I Hope Your Heart is Gentled

I can feel the healing coming on like a rolling stone gathering no moss. I hope you are all feeling better than you were just one or two weeks ago. I know with all of my neck meat that I am carrying on the political objectives of Peanip "Pip" Clowson by writing this blog, making cartoons, and encouraging the world to endure the end of all things which is upon us shortly. Jorge and Cakey have something to say about that. Grab a sack of bagel chips, an ice cold Cel-Ray, and sit back for another exciting adventure:

Everyone is Getting Better

So I have been getting flooded with e-mails and phone calls lately. People are saying unto me, "Nuffy Noe, you have begun to make me feel better about the crumbling economy and the terrible thousandfold tragedies being visited upon the earth." They say unto me, "Nuffy, I regret so much that I did not vote for Pip Clowson to be the President of the United States of America, but now I know that I can laugh my way all the way to the bottom of this sinkhole." You see how quickly things turn around when you simply introduce cartoons? Cartoons have a way of making the implosion of hope feel like a rainstorm of licorice whips and gum drops. As I see it, America is going to have exactly two choices in the coming months: cry as everything falls apart OR sit back with a fresh pan of cornbread muffins and a pint of cider and watch cartoons until the pain goes away.

I choose option number two.

Pip's Cartoon Calvalcade

I will never stop healing you, America. It's like when I was a boy, and I got the flu, and I threw up on the dog, and my mom forced me to drink Robitussin, and I smashed the Robitussin bottle with my teeth and ran out of the house, flinging shards of glass at passing cars, and my uncle finally tackled me and forced me to take my shot, and I got all sleepy. It's just like that.

So here is another cartoon:

Well, so much for the 10,000 Clowson 2012 bumperstickers...

...sitting in the DOUI office storage closet. I supposed those will have to get incinerated, just like the Panda Naming Award and my collection of I won 1,000,000 Euros t-shirts. I knew that second one was a bad idea when the caller on the number I rang couldn't correctly pronounce the word "'Ole'."

May Pip rest in peace in whatever heavenly automat he's currently residing in.

Politics Ain't Just for Stiffs 'N Creeps

I used to think, correctly, that every person involved on any level in politics was a creep or a stiff. That remains 99.999% true. Seriously, have you ever been to a political rally? Have you ever attended one of those rallies for presidential candidates? I went to a McCain rally, and I thought I was in a Depends Undergarment convention. Then I went to an Obama rally in a shopping mall, and I was surrounded by ten million shaved-headed emo children in pleather shorts, and they all smelled like patchouli and soup. And not a good kind of soup like french onion or cream of mushroom. No, more like vegetable beef or minestrone. YECH!

But every person that is involved in politics is not a soup-scented diaper person, is the thing. I attended a political rally this past Friday that was as different from lame as green is from purple. All by myself, utilizing organizational skills that I developed for my Five Times Better self-help programs, I put together a political rally for MY personal presidential candidate of choice, Pip Clowson.

Most people have political rallies in ludicrous locations, like the aforementioned shopping mall, or giant parking lots, or in airplane hangars, or the living rooms of fading TV stars, or Gout Cream Factories, or Wendy's Old Fashioned Hamburger Restaurants in midwestern Idaho. All of these places are okay for living and playing but as political rallying points--the equivalent of pouring gravy over vomit.

Well, Pip Clowson had his political rally in a bookstore, thanks to me. Yes, a place of learning and wisdom and romance and musty old worm stinks and knowledge. The bookstore has a tiny meeting room in the back up a winding metal staircase, and I reserved it for one hour and a half of Pip Clowson magic. We ate cupcakes, sipped ice cold water, and listened to Pip tell us everything we ever needed to hear from a future President. I can't even explain it all to you, people. It was all way over my head, but it had something to do with altering America and changing our money into trapezoids.

For the first time in my life, I have hope for the future.

Check out pipclowson.wordpress.com and join me for hope/change and alterations