Go back to your Jazz Ensemble

Owen has decided it's time to change musical styles. ABOUT TIME! The crap his band has been putting out lately is just pure crap. The crappiest crap in Shit City.

My advice: Get rid of that damn clarinetist already! Sounds like the Star Wars scene in Jabba's Palace. Toot toot we get the point! Go back to your Jazz Ensemble you jerk!

We've Got a Whiner!

Owen seems to have succeeded in his endeavor to quit smoking. Huzzah! Things are looking up. It's been something like three months now, and he acts normal and seems stable. Best of all, no more $100 cartons of Camels. No more stinky smell or stained fingers. No more sore throats. But on the other hand, he's got a meager social life and NO hot girlfriend.

This lack fuels a silent rage teeming beneath Owen's seemingly innocuous smile. He doesn't feel angry, and he doesn't show it. He actually feels pretty good, kind of numb-like. But Owen is a mangled half man-beast inside, screaming for freedom from his worldly domain, crying like a banshee at the moon, slaying children in the night. Owen is the true son of Cain (if Cain had a child with the Hulk and the Boston strangler), both superhero and super-villain. I've seen it with my own eyes.

Yes behind that boy's sheepish grin is a thousand-degree pit of acid that threatens to boil over, at any time. That acid rage has been growing since his birth, slowly getting hotter and hotter. Owen pretends he can manage it. He takes a lot of TUMS. He pretends everything's OK. But I've seen it with my own eyes. He once came in second place in a man-sandwich-eating competition. He also recently came in second place in a two-person Risk game. That incredible boiling rage threatens even the bravest souls, and when Owen doesn't win, he just whines and whines. Like he's about to boil over.

The Week of the Bacon (Bacon Week)

Rejoice, young Owenists!

Owen's command to "eat bacon everyday all week, sometimes twice a day" goes into effect immediately. Bacon consumption is to be followed by a long period of rest and usually involves libations to the great Prophet Liam Neeson.

The story goes that bacon was the preferred meat of the Olympians before Owen vanquished them, replacing the gods with goofy, grinning statues of himself. His consumption of the fatty hog meat sent Owen into a stupor which lasted an entire week. When Owen finally recovered from his bacon binge, he had ascended his throne to divinity.

Today, Owen began a trend soon to be followed across the world. Bacon Week, also hereby known as the Feast of Owen or "The Week of the Bacon" occurs annually during the final week of April.

This is also the first official holiday of the Owenist religion. The Feast of Owen is "a fun holiday, bringing joy to many," and "cardiac arrest to few."


Devoted followers of bacon Owen:

Tonight

Tonight, Owen was incredible. He was on a cloud. He was untouchable. Simply unbelievable. Quote of the night: "me chinese, me play joke, me go pee pee in your coke"

Sit and ponder, young Owenists.

Owen's Childhood Home

The house in the center of this photograph is Owen's childhood home. It's since been converted into a brothel and even more recently, been abandoned. Owen grew from such humble roots to ascend the throne of Owenism, his very own religion. His crown is set with beautiful stones. His robe flows like a thousand rivers. And yet he still works late at the real estate place.

It takes Neeson to know Neeson

Owenism has long been associated with the Cult of Neesonism, a little-known group of believers in a spiritual Oneness taken in the form of the actor Liam Neeson.

Elusive Owenists Photographed

A photograph was recently released, depicting an Owenist congregation deep in prayer.

Preaching to the Converted

This is a recent conversation with our Dear Leader, now in day 5 or 6 of quitting smoking. He is obviously quite beside himself with madness.

Owen: I'll kill you
me: Wow that's not befitting a religious teacher
Owen: You are part of my flock
me: I'll kill you back
Owen: We'll kill each other and TRANSCEND

Magical, magical words from a simply magical man.

3 Tenets of Owenism

By now we know that Owenism is a lazy religion of excess, debauchery, and (wylie) tomfoolery. But finally, some rules have been handed down - straight from the man himself! In order to be a proper Owenist, it has been established as necessary to follow a few basic tenets, their addenda, appendices, ephemera, etc. and any heretofore unmentioned laws reserved to your local Owenist clergy.

Tenet #1 What are you talking about? Send Owen some money! .... to help build a monastery or something.
Tenet #2 Write a thesis about Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea. A radical feminist teacher will laugh at you, then forget what you were talking about. Biblical allegory my ass!
Tenet #3 In case of emergency, keep a dime in your shoe! It may help you bargain for your worthless life.

Follow these and the way to salvation is assured! Sway from the righteous path, and you'll find yourself hiding under the bedsheets, cowering in fear!

Owen is Quitting

As many of you know, Owen was once a die-hard tobacco smoker. As the founder and prophet of a new religion, he recently found it necessary to quit this NASTY HABIT. He can now more effectively lead by example. Luckily, I am here to document his "harrowing path to righteousness." He's now 3 days into an epic journey of quitting that wacky tobacky, and he's already lost his mind.

But today, he did have some words of advice for his faithful followers. Given his current state, these lines may be considered Owenism's Satanic Verses. They were uttered from a clearly intoxicated prophet.

Beat your child twice a day. If you don't know why, he will.

Beat your child twice a day, he'll be less likely to touch himself crying all night long keeping you awake until you have a outburst at work which ends with your family tearfully waving you off to the Looney Farm.

All I can say is don't be scared, young Owenists. Our dear leader will return, sane and stable!

Life is Spressful

Owen once said "life is spressful." Truer words have not since been spoken.

On stressful days, or special days, I spend a lot of time worrying. Then I think of these great words of wisdom from Owen, via his friend P Diddy: "if you're not drinking Ciroc vodka, then you're drinking pee pee."

the Cult of Owen

You may note I have changed the name and layout of this blog once again. I've decided to focus even more in-depth on our good friend and dear leader Owen. In fact, I've established a religion in his name. It is not your father's Owenism, however, but a new movement promoting awkward social moments, Siamese cats, and really neat banjo music. A new era for all!

This is a famous self-portrait of Owen:


Due to his scrawny nature, this will be Owenism's official logo:

Owen Quote of the Day

"I'm going to beat you into a coma with a kit kat bar."

Shrewd, Yes

I am returned from the GLORY of Southern Florida, where summer is 24/7. I spent all my life savings. After my last pyramid scheme, I was already treading on thin financial ice. Now I can't buy a Maserati in 50 years, like I had once dreamed of.

In more important news, Owen has flatly denied my requests to play chess for a number of weeks. He is "too busy." He used to just make coffee for the bossman who'd say "You there, Jibboo, grab me a snack and some of that Starbucks!" Now Owen, presumably still a temporary at his job in the big city, is making scones or sweeping under the doormats. It must be something significantly more involved, but we can only guess, because Owen is too busy to even TELL US, my dear readers, what he has been doing.

I may have to resort to more shrewd actions...

Going to Florida

see you soon!




Crazy Board Game - Chinese Humour. - These bloopers are hilarious

Band Names

In my infinite free time, I like to sit around and think about rock music, and how, if I could play an instrument like Owen, I would think of a great band name. I think mine would be Celebutante Trebuchet.

Kinda like this:




Oh, she fine. But she belongs in a trebuchet, being launched across the medieval landscape. Tell me if you think of any other good band names?

no meat soda

As you may know, yesterday was Ash Wednesday, an important part of the Catholic whatever you call it. Now, I am not a religious man, but at times I do enjoy taking part in the ancient rites and traditions passed down to us from generation to generation. Like war and petty theft, they are a big part of our everyday lives. Friends of mine know that every solstice I make a point to go out and dance with the moon goddess. And as a child, I once tasted the grape juice and crackers at the altar (I don't believe, as a non-believer, I should have been doing this). So this year I have decided to participate in the ritual of Lent, the voluntary sacrifice of something I hold dear in preparation for the Holy Week. Although I already missed the opportunity to put chalk on my forehead, I believe can still 'give it up' for my homies up in heaven.

scary, huh?


This is my big chance at redemption, so I've got to do it correctly. So... what to sacrifice? At first I thought I'd give up meat, because that's easy. I don't eat a lot of meat anyway. You see meat is disgusting. Vegetables make me feel like the freakishly joyful sex-pagans in the Wicker Man. How I relish in the holy, grainy, stringy texture and taste of pure sun-fed vegetables. Which got me to thinking about which vegetables are most prevalent in my diet. I eat a lot of taters, broccoli, and asparagus. Can't get rid of them. Then it hit me. Corn syrup. That, in conjunction with a recent article I read about the ills of corn and fructose, and viola! I decided to give up meat-flavored soda. That oughta give the gods something to rejoice in! Unfortunately that means:


1) no more Diet Ham Hock
2) no more Dr. Pepper (which tastes a bit like cooked meat)
3) no more listening to the album Pork Soda by Primus


In my attempts to catch the 27b/6 guy stealing my material, I came across an interesting drawing of his. In fact it is the very spider which, according to the bio about his book deal, made him instantly world-famous. While I do not own the copyright to the spider drawing idea, I quickly sketched something together, just to prove that this fellow, David Thorne, could easily have been copying me, if only I had drawn this spider a couple years ago.

This is my version:


Of:


Uncanny resemblance? Except for the extra leg, I guess.

To Clarify

Instead of hacking, in my free time I do things like draw Owen Thomas' house, deep underground. The arrow marks the spot where I last saw him. As you can see, he lives in a very nice neighborhood. Needless to say, I have a lot of free time, because Owen still refuses to play me in chess AND they canceled school again today. I will not draw you a picture of where I live, because that picture would look something like a blank white screen.

Addendum: Owen says I write like this guy. I can't really figure out what he's talking about, which can only mean one thing. This guy is copyright infringing on me. More details to follow.

Owen Thomas is a big fat loser

This is just to say that Owen is a big fat big city loser. You see, Owen and I have a running competition in many events, but primarily chess. We haven't kept a tally but it's fairly safe to say that I had a dominating lead over Owen in our chess matches. The few times he's won, it's caused a big ruckus, but then I went back to winning full-time.

Well, it seems that Owen, the fool, using his typical foolish doublespeak, is "hanging up his chess shoes." Who knows what will come of this development. Owen is notoriously fickle and romantic, so he may yet be conned or coerced into another chess match with the master. Until then, I will be practicing against my next-hardest opponents, teenage wunderkinds on Yahoo Games.