’t applaud. He stares vacantly.)



(Belting out a huge scream, Black only receives more adoration from and the audience.)

Aniston: Oh no!


Black: Check out my PROGRAMS!

(Walking toward the audience, again in the same awkward and unbecoming manner, Black proceeds to hand out flyers that extensively outline Jack Black-specific charities. Apparently, Jack Black will, out of pocket, pay for hundreds of Jack Black look-a-likes to go with him to remote villages in the south pacific and hand out fistfuls of American dollars.)

Aniston: What a great guuyyyyyy.

Black: I have long term appeal.

(Black air guitars.)

Black: So! On to the biz-nastry! Our first award of the evening is the coveted Best Leading Woman in Blog Award. This have been presented to some of the baddest gals in the biz-narsty, TILDA, MERRYL, JULIANNE! Who will join the chick-pantheon tonight?

Aniston: (fake throat clearing thing) Ahem.

(Black doesn’t seem to notice the joke and moves right passed it.)

Black: Our nominees: Juks from “3 Human Races I Just Came Up With and Why I Don’t Them” by Austen, Sophie Chiswell Math from “Villagers: Sophie Chiswell Math” by Anthony, and Helen Hunt from “Celebrity Acid Test – Film Edition” by Jeff.

(Aniston now assumes the vacant expression Black donned previously.)

Black: And the first Perbie of the evening goes to: Sophie Chiswell Math! Villagers!

(Anthony gives a nearby fancy dog a smooch on the cheek and begins to make his way through an endless sea of chairs. When finally reaching the stage, his pace shifts as he catches the eye of Neil Patrick Harris. He points. Neil points back. Anthony saunters slowly toward the podium, looking as though stunned to receive this honor.)

Anthony: Huh…

(Licking lips)

(Anthony looks up with a playful grin on his face, it’s that looks we all know and love.)

Anthony: …uh…uh-huh…

(He keeps looking up, shifting his gaze from the right side of the ceiling to the left.)

Anthony: ….uh….yeeeaah…

(He crosses his arms, and rests his left elbow on his crossed arm and then rests his chin on his upturned hand. The audience recognizes this as his signature move, and goes completely insane. Anthony turns to inspect the opposite side of the auditorium, now it his hands on his hips. His head is turned at such a severe angle, the audience behind him can nearly see his Adam’s Apple, which is a hard cider he brews and keeps in a small wooden barrel under his chin at all times.)


(The crowd could not be more in love with him. Several women approach the stage and propose to him in a cacophony of love-drenched expressions.)

Anthony: ….so…ummm…

(He looks up and grins. The audience can’t stand it anymore. Cut to Martin Scorsese losing his mind. Forget the Oscars, this is what he’s been waiting for.)


Anthony: Guys…

(Anthony looks at the camera, and beckons it closer with his finger, as a seductive lover would to her passion. The cameraman is compelled to zoom closer and closer, his olive tinted skin and brilliant hazel eyes becoming clearer and clearer. Those watching with 4k TVs in the country begin to weep uncontrollably.)

Anthony: ….

(Anthony opens his mouth, but right when he starts to say something, Neil Patrick catches his eye off to the side of the stage, and Anthony sees it. He points over to him, and beings laughing. Everyone knows what this means. This means everything to everyone. Anthony grabs his Perbie, which is a statue of Grandpa Fanny in a lounge chair, and shakes it to the sky. Each thrust emits a beam of light from the Perbie. Anthony accelerates his fist pumps with the audience roaring so loudly that every microphone begins to crumple. He stops and bends over, pumping his Perbie downwards. David Oyelowo begins to weep.)

Anthony: I need everyone…..

(Anthony pauses, and smile-points to Neil Patrick Harris again.)

Anthony: …I need everyone in this room….in this NATION…to say it one time with me…..are you ready?

(Hugh Jackman climbs on top of his seat and begins squating in anticipation. Julianne Moore is behind him, and she cannot contain herself.)

Anthony: One……. two……

(He and the entire nations breathe in with him, consuming more oxygen in one moment than in the entire of history of the planet.)


Anthony: thankyouverymuchthismeansalottomegoodb–

(Music EXPLODES from directly above him as they blast him off the stage. Harris applauds and smiles warmly as he returns to his hosting station.)

Harris: Wow… I…

(Harris seems to be getting sincerely emotional. His eyes glisten.)

Harris: I’ve watched that guy for years and now… Oh man… What a way to start off the evening!

(Harris’s gaze tends toward the monitors. He crosses and uncrosses his legs.)

Harris: We all know what a central and high position The Superb blogging holds in our culture. It’s the way we literally frame and classify our world. Although, there are many voices in the blog-a-sphere, but when we think history, class and artistry, we invariably think The Superb.



Harris: This is an evening where the industry has an opportunity to thank those who make it all possible and who delight us with their outstanding behaviors. And now to present The Shortest The Superb Blog Entry Award, Jennifer Lopez and Chris Pine!

(Lopez and Pine amble up, as Harris goes from zero to full sprint and runs vertically up one of the marble columns until out of sight. Pine does a thing where he’s pretending to limbo. Lopez catches him doing this and play-slaps his arm.)


Pine: Hello!

Lopez: It’s honor to be presenting.

Pine: Well, if I may Jen… We’re all very excited about your upcoming appearance in The Superb article: “Jennifer Lopez Bakes Herself Into A Giant Loaf of Bread”.

(Audience doesn’t clap, but applauds by making the applause noise with your breath when you polish an apple.)

Lopez: Thank you, Chris. I remember reading The Superb for the first time right after I had placed myself in a giant mixing bowl and turned it on. After a couple spins, I got out and picked up The Superb and I just imagined what they could do with this new project and Chris… we’ve had a lot of loafs!

Pine: You kneed to do this!

Lopez: Well, I’m just doing it for the doe!

Pine: That’s what it’s like to be in the upper crust.

Lopez: I’m really rising to the occasion.

Pine: I hope no one gets Sour-though!

Lopez: Chris, you have such a rye wit!

(Pine and Lopez continue to exchange bread puns for another 95 seconds. It doesn’t appear to be scripted. The audience remains silent in rapt attention.)

Lopez: That’s cause I go against the grain!

Pine: Everyone! Let’s toast to the woman with the best buns in town!

Lopez: Oh, Chris! You’re pita-ful!

(Pine wipes away a tear, he’s laughing so hard.)

Pine: Okay, gotta… Gotta get it together.

Lopez: This where people like us come to have a good time, Chris!

Pine: So true!

Lopez: And tonight’s nominees for The Shortest The Superb Blog Entry Award are “2 Chainz Goes Shopping” by Jeff and “A Guy Gets a Package” by Jeff.

Pine: And the winner…

(You can barely catch Pine crossing his fingers and saying “Please, please, please.” under his breath. They open the envelope. Pine sees the winner. You can tell it’s the one he wanted.)

Pine: “A Guy Gets a Package by Jeff!

Lopez: Yay!

(Jeff is somehow on stage before Lopez exclaims “Yay!” immediately after Pine’s announcement. In his classic relaxed composure, he walks very slowly up to Pine and Lopez. He embraces Pine. They’ve clearly worked together before. He offers only a solemn nod to J. Lo. Jeff’s demeanor, his dry-yet-humorous little reactions to receiving his reward elicits cascades of laughter. Jeff pretends that the award is so heavy and that he can’t lift it. This sends Stallone over board.)



(Jeff does a travesty of a little girl’s curtsy and skips around with the award. It works.)


(Neil almost steps in to direct Jeff toward the podium. But, he restrains himself. Jeff again assumes his usual neutral expression.)


(The audience waits attentively.)

Jeff: …um… Cool….

(Jeff walks off stage.)





Villagers: Kents McTugly


“My very long life has been leading to this moment.” – McTugly

Profile: Old As Grapes

Height: 6’3″

Body Type: Terrier Cruise

Memorable Quotes: “For me, Plate Tectonics was the great Rubicon. Once crossed and all available counts taken, I had changed. My little kingdom of experiences reborn.”///”The world is but a quiet answer and when my attentions settle and the horizon appears as one sheet over me, I can hear the echo moving again. Just I heard it before, slowly, down the street.”///”Excite me, BABY!!!”

Profession: The Terryformer

Leg Strength: <<<bar none>>>

Story: Along with seven others, Kent is considered an Ancient Worthful, one of the few in The Village who have surpassed 120 years of age. He has four doctorates, two in his primary field of geological science, one in Latin American literature and another in chemistry. That he has managed to accomplish this at all causes some to view him with a sort of reverence. He was born to a poor family in the south and received little in the way of decent public education, as his teachers in school where an exceptionally dexterous breed of Pilgrim Falcons who were able to carry old educational 33 1/2’s from one room to another. Kents’s teacher, a world weary bird named Carrot, took and interest in Kent and saw his great intellectual potential. He would extra talon marked vinyls to his home after schools so he could learn more about the great industry of Corn Solids.

After graduating, he started his long trek through academic life in various prestigious institutions such as Princeton, UCLA and DJ Preggor’s Home School for Rock-anomics. The latter case was where Kents started to take interest in pseudoscience. He had observed ishifts in intellectual opinion on Plate Tectonics and continental drift. When I asked Kents to explain the theory in a way I could understand he said: “Imagine a Mega-Turtle with multiple interior shells that change the exterior and it hurts the turtle. That’s the earth.” Once he had grasped the theory, he carried with it doubts about the intellectual integrity of the scientific establishment. Thus, he began to explore the pseudosciences for answers that the establishment would not entertain.

“I saw where human meaning and material law met and got handsy with each other.” he said. “I could perceive, however dimly, that our minds and the physical space we inhabit or inextricably linked, like Lance Bass and space or blue cheese and Cobb salad.”

After the experience that people in The Village refer to as The Remembering, Kents realized what purpose he served in the scheme of things in The Village. He assumed the role of the great Terryformer. “My whole life had been leading to this.” he said, his glasses perched near the end of his nose, his chin tilted in.

The Villagers remember how chaotic everything used to be. Someplaces, there would be a house on top of a towering column of earth 87 feet high with a sheer cliff on every side. Other places, there would be gardens and farms in the shape of skate parks. “Quite dire. Quite dire.” he would mumble reflexively. Kents took his unimaginable knowledge of the earth’s geological composition and forces and applied it took driving a bulldozer around for 29 years.

Before started his great Terryform project, he assemble The Village leaders and drew and ideal town map. Everyone deciding where square foot of land should reside. But, the Village leaders stipulated to Kents that in transforming the landscape, he should not require any one to abandon or rebuild their places of work or residence. So, Kents would use his insane mind to gradually move each built structure from place to another with the earth itself, very very slowly.

Some people may imagine this sort of grunt work to be intolerable to a fabulous intellect such as Kents. But, he explains that applying all of his years of learning was something more akin to a martial art, harnessing all energies and applying them fluidly to a single point, a bulldozer.

As he worked his way from the exterior the center of The Village he began to discover relics and icons that he has only exhibited to a chosen few. Although shrouded in a degree of secrecy, the general opinion is that he has what people are calling “The Shroud of Turin but for Philip Seymour Hoffman”. The scientist working in collaboration with Villenhaus Laboratories have requested to analyze his findings Kents has flatly refused, swearing that he wants nothing to do with them.

Kents has since retired from his post after remapping The Village. He still goes out to correct Tectonic disturbances which seem to effect The Village more greatly. He lives in a humble cabin near the outskirts of The Damps. He will sits outside, reading Borges and smoking a corn pipe filled with alkaline stones.


With what little light there is, I use it to make out a nervous figure. As he walks over to the stool nearest me his feet jut out wildly and they nearly clip a chair twice. He orders something and then he turns to me. His demeanor seems to demand familiarity, although I have no recollection of the man. It appears he’s setting up shop where he is. I reach for my coat. Only, as I do, I hear him speak quietly, almost to himself.

“Allow me to even try to introduce myself.”


A hand is extended, meant for me.

“Let’s see here… I’m Bandana Jim. You guess why yet?”

He twists slightly, his backside turned over so I can see the red cloth emerging from his jeans pocket.

“Yeah… since I was only 3 years.” he said.

“Nice… nickname.” I said.

“Listen, I’ve only got a few more minutes so won’t you hear my story first before you coon out of here?” he said, sensing my restlessness.

“Sure…” I said perturbed, checking my phone and setting it back on the counter top.

“Well, okay then. It was 1951 the year of LORD and I entered the world, a fully formed human baby.” he said, poking my chest. “No problems… and then I was born into the most Catholic family you can possibly imagine. Flash forward to more recently and my faith and career changed when I became retired forcibly due to an on-the-job injury that I caused on myself due to trying to stack up too many steel girders on top of each other with a crane.”

He waits for my gaze, grinning.

“And I woulda done it to, had I not gotten out admiring my work by leaning on it. So, y’know popped my spine slightly and I got a work-out-of-free card. Hah… My kids still give me a look like ‘What are you doin’ here?’. Anyway, it got bored and lonesome and then I got to getting involved in my community a little more. What can’t I ask for my country that my country has not already done for me, right? So, I hey, I got to my local LORD Shack and I’m wondering what guidance can I get from my LORD Man. Well, I go into his office and he says, ‘Have I ever thought about kids?’ I says, ‘Well, I guess.’ And he says: ‘You are gonna be Boy Scrouts’. And I’m like…”

He seems to be lost for a moment. I tighten the grip on my coat.

“Yeah! So, I become Boy Scrout Master. And I study up for Scrout leadership and LORD principles. So, I come up for Camp Cherokee over the summer. And first day and get there and I see these little guys and I get a tear in me, cause I’m thinkin’… they don’t stand a chance. Y’know? There barely speaking to me and they are all playing activities on there phones.”

(As I type this out, I don’t know whether to spell out “their” or “there” due to the way he said it.)

“And y’know, I just got to thinking. And one day I announced Boyplay: The First Boy Scrouts Coldplay All-Boys Cover Band.”

He takes a sip of his drink and I feel an aching sense of panic wash over me.

“And this idea is simple and LORD-based. What if we took boys, lost, tormented with day-screams and boy toils and inadequacies and gave them something to live up for… being Coldplay AKA Boyplay. And I got on my knees and thanked LORD. I did.  So, I applied this new principle as mandatory. All Boy Scrout members must pick a member and become him physically, spiritually and bodily. I remember one day, I walk into the cafeteria and here they are… mostly Chris Martin childs, eatin’ breakfast; hundreds of Boy Scrouts donning the garb of the world’s greatest popular music band. Of course, only one set of boys is the official Boy-Play Cover band. So, you can picture with me if you will…” he said. He reaches for and holds my hand between his own. “There they are… A set of LORD ordained Boy Scrouts playing only “Clocks” seventeen times for an audience of boys who look like Coldplay also.”

I try to withdraw my hand without making much of it.

“They get so excited. They are bouncing around in a mosh pit, just going nuts on each other. But, this is exactly what keeps our community drugs free and no gang-violence. They are drawing INTO the LORD. My boys love Moses because of Moses. They eat apple because the boys say as they take a big ol’ bite: ‘This is my daughter.’ Thousands of young boys… Listen, this programs is 1000% times more effective than football and school combined. It keep ‘em away from streets where the LORD cannot see them. This whole community is so full of LORD now, I can’t stand it. Good LORD, boys. Am I right? LORD on all sides!”

Now he stares, almost exclusively, at the ceiling.

“I’ve got to get to North Haverbrook and take my business over there for a while, just to get some balance. I let the winds do away with the ANTI-LORD in me. You can have too LORD and then you slam a kid into its own legs in the name of LORD. He doesn’t want that. Hah! Sometimes, I steam up so hard off the head, it’s like I’m a Steampunk Pervert Iron Man. Then I get out of North Haverbrook because it smells like soup and I get back to LORDING it up and down the interstate with my hat on. Soup is the Devil’s sex. Stew is the LORD fill. Wait… now… Have I told you about my recent investments?”

His weight shifts in his seat, almost invisibly, but enough for it cause an audible whine. His mustache trembles spasmodically with… delight?

“I’ve got 12% in and 40% down for the Boy Scrouts. LORD will bless me for this. One is for LORDCARE: The Only LORD Based Obamacare. They ain’t putting any vaccinations in my Boyplay and it costs thousands. Also, I’ve put a lot of the money in CARS. I can’t tell you how much my deductible is, because I have misplaced the envelope in my car. Man… listen, Satan better not change Monday again because I already labeled all of that older sisters Tupperware according to the days of the week and she can’t eat them out of order because then she’ll have lasagna twice and that would be embarrassing to me. And then I turn around to them inside of A VAN and I say to the entire Boyplay: ‘Who wants Aint’s?’ They love some of that. I just sit in the van while they get some of the smoked delights inside. It’s not my place to eat there. LORD know why.


-The Superb

Note: Co-Written with Anthony; adapted from a text conversation we had.

3 Human Races I Just Came Up With & What I Don’t Like About Them



  • I would venture to tell you that I was waiting behind one for a machine at the gym, if they were real, and he benched just a lot of weight but with like two reps. And he yelled: “Turn on and tune out!”
  • I fantasied that they’re always asking me to reach up to get an item at Home Depot, where I work.
  • I can feel that they want my Rewards Card.
  • When at Home Depot one day, for work, I imagined that I bent mine knee to interact with one of their little ones and then decided to put the child on a fort-lift and then make the fork-lift do a dance and the parent went nuts on me.



  • I pretended that one was real when I was using the bathroom at Home Depot and I asked him if I could wash his hands for him and I was flatly rejected.
  • They are usually employed for construction, if they existed.
  • Germ city!
  • I one time lost my focus while working at Home Depot because I was pretending to lose a round of Dance Dance Revolution to one of them.



  • One time a “saw” one and my blood pressure shot up by several.
  • The kind of music they like is just the “It Follows” OST.
  • When I was at Home Depot, I wasted an entire day hiding in a washing machine because I imagined that they hate cleaning their clothes and then that’s the last place they’d look.
  • They have no cousin loyalty.

Villagers: Amber-Chromie


Profile: All Genders

Height: 6’8″

Body Type: Remnants of “Ad-Rock Body Model” used as stand-in for “Lost Angels”

Memorable Quotes: “Donald Sutherland stole my idea for Cold Stone Creamery and he and his friends developed it into an internationally recognized chain, turning out millions which he thinks will help him gain some sort advantage over me.”///”I have the strength of twenty Donald Sutherland’s and I know how to teach that to your kids.”///*Compressed Air Gushing Sound*

Profession: Martial Arts Instructor

Leg Strength: <<<Woah, Nelly!>>>

Story: Chromie’s life began as a humble gas station air pump. The kind that still requires that you go to the ATM inside and withdraw your own money for a fee so you can break a part of a twenty dollar bill into four quarters. You then shoved those quarters into Chromie. He claims that he doesn’t remember much of this part of his life, but whenever he hears the sound of an air pump filling a tire he gets a really far-off look and kind of spaces out. I’ll say to him: “Chromie! What’s wrong, bud?” And he just says: “Nothing. I just know I will end cars some day.” And then he gets really contemplative.

Things changed for Chromie when the scientists working at Denny Villenhaus’s secret laboratory we’re working on re-establishing the Villages connection to the world-wide web, which had been lost due to the activity of the The Beasts. They realized that in order to restore the web, in behalf of Denny’s en devours to humiliate his rival Josh Terby, they most likely have to eliminate The Beasts entirely. That seemed crazy at the time, but what was crazier was robots. To quote the Chief Director of Villenhaus Labs, Nuclear Physicist and Molecular Technologist Dr.Andrew Knucklesbee: “Robots shouldn’t be possible and frankly, I have a hard time sleeping or having alone time with my family.”

He continued: “We had a lot of spare robots laying around from failed experiments. One of those was Chromie. We took a gas station air pump and, like God fashioning a woman out of Adam’s rib, we turned it into a robot that could communicate with dogs. We felt that we needed to know if our dogs were in league with The Beasts in some way. But when we turned “Amber-Chromie & Fetch” on for the first time a dog barked and him and Chromie just said they were mad because he didn’t have a butt. We installed a butt on Chromie, but that didn’t reveal any connections.”

“So, when we were thinking about how we might attempt to fight The Beasts, we grabbed Chromie and gave him Karate moves.”

Of course, Chromie failed miserably and returned to the Village barely intact and all information concerning what he saw out there erased. Chromie became embittered, having experienced the inhumane abuses of the Villenhaus Lab and being sent into a losing battle. He somehow left the Village for several years, spending him time learning to fly antique planes and doing stand-in work on big budget hollywood films. Since, he has returned and set-up a small dojo where he trains children to, as he says: “Take back the creamery.”



DQ Finally “Comes Queen” About What Happened to Dennis the Menace

I, like many of my age, have fond memories of departing for home after Lacrosse practice, but not without stopping for a Dairy Queen Flursty. I would always ask for the Heath one, but my Dad just got plain for me because he knew that I wouldn’t like the Heath one even though I was sure that I had a Heath bar before at my friend’s food closet and liked it for how salty it tasted to me. But, Pappa always knows how to serve it up best. And he always served it up with discipline.

Those drives home developed a Pavlovian connection for me, between those unforgettable well served Flursty’s and a lovable little scamp named Dennis. I can’t even think of red overalls without salivating wildly and out my car window, driving madly toward the nearest DQ outlet. And my wife is a real Diane Keaton character. She is SO arty and loves to wear them “alls”. And they are red and she always has a sling shot. And man, I start salivating and then a race to get the keys before she can stop me.

Although I am unfamiliar with his work in comics, Dennis has become built in to nearly every aspect of my satisfying married life. But, alas… DQ seems to always come up short for me in terms of satisfying mischievous boy imagery on the outside O’ my cone. I mean, what give Dairy Queen? After everything I’ve given to you. Well, I think I may have found some answers… on the FAQ section:

The trademark license that International Dairy Queen, Inc. (IDQ) had with the company that holds the rights to Dennis the Menace ended December 2002. The trademark license has not been renewed.

Yeah, but what’s really going on here?

One especially sagacious answer comes from blog composer, bennygulks, who bravely told truth to power on The Nostalgia Blog*:

From 1971 until 2001 Dennis the Menace appeared as the spokestoon for Dairy Queen. Dairy Queen dropped him because they felt children could no longer relate to him. Don’t worry Dennis, even Donkey Kong had to go through this. RIP. I assume he shot himself after this news.

…So they are a big contributor to the pollution problem in the world?

Straight up, bennygulks.

What child, or should I say “digital natives”, could possible related to playing with getting dirt and frogs all over Mr. Wilson’s lawn? Or what young fella would even dream of using his boomerang to get all of Mr. Wilson’s clothes line laundry all over the lawn? Or even what if Dennis was inside of a small boat that was actually Mr. Wilson’s tub? These kids have the Cave Blitzer and are all about “can I get the crystal jims”? Dennis never asked that question.

But, despite how true every that has been said so far is, I still felt like their was so much more beneath the surface level of what we’ve said so far. Dairy Queen, thy reckoning cometh!

I spoke with Dairy Queen CEO, John Gainor. We met outside of his home on one of those swinging bench chairs on his deck. He was unshaven and in a bathrobe and he didn’t seem like he knew I was going to be there. I asked him about bennygulks observations.

“That’s basically spot on.” he said. “But, there’s a bit more to it.”

He leaned back and put his hands on that back of his head like he’s relaxing and his elbow was right up on my craw.

“Around the turn of the century, Dairy Queen had to start asking itself some really tough questions. Such as, why us? Why have we been blessed with so much cream and all the humility to know how to put that cream into practice?” he said pumping his legs to make the swing go higher and higher.

“Instead we ended up saying: ‘What if we make the DQ logo a pair of lips and that’s a new mascotte?’ And of course, we all loved it and we started acting out what the lips what do and be like and how it would want all the ice cream and we played around with the idea of him not be allowed to have it, but we finally decided he would get all the treats and lick all over the place.”

We are getting some major air at this point, his hands still netted behind his head.

“So we had the animators do a few demos and they were really great. Really side splitting stuff. But, then we we’re like: ‘Let’s get Dennis into the mix.’ So we did a couple ad spots where Dennis was interacting with the giant pair of lips. But, then that’s where it all went wrong.”

At this point I have a hard grip on the swing or other wise I am going to fly off.

“In our third ad with Dennis and the Lips, the Lips got upset and it ate Dennis. And we’re in the board room and I’m like: ‘That’s it? That ad was short.’ And the head of animation, Darryl, was like: ‘Yeah, we had to cut the ad short cause the lips ate Dennis.’ But, I’m like: ‘Yeah, but can’t we do another one with more of the ad?’ And Darryl’s like: ‘Yeah, but it’ll have to be without Dennis.’ And I said: ‘Why?’ And Darryl said: ‘The Lips ate Dennis.’

Now, I wasn’t really taking notes at this point in his story because I was really distracted by how we seemed to be conjuring up so much friction in the air that there was electricity flying around us.

“So, I kept coming back by Darryl’s office and asking him to put Dennis back in and Darryl was like: ‘What part of the DQ lips ate him don’t you understand? He’s gone, John! We can’t do anything! That’s life! One second you have a mischievous boy under your command and now he’s been eaten, okay!? I’m sorry, I can’t help you. That’s life. Just deal with it, John! You’re just gonna have to let by gone’s be by gone’s. We can’t save everyone. I didn’t want this to happen, but it happened! Okay! It’s over. Dennis is over! I’m going home!’ And he slammed his fist down on his lunch. I mean, what could say? Dennis was dead. So, when licencing came up we decided not to renew.”

The electricity so extreme and violent that I felt like I could seem him. His pale and scathing eyes. His impossible figure. Gorg.



Honey, there’s a giant snow leopard outside and he need’s to use our bathroom.


Honey, before you say anything, I know your thing about Saturdays “Not on Saturdays”, you yelled from the shower this morning. And I, as your wife, totally respect your totally capricious reasons for not wanting things to happen on Saturdays. And believe me, I didn’t want this to happen on Saturday either. Or any day, really. But, when I decided to marry you, after the time when you got me pregnant and I didn’t want that, well… I made a vow, to be totally open with you about what is happening in my life and right now what is happening in my life is that there is a giant snow leopard on our front stoop that really needs to use our bathroom.

No! Please, just listen. First, all I said was: “Let me ask, George.” What? What do you mean, “Now he knows my name.” I think he’s just some snow leopard off the street and he’s probably been holding it in for a while. I don’t think he would bother us on a Saturday if he didn’t really need it. Well, no. He didn’t say which one it was. Honey, do I really need to ask him? It will be really quick. I’ll just walk him in and you can just continue to use the message chair for another five hours uninterrupted while you watch your Dan Marino VHS rerun things.


No, we’re not a charity and all I’m asking is the respect of having the snow leopard use our bathroom and maybe I make him lunch. Whatever he’s hungry for, George! I don’t know! He’ll probably be hungry and I would really just appreciate a little sympathy from you, just once. You’ve been playing that card for years! Your father died twenty years ago! You have to stop using him to get out of things that make you uncomfortable. Such as? How about every family reunion! How about your children’s high school and college graduations! How about the birth of your youngest! How about your father’s funeral! All you seem to do anymore is sit there on your message chair with it on “Hey! Cheif-mode, No Hold Barred” setting and you just read your Nascar books.

You believe me! I will absolutely take the blame if something goes wrong! Absolutely! It will be my pleasure! I always take the blame anyway. I always do. Even, if it’s “OOOPS, I ACCIDENTLY COOKED AND MADE OUR DOG FOR DINNER AND I TOOK A BEEF ROAST FOR A WALK! OOOOOOOOPPPSS! MY BAD!” This is always what you’re doing, you sit there passive and wait for me to screw up and then when I TAKE THE DOG TO SOCCER PRACTICE AND TAKE OUR KID TO GET NEUTERED THEN, OOOOOOHHHHH, IT’S ALL MY FAULT, ISN’T IT GEORGE? Tell me… tell me… was it my fault when you sat there while I PINNED THE DOG UP ON A CLOTHES LINE AND LET HIM OUT TO DRY WHILE I BROUGHT THE LAUNDRY TO THE DOG PARK TO PLAY WITH OTHER LAUNDRIES!!! TELL ME!!!


I get it. I over did it… Fine. I’ll tell the giant snow leopard he can’t use our bathroom. And I’m gonna put a huge smile on my face and be happy when I tell him that because that’s what YOU want. That’s what YOU want. What! Oh, now YOU’RE telling the snow leopard he can’t use our bathroom. NOW YOU WANT THIS TO BE YOUR SATURDAY. FINE!!! GO AHEAD BECAUSE APPARENTLY I CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!!!

(George answered the door and was immediately cat-murdered. It was all a ploy by Mrs. George to trick her husband into being eaten by a giant snow leopard. George may have readily acquiesced because he was confusing the snow leopard with a dog he knew. Police authorities have called it the most inevitable and probably the most deserved murder of all time.)