“Bury the fuckin’ thing!”-John Saxon as Lt. Don Thompson, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors
I want to thank everyone who stuck with me through one of the most god-awful years of our lives. With love, this is for you.Continue reading
How many of you can say you’ve been punched in the nose by a dwarf hamster?Continue reading
Vern, aka Vernal Squeequinox, is my Winter White dwarf hamster. You might have seen him in other articles here, or in my interminable Facebook posts. Maybe you’re not interested in another page about my emotional support hamster*, but I assure you, Vern only wants to share love. Like me, he takes his small fandom very seriously. (As seriously as a tiny ball of fluff can take anything.)
*As a favor to me, please remember this: I never, ever, want to hear any tragic stories about hamsters, yours or otherwise. Never. I’m asking you nicely.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
“Battle not with monsters,
Lest ye become a monster.
And if ye gaze into the abyss,
The abyss gazes also into you.”
Hi there. My name is Matty Boy Anderson. I’m a cartoonist!
If you’re new to this site, thanks for coming, I’m glad you’re here. If you’re not, consider this a refresher course! This one’s for the noobs!
My dwarf hamster Vern (aka Vernal Squeequinox) has a Valentine just for you!
You might notice that Wheeljack makes an unscheduled cameo, and that my camera is busted (hence the cinéma vérité/shaky camera effect). Cheerios are like crack to Vern.
Like many adult Americans, I prefer to be intoxicated on Christmas day. Some call this addiction. I call it self-medicating for the benefit of others.
I’m not a role model, or a regular person. I’m alone on Christmas because I’m belligerent and undiplomatic by nature. I lack the ability to mask contempt or disdain. Just days ago, I told three separate strangers to go kill themselves. I make jokes and draw comics to keep from screaming death threats at people.
Oh, and if at all possible, I try to stay high, all the time. Continue reading
Today, a great hamster was laid to rest. His name was Boris.
We must not be sad, and instead celebrate the all-too-brief life of a beloved creature. Boris was curious, friendly, and adored by all who knew him; even the folks who disliked his kind. By some cosmic coincidence, the grey-and-white patches on his back formed a big “B”. Continue reading