Housecleaning: We format for the app in a smart phone. This matters with the visuals. You get to see colors and such as we mean to present them. Get the app!
This week, we offer snippets. Simply defined as “small pieces.”
The author of this post having turned his big feet into chunks of cheese at midnight. You know what they say about big feet, after all …
Big toes.
…
We also offer whippets. Meaning, dumb drugs.
It’s back, you see.The Tour de Sasquatch. Exciting.
Highlighting a simple truth: that our AI generator (named Snake) performs best when creating burly clown-monsters.
These images being well worth the risk of a sentient Snake one day soon assuming command of the U.S. nuclear arsenal — am I right?
Who cares about looming robotic fallout apocalypse (after all) when bigfeets riding bikes are so readily createable.
You want one, don’t you? Our Sasquatch-clowns aren’t for sale. They’re endangered. Look don’t touch.
…
The author of this post having felt an incredible kinship with tiny dumb things. This gentleman, for instance. We don’t know why.
…
The author of this post having spent part of his week tinkering with evil tennis ball impersonations.
Sylvester Stallone …
Dolly Parton …
YOU wondering if the evil tennis ball is funny …
As we wait for your applause. And wait. And wait. And wait.
…
Speaking of, hug that heart button. Like the post. Share it with someone. Spread us far and wide. You’re our only hope.
…
Speaking of far and wide, check this out:
We made knockoffs, starring Fake Peter Sellers. Oh the places we go …
Where did they travel? Does it matter? Cactus love. It’s inexplicable.
That said, maybe the same idea but Fake Dolly Parton? You got it. She makes everything better.
I’m begging you, Jolene. Please don’t take my man cactus.
…
The evil tennis ball’s favorite chair having insisted on his own snippet. Who can blame him.
…
As for genuine feelings, not sure I have any. Feelings are overrated. I prefer trees and rocks. They are as abundant as human emotions, I think — as well as more useful. Try building a bridge with feelings; see what happens.
The above paragraph having been written with the following caveat: I cry at least twice a week about my dog dying — and she’s not dead yet. She’s old but fine. So. Yeah. Trees and rocks.
Snippet (btw) being a much different concept than “snoop-it” — which is when you (sentimentally) see Snoopy everywhere you go.
Aww shucks.
….
Meanwhile, this is what happens when you make sure you know how to spell “whippet” …
HELP!
…
Meanwhile, this gentleman has pulled ahead in the Tour de Sasquatch. His edge over his rivals being “superior tophat.” Much like an ancient bigfoot known as Abraham Lincoln.
Photogenic as ever.
…
Ending as we must with a very short short story about rocks and trees.
Rocks! They don’t give up. They’re hard. They’re also called stones. Cast not the first stone, lest ye be stoned yourself.
Trees! I like it best when they hump around and talk to forest creatures. I like it best when they shed their bark and get naked. I like them big and brown — just like my, um, coffee.
Ya feeling me?
As we wait for your applause. And wait. And wait. And wait.
— Colin Sullivan
Kicker: How does a Sasquatch-clown unwind after a hard day pedaling through the Alps? In a hot tub full of cheese and feet, of course. Mmm mmm mmm.
P.S. This joker’s still on the course. We fear he ate the other cyclists.
Sasquatch-clowns: They have no shame. Mon Dieu.
Xoxo.
I’d pay good money to watch The Tour de Sasquatch