🎨 Artcow Iconoclast / Jonathan Mack Sweet - The Chris-Chan of Arkansas

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Don't forget photocopiers. What baffles me is that he CAN operate a computer. Yeah, it's probably loaded with malware, and takes 10 minutes to start, but still, he can do it.
 
Don't forget photocopiers. What baffles me is that he CAN operate a computer. Yeah, it's probably loaded with malware, and takes 10 minutes to start, but still, he can do it.

The great thing about his inability to operate the photocopier at The Herald is that there was no photocopier in the paper's office. He was trying to use some other piece of equipment as if it were a copier.
 
Update: https://www.deviantart.com/haggismccrablice/journal/Aug-20-2018-760434562

This week the students of Arkansas State University made their grand god-aw'mighty pilgrimmage back to the hallowed dorms. Cars ranging in size from the biggest, most gas-guzzling SUV's to the smallest and most sensible Yugos were crammed with as much stuff as they could carry for this twice-yearly migration back to school. Dorm rooms were assigned, room keys changed hands, inspections were made, forms were signed, and soon the young people settled into their new digs and readied themselves for the upcoming semester.

I have likewise packed up my things and made my own move... not back to the dorms, of course, but into a small apartment about thirty miles from my old digs below the Missouri Bootheel-- somewhere up around the toe, or maybe around the first couple of laces, I don't know. The reason behind the move is that the old homestead needs massive repairs and rennovations and was rapidly becoming uninhabitable, so we had to vacate pretty quickly. So I'll be here in my new digs for the foreseeable future. It's nice-- my family lives close by, and I'm within walking distance of several fine stores and a number of nice restaurants-- but it's not my home, not really. I don't really think of it as moving on... just a detour, a temporary way-station I'll pass a little time at on the road back to to my old life... my real life. 'Til things are back to normal, back the way things used to be.

It's dinner-time around the dorms as I write this, and I find a lot of students like to order in. Papa John's is an A-State favorite, practically a staple of the college diet, really. I recall I used to stand, night after night, at the window of my old seventh-floor room, which overlooked the street in front of Twin. As it got dark I would watch the delivery vehicles pull up below in front of the building and the pizza boys hurrying into the hall, carrying their cargoes of meaty, cheesy goodness up the walk with a precision almost as fine as clockwork. I've never had Papa John's pizza-- more of a Pizza Hut or Little Ceasar's man, myself-- but I hear good things.

With this in mind, enjoy a slice or two of deep-dish comic fun with our three-issue arc "Mystic Pizza"... complete with delicious deleted bonus extras, and is. #84-- the debut appearance of one of our favorite characters here at SCP, Mooch The Pit Bull.


So did you hear that one of the leading voices of Hillary Clinton's Folly, a.k.a. the #MeToo Movement, was recently slapped with charges of kiddie-diddling ? Looks like ol' Pastor Neimoller was right, huh, you progressive pinheads? Truly, liberalism, given time, soon eats its own. It's great. More on this in my next blog. 'Til then, adios.

He also made a reply to a two month old comment calling out on his shit:
Lest you forget, Kricfalusi was really ahead of his time. You progressive pinheads laud animated series like Stephen Universe, The Loud House, and Clarence for depicting homosexuality in a positive light and promoting positive gay role models ... but John K. did it first. In 1992. Long before your people ever got to the table. A good two years before Roseanne's infamous same-sex spit swap, and six years before Ellen came out of the closet in a big way, there was this moment. You liberal louts should be dropping to your knees and puckering up to kiss John K.'s pallid, pimply Canuck ass, not trying to pillory him, you apalling hypocrites. Again, look, it happened. Get over it. Stop trying to desperately sweep the past under the rug and pretend it didn't, like you're suddenly ashamed of it. Admit it, you loved it while it was going on. You wanted it. Now own it. I mean, hey, the guy liked to spank off on the phone at night with some cute young thing. You know, just like every other goddamn guy living in the nineties. Am I supposed to buy that every single liberal on earth suddenly woke up right around 2000, looked around, experienced a crisis of conscience, and said, "Hey, I-I don't want to do this anymore"? Please. There are a lot of men like myself who recall those happy times as fondly as I and would really like to live them again. Yo, sorry you can't get on board and be among that number, but, hey, that's your hang-up, bub, not mine.


>>Yeah, don't flatter yourself. Kricfalusi would tear you several new ones if he ever saw your art.
No, he wouldn't. Shut up, moron.
 
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"This week the students of Arkansas State University made their grand god-aw'mighty pilgrimmage back to the hallowed dorms. Cars ranging in size from the biggest, most gas-guzzling SUV's to the smallest and most sensible Yugos were crammed with as much stuff as they could carry for this twice-yearly migration back to school. Dorm rooms were assigned, room keys changed hands, inspections were made, forms were signed, and soon the young people settled into their new digs and readied themselves for the upcoming semester.

I have likewise packed up my things and made my own move... not back to the dorms, of course, but into a small apartment about thirty miles from my old digs below the Missouri Bootheel-- somewhere up around the toe, or maybe around the first couple of laces, I don't know. The reason behind the move is that the old homestead needs massive repairs and rennovations and was rapidly becoming uninhabitable, so we had to vacate pretty quickly. So I'll be here in my new digs for the foreseeable future. It's nice-- my family lives close by, and I'm within walking distance of several fine stores and a number of nice restaurants-- but it's not my home, not really. I don't really think of it as moving on... just a detour, a temporary way-station I'll pass a little time at on the road back to to my old life... my real life. 'Til things are back to normal, back the way things used to be.

It's dinner-time around the dorms as I write this, and I find a lot of students like to order in. Papa John's is an A-State favorite, practically a staple of the college diet, really. I recall I used to stand, night after night, at the window of my old seventh-floor room, which overlooked the street in front of Twin. As it got dark I would watch the delivery vehicles pull up below in front of the building and the pizza boys hurrying into the hall, carrying their cargoes of meaty, cheesy goodness up the walk with a precision almost as fine as clockwork. I've never had Papa John's pizza-- more of a Pizza Hut or Little Ceasar's man, myself-- but I hear good things.

With this in mind, enjoy a slice or two of deep-dish comic fun with our three-issue arc "Mystic Pizza"... complete with delicious deleted bonus extras, and is. #84-- the debut appearance of one of our favorite characters here at SCP, Mooch The Pit Bull.


So did you hear that one of the leading voices of Hillary Clinton's Folly, a.k.a. the #MeToo Movement, was recently slapped with charges of kiddie-diddling ? Looks like ol' Pastor Neimoller was right, huh, you progressive pinheads? Truly, liberalism, given time, soon eats its own. It's great. More on this in my next blog. 'Til then, adios."

So, has he finally moved into an apartment on his own? How bad was the house? Who's even thought about a Yugo in twenty years? How can you not know what Papa John's tastes like? Why is #MeToo Hillary Clinton's fault?

Maybe Momma got put in a home and the best thing to do for The Great Brain of Blytheville was to get him an apartment near enough to one of his brothers so he could be supervised. If so he'll likely manage to blow it all up sooner rather than later.
 
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Who's even thought about a Yugo in twenty years?

It says a lot about how often this dude goes outside that he even thinks Yugos are still a thing, or that they were ever "sensible." If they are remembered at all, it is as an absolute piece of shit, maybe the worst car of all time ever sold in the West.
 
Nice to see Jonny is still a whining slug of a person.
Too Stupid to Fix a Broken Hole said:
The reason behind the move is that the old homestead needs massive repairs and rennovations and was rapidly becoming uninhabitable, so we had to vacate pretty quickly. So I'll be here in my new digs for the foreseeable future. It's nice-- my family lives close by, and I'm within walking distance of several fine stores and a number of nice restaurants-- but it's not my home, not really. I don't really think of it as moving on... just a detour, a temporary way-station I'll pass a little time at on the road back to to my old life... my reallife. 'Til things are back to normal, back the way things used to be.
Nice job letting the water damage get to the point your foundation or other critical parts of the house began rotting apart there Jonny. You could have at any point saved up some money to get a more permanent fix, or get a tarpaulin for a temporary measure. But nope; like the lawn, like probably other basic elements, and so on, you were too lazy and stewing in self-afflicted misery to do shit.

Also I love the delusion of you getting that hovel back; it's fucked and going to rot down into a pile given how you guys seem to utterly lack the finances to fix what should have probably been fixed years ago. It's just like every other distortion of the past you made; a way to ignore how you fucked your own life.

Also love the defense of John K. and his autistic assumption that everyone liked his work. I actually thought Ren and Stimpy wasn't funny or interesting to watch, and I realize that his only claim to fame is ruining what was legitimately a golden calf due to a malformed personality. Really is fitting Jon Thumb idolizes him really; they both shot themselves in the foot... repeatedly.
 
"I mean, hey, the guy liked to spank off on the phone at night with some cute young thing. You know, just like every other goddamn guy living in the nineties. Am I supposed to buy that every single liberal on earth suddenly woke up right around 2000, looked around, experienced a crisis of conscience, and said, "Hey, I-I don't want to do this anymore"? Please. There are a lot of men like myself who recall those happy times as fondly as I and would really like to live them again. Yo, sorry you can't get on board and be among that number, but, hey, that's your hang-up, bub, not mine."

Whew, I was worried he was actually getting better. Nope.
 
Let's be real, when he refers to "home" he's not talking about the dump he and his mom just had to vacate. He still thinks he's going to move back into the A-State dorms and return to college life, like a normal 45-year-old.

I really like that his rebuttal to someone saying his idol would criticize his art is just "Nuh-uh!"
 
Whew, I was worried he was actually getting better. Nope.

Even Chris eventually realized the galpals weren't real.

Jon still believes in the chinaphone, and the time he got prank called by someone making fun of him is the highlight of his life.

Also I love the delusion of you getting that hovel back; it's fucked and going to rot down into a pile given how you guys seem to utterly lack the finances to fix what should have probably been fixed years ago.

Possibly they just used the excuse of repairs to get him out of it and when and if they move back, he won't be invited.
 
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"I mean, hey, the guy liked to spank off on the phone at night with some cute young thing. You know, just like every other goddamn guy living in the nineties. Am I supposed to buy that every single liberal on earth suddenly woke up right around 2000, looked around, experienced a crisis of conscience, and said, "Hey, I-I don't want to do this anymore"? Please. There are a lot of men like myself who recall those happy times as fondly as I and would really like to live them again. Yo, sorry you can't get on board and be among that number, but, hey, that's your hang-up, bub, not mine."

Whew, I was worried he was actually getting better. Nope.

He is never going to get better.

He already acts like he has dementia, just imagine what he's going to be like when he starts going senile.
 
He didn't really imply that he was moving on his own, so he's presumably now a middle-aged man living in a tiny apartment with his elderly mother, rather than a rotting shack. Progress!
 
I recall I used to stand, night after night, at the window of my old seventh-floor room, which overlooked the street in front of Twin. As it got dark I would watch the delivery vehicles pull up below

Was he jealous that other kids could afford pizza??

Also, nobody has driven a yugo since 1988, dumbass.
 
Was he jealous that other kids could afford pizza??

Also, nobody has driven a yugo since 1988, dumbass.
Probably. It seems like he mostly ate from the school cafeteria on a meal plan and thought it the pinnacle of luxury. Never forget the sumptuous buffets. The only "job" he had was unpaid. His only source of cash was getting his lock pennied. So yeah, I can see him forlornly watching the pizza guys come and go, knowing he can't order any, and having no friends who will share leftovers.
 
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