XXX Facebook Graffiti Gone Willy-Nilly XXX/ THE WORST BLOG POST YET/ Jesus Embraces The Masturbator

WARNING!!! THE FOLLOWING BLOG POST MAY CONTAIN: dirty bits, poppyCOCK, suggested sexual favors, idiocy, blatant twaddle, cute things, self-obsession, good intentions, more self-absorption, a superfluous intro like this very sentence, complete bull, demeaning drivel, and John's really weird Canadian friend Tom Hay. Ok! Carry on...

UPDATE!!! I obeyed Mitch's needs and drew him something rom deep inside my soul...


I've given into the media, folks- I'l make it up to you with a painting: From Kali To Bloggers!

A ladybug by Katie Rice.

Kristen McCabe pushed the boundaries and presented to me an eager beaver...oops! I'm just making it worse.

She pretty much out-draws everyone on Facebook, she's not messing around!!! IT'S SERIOUS.

Monica Grue! She's a fellow Otis student! Hooazh!

Whitney Pollett another Otis female!

Tom Hay is gross. Ew, ew, ew!

I don't know him but I said hi.


Oskar gave this to me, and at first I thought it was just an insult, but then I saw my name was hidden in the pubes. Awwww! It's weird too, because his rendering of male genitalia was far less intrusively repugnant than that of Tom Hay's. Well, first off, I know Oskar, and secondly his was limp. After going to art school, limp dicks are a dime a dozen.

Oskar, every so often, asks me to render certain things for him, certain strange things. He confuses God with sex. And sex with God. He wants Jesus to be with him at all times. Here's an excerpt from a letter from him I received earlier this year:

"If it's not too late, I had an idea for your painting: Jesus hugging me while I cum. Of course, it should be clear that Jesus did not bring about ejaculation on my part; His presence is almost purely ethereal, and a viewer should be able to confidently suggest to anyone that I "can't see Jesus," and that in fact, I experience his supernaturally tender embrace only while in the ecstasy of climaxing. Jesus' role, again, is not in the spirit of participation but of divine comfort, which he affords me magnanimously out of his own rapturous stake to see me satiated. To this end, Jesus does not so much hug me as he clutches me from behind, unobtrusively bringing himself nearer, humbling himself for my sake, and at the same time imperceptibly imposing and surreptitiously adding something unthinkable and voluptuous of his own, suggesting a certain remote blackness and jealousy in the vicariously textured pressure of his fingertips. The key is to paint me and Jesus realistically, and treat us as if we were a very serious subject to you, something you assert in your mind every morning and twice in the evening as factual. The overall transcendent quality of having Jesus present at the scene may seem at first to glorify the masturbator, but the underlying message and what makes this painting successful is that kitties don't die and Jesus doesn't cry when I rub one out. In fact, Jesus really enjoys it when I experience the highest pleasure related to love. "

Now within the context of that, the image below is me not caring what he requested that I draw, instead giving him this is my way of saying, "ha!"



Here is the rest of my crap. Crap.





I got one from Mitch! The Halloween theme is very now:


This post turned out to be incredibly long! Weird, I didn't plan it that way, it was just an example of digital retardation. Ok! This is the end of the worst blog post yet. Oh yeah, I'm also really bored with Facebook now.